Miss Mary Martha Crawford (33 page)

"Yes, if, if they'll have me, for a short time."

"Oh, they'll have you all right; be only too pleased, he's very grateful to you, very grateful."

"He has repaid that many times over. As you said, he knows books."

"Well." He looked about him now for his bag and hat, then said in a slightly embarrassed tone, "Oh, I left them in the hall, I ... I must be off." He went towards her again, but he did not take her hand, he merely looked straight into her face and said, "Consider me your friend, will you?"

Again her eyes were stretching and the muscles of her face twitching.

"Thank you. Thank you, doctor .. I will."

He stared at her for a moment; then poking his face within inches of hers, he whispered, "My name's Harry." There was another pause before he added, "Goodbye, Martha Mary. I'll see you tomorrow either here or at Armstrong's," and with this he turned from her and went out. In the yard, young Clan said, "By! you're gona be sodden afore you get to the town, doctor."

"I'm pretty sodden already, Clan; but my skin's like leather, it never goes through."

Clan laughed up at him as he answered, "Shouldn't wonder, doctor.

Shouldn't wonder, all the weathers you go out in. But he knows when

he's on a good thing. " He pointed to where Fred was snuggling under a sheet of oilcloth, then called, " That's what you should have, doctor, a suit of oilskins like the sailors. "

"I'll have to see about it, Clan. Get up there." He jerked the reins, nodded to Clan, then put the horse into a trot out of the yard and down the drive, but as always, and more so today, he saw the caution of

bringing the animal to a walk when they went on to the rutted road.

As the rain beat into his face and dripped from his collar down the

back of his neck, he thought, Leather skin indeed!

He'd have to have some real cover come the winter; he'd have to try to get the old man to indulge in a cab of sorts. He gave an inward

chuckle at the improbability of this, for a cab would mean a driver if one of them were to remain dry.

When he reached the main road he again cried, "Get up there! Bessie.

Get up. " He felt strangely happy, in fact he knew a feeling of slight elation. One man's meat was another man's poison; her sorrow would

lead to his joy.... What! What was he thinking? Aye, what? Was that

what he really wanted? Her? Come on, face up to it; did he want her

so badly? Aye. Aye, that was it, that was just it, he wanted her

badly.

It was no good hoodwinking himself any more. But what was it about her that attracted him, and had done from the first, so much so that he had deliberately fought her off with his bawling and rudeness? To this he couldn't give himself an answer, except to say, well she's my kind of woman, no. girl; because she was still a girl.

When he was married first he'd had really little experience of women apart from their anatomy, but by God he had made up for it since.

There was now no facet of their minds that he hadn't explored, and had been amazed at how many would have been accessible had he proposed to explore their bodies.

It was a tricky business doctoring. It forbade you to pick where you might fancy. Yet had he fancied any patient over the last eight years or so? No, not one until he had met her, Martha Mary Crawford. And

come tomorrow, what would he say to her? Well, he'd say, "I've got you a post, Martha Mary." But what if she refused it?

Aye, that was a point, what if she refused it? It would knock the

stuffing out of him, to say the least.

As the trap mounted the hill he rubbed the rain from his eyes and

looked to the right, but he couldn't see the river. Nevertheless, the position recalled the day he had seen Nancy and young Brockdean

embracing down there. But now she was married, and to a drover lad.

Life was strange.

As he rounded the bend to go down the hill he looked sharply upwards and to the left. Here the land rose steeply,

and only last week a number of boulders had rolled down on to the

road, missing him only by yards, but causing Bessie to rear and go off into a gallop. When he had managed to stop her he had turned her about and gone back, to find two good-sized lumps of rock lying on the edge of the roadway; a third had tumbled down towards the river. As he had looked at the size of them he could not but help feel what a narrow

escape they'd had. The small landslide, he had surmised, was brought about by dry weather.

