A Caring Heart

by Margaret Carr

  * * *

  The hospital was very busy and for a while she lost track of Jack. After handing over their patient he had made some excuse she had failed to pay attention to and disappeared. Now she fretted about getting home to her duties should he not return, but before she could do anything she caught sight of him higher up the corridor talking to a doctor. Relieved she hurried towards them.

  As she approached Jack said something to the doctor who turned, and casting an enquiring glance at her, held out his hand. ‘Hello, my name is Drew Foreman. Pleased to meet you.’

  Surprised at her warm welcome, Isobel shook hands. ‘Isobel Ross.’

  ‘We were just talking about you. Jack is an old friend of mine. He was just telling me what a good nurse you are.’

  Isobel shot a surprised look at Jack who nodded in confirmation.

  ‘Perhaps you and Jack could dine with my wife and I tonight.’

  ‘Well, I should be getting back,’ she hesitated.

  ‘We would love to, Drew, but for now we must both be getting back to work.’

  Andrew Foreman grinned. ‘Of course, sorry. Make it eight o’clock.’

  Jack nodded and they took their leave, Jack hustling her towards the main entrance.

  ‘What did you mean by accepting that invitation? I didn’t say I could go to someone’s house for dinner.’ She tugged herself free of his arm as they approached the car. Wally was leaning against the bonnet in the sunshine puffing on the last of his cigarette. He dropped the butt when he saw them coming and ground it out on the road with his heel before climbing into the car and taking his place behind the wheel.

  ‘Are you working tonight?’

  ‘No, but that’s not the point. I have things to do. My brother is coming on leave shortly.’

  ‘Good. I’d like to meet him.’

  Isobel turned a shocked expression on him. ‘Why?’

  The car turned down onto the road and the sun through the window blinded her momentarily. As it shifted slowly across the back seat his face was in shadow. Was it her imagination or did he sound afraid, and if so of what?

  The silence stretched on and eventually the car came to a stop at her gate and she was on the point of getting out when he said, ‘I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty,’ and drove off before she could reply.

  Someone had brought her bicycle back and parked it against the fence. So with a hearty sigh she mounted it and set off on her disrupted rounds. It was well into the afternoon before she returned to the cottage just in time to heat the water and have a cup of tea and a relaxing bath before getting ready for her dinner date at the Foremans’ house.

  Jack was on time as was she. He was quiet and thoughtful as they travelled back to Rennington. Surreptitiously she watched his face in the dwindling light. The high planes of his cheekbones were still sharply defined, though the dark hair was thick and glossy now it still fell over his forehead.

  He had large generous ears, a thing she always noticed about anyone, the shape of their ears, and long thin hands, artist’s hands, she thought, as her glance dropped to where one hand rested on his stick handle, the other on his knee. He turned his head without warning and caught her gaze in his own.

  ‘He’s a pilot, your brother?’ was all he said in reply to her earlier unanswered question

  She nodded and a short while later they arrived.

  A detached house in a row of houses running up a hill on the outskirts of the town. There was a short drive and a flight of four steps up to the front door. Drew and a beautiful woman a little older than herself stood at the open door to greet them. Drew introduced his wife as Barbara and they were led into the house. Drew took their coats while Barbara showed Wally into the kitchen then came back to escort Isobel into the lounge for drinks.

  Later in the evening Isobel discovered that Drew was the doctor who had effected the change in Jack’s life by introducing him to someone in authority in the south. Now they talked about conditions at the camp and the welfare of the POWs.

  ‘No more work talk, please,’ Barbara interrupted them. ‘Drew, let’s have some music. Put the gramophone on and we can have requests. What’s your favourite tune, Isobel, and we’ll see if we have it.’

  Drew crossed to the wind-up machine and began to sort through the records in the cabinet beneath.

  ‘Vera Lynn?’

  ‘OK, how about The White Cliffs of Dover? Barbara bought that one last week.’

