A Nurse's Duty (51 page)

‘Nick!’ she cried. ‘Nick!’ Banging the dish down on the table so that the water slopped all over it, she ran out after him just in time to see him disappearing.

‘Karen, for God’s sake, what’s the matter? Where’s Nick gone?’

It was Patrick, the children trailing after him. He caught hold of Karen’s arm as, clad only in her dress and pinafore, she started to run after Nick. She collapsed into his arms.

‘Oh, Patrick, Patrick, he’s run off and he’s hurt! Dave came back and he hurt him. He threw Nick against the wall and hurt his head. I think he may have a fractured skull, or concussion at least.’

‘Karen, quiet now, quiet,’ said Patrick, holding her tight in his arms. ‘You’re frightening the children. Come inside and tell me properly.’

At the mention of the children, she raised her head and looked at them. Jennie was starting to wail in fright and Brian was staring at her, his eyes round and anxious in his white face. With a great effort of will she composed herself, forcing herself to calmness.

‘Come along now, inside,’ Patrick said to them and they went in, he with his arm still around Karen, followed by the stiff little figure of Brian and a wailing Jennie bringing up the rear.

‘Brian, Jennie, go and wash your hands for your dinner,’ said Patrick, and obediently they divested themselves of their outdoor things and trooped into the scullery.

Karen took out the panhacklety and filled plates for the children. When they were sitting at the table eating she and Patrick went into the front room, out of earshot.

‘He came back,’ Karen said, quieter now, ‘and Nick went for him, and he knocked Nick out.’

‘Where’s Dave now?’

‘I don’t know, he went off when I was attending to Nick. I told
him
we had nothing left.’ She looked up into Patrick’s grey eyes, not so clear now as they had been, no, they were cloudy with trouble. ‘He won’t come back, I’m sure of it,’ she lied as a vague plan began to form in her mind. ‘I told him I would tell the police, he won’t chance that. I’m sorry, Patrick, I am, it’s all my fault.’

‘Don’t say that, Karen. If it’s anybody’s fault it’s mine, I shouldn’t have let it come to this.’ He touched her cheek softly with his fingertips. ‘I’ll bring Nick back, Karen, don’t worry. He can’t be so bad, not judging by the way I saw him run anyhow. I’ll bring him back and then I’ll decide what I’m going to do about Dave Mitchell.’

‘At least have some dinner first, Patrick.’

‘Yes, I’d better. The weather’s on the turn again, there’ll be a frost tonight.’

They went into the kitchen and Karen ladled out the meal. Patrick ate quickly, pushing the food down. He would need it if he was going out on the fell. The children were big-eyed and quiet, watching their parents solemnly.

Karen went with Patrick to the door. The sky was darkening already and ice was forming on the slush in the yard. Oh God, she prayed, please let Nick be all right. Please, God.

‘Remember this, Karen,’ said Patrick, as they stood in the doorway. ‘I’ll bring Nick back and we are going to face up to this. But whatever happens, remember I love you and the children, even if …’

‘Even if what?’

Karen stared at him. What did he mean? His words had summoned up that old fear that he would leave, and could she blame him if he did?

‘Nothing. I meant nothing.’

He went to the back door and Karen watched from the scullery window as he called Flossie from her kennel. He searched the farm buildings, just in case Nick had returned and was hiding.

‘Nick! Nick!’ he called but there was no answer but for the hoot of a barn owl as he disturbed its daytime slumber. After a reassuring wave to Karen, he went out on to the track, his lantern already lit against the gathering gloom. She watched the point of light until it disappeared into a fold in the fell and then she went back to the children.

The afternoon dragged on and on. Karen fed the stock and locked up the hens as the dark deepened into night. She gave the children their supper and put them to bed and sat down to wait.

It would be best if Dave came before Patrick got back. It was for her to deal with her former husband, it was her mess, it was up to her to clear it up. She felt alone, very much alone. Restlessly, she stoked up the fire, boiled water for the hot water bottles. She went upstairs and checked on the children who were sound asleep. That was one good thing, they were good sleepers. They would probably sleep straight through the night and whatever happened during it. She watched them for a moment or two, Brian curled up into a tight little ball and Jennie lying on her back with her thumb firmly anchored in her mouth.

