by John Creasey
“Did hear Dr. Dimmock was getting past it, like, and he’d taken on an assistant, one of these black fellers. It’s a changing world, that’s what I have to say, things are a lot different from what they were in my young days.”
“You had to work for a living then, instead of sitting your backside on a tractor,” the barman said as two more customers came in.
Larry finished his drink and went outside; the flat, unemotional voices got on his nerves. A quarter of an hour had passed, and he could soon start looking along the road.
It was another twelve minutes before the sound of a motor cycle or a Vespa became audible, and there was still no car in sight. Larry looked towards the church and three miles beyond, to the cottage and Jane. If this damned doctor didn’t hurry, he’d have to go and see Jane himself; one of the chaps in the Wheatsheaf would direct the doctor to the cottage.
The little motor cycle sounded louder, then stopped alongside the car. A youthful-looking man with a face as black as coal stared at Larry with questioning eyes and a hint of a smile.
Larry’s heart leapt.
“Dr. Korven?”
“That is right.” The man’s voice was very deep and the words were uttered slowly.
“Will you just follow me?” Larry asked. “Or would you rather come in the car?”
“I will follow you,” said Dr. Korven. “Not too fast, please.’”
Chapter Two
THE FIRST OPINION
Mabel Carter was with Jane.
Larry saw the change of expression on her plump, flabby face when she first saw Dr. Korven. She wasn’t a woman he particularly liked, and he had often seen her tight-lipped, like this, whenever she disapproved of anything or anyone; and she was a specialist in disapproval. Dr. Korven inclined his head to her, smiled gravely, and said:
“Perhaps you will tell me what you have done to help the patient, Mrs. Carter.”
“I’ve done all a sensible person could do,” said Mabel, tartly. “I’ve kept her warm, and kept moistening her lips. I gave her one spoonful of brandy, but that didn’t seem to do any good, and she didn’t want any more.”
“I see,” said Dr. Korven. “I will be glad if you will assist me, please.”
Mrs. Carter nodded.
Larry could only think of Jane, who lay on her back with two eiderdowns taken out of winter storage and piled on her. She looked paler than ever, although she must be so hot. Her curly fair hair was like a child’s on the wine red of the bedspread.
“May I stay?” Larry asked, chokily.
“If you wish,” said Korven.
It was strange to see his dark hands against Jane’s whiteness. He was deliberate and yet wholly impersonal, and did exactly what Larry would have expected Dimmock to do. Stethoscope,, a pencil torch to see inside the mouth, tapping at the knees to try to get a reaction; all this in complete silence, while Mrs. Carter looked on with that obvious but unspoken disapproval.
Larry wondered what Dr. Korven thought about it.
The Mrs. Carters of this world would always object to anything new, but he had worked with coloured men and had come almost to forget their colour. Certainly he wasn’t concerned with the colour of Korven’s skin just then; was concerned only with a doctor’s findings. Korven said so little that it was almost frightening; and he seemed both serious and absorbed as he studied Jane’s arms and shoulders, and touched her right arm near a little red swelling.
“Are there many mosquitoes near here?” he asked.
“There’s an old pond near the mill, I’m always asking the council to clean it out,” Mrs. Carter said. “Can’t sleep for the little brutes some nights.”
Dr. Korven nodded, looked for other spots but found none, and stood back from the bed.
He smiled at Mrs. Carter, saying:
“You were very good, Mrs. Carter, it is so important to keep the patient warm. Are you able to stay with Mrs. Hill, or do your domestic duties require you?”
“Well, if she needs constant nursing, I can’t manage it.”
“For the time being all that Mrs. Hill needs is the company of friends,” Korven said, and turned to look at the stricken woman on the bed. His smile, with the white teeth dazzling, seemed to bring brightness and hope into the room. “I do not know what has happened to cause your general physical condition, Mrs. Hill, apart from the signs you know about. I can tell you some things: for instance, it is not poliomyelitis.”
Larry thought: “Thank God,” and felt weak with a wave of relief.
“It is not a heart condition either. There is a slight swelling in the throat, both inside and outside, which I do not understand, but the prostration could be caused by shock.” He smiled reassuringly, and glanced at Larry. “Yes, it could be caused by shock, and we are at a disadvantage because your wife cannot talk. That is why I am going to ask some questions. She will perhaps answer with a nod or a shake of the head.”
“That’s how I questioned her.” Larry was eager.
“Don’t you think she ought to rest?” demanded Mrs. Carter aggressively.
“I do indeed,” said Korven. “But there are some facts we ought to know first in order to help her. It may take a little time to find them.”
“I think I’ll go and see how things are at home, and come back later,” Mrs. Carter said. “And if she really wants a day and night nurse, I really couldn’t manage.”
“Why don’t you arrange for Mr. Hill to send for you if he needs your help?” suggested Korven.
Larry thought: “He wants to get rid of her.” He felt a measure of relief when Mrs. Carter agreed to go, and saw her to the head of the stairs. She leaned close to him and whispered:
“I’m not prejudiced, but the sooner you get Dr. Dimmock in person to come and see her, the better it will be. That’s if you want my opinion.”