Recalling it now, he peered through the rain but couldn't see the top of the hill, nor yet, he realized, would he be able to hear any rumble because of the noise of the rain and the wind that was carrying it

straight into his face.

The trap was down on the level now and he screwed up his eyes to slits as he thought he saw three hooded figures standing in the middle of the road ahead of him. On his journey put he had seen three men with sacks over their heads running across the fell. He had noticed them

particularly because he'd thought they were trying to hail him, but

they stopped when some way off. Now the figures on the road in front of the horse were, he felt sure, the same three men.

Then, before he knew what was happening, he saw Bessie rear up, then be pulled down to a quivering standstill by one of the men, and when two figures mounted the trap at either side and hands grabbed him he lashed out with both the whip and his fist as he yelled, "What's this, you ruffians! What... d'you think you're up to?"

As his fist crashed into the side of the hessian hood and one of the men tumbled backwards on to the road, the other got his arm around his throat and he felt himself being dragged downwards, at the same time being aware that Fred was fighting and tearing furiously at the

assailant. , He was on the ground now. The man still had his arm

tight around his neck and he realized, if dimly, that in another minute it would be all over with him and he would choke to death. As he heard a sharp cry he was only just aware that Fred's teeth had entered some part of the man

who was holding him. With a twist of his body and kicking out with

one leg after the other he managed to free himself. As he swung round to rise to his knees he saw that the man who had held him by the throat was now fighting Fred who had a grip on his leg. The sack had fallen back on to his shoulders, his mouth was wide open as he yelled in

agony, and Harry recognized the toothless gap. Then the breath seemed to be shot from his body as a foot caught him in the ribs under the

armpit. He rolled over, took one agonizing deep breath before the foot came at him again. In one last desperate effort he grabbed at the leg, and as the man toppled on to him he was completely winded for the

moment, but also had the satisfaction of knowing that this particular assailant was also out of action for, rolling off him, he lay prone on the road now. Somewhere in his mind he was telling himself that only one was left, for Fred was still dealing with the ringleader; and he had recognized the ringleader.

He was heaving himself upwards when he heard Fred give an agonizing

yelp; the next moment a blow on the back of the head carried him into blackness.

Clan Holland usually left the yard at six o'clock and by taking short cuts and running most of the way he could reach home in under the hour, but his short cuts meant crossing low lying fields that were soggy at any time, but were almost impassable during a heavy rainfall such as now, and so under these circumstances he kept to the main road for the first two miles.

He walked with a steady untiring swing; he had a sack round his

shoulders, and his cap was resting on his ears. He had reached the

bottom of the hill and was hugging the dry stone wall for partial

shelter when he tripped over something. It became entangled in his

feet, and when he looked down he recognized the yellow piece of oil

coth that had covered the doctor's dog. Stooping, he picked it up,

thinking to himself, By! it must have been a wind to lift that off him

'cos he was lying on half of it.

He stood for a moment and peered about him; then he noticed something else, and he thought it strange it should be lying at the other side of the road right opposite the dog's cover. When he picked up the butt

end of a whip his face crinkled in perplexity. Then his eyes

travelling downwards into the ditch, he saw two more pieces of

splintered wood. It looked as if somebody had broken a whip into

smithereens.

He lifted his hand now and wiped the rain from his eyes. This was

funny, odd. It could be anybody's whip, but that over there was the

piece of oilcloth that had covered the doctor's dog.

The bank beyond the ditch was clear of scrub and rolled down straight to the river. He screened his eyes and peered through the rain, but he couldn't see very far. Should he go down? No, no, nowt could have

happened the doctor. He looked down at the pieces of wood again, then along the ditch to his left where the scrub began to border the road and form a hedge.

Dropping down from the road into the ditch, he reached the hedge, then pulled himself up and walked behind it. Again he shaded his eyes and peered into the distance. There was nothing there. Anyway, he asked

himself, what did he expect to find? The doctor had been driving a

horse and trap and if there was a horse and trap lying about he would see it, wouldn't he? A blind man couldn't miss that.