Downstairs, Karen got out the mat frame. She would work on the proddy mat. It would take her mind off things, keep her mind and body occupied. She tipped the coloured strips of woollen cloth out of the bag and picked up her prodder. There was a red flower in the middle of the pattern and she began working on it, stabbing the strip through the harn backing with the prodder. Stab, catch, stab, catch. Catching her finger with too sharp a stab, she sucked it briefly then carried on.

How long she sat there she didn’t know. One hour? Two hours? Three? No, it must be longer. She had completely filled in the first flower and was halfway through the second. Karen felt confused. She wanted Patrick to find Nick and bring him home; they might both freeze out there on the moor unless they had found a place to
shelter
. But if Dave would only come first she could … she could … But her mind baulked at the thought of what she could do to stop him.

Abruptly, she got to her feet and went to the kitchen drawer where she took out the gully, the large knife which had last been used to cut up a slaughtered pig. She stared at it for a long time before she put it back and closed the drawer. How could she even think of doing such a thing? Restlessly, she went back to the mat frame.

Where was Patrick? And Nick? Was he lying out on the moor in this bitter weather, was he freezing to death? Well, this situation had come about because of her and she
was
going to do something about it. Wild plans formed in her mind. She would bring in the hayfork and do for Dave herself. No, she couldn’t, not when the children were lying asleep upstairs, she couldn’t. Suppose one of them did wake up?

A distant roar impinged on her consciousness and as it gradually became louder she jumped up from her chair, upsetting the mat frame so that it fell to the floor with a crash, spilling strips of red on the flagstones, dark as blood in the light from the lamp.

Dave. It was Dave’s motor bike, it had to be. Oh, now he was actually coming, what could she do? It was stupid of her to think she could do anything to him herself. No, all she could do would be to tell the police as she had threatened him she would. Getting to her feet, she rushed to the back door and pushed the thick wooden bar into the slots on either side of it. It was the first time the bar had been used that she could remember and it was a little proud, she had to force it in. But at last it was securely in place and she turned and leaned her back against it.

Closing her eyes tightly she listened, hypnotized by the sound of the engine as it came nearer and nearer.

Chapter Thirty-Three

DAVE WAITED UNTIL
dark before bringing his bike down from the fell, just in case the local bobbies had heard anything about his exploits of the night before. He had to walk down to the road with it. The snow was frozen solid with only the tips of the heather showing through and he found himself slipping and sliding down, falling every so often, once with his motor bike on top of him. By the time he got to the road he was feeling murderous, cursing and swearing at Jacko and the snow and everyone who had brought him to this pass. At last he reached the road and paused for a few minutes to get his breath. In spite of the intense cold he was sweating and breathless from his exertions.

He wasn’t going to stay there, he decided, not in this Godforsaken hole. No, it would just be till the heat was off. Karen and her fancy man would have to find the money for him to get away. His old idea of going to Canada returned to him. He’d do it this time, he said to himself, he would do it. And those two would find the money for him all right. Even if they had to sell the whole damn’ place, stock an’ all, they would pay for him to get to Canada.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard someone calling in the distance. He paused and turned his face to the bitter wind. The sound came again.

‘Nick! Nick, where are you? For the love of God, come on home now.’

It was the Irish fancy man looking for the loony. Good, that meant Karen was on her own at the farm. Dave grinned to himself as he climbed on to his motor bike. He’d make life so bloody
impossible
for them they’d be glad to do anything to see the back of him. And maybe, while he had her on her own, he would shaft her one, just to remind her what a real man was like. There was no bloody half-wit there to interrupt him. Evidently he hadn’t the sense to come in off the moor and out of the storm. He pressed his foot down on the starter and the engine spluttered into life. Settling himself on the seat, Dave roared off down the road to where the track turned off for Low Rigg Farm. He grinned again as he saw the light from the house, pleased with the feeling of power he had over the lives of the folk who lived there: he’d make them dance before he left them alone, he chuckled. But first there was Karen. He felt a pleasurable stirring in his loins at the thought of what he would do in the next half hour.

