Dr. Cairn hesitated and then went in reluctantly. He said, ‘I’m sorry you got a fright, Miss Harburn. These attacks are very alarming.’
‘Very alarming indeed. They can’t be allowed to go on.’
‘There’s nothing to be done. I can assure you that I’ve——’
‘Oh, I know,’ said Julia earnestly. ‘You’ve been very kind and attentive—my uncle says so—and I’m sure you’ve done all you possibly can. That’s why I want him to have further advice.’
‘It has been considered,’ he told her. ‘Naturally it has been considered most carefully, but Mr. Harburn is not very keen to have further advice. It would mean that he would have to go into hospital and undergo a great deal of discomfort and fatigue . . . all for no object. Believe me, I am every bit as distressed as yourself about my old friend’s condition.’
‘I can’t believe that.’
‘Miss Harburn! What do you mean?’
Julia raised her eyes and looked him straight in the face. ‘He’s my uncle and I love him,’ she said.
‘Yes, of course,’ said Dr. Cairn rather uncomfortably. ‘Yes, well, perhaps I had better explain.’ He proceeded to explain and Julia listened. He explained that he had been attending Mr. Harburn for over a year, seeing him regularly. At first the attacks of pain had been slight and infrequent, but from the beginning of the illness there had been little doubt of its nature, and soon it became evident to Dr. Cairn that his old friend was suffering from an incurable disease. It was then that he had suggested a visit to Edinburgh to obtain further advice, but finding his old friend disinclined to make the effort Dr. Cairn had not pressed it, for he was convinced it would merely confirm his own opinion—and what use was that? What was the use of persuading Mr. Harburn to go into hospital and undergo all the worry and discomfort of X-ray examinations and tests? Dr. Cairn explained that he had had forty years of medical practice and that in most cases he was only too ready to call in a specialist, but in this case it would do more harm than good.
‘Much more harm than good,’ declared Dr. Cairn emphatically. ‘The fuss and worry and fatigue would be the worst thing possible. Surely you can understand that, Miss Harburn?’
Dr. Cairn was so sure and so absolutely sincere that Julia was almost convinced—almost but not quite. She remembered Neil.
‘Yes, I understand,’ said Julia. ‘But all the same I should like another opinion.’
Dr. Cairn turned away. He walked to the end of the room. ‘I can’t refuse, of course,’ he said. ‘I can only tell you that you’re making a great mistake. Mr. Harburn is in a very precarious condition; he could never stand a serious operation—if that’s what you’re thinking of.’
‘I just want another opinion, that’s all. I want him to see Mr. MacTavish.’
‘MacTavish?’
‘Yes.’
Dr. Cairn walked to the door. ‘Very well, have it your own way!’ he said angrily.
Julia could not let him go like this. She ran after him and put her hand on his arm. ‘Please don’t be angry with me!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s just—it’s just—I do love him so much. That’s why I feel—I feel we must do everything possible. You understand, don’t you? Please say you understand.’ She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears.
‘You’re making a mistake,’ he said gruffly.
‘Dr. Cairn, you have a daughter, haven’t you?’
‘A daughter? What has that got to do with it? I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I just mean that if you were terribly ill she would want to do everything in her power . . .’
He hesitated. ‘I suppose she would,’ he said in a surprised sort of voice.
‘You know she would.’
‘Yes, it’s true. Isabel is like that—she’s all for doing things—but you don’t know Isabel, do you?’
‘I’m sure she loves you . . . and I love Uncle Randal.’
‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘I see we’ll have to arrange it.’
‘And you aren’t angry with me?’
‘No, not angry.’ He gave her shoulder a little pat and went away.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
When Dr. Cairn had gone Julia sank into a chair; she felt exhausted—absolutely down and out—and now that she had won the battle, she began to have doubts. She began to have frightful, horrible, terrifying doubts. She was panic-stricken. She had pitted her youth and ignorance against the knowledge and experience of forty years! How could she have been so mad? But thank goodness, it was not too late; she could phone to Dr. Cairn and tell him she had changed her mind.
Julia rose and went to the phone; but with her hand outstretched to take up the receiver, she suddenly thought of Neil. Neil, thought Julia, hesitating.
