by Rosie Harris
‘There’s just one other point which perhaps I should make clear,’ Dr Pugh cleared his throat uncomfortably. ‘We’ve no idea who this man is or anything at all about him.’
‘I thought you were only interested in helping Chartist supporters?’ frowned Kate.
‘Neither politics nor religion comes into it when someone needs medical help,’ snapped Dr Pugh, in a reprimanding tone.
‘No, of course not,’ Kate said hastily. ‘What I really meant…’ her voice trailed off uncertainly. She shot a sideways glance at her companion and saw that his mouth was set in a tight line.
‘What sort of injuries does he have?’ she asked in an attempt to dispel the uneasy atmosphere between them.
‘Broken bones and multiple head and face injuries.’
‘How terrible!’
‘The bones will knit together, given time. It’s the head wounds that trouble me,’ confided Dr Pugh. ‘He has been in a coma now for such a long period that there is always the danger that when he does regain consciousness he may have become mentally deranged.’
‘You mean… you mean he’ll be mad?’ gasped Kate in a horrified whisper.
‘That,’ he sighed scornfully, ‘is the non-medical term for it. Mind you,’ he added hastily, ‘exactly what form it will take remains to be seen.’
‘What do you mean?’ Kate frowned.
‘At best, he could be simple… the mind of a child. Unable to comprehend things on an adult level.’
‘And at worst?’ Her eyes darkened apprehensively.
‘At worst…’ the doctor hesitated. ‘At the very worst he could be aggressive or even violent.’
‘And between those two extremes?’
‘A great number of possibilities. It could be that his memory will be impaired, or that he will be slow to comprehend things. He might suffer from headaches, or bouts of depression. His vision or hearing might be affected, he might have a reaction to noise. He could suffer from some form of phobia. It might be a morbid fear or aversion, an intense dislike of somebody, or an irrational anxiety related to the experience that caused his injuries.’
‘Is there no way of knowing in advance which of these it’s likely to be?’
‘Hatred, horror, overwhelming anxiety are the most likely symptoms we can expect,’ mused Dr Pugh.
‘How old is he?’ asked Kate.
‘Oh, he’s a youngish man, somewhere in his twenties. He looks as though he was physically fit before the accident. This is a great advantage, of course. With careful nursing he should certainly return to full health.’
‘But with his mind impaired!’
‘Well, that remains to be seen. I thought it wise to warn you what to expect,’ he told her gruffly as he reined in the horse.
As they came to a stop outside a tavern a young boy appeared out of the darkness so promptly that it was obvious he had been waiting for them. Without saying a word he took the horse’s head.
Kate was so stiff from the cold that as she made to step down from the trap she would have fallen had not Dr Pugh taken a firm grip on her arm.
He escorted her into the tavern and they went through to a small parlour at the back of the taproom. Although it was well after midnight, there was a fire blazing in the hearth.
As Kate bent down to warm her chilled hands the sudden heat made her feel giddy. Her senses reeling, she sat down on the nearest chair, passing a hand over her eyes.
‘A drink and something hot to eat; we are both frozen after our journey,’ Dr Pugh declared authoritatively as a rotund, grey-haired man appeared in the doorway, rubbing his hands together and looking inquisitively at Kate as he enthusiastically greeted the doctor.
‘Hot toddy? A bowl of chicken soup thickened with vegetables?’
‘That sounds fine. Quick as you can then, the young lady is feeling faint with the cold.’
‘Right away, Dr Pugh. Make yourselves comfortable.’ As he spoke, the man picked up a log and thrust it into the heart of the blazing coals, sending up a shower of golden sparks.
‘Take off your cloak, Kate,’ advised Dr Pugh, removing his own cape and laying it across the back of a chair.
‘Is the sick man here?’
‘No, but it will be an hour or so before we’re ready to continue our journey, so you may as well be comfortable. We’ve hidden him some distance away. Rather an isolated spot, I’m afraid. Will you be able to stand loneliness?’
‘I managed in Newport.’