  ‘I brought it back from Newcastle. There has been some terrible bombing down by the docks. The friend I met in Fenwicks said there were great gaps in the rows of houses at the bottom of her street. Ambulances had come and taken the stricken families to other accommodation. We are getting a couple of evacuees next week. We have no children of our own,’ she explained to Isobel. ‘I just hope they don’t give us little ones, with me not having any experience of children.’

  ‘Oh I’m sure they won’t.’ Isobel smiled confidently.

  The record had come to an end and Barbara suddenly said, ‘Put some Mantovani on and let’s dance.’ She got up and joined her husband at the cabinet, there was some quiet bickering going on then the music from Ivor Novello’s Dancing Years floated out across the room. Drew rolled up the carpet and walking over to where Isobel sat, bowed with a flourish and asked her to dance.

  ‘But,’ she said, glancing across to where Barbara was pulling Jack to his feet.

  He grinned, ‘Never met anyone yet who could refuse her anything.’

  Together they waltzed gently around the room each couple taking care to avoid the other. When the record came to an end Drew put on another one and took hold of his wife leaving Jack and Isobel facing one another. Barbara leant her head to one side urging Isobel to take the lead. So Isobel stepped forward and placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

  She felt a shudder run through him so she placed her other hand in his and a bolt of emotion shot through her, then they were moving hesitantly one foot at a time.

  After that the night flashed by and soon they were saying their goodbyes and climbing into the car again. The journey back was quiet but not with the stressed silences that they had arrived with, rather a tired, peaceful silence.

  ‘Have you enjoyed yourself?’ he asked when the car stopped at her gate.

  ‘Immensely. Thank you.’

  ‘Good,’ he said, as he climbed out to escort her to the door of the cottage. ‘Then perhaps we could make arrangements to go out again, say towards the end of the week?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  They stood together for a while in silence then he said, ‘Well goodnight then,’ and walked up the path back to the car.

  ISOBEL WONDERS ABOUT JACK’S SECRET

  Alan came home on leave two days later. She thought she saw more wrinkles around his tired eyes and there was definitely grey in his hair above his ears. Their banter had a flatness to it and eventually they stopped trying, and sitting in front of the fire talked quietly about everyday things like Churchill’s shift of alliance and the patient she had found trapped under the cart and her subsequent dinner at the Foremans’.

  ‘We,’ he enquired, after she slipped up in her description of her meeting with Drew at the hospital.

  ‘Jack Lewis, he gave us a lift to the hospital. Doctor Foreman is a friend of his.’

  ‘So you weren’t alone on this date?’ He cocked an eyebrow at her.

  With a soft laugh she replied, ‘It wasn’t like that. I haven’t seen him since nor do I expect to.’

  ‘Oh dear, when a woman says that, you know she is hoping for exactly the opposite.’

  Throwing him a disdainful glance she rose from her chair and went into the kitchen to make them some tea.

  He called after her, ‘Where do I find this Jack Lewis?’

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ she threatened. Then the kettle whistled.

  * * *

  The following morning was windy, but the sun was bright and hot and they set out to walk in the hills. With a flask in h
er pocket, a couple of sandwiches and a bar of homemade toffee, she felt they were well provided for. They had been walking for a couple of hours when Alan suddenly stopped and said, ‘Listen.’ Faint on the wind they heard what sounded like whispering in the tall trees, but as they waited amid the bleating of distant sheep they heard a cry of distress.

  ‘Quickly! This way,’ Alan said, hurrying off along a track that led them up onto a crag. Stopping every now and then to get his bearings they eventually looked down onto a rocky ledge where a figure sat with her back to the rock wall hugging an injured leg.

  When Alan shouted down a tear-stained face of a young woman looked up.

  ‘Oh, thank heaven! Please help me.’

  ‘Are you alone?’ Isobel called.

  There came a lot of sobbing then with the shake of her head and in a weak voice she cried, ‘No, my friend is down there.’

  Alan swore. He turned to look at his sister, who whispered, ‘What shall we do?’