There was no reason why she should not speak to him now, this very minute, for it was only half past ten and Neil had said he would be working until midnight. She took up the receiver and gave Neil’s number and waited. She could hear the bell ringing and ringing . . . she had almost given up hope of an answer when she heard his voice.
‘Who is it?’ asked Neil crossly.
‘Neil, I’ve done it,’ gasped Julia. ‘I’ve spoken to Dr. Cairn. Neil, I’m terrified! Perhaps we shouldn’t do it. Perhaps he’ll die! It will be my fault if he dies. Neil, I can’t bear it! What am I to do!’
‘I’ll come at once,’ said Neil’s voice in her ear. ‘Sit down quietly and wait till I come. I’ll be there in ten minutes.’
‘Neil!’ she cried. ‘What am I to do? Do you think I should . . . Neil, are you there?’
There was no reply—not a sound—so she jabbed the receiver up and down in a frenzy of impatience. Presently the operator’s voice said, ‘Number, please.’
‘I was talking to seven-one-seven. You’ve cut us off.’
‘They’ve cut off,’ said the operator wearily. ‘Will I ring them again?’
‘Yes—no,’ said Julia. ‘No, it’s all right. Don’t bother.’
Of course it was all right—how foolish she had been!—Neil had said he was coming so he was coming; he was on his way. He had said she was to sit down quietly and wait, so she sat down quietly . . . and waited.
Julia had left the door of the study open, so that she could hear Neil arriving; she could hear the clock in the hall ticking away slowly . . . tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. Ten minutes, she thought. Ten minutes was not long but it seemed a long time when you were waiting.
Suddenly Julia was shaking all over; it was a most extraordinary sensation—as if some outside force had taken hold of her and was shaking her—it lasted for a few moments and then passed.
Don’t be silly, she told herself. There’s nothing the matter with you. Try to be calm. Neil is coming. He can’t be here in ten minutes, of course, but it doesn’t matter . . . just wait quietly.
She waited quietly for a little while and then without the slightest warning another spasm gripped her and shook her unmercifully. It was more violent than before and lasted longer. When it had passed she lay back in the chair and closed her eyes. The clock continued to tick patiently. She fixed her mind on the clock. How many years had it been ticking on, night and day, never hurrying, never stopping? It was a nice quiet peaceful sound, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. The clock was old; it was a grandfather’s clock. Quite likely it had belonged to her own grandfather. It had stood in the hall at Harburn House when her father and Uncle Randal were little boys. They must have looked at it often and listened to it ticking . . . what a strange idea! Julia lay and listened to it.
There was another sound now, the sound of a car in the distance. Could it be Neil? The car approached rapidly—yes, it was Neil’s car—there was no mistaking that strange rattling noise! The car stopped at the gate; a door banged; there were flying footsteps on the path . . . Neil was in the room, bending over her, when another shudder began.
This spasm was the worst of all; it shook her from head to foot. Her teeth were chattering, she was helpless in its grip.
>
‘I don’t know—what’s the matter—with me,’ she gasped.
‘You’ve had a fright, that’s all,’ said Neil comfortingly. ‘It’s nothing to worry about.’
The spasm left her as limp as a rag. She lay there helpless. Neil was rolling up her sleeve.
‘What are—you doing?’ she whispered.
‘I’m going to give you an injection—just a tiny prick—you’ll scarcely feel it.’
Her arm was dabbed with something cold and then there was the prick of the needle.
‘You’ll be all right in a few minutes,’ Neil told her.
‘Neil,’ she whispered. ‘He was terribly, terribly ill—frightful pain——’
‘I know. Terrifying,’ said Neil. He sat on the arm of the chair and held her head against his side.
‘I spoke—to the doctor.’
‘Don’t talk, Julia. Just rest quietly.’
‘But I want to tell you——’
‘Don’t talk,’ repeated Neil. ‘I understand what happened. The old doc came and doped him, so then you tackled the old doc and made him agree to having MacTavish.’
‘Perhaps we shouldn’t——’
‘Of course we should! We must. It’s the right thing to do. You’re a marvel, Julia. You’re an absolute trump—that’s what you are.’
There was silence. Neil was still holding her and rocking her gently to and fro.
