Читать книгу Blind Man's Year - Warwick Deeping - Страница 9

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She ran, following the slope of the hill until it flattened out and began to descend. She had a momentary glimpse of three fir trees on her left, and so knew that the house lay down yonder. She was thinking clearly and quickly. The doctor at Feldhurst, ’phone Dr. Heberden. Four people to carry, Will, the two women and herself. Would Mary Spray become emotional? She must not be allowed to become emotional. Something to carry the man on or in, a door, a blanket. Yes, a blanket. She could remember an old picture of Moore being carried in a blanket from the battlefield of Corunna. The garden wall loomed up greyly. There were figures at the gate, old Will and Jane.

“An accident, an aeroplane, just over the hill. Quick, all of you. Someone terribly hurt.”

Old Will stared at her stark face.

“I thought I ’eered some’at.”

She swept past him.

“Jane, fetch Mary. We shall want everybody. I’m going to telephone to Feldhurst. And Jane, get a blanket. Will, have you a knife?”

“I have, miss.”

“He’s strapped in. Wait here for me, Will. We must all go together because of the fog.”

The good Jane, without a superfluous word, had gone upon her errand. Thank heaven, Jane was strong. She could move heavy furniture almost like a man. Miss Gerard hurried into the house. The telephone was in the pantry passage. She got through at once to Feldhurst with the helpful sympathy of the exchange. Yes, Dr. Heberden had just come in. Could she speak to Dr. Heberden at once? She did. She heard the familiar, deliberate, friendly voice, for Dr. Heberden was one of her few intimates.

“Were going to try and get him out of the wreckage. One’s afraid of fire.”

The voice said: “I’ll be with you in twenty minutes.”

She hurried back to the gate in the stone wall. Will was there, and Jane clasping a blanket and holding a protesting Mary by the arm.

“No, I can’t come, I can’t, reely. There’ll be blood.” Miss Gerard’s voice surprised these three. “Mary, pull yourself together. All of us must help.” The girl looked at Miss Gerard in the fog like a temperamental child that has been slapped, but the stimulus proved adequate. “I’m sorry, miss. I’m so soft hearted.” The four of them went out into the fog.