  He plunged hands deep into his jacket pockets, a frown of concentration on his face. ‘You will have to go for help. I’ll try to get round to the foot of the crag and see what state the other one is in. You know these hills as well as I so it shouldn’t take you too long. The girl will just have to wait it out.’

  Isobel nodded. ‘The only farms between here and the village are Lewis’s and Hedley’s. The Lewises have help but no telephone, but Hedley’s is the farthest away.’

  ‘Try the Lewis’s farm, all we need is a stout rope and some blankets and someone to go to the village and fetch help.’

  Isobel set off and Alan leant over the cliff to explain to the woman what was happening. Her hysterical cries for help followed Isobel for the next several minutes. She arrived at Pine Tree Farm puffing and panting. Ignoring the geese, she crossed the yard and dashed into the kitchen. The farmer, his wife and Bobby Dunn were just sitting down for their dinner and looked up in surprise at Isobel’s unexpected arrival.

  ‘There’s been an accident on Dunster Crags, we need some help.’

  Mrs Lewis was up from the table in a second. ‘I’ll call the girls. Bobby, away with you to the village and ask Mrs Holland to send help then find Jack and tell him there’s been an accident.’

  ‘I knows crags,’ Bobby said, pushing his chair to one side. ‘You stay put boss,’ he said, patting Duncan’s hand. ‘I’ll take Jack to crags, missus.’

  ‘Good lad,’ said Mrs Lewis on her way out the door.

  In no time at all Isobel with the two girls, as the POW was not allowed to leave the farm, a length of rope and a couple of blankets, a make-do first aid kit and a flask of hot tea, were making their way back over the hills to the crags. When they arrived there was no sign of Alan. Isobel went to the edge of the cliff to peer down at the woman sitting there.

  ‘Hello, help is here, we’ll soon have you safe. What’s your name?’ There was no answer. She called repeatedly but there was no reply.

  Alan called to them from way over to their right and a few moments later he appeared coming along the top of the crag towards them. ‘The chap down below is dead now. He was dying when I reached him. I had to stay with him.’ He tried to smile at her but his jaw was clenched tight.

  ‘There’s no response from below,’ she said, as he set the girls to work tying the rope round an out-jutting boulder. Isobel tied one of the blankets into a makeshift sling before exploring her quickly-snatched first aid kit.

  Alan was tying the far end of the rope around his waist when she looked up. Biting her lip she watched him carefully lower himself over the edge of the crag. She moved as far as she dared to the edge of the crag and called down to the woman. The rope tautened and Alan called back that she was unconscious.

  ‘The ledge is quite wide so I’m taking my rope off. Pull it up and attach the sling and lower it down again.’

  Take care, she prayed, signalling to the girls to pull the rope up. As she turned to attach the sling a truck roared up the track and bumped over the rough ground to come to a squealing stop only yards from where she stood. Three men jumped down from the open backed vehicle and pulled out ropes and a basket woven stretcher as well as props and a mallet to hammer them in with. Jack climbed down from the cab to co-ordinate the operation as the props were sunk and ropes attached to support the stretcher.

  ‘My brother is down there on the ledge with the injured woman,’ Isobel told them. ‘I was about to throw this sling over the side.’

  Jack walked to the edge and looking down called to Alan, ‘I have a stretcher on supports. We’ll send a sling down for you and when you are secure we’ll send the stretcher down and you can steady her up.’

  Isobel heard Alan answer then the blanket was secured to the end of the rope and lowered down for Alan to climb into. Now two of the men let the stretcher swing gently outward and once it had steadied began to lower it gently to the ledge.

  There were several calls up and down as Alan negotiated the woman into the stretcher. Between them the men then very slowly began to drag the stretcher upward. As they brought it over the edge Isobel could see that the woman was still unconscious. Then Alan appeared safe and well.

  Isobel bent over the woman and went to work on a broken leg to give it temporary support, wrapped her in both the blankets and helped the men carry her on the stretcher into the back of the truck. Behind her Alan was telling Jack about the dead man at the bottom of the crag. She turned from the truck to join them.