A peaceful feeling was beginning to creep over Julia. Her limbs felt queer and her eyelids became heavy. She said vaguely, ‘You’ve doped me.’
‘Just a little,’ he told her. ‘Just a very little. You won’t go out completely. Don’t worry.’
She was not worrying in the least, she was comfortable and relaxed, quite happy and peaceful. She was almost asleep.
‘You had better go to bed,’ said Neil suddenly, and with that he picked her up as if she were a child of six years old and carried her out of the room.
That wakened her. ‘Neil, you can’t! I’m heavy!’
‘Heavier than I expected,’ he admitted. ‘Put your arm round my neck . . . that’s better . . . up we go!’
Up they went, slowly and steadily. The door of her room was ajar; Neil kicked it open, walked in and laid her on the bed.
‘There,’ he said. ‘Nothing very difficult about that.’
‘Frightfully strong,’ murmured Julia, looking at him admiringly.
‘Fairly strong,’ he agreed, stretching his arms. ‘You see I know exactly how to use my muscles and I keep them in good trim; that’s the secret. Lie still,’ he added. ‘Don’t move. I’ll send up Maggie to help you, and I’ll stay with Uncle Ran till she comes down. Selfish old besom, she might have spared a thought for you! Just one thought!’ added Neil savagely.
‘She was frightfully upset.’
‘Oh, I know. There’s only one person in Maggie’s world; everybody else can go hang for all she cares. Don’t let her dose you with any of her nauseous mixtures—hartshorn or sal volatile—or anything—she can give you a glass of hot milk if you want it, but nothing else.’
‘Yes,’ said Julia. Her eyes seemed to be shutting and it was difficult to speak. ‘Thank you awfully—awfully much,’ she said slowly and indistinctly.
‘Cousins,’ said Neil.
‘Cousins,’ agreed Julia with a deep sigh.
*
2
Julia knew no more until she awoke to find her room full of bright sunshine and Maggie standing beside her bed. Maggie’s face, usually so round and rosy, was pale and pinched and there were blue shadows beneath her eyes.
‘Uncle Randal!’ exclaimed Julia, staring up in alarm.
‘He’s not so bad,’ said Maggie. ‘He’s wonderful, considering . . . but oh, Miss Julia, what an awful turn he had!’
‘It was frightful! Maggie, is he better this morning?’
‘He’s weak, of course, like he always is after one of his turns, but he’s lying in his bed quite peaceful, talking a bit and asking after you. Oh, Miss Julia!’ exclaimed Maggie, her voice trembling a little. ‘He was terrible bad last night! I was scared to death. I just felt I couldna leave him for a minute and I was dragging my mattress into his room, so that I could lie beside him on the floor, when Neil came down the stair with a face like thunder. He said you were ill and it was all my blame and I should have spared a thought for you. Oh, he was in a fearful rage!’
‘Was I ill?’ asked Julia, trying to remember what had happened.
‘I’d have said you were dead drunk,’ replied Maggie frankly. ‘That was the way you looked to me—but it seems Neil gave you some drug to make you sleepy. “It was just a prick, Maggie,” he said. “You can get her into her bed and she’ll be fine in the morning.” Just a prick!’ said Maggie scornfully. ‘It must have been a mighty big prick, that’s all I can say . . . and what right had Neil to be pricking you when he’s not a doctor?’
‘Oh yes, I remember. I felt awfully queer and ill so he gave me an injection and carried me upstairs. I don’t remember anything after that.’
‘Carried you upstairs? The thing’s impossible. You were dead drunk with yon queer drug he gave you. Dead drunk, that’s what you were. It took me all my time to get your clothes off you, and your nightdress on, and roll you over between the sheets . . . and you as limp as a rag doll, smiling away to yourself as though you were having a nice dream.’
‘I can’t remember a thing about it.’
‘Och, what a night I’ve had!’ exclaimed poor Maggie. ‘There was him lying below and you lying above, and me up and down the stair wondering which of you was the worst and what I ought to do, wondering what kind of queer drug Neil had given you and what like you would be in the morning.’