“I hope he’ll be here soon,” Larry said, and that seemed to satisfy her.
He went back to the bedroom, to see Korven standing by the foot of the bed, the stethoscope and other instruments back in the case, the case closed. He was dressed in a suit of clerical grey, immaculately cut, and obviously was only in his early twenties. His round head was a cluster of close black curls, and his dark skin showed up vividly against his white collar, shirt and cuffs.
Jane was looking more relaxed, as if some of the tension had eased; certainly no one could have been more soothing than this doctor.
“Now we will try,” Korven said.
He asked the questions gently. Had she received a great shock? No. Had she seen anything frightening? No. Had she fallen down and banged her head? No. Had she bumped her head against a cupboard, a door, anything hard? No. Each “no” was just a little sideways movement of her head on the pillow, as Larry sat by the side of the bed, watching tensely.
Had she received any kind of electric shock? No.
The deep voice brought out question after question clearly, and Korven seemed to know exactly what he was driving at.
Had the feeling of paralysis first started in her legs? No. Arms? No. Throat?
Yes!
Larry felt a surge of excitement as Jane nodded, and did not notice anything different about the movement of her head. But Korven did. He seemed startled, stared very intently, for a moment almost frighteningly. Then he asked in the same measured tones:
“Was it a soreness?”
“No.”
“Stiffness?”
“Yes.”
“Had it come suddenly?”
“Yes.”
“Very quickly?”
His questions elicited the fact that it had taken about ten minutes to get to its worst; and at its worst Jane had hardly been able to breathe. Some details weren’t yet known, but at least the important facts seemed to be: this trouble had started in her throat an
d spread to the rest of her body.
“Now, please, will you nod your head quickly, three or four times,” Korven asked.
Jane nodded, not vigorously but quite quickly, and as she did so Larry thought that her movements were much more free than they had been. A choky kind of excitement made him shiver. Jane realised the difference too, and began to nod and then to shake her head and to try to move her arms underneath the eiderdown; there was some movement there as well as at her feet.
“I think I will wait to see how you get on now,” Dr. Korven said. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Hill, I will have a walk in your beautiful garden.”
“Oh, of course!” Larry said. He went to the door to let the coloured doctor go out, then sprang to the bed and gripped Jane’s hands, which lay outside the eiderdown.
“It’s all right darling, you’re getting better, you’re going to be all right!” He was shrill with excitement.
Jane’s eyes were very bright. She could move her lips, and Larry tried to lip-read but could not understand. It didn’t really matter.
“Anything you’d like?” he asked.
A nod.
“More water?”
A nod.
“I’ll get some right away,” Larry said, and hurried for a glass of cool, fresh water, came back and held it to her lips. This time she drank slowly, and there was noticeably less evidence of paralysis.
Larry put the glass down and went to the window, partly to conceal the tears in his eyes. He saw Dr. Korven sitting on one of the posts of the fence, relaxed in the evening sun and apparently contented. Three boys, two of the Carter children and a cousin, all aged about nine or ten, came cycling along the path which ran alongside the garden, and as they passed the doctor two of them put out their tongues.
The little brutes!
Korven’s expression did not alter. He took out a cigarette and lit it, still staring into the distance.
It was an unpleasant incident, and coming on top of Mrs. Carter’s advice, made it clear how deep prejudice went. Well he, Larry Hill, couldn’t do anything about it.
He turned back to Jane.
She was hitching herself up in bed.
“Janey, be careful!”
When he tried to stop her she made a face at him. Soon she was sitting nearly upright against the pillows. Her colour was better and her lips were no longer pale. Her smile came quite freely, and it seemed obvious that before long she would be herself again.
When Dr. Korven came up, he said: “It is not surprising that as the stiffness began in the throat, it will leave the throat last, also. Mrs. Hill, I must tell you most seriously that you must rest. We do not know what caused this brief affliction, but we know that you have had a severe shock, and, rest is essential. Can that be arranged here?”
“We can arrange it. My sister will come,” Larry said confidently. “I’ll handle things until she does; I can take tomorrow off.” He felt that glow of excitement, even though one part of his mind seemed to say: “You’re a sentimental idiot.” Well, why not? He was in love, wasn’t he? Five years married, and Jane mattered as much as ever.
“It may be wise to have a nurse here for a night or two. I will consult Dr. Dimmock and arrange it if he agrees.”
Anything, so long as it helped to make sure that Janey got well quickly.
“Do not make any attempt to force the recovery of the power of speech,” went on Dr. Korven. “I shall come again later in the evening and bring a soothing lotion which will perhaps help. Remember, do not try to make yourself talk. Stay in bed. Eat only very soft foods. Milk broth, perhaps, or soup would be best, or fish. Are you hungry?”
Jane nodded; and her eyes were brimming over with a kind of merriment. You couldn’t keep Janey down for long!
“She eats more than I do, although she’s still only eight- stone-four,” Larry said. “Doctor, I can’t thank you enough.”