‘That was rather different. The men you were nursing were all conscious and able to talk. You were part of a group. Here you will be completely on your own, with a man who is in a coma and desperately ill.’ He stared at her. ‘You’re quite sure you will be able to cope?’
‘I think so,’ she told him quietly. ‘There is one thing I don’t understand, though.’
‘Well, speak out then,’ Dr Pugh said impatiently.
‘This man… why are you so concerned about him?’
Dr Pugh scowled but remained silent.
‘How did he get injured?’ Kate persisted.
‘I’ve already told you! He’s a fellow human being and I am a doctor,’ Dr Pugh growled.
‘I know that, but why hasn’t he been brought here to the inn and nursed openly? Why can’t the local doctor attend him?’
‘You ask too many questions,’ Dr Pugh blustered.
‘If you want me to nurse him then I think you should give me some answers,’ Kate told him boldly.
The arrival of their food brought the conversation to a temporary halt. The soup was thick and hot and they both ate hungrily. When her appetite was sated, Kate returned to her probing.
‘I still want to know who this man is I’m going to nurse and why he’s being hidden away.’
Dr Pugh mopped up the last of his soup with a piece of bread, masticated it slowly, then pushed his empty bowl to one side. Picking up his glass of hot toddy he took a long, slow swig. Cradling the glass between both hands he looked across at Kate as he chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip.
‘Please!’ she entreated.
‘Very well. I’ll tell you what I know. I don’t think this man has anything to do with the Chartists, but I can’t be sure.’ He held up his hand as she was about to speak. ‘I do know that he received his injuries during a fracas at one of the coal mines not far from here. There’d been a cave-in and a dispute arose when they tried to sort matters out. A fight broke out between management and workers.’
‘Go on!’ breathed Kate as Dr Pugh paused to take another swig from his glass.
‘That’s all there is to tell you. As I said, fighting broke out. Sticks, stones and lumps of coal were hurled around and when it was all over this man was left lying on the ground, badly injured.’
‘If he was a local man, isn’t it strange that no one has come looking for him?’ asked Kate, frowning.
‘Maybe they have and not found him.’
Kate shook her head disbelievingly.
‘His family may have been told he was dead,’ suggested Dr Pugh.
‘Even so, they’d want his body for burial!’
‘If he was a known rebel they may have decided it was wiser to keep quiet in case they brought retribution on their own heads,’ he told her sagely.
‘Surely not!’
There has been so much unrest of late that people are no longer certain who is their friend and who’s their enemy. Families are divided. Men who have worked side by side for many years no longer trust each other. Poverty stalks the land and with it fear and suspicion.’
‘How long ago did all this happen?’ asked Kate, trying to quell the alarm bells sounding in her mind.
‘The cave-in was shortly before the Newport uprising, I think.’ Dr Pugh sighed heavily. ‘So much unrest it’s difficult to keep track of everything.’
‘And you think this injured man could be a stranger to the area.’
‘It’s possible. He might be one of the arbitrators who came up from Cardiff or Lon
don to try and help settle the dispute.’
‘You haven’t told me his name.’
‘I think I’ve said enough.’ Abruptly Dr Pugh stood up. ‘Stay here. I’ll go and see if Huw Jenner is ready and we can be on our way.’
Kate’s mind buzzed. The possibility that the injured men might be David filled her with excitement, brought a light to her eyes and a flush to her cheeks.
She knew it was foolish to hope, let alone voice aloud her innermost thoughts. It was like sighing for the moon.
Yet she couldn’t completely disregard her intuition.
Chapter 34
They set out on foot, Kate carrying her bundle of clothes, Dr Elwyn Pugh his black bag of medicines and Huw Jenner a small sack of provisions.
Frost glistened on the bushes with a ghostly whiteness as the moon flitted between scurrying clouds. Twigs snapped and crackled underfoot as they left the roadway and made their way uphill towards a ruined tower that pointed a stark warning finger into the night sky. Kate shivered. The coldness of the night air froze her cheeks and seared her throat as she panted for breath, trying to keep up with the two men as they strode out along the steep, rutted path.