He didn’t see the patch of ice by the gate; it was hidden in the shadow of the rowan tree. All he saw was the open gate and the light of the house beyond. Without realizing it, he relaxed, his grip loosening on the handlebars. Then it happened. A figure flitted across the yard, outlined by the light from the window, and his attention was diverted for a brief second. And the front wheel of the motor bike skidded sideways, almost unseating him. But his reactions were swift. His grip tightened and he leaned forward, trying to steer the bike into the skid. But it seemed alive and to be fighting against him. He struggled to maintain control as it slipped and slid over the ice, but in that split second he knew it was too strong for him. It slid over and into the frozen bankside and his mouth opened in a scream as he went flying into the air, head first into the trunk of the rowan tree.

Inside the house, Karen listened to the approaching motor bike and then the screech of brakes. And the scream … it didn’t sound like a man’s voice, it was so high and penetrating, then it was cut off abruptly by a dull thud. She paused for a moment, unbelieving, before she realized that there had been a crash. Faintly, she could
hear
the throb of the idling engine, the only sound now.

Collecting herself, she tried to remove the bar from the door but it was stuck quite fast and she had to fetch a hammer to knock it up and out of the wooden slots. At last it came free and she opened the door and flung it wide. A pool of light shone out over the yard, making the ice sparkle and lighting up the snowflakes which were beginning to fall. And the motor bike, lying on its side, with the front wheel still spinning. There was no sign of Dave, where was he? She peered beyond the pool of light, vainly trying to see into the gloom beyond. Dear God, she thought, lifting a hand to her neck, where were the men? A moment ago she had been hoping Patrick wouldn’t come home just yet, but now she prayed that he or Nick would appear.

‘Don’t come out, missus, it’s too cold. I can see to things here.’

Karen jumped at the sound of Nick’s voice. It was almost an instant answer to her prayer. ‘What … What happened? Where is he, Nick, have you seen Dave?’

‘There’s been an accident. He crashed into the rowan tree. No doubt he’s burning in Hell already.’ Nick nodded towards the tree and Karen fetched the lamp from the kitchen and walked carefully over to the gate. As she neared it, she saw the body lying at the foot of the tree, the head turned at a very unlikely angle.

‘You shouldn’t have come out, missus, I told you I could see to it,’ said Nick. He had followed her to the gate and was standing watching her with a look of concern which was only for her, not the body on the ground. She stared at him. Had he cracked up altogether? But no, he seemed perfectly calm and in control of himself.

‘Well, we can’t leave him out here,’ she said at last. ‘Come on, Nick, we must put him in the barn.’ For the moment her mind could think no further than that.

‘Righto, missus.’

Between them they managed to lug the body away from the
tree
and across the yard to the barn, stopping once or twice to get a better grip on it. It felt incredibly heavy to Karen even though Nick took it by the shoulders, tucking his stump under one armpit and so taking most of the weight. But at last they had it inside and simply dumped it there, closing the door on it and dropping the bar into place outside to make sure. Though what she was making sure of, Karen didn’t know. Dave was certainly not going to try to get out. He was never going to bother them again, she thought dully, but somehow the thought brought her no comfort. Her emotions were dead. She walked across to the gate where she had left the lamp and took it back into the kitchen, Nick following.

The warmth of the fire began to thaw not only her body but her frozen thoughts too. Her mind began working again. Perhaps it was just as well that Patrick wasn’t here. If he was up the fell, the snowfall would be heavier. He would probably have to take shelter in one of the shepherd’s huts up there.

‘Did you see Patrick when you were out?’ she asked Nick.

‘No, I didn’t. Did he go up the fell? But surely all the sheep are inbye, aren’t they?’

‘He didn’t go looking for sheep, he went looking for – Oh, never mind. He’ll be all right.’

Karen gazed at Nick. She was rapidly making plans, plans which would get rid of any threat from Dave for good. If she reported his accident to the police, they would want to know what he was doing there, there would be a chance something of their story would get out and it would kill Patrick if that happened. The chances were that he had already taken shelter in a shepherd’s hut, he wouldn’t be back tonight. The snow was falling too thickly and it would be worse up on the fell. If Nick would help her, she could take the body away from the farm and no one would ever know Dave had been there.