“I have done nothing,” Dr. Korven said. “I am anxious only to know how long it is before her voice comes back. The time is very important.” He picked up his small black case and moved towards the door, smiling round at Jane.
She formed two words carefully: “Thank you.”
Downstairs, Larry said earnestly: “Is there anything you preferred not to tell my wife, doctor?”
“I have little more to say,” said Korven. “Your wife has had a rare infection of the throat, and undoubtedly will have to be kept under observation, but it will be better if she believes Dr. Dimmock has arranged for a nurse.” He gave his bright, attractive smile. “I will tell you more when I come back with the nurse.’”
“When will that be?”
“I shall be here at ten o’clock,” the doctor told him. “I shall know my way, there is no need to come and meet me.” “I wonder—” Larry began, and then said: “Oh, it doesn’t matter.”
“What would you like me to do?”
“Well, if you could phone a telegram to my sister, it would get there some time tonight. I’m sure she’ll be here by midday tomorrow.”
“Please write down the message and I will arrange it.” Dr. Korven promised.
Ten minutes later Larry saw the Vespa moving steadily towards Conne. The three children were on the road, fooling about with their bicycles; he hoped they weren’t lying in wait for the doctor. It was too far away to be able to see their faces, so he turned back to Jane.
“My goodness, you gave me a scare,” he said. “But it’s only a matter of time, now.”
She nodded, and formed words with her lips.
“Don’t try to talk,” Larry said hastily. “The doctor was emphatic about that. Don’t try, just let nature take its course.”
Jane nodded again.
Larry went downstairs to get supper, and decided on scrambled eggs and milk broth to follow, for them both; that would be the easy way, and he could finish with plenty of bread and cheese. He was about twenty minutes, and when he went into the bedroom with the tray, he had a sneaking hope that Jane would be able to speak, if only in a whisper.
But she could not.
He wondered if Dr. Korven did know more than he had said; whether he had known that it would be some time before she got her voice back; what he had meant by “rare”.
At least Jane had enjoyed her supper!
Larry moved the radio up into the bedroom, where it could stay for a few days, then went to wash up. He wondered if Dr. Korven had sent that telegram; whether he had talked to Dimmock; whether he would be here at ten o’clock. Larry did not seriously doubt it; Korven had impressed him as a reliable man in every way. But was Dr. Dimmock wise to have him as a partner in a country district like this, where only white people lived? Dimmock was known to be a man of strong opinions, stubborn and sometimes obstinate. Not that it was his, Larry Hill’s, business.
It was dark at half-past nine.
At ten, Larry fancied that he heard the noise of the Vespa engine, but he was mistaken, the noise didn’t get any louder; the wind was probably carrying sounds from the main road, two miles away.
At ten-past ten Larry was surprised that Korven hadn’t arrived.
By half-past, when there was still no sign of the doctor, he was acutely disappointed.
To make it worse, Jane still couldn’t utter a word.
Chapter Three
DEAD MAN
Dr. Wilberforce Abraham Korven had every intention of going back to Vale Cottage, and did not intend to be alone. Nothing of his inward excitement showed as he drove off or as he passed the boys. They stared rudely, but made no gestures and did not call out. The narrow road had a single strip of tar, just wide enough for a car. He kept up a good speed, trying to decide whether to stop at the Wheatsheaf and telephone to London, or whether to go home to his lodgings in Lauriston. Lauriston had an automatic exchange, and it would be safer t
o talk from there.
It wouldn’t take long: half an hour would make little difference.
But it could be fatal. When he had come down here, Palfrey had told him to report any discovery at once, had impressed him with the urgency.
Palfrey …
The good man, the great man, one of the few who really seemed unaware of the colour of a man’s skin.
Korven slowed down near the post-office, then saw a girl in the telephone box and an elderly man waiting as if to make a call. That decided Korven. He put his foot down and shot past the low Tudor buildings and along the narrow, winding High Street. Two people watched him from a cottage door, and at the last house in the village, where a child played on the narrow pavement, a woman called:
“Elsa, mind that motor-bike!”
The wind carried the warning and the fear to Korven, and he slowed down. He was calm again now that the decision had been made for him. It would be far better to talk freely to Palfrey than to guard his words.
There were only two small villages between here and Lauriston. Hampshire was a much larger county than he had realized before he had come to work with Dimmock, on Palfrey’s recommendation. Dimmock: there was a man, too. But Korven did not think very much about the old doctor, he was concentrating on speed, eager to tell Palfrey that he had found this peculiar throat affliction and the paralytic condition.
The road ahead was winding and in places there were steep hills; it was not easy for speed.
He noticed a car parked just off the road at the entrance to a field, passed it, then saw it moving after him, reflected in his driving mirror. It was a big, old car; perhaps a taxi. It should soon pass him. Instead, it followed slowly, even when there was a long straight stretch of road ahead. There was the forest, too: the Forest of Conne, where the road ran through massed trees, and where even at midsummer it was dark and shady; this evening it was cool. There was a mile-long tunnel formed by the interlocking branches of ancient beech trees on either side of the road.