They skirted a mass of buildings, gabled ruins, that looked as if they had once, together with the distant tower, formed part of a castle. Great piles of grey stone radiated an eerie translucent gleam and cast grotesque, dark shadows on to the frozen ground.
The unnatural stillness filled Kate with unease. She jumped and let out a small cry as an owl screeched and, with a sudden rush of wind and wild flapping of wings, swooped low over their heads before disappearing into the darkness.
‘Not scared are you, miss?’ guffawed Huw Jenner. ‘Some say that owls are the spirits of the departed and their hooting signals death…’
‘That will do! A load of old wives’ tales and I’m sure Miss Stacey doesn’t believe a word of it,’ interrupted Elwyn Pugh sharply. ‘Anyway,’ he added in more conciliatory tones, ‘most people believe it’s a warning that snow is on the way and judging by the nip in the air tonight I think that’s more than likely.’
‘I prefer my own version since it frightens folks off,’ stated Huw Jenner. ‘Some even claim to have seen the Red Dogs of Morfa running up here at night, and everyone knows they are a warning from the underworld.’
‘I suppose you are justified in encouraging such superstitions if it helps to keep people away,’ Dr Pugh agreed grudgingly. ‘If they believe such nonsense then should they see a light flickering they’re more likely to run a mile than come and investigate it.’
‘There’s any number of manifestations people claim to have seen here after dark. A very superstitious lot, are miners.’
By now the ruins were just a blur in the background. In front of them the tower dominated the skyline. Dr Pugh held out a hand to steady Kate as they clambered through the curtain wall, and over piles of rubble, to reach a narrow entrance.
From the shape of its arched top, she assumed it had once been an impressive doorway. Steep stone steps spiralled into a narrow passageway that ended in a vast room with a stone-flagged floor and high ceiling.
In the dim light of the candle-lantern hanging from a beam she could see that there was a stone fireplace, with a sloping hood of ashlar, built across the angle of one corner. And along the wall to the right, beneath a vaulted window, a stone seat was set into the embrasure. The window had been blocked in and only a narrow, arrow-slit aperture allowed air into the room.
As her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, Kate saw there was a rough table holding some dishes and cooking pans and, drawn up near the fire, a high-backed wooden chair with carved arms.
On the far side of the fire was a bed, but it was difficult to tell if anyone was lying in it or not.
‘Here’s your patient, then,’ Dr Pugh announced. ‘I did warn you he was in pretty bad shape,’ he added as he walked towards the bed.
Tingling with excitement, Kate joined him.
Her optimism that it might be David turned to dismay. She drew in her breath sharply, clamping her teeth over her lower lip to keep it from trembling. It was impossible to discern the man’s features, because his head and face were completely swathed in bandages. Slits had been left over his nose and mouth to allow him to breathe. He looked more like a corpse than a living person. His right arm was set in splints which were held in place with a sling that went round his neck and was then bound around his chest.
She watched in silence as Dr Pugh slid his fingers round the man’s wrist, feeling for his pulse. He seemed to have difficulty in finding it and for one awful moment Kate was sure they’d arrived too late.
Her spirits had been buoyed up by the notion that it might be David. Now that feeling was ebbing fast.
She watched bemused as Huw Jenner cleared the ashes from the stone fireplace and coaxed the dying embers back to a lively blaze with dry twigs.
‘You’ve no need to worry about the smoke,’ he explained, as he skilfully banked up the fire with nuggets of coal. ‘This room is within the tower and by the time the smoke reaches the outside it’s a mere wisp and barely noticeable.’
‘Very few people ever come up here but it might be wise for you to keep out of sight during the daytime, Kate,’ advised Dr Pugh. ‘If you need a breath of air then go out at dusk or dawn.’