‘I feel perfectly well,’ said Julia, stretching her arms and yawning. ‘Just a bit sleepy, that’s all. I’ll get up in a few minutes and come down and sit with him while you have a rest. What time is it?’
‘It’s eleven o’clock.’
‘Eleven o’clock!’
‘Very near. I’ve been wondering if you would ever wake again. The doctor was here at nine and I was minded to ask him to have a look at you but I was scared it might get Neil into trouble.’
‘Oh, poor Maggie!’
‘He’d no right to do it,’ declared Maggie. ‘I’m real mad with Neil—frightening folk out of their wits!’
‘But I really was ill, Maggie. I don’t know what was the matter with me but it was horrible. I never felt so queer before in all my life . . . and Neil cured me.’
‘H’m’h!’ said Maggie, snorting scornfully.
‘I’m as fit as a fiddle so you needn’t worry about me any more. I’ll come down and help you.’
‘There’s no need, Miss Julia. Neil sent Mrs. Lean over from Dunraggit; she’s a capable wee body and kind-hairted forbye. She’ll see to the dinner and look after him and let me get to my bed. I’ll not be sorry to get to my bed,’ added Maggie with a groan
Chapter Thirty
It was Monday afternoon. By this time The Square House was itself again, and, except for the fact that Uncle Randal was still in bed, it had settled into its usual routine. Maggie had done her washing in the morning and the clothes had dried so quickly in the summer breeze that they were ready for ironing. Maggie had spread her ironing blanket on the kitchen table and was thumping away with her heavy iron; Julia was sitting in the basket-chair mending a large pile of grey woollen socks.
The scene was one of peaceful domestic activity.
‘It’s a pity you couldn’t go to church yesterday,’ Julia remarked.
‘I wasna wanting to. I just felt I couldna take my eyes off him for a minute . . . and anyway I’d have been thinking about him all the time.’
Maggie’s iron went thump, thump, thump.
‘Miss Julia,’ she said. ‘Are you sure you’d not like me to give yon petticoat a wee press? It’ll not take me any time at all when I’ve done his pyjamas.’
‘Maggie, I’ve told you nylons shouldn’t
be pressed.’
‘They needn’t be pressed,’ declared Maggie, making the all-important distinction, ‘but it brings them up so nice.’
‘It spoils them,’ said Julia with a sigh. The matter of Julia’s nylon underwear had already been discussed, ad nauseam.
Thump, thump, thump.
‘I suppose these socks belong to Neil,’ said Julia, looking with dismay at an enormous hole which it was inconceivable to suppose had been made by Uncle Randal.
‘Aye, they’re Neil’s. I said I’d do them for Mrs. Lean as a sort of wee return for Saturday.’
‘Oh, I see. Yes, that was quite right. What a nice woman she is!’
‘She’s not bad at all,’ agreed Maggie, thumping away briskly. ‘I was real glad to see her wee smiling face. I was just about the end of my tether.’
‘I know. Poor Maggie!’
‘Miss Julia, I’m real worried. Do you think Dr. Cairn is giving him the right medicine? That was an awful bad turn he took on Friday. He’s not getting any better,’ declared Maggie with her usual habit of understatement. ‘He’s not getting any better,’ she repeated in a trembling voice.
‘I know,’ agreed Julia. ‘But we’re going to take him to see a very good doctor in Edinburgh.’
‘Oh, Miss Julia, that will be grand! Neil has been on about it for months but they wouldna heed him. Did you speak to Dr. Cairn?’
‘Yes, I told him I insisted on having further advice,’ declared Julia, raising her chin. ‘I had to be very firm about it.’
‘Maircy, I never thought you had it in you!’ exclaimed Maggie admiringly.
Julia knew that Maggie was by no means the only person who thought her soft and pliable . . . and they were right, up to a point; but occasionally they got a surprise. Occasionally it was absolutely necessary to make a stand even if it half-killed you!
‘Will it be MacTavish?’ asked Maggie eagerly.
‘Yes. Dr. Cairn has written to him and Neil has gone up to Edinburgh to see him this afternoon.’
‘Oh, Miss Julia! That’s wonderful! It’s just wonderful . . . and it’s you that’s done it. Yes, it’s you that’s done the whole thing.’
The Blue Sapphire Page 21