It was as he turned to retrace his steps towards the road that he heard the faint whine, more like the wheezing of a puppy. He hurried forward now towards the sound. The shrub hedge curved at this point and when he rounded it, his step was checked and he became stock still, There, not five yards distant, lay the doctor and across him lay the dog.

Eeh! God Almighty!

He was bending over the two forms now. They were both covered with

blood, but it was the condition of the dog that brought his thumb into his mouth. It had been cut in several places. It looked as if its

legs were hanging off, yet it was still alive for it looked up at him and made that weak little sound again.

My God! what was he going to do? The doctor was bleeding from a

wound somewhere under his hair. The rain had washed the blood over his face and it appeared like a pink mask. One knee was pulled up almost to his chest. Tentatively, he touched his shoulder then shook it

gently, saying, "Doctor! Doctor!"

When there was no response he stood up and looked about him in

trembling agitation. He could do nothing on his own, he'd have to get help. He'd have to get a door or something. Which was the nearest

house? Back where he had come from, of course. Aye. Aye.

But wait, what about Fulman's cottage? That was just across on the

further bank. Don't be daft, he told himself; if the river hadn't

risen and covered the steppy stones he would have used them as a short cut, wouldn't he? There was nothing for it but to hare back to the

house.

One last look downwards, and then he was running with almost the

swiftness of a hare along the bank, over the ditch and on to the main road, and he didn't stop to gasp for fresh breath until he turned into the lane, and then his pause was only a matter of seconds before he was off again.

When he burst into the kitchen Peg let out a thin scream and she hung on to the end of the table as he yelled at her, "Tis the doctor! The doctor an' the dog. They've been murdered on the road. Tell miss and the young master. Go on, fetch them, quick!"

"The doctor? My God! No, no. Where?"

"Just beyond the rise. Go on; don't stand there."

Peg went. She scrambled out of the kitchen, across the hall and up the stairs, crying as she -did so, "Miss Martha Mary! Master Roland! Miss Martha Mary!"

Martha was in her bedroom; Roland was in the drawing- room; but so

desperate was Peg's cry that they both appeared at once.

"What is it, Peg?" "Tis the doctor, miss. Clan has just come back; he's found them on the road; murdered he said."

Martha's two hands went up and cupped her face as she whispered,

"Murdered?" "Tis what he says."

When she reached the bottom of the stairs Roland was there, and he

followed her towards the kitchen, saying, "What is it? What's the matter? What's this about a murder? What is it?"

Martha was now standing over Clan.

"The doctor; he's hurt you say?"

"Looks dead to me, miss." He shook his head slowly, then bit on his lip.

"An' the dog's done for, cut up to bits. He... he was still breathing but' he screwed up his eyes now' he an awful sight."

"Where?L:> ^Yon side of the rise. I could do nothing; you'll have to have a door." He now looked towards Roland, then repeated, "You'll have to have a door. Master Roland, or.... or the trap. Aye, the

trap. Will I get the trap ready?"

"Yes, yes, do that. Quick!" It was Martha who answered;

then almost pushing aside Roland who seemed slightly bewildered, she ran into the hall, grabbed her cape from out of the cupboard, dragged on a pair of old shoes she used for the garden; then, encountering

Roland as he entered the hall, she said, "Don't stand there, get into something. You heard what the lad said."

A few minutes later when they reached the stable, Clan was bringing out the horse and trap, and they mounted in silence; and the silence

continued until they entered the main road when Martha cried at Roland who was driving, "Don't just trot her, hurry!"

"And have us all in the ditch? The road's like glass."

"Belle is surefooted."

"Nothing is surefooted in weather like this.... And stop it!" He hissed the last words at her and she knew that they weren't meant only in answer to her present urgency, but were in protest at her overall attitude towards him.

A few minutes later Clan said, "He's just there, miss,

SMMMON