“We’re glad to see you,” Marjorie, the older woman, piped up. “We’re one short this morning—Janet’s in hospital.”
“In hospital? Why? What’s happened?”
“She was knocked down by a car.” Marjorie clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “She’s all right—but her hip’s in plaster.”
Edith took up the story, filling in the details. Janet had been on her way to catch the train back to Cornwall when the accident happened. Because of the blackout, she hadn’t spotted a car coming toward her when she crossed the road. “The weather made it worse,” Edith said. “I think the whole country must have had this rain. We nearly didn’t get here this morning—there’s flooding all along the road from our village.”
I walked along the row of animals waiting to be milked and sat down on the stool that would have been Janet’s. I wondered if I could find out the name of the hospital she was in and write to her. I was about to ask when I heard Jack’s voice.
“Is my cousin here?”
“Over there.” Marjorie, who was nearest the door, pointed to where I sat.
I looked up and saw three heads turn Jack’s way, following him with their eyes as he came toward me. Rita raised a hand to smooth her glossy auburn bun as he strode past her.
“Good morning, Alice.” There was a terseness in his voice, and no hint of a smile. “I need you to come with me.” Something in his eyes told me not to ask why. I felt the others watching me as I followed him out of the shed.
“There’s been an accident,” Jack said when we were out of earshot. “A fisherman from the village crushed his leg trying to land his boat. The road from Falmouth’s flooded—we can’t get him to hospital and no doctor can get through.” He pushed his hair off his forehead. The skin beneath was glistening with perspiration. “You’re the only person around here with any medical knowledge.”
“Where is he?”
“They’ve taken him back to his house. They think his leg might be broken, but they’re not sure. And he’s lost a lot of blood.”
“What’s his name? Where does he live?”
“It’s Leo Badger—Rose Cottage. I’ll take you there.”
“No. You go back to the house and get me bandages, iodine, a needle, and strong cotton—and something to make a splint. I can find my own way.”
He searched my face, surprised, it seemed, that I’d taken command of the situation. “Yes—all right. I’ll see you there.”
Rose Cottage wasn’t hard to find. It was near the fish cellar where I’d seen men mending their nets when I’d gone with Merle to meet the children. It was the end house in a terrace of three, sheltered from the sea wind by the school building. It had a tiny, well-kept vegetable garden. A fig tree, as well as a rosebush, grew up and around the front door.
Leo Badger was lying on a table in the small downstairs room with a pillow under his head. His weather-beaten face was taut with pain, his lips lost in the white whiskers that framed them. He looked as if he were afraid to open his mouth, ashamed, perhaps, to reveal to the men gathered around him just how agonizing his injury was.
“Who’s that?” George Retallack heard me come through the door before the others noticed. He turned his face toward me, his unseeing eyes flickering from side to side. I saw that he was holding Leo’s hand.
“I’m a nurse,” I said. “Alice McBride—cousin to His Lordship.” It felt strange referring to Jack in that way. But it had an immediate effect. George and the two elderly men standing on the opposite side of the table stepped back to let me through. A fourth man stayed where he was. I saw that he was pressing down on a bloodied rag just below Leo’s left knee.
“’E’s hurt bad, miss.” The man looked familiar. I realized fleetingly that I’d seen him at the birthday party. “’E were tryin’ to land the boat, and a big wave come and trapped ’im ’tween the gunwale and the quayside.”
“You’ve done the right thing, putting pressure on the wound. How long have you been doing that?”
“Since we got ’im in ’ere—about ’alf an ’our or so.”
“Okay. Let me look at him now.”
They’d cut away the fabric of his trousers around the injury. Blood had seeped from the rag into the frayed edges. As I watched, the dark stain began to spread. “I’m going to need someone’s shirt,” I said. “And something short and strong—a stick or a big spoon.”