‘And remember to let your cloak flap in the breeze, then if anyone should chance to see you they’ll take you for a ghost and run off screaming,’ joked Huw Jenner. ‘There’s some terrible tales told about the hauntings up here…’
‘That will do!’ Dr Pugh scowled. ‘We’ll be on our way now, Kate. Is there anything more you need to know?’
‘There’s a dozen tallow candles as well as plenty of coal and logs for the fire so pile on all you need to keep warm,’ urged Huw Jenner solicitously.
‘I’ve left enough medicine to last for two days. There’s broth and gruel for your patient as well as plenty of food for you until our next visit.’
‘Thank you. I’m sure I shall manage fine.’
‘Don’t expect to see any change. Drip the broth and medicine into his mouth a little at a time so that they trickle down his throat. If you try to hurry the process he may choke. Now you do understand?’
‘Yes,’ Kate assured him. ‘I’ll take good care of him.’
‘And have you everything you require yourself or is there anything you wish me to bring on my next visit?’
Kate looked round the bleak, windowless room and shivered. Two days would seem like eternity with no one to talk to and so little to occupy her time.
‘Could you bring me something to read?’ she asked shyly.
‘You mean a bible?’
‘No!’ Her eyes widened and a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘I would much rather have a book of poetry. Something by William Barnes, if that’s possible,’ she added hopefully.
‘Poetry!’ His eyebrows shot up in astonishment. ‘You read such stuff!’
‘I was taught to read and write by William Barnes,’ she added simply.
‘Well, I’ve never heard of the fellow but I’ll see what I can do. I’ll bring you something,’ he promised.
‘How about the Mabinogion that Lady Charlotte Guest has just translated into English,’ prompted Huw Jenner.
‘What is that?’
‘Stories based on Welsh folklore,’ he explained. ‘Years she’s spent collecting these tales. Wonderful they are! They were first recorded in the White Book of Rhydderch and the Red Book of Hergest in the Middle Ages. Ever since then they’ve been handed down, by word of mouth, from father to son, mother to daughter.’
‘We’ll see, we’ll see,’ Dr Pugh stated in clipped tones, snapping his medical bag shut to signal his anxiety to be on his way.
Kate walked to the outer door with them and stood there shivering until their footsteps had faded away before she slid the wooden latch into position.
Picking up the candle-lantern which Huw Jenner had left bu
rning on the table she carried it across to the bed and stood gazing uncertainly at the man lying there.
Although his hair and features were completely hidden she felt there was something familiar about the set of the man’s shoulders and the shape of his body beneath the covers. Once again, she felt hope rising within her like a surging tide.
Setting down the lantern on the floor, she reached out to draw back the bedclothes. Her fingers were shaking and she was trembling from head to foot but the man remained impassive, his chest barely rising his breathing was so shallow.
She stood there, biting her lower lip, afraid to make the next move, knowing that it would confirm whether her intuition was playing her false or not. Would it be better not to know? she wondered. Would she be prepared to nurse a stranger? If it wasn’t David, could she give him the care and attention he needed, or would she feel resentful and disillusioned?
She gathered her courage, her mind made up. She must know the truth. With bated breath she drew back the covers to expose the man’s shoulders and chest.
For a moment she felt unable to move, then with trembling fingers she began unbuttoning his nightshirt. Her heart racing, her breath catching in a choked sob, she opened back the striped flannel to look for the dull-red, egg-shaped birthmark she knew to be on David’s chest.
Kate stopped, sinking to her knees beside the bed, numb with shock when she found the man’s body was bandaged from waist to armpits.
Tears streamed from her eyes. Waves of despair washed over her.
The flickering candle marked the passing of time. When it had burnt so low that it was guttering, she roused herself, knowing that unless she replaced it the room would be in darkness.
Her mind was a jumble of plans and schemes as she heated up broth in a small pan over the open coals. With infinite patience she fed her patient, desperately anxious that he should have all the nourishment possible, yet fearful that he might choke.
Afterwards, she steeled herself to check for the one blemish that would prove his identity. Each time she tried, she could not bring herself to unwind the barrier of bandages.