  ‘She needs to get to hospital right away. I’ve done all I can for her here.’

  ‘Right, well, Wally will take you and the patient to hospital and drop the girls off at the farm on the way. The rest of us will stay here and retrieve the man from below then wait for the police.’ Jack had taken charge of the situation but Isobel glanced at Alan for confirmation. He gave her a slight nod. ‘You go ahead, I have to show them where the dead man is lying.’

  Jack had turned back to his men as she walked back across to the truck and climbed in. It was a bumpy ride back to the farm where they dropped the girls and joined the road to the hospital.

  Alan turned up in the doctor’s car as Isobel was sitting in the corridor waiting for a lift back to the village. They had followed the police van in and the doctor was needed to attend the dead man’s post mortem. Not long after that Jack arrived in the car driven by Wally.

  ‘I wondered how you would get back,’ he said as he walked up to them. ‘And as I had business in town anyway I thought I might offer you a lift.’ Alan grinned, ‘Thanks, much appreciated.’

  ‘I have a parcel to pick up here at the dispensary then we can be on our way.’ As he walked off along the corridor Isobel cast a wary eye at her brother.

  ‘You two seem very friendly?’

  Alan glanced down at her. ‘He’s a handy chap to have around. Pushes himself to his limits but doesn’t make the mistake of going over the top.’

  She looked thoughtful for a while then said, ‘Yes he’s coping very well.’

  ‘Quiet waters and all that, Sis. I wouldn’t get too involved if I was you.’

  She looked up startled, he sounded as though he meant it. Did she want to get involved, she wasn’t sure. Something about the man attracted her, but what was it that tugged at her, making her heart miss a beat, catch her breath or even care. Not pity, nor the caring she gave to her patients, but something else, something different. He had collected his parcel and was walking back towards them, his limp more pronounced than usual when it struck her, I think I love him.

  The knowledge was such a surprise that she took a step back and bumped into Alan. ‘Whoa,’ he laughed steadying her by the shoulders.

  ‘You should have gone out to the car,’ Jack said, as he caught up to them. They walked out of the hospital together and joined Wally in the car. Isobel and her brother chatted amiably in the back of the car while all the time she was only too aware of the tall dark man sitting silently in the front beside Wally.

  * * *

  Alan’
s warning about Jack being the strong silent type, who would smother his fears rather than bring them out into the open and deal with them nagged at her long after he had gone back to his squadron. She saw such improvement in Jack that she was sure Alan was wrong.

  After all, the war office would hardly have given him this job if they thought he was going to freeze every time there was an accident or lose his head in times of trouble. His behaviour at the clifftop had been exemplary in the way he had organised things once they had arrived. No, she thought, sinking her sore feet into a bowl of hot water, Alan is definitely wrong.

  * * *

  The doctor had been called out to Beacon Hill by Farmer Heron because his three children were unwell. The children had been diagnosed with scarlet fever and all three had been rushed into the fever hospital in Rennington. While the doctor had been called away Isobel had covered a local birth, her normal rounds, and Macky Mackenzie who’d had the misfortune to fall from his ladder while fixing guttering, and then back to the doctor’s to do evening surgery. Now her feet ached and she was worn out.

  She missed Churchill’s ready welcome now he was no longer there to greet her and was deciding on the advisability of acquiring another pet when there was a knock on the door. Hissing blue murder to herself she stepped out of the bowl and made a quick dab with the towel. More rattling on the door and she shouted out that she was coming.

  Hobbling over to the door she inched it open. ‘Hello, what do you want?’ The woman on the other side of the doorthresh looked vaguely familiar.

  ‘My name is Ethel Feather. I work for Mr Heron and I think someone should come and see to him.’

  Isobel frowned, her feet were getting cold. ‘What’s the matter with him?’

  ‘He hasn’t been himself since his wife died. The children have been taken into care and well, it’s all been too much and he’s storming around the house knocking things over and now he’s cut himself and he won’t let me help.’ Isobel counted to ten. ‘The children aren’t in care, they are in hospital because they have scarlet fever.’