by C F Dunn
“Henry, you’re the only one who can help her,” I said, gathering my wits at last. “Joel, come on, we must find Matthew.”
Together we ran downstream, Joel soon outstripping me. “The bridge! He’ll be cut in two!” I yelled as Joel sped out of sight. Please God, help him! I was fast losing my breath and with it speed. Count – one – two – three – run, damn it, run – four – five – six – faster – seven – eight… each step pounding until there, on the bend, I saw Joel reaching out over the river. He grabbed something and hauled. Seconds later, his clothes clinging to his body, his shirt shredded where the rocks had torn it to ribbons, stood Matthew. His arm hung at an odd angle, his face colourless, but he was alive.
“Matthew!” I managed as I reached him.
“I’m all right, Emma. Where’s Flora?”
Out of breath and overwhelmed with relief, I couldn’t speak. Joel answered, “Gramps is with her – she’s not breathing.”
“Stay with Emma and make sure she’s all right,” he told him, and then sped off upriver, retracing the path we had followed.
I bent double, drawing air into scorched lungs. “His arm, Joel. I heard it break.” I attempted to straighten and follow him, but Joel held me back.
“Wait up, Emma, give yourself a moment. Matthew’s OK. He’d swum to the bank when I got there.”
“But his shoulder…”
“He’s fine,” he said, and this time I detected an edge of authority to it I had never heard before.
“All right, but at least let me begin to walk back.”
On his knees, Matthew bent over Flora so that all I could see were her little white legs in bright pink socks with one sandal missing. On the ground next to her, Rob cried soundlessly and Alex stood by his shoulder staring at the motionless body of his sister. Dan had gone, but Henry knelt by Flora, and as I neared, I could see him holding one small hand in his, his other against her neck. Father and son trying to save a life. It was like witnessing my own death. I felt sick.
Matthew started compressions again. It was at this point in some hospital drama that someone would invariably say, “It’s too late, Doctor, she’s gone,” and the doctor would draw a hand across his face, defeated by death, disillusioned by life and his own failure.
Pump, pump, pump – breaths, one, two – pump, pump, pump, on and on until I wanted to scream Stop! and let the agony of waiting end. What would I tell my sister? What would I say to our mother, our father? How could their lives continue when one so beloved had been lost? A strange noise rose from beside me, and something touched my hand. I looked down and Alex whimpered. My heart breaking for him, I held him close. “Alex, it’s OK. Flora’s fine now.” What ridiculous things we say to the very young; what lies we tell them about death to save us from the yawning truth. As I said it, I could almost believe it to be true, repeating, with my face pressed against his wet hair, “She’s OK, she’s OK, she’s fine…” as if saying it would make it so.
Joel put an arm around my shoulders. “Emma, come on; let’s get Alex back to the house.”
Pushing him away, I dropped down next to Matthew. He didn’t break the steady rhythm of breaths and compressions. “Flora’s going to be all right, Joel. Look after Alex.”
Henry looked up. “Emma…”
“Just give her a moment.” I put my hands around her head and closed my eyes. She felt as cold as the fish I’d caught as a child and not my golden Flora, warm like the sun. I could not feel her life, but I could see it. I willed her to live, to breathe again. Please – help her. Raising my face, I fought the layers of darkness shrouding her to find her colours. “She’s in there.”
“I know,” Matthew replied between breaths. “I’m trying to reach her.”
“Come on, Flora,” I urged. “Come on,” I begged. There it was: a pulse of colour, like an explosion, fading again, then another – longer this time – ripe and full and ready to burst into life. “Matthew…”
“I feel it.”
Her head jerked beneath my hands. I let go. She coughed, her body rising to expel the water and Matthew rolled her onto her side. Her first breath. She hacked again, then promptly threw up.
In tears, Rob wiped her mouth, calling, “Flora-bell, it’s Daddy. Flora. Flora…”
She coughed weakly. “Daddy.”
Matthew checked her eyes. Joel returned with a blanket as Beth ran up, deathly pale. She tried to tear Flora from Matthew, but he began walking rapidly towards the house. “We need to get her to hospital.”
“But she’ll be all right, won’t she?”
“I’ll run some tests. We should know within a few hours.” And he broke into a sprint, reaching the house as Dan drew the car up at the front.
“What does he mean? Why does he need to run tests?” Beth gave a frightened gasp. “She’s going to be all right, isn’t she?”
Henry offered her his arm. “I’m sure she’ll be fine, but he’ll want to check there’s been no lasting damage to her lungs and that she’s fully responsive. Let’s get back to the house and I’ll take you straight to the hospital.”
Beth was saying that she wanted to be with Flora, and Henry explained that she could stay with her when I remembered that in all the panic we’d forgotten Alex. There he stood, staring at the crumpled damp patch his sister had made on the thin, stony grass. He shook slightly. Putting my arm around his skinny frame, I tried to draw him away. “Come on, Alex. If we hurry we can go to the hospital too and see how Flora is.”
He pulled back. “I don’t want to.”
“That’s all right, we’ll stay at the Barn. It’s warm there and you can have chocolate milk.”
He didn’t say anything, nor did he move. I removed the hair from over his eyes and my fingers came away wet. He was crying. “Flora will be coming home, Alex.”
His whole body shuddered. “I… I didn’t mean to.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “What, darling?”
“I didn’t mean fo… for her to fall in.”
I checked, but Beth and Rob were almost at the house now, and there was nobody else close by. I knelt in front of him. “Alex, tell me what happened.”
“We… we thought we would have a look at the river. Matthew said we couldn’t go alone, but we weren’t alone, were we? We were together.” I said nothing; I didn’t need to, he knew well enough. “Flora wanted to see the fish, bu… but I said she would have to go down to the water and she said she mustn’t but I said it was all right, so she did. And then I said she shouldn’t get too close but she thought she saw a fish and she tried to touch it. I tried to stop her, but she fell in. I did try, Emma, really I did.” His shoulders sagged miserably.
“I think you need a hot drink. Mummy and Daddy will want to go to the hospital, but Granny and Grandpa will need someone to help look after Archie and you are the very best person to do that, Alex, because you’re his big brother.”
He fixed me with eyes dark like his father’s. His voice quivered.
“Why don’t they want to stay with me?”
“Because they know you’re safe and they need to make sure Flora is safe as well.”
He nodded and, letting me take his hand, together we walked back to the house.
Pat and Henry insisted we stay the night with them as we waited for news. Jeannie joined us around the long kitchen table with a big casserole she had cooked, and we ate it in preoccupied silence.
Rob and Beth stayed at the hospital while Matthew ran tests and monitored Flora throughout the night. By midmorning, the car drew up and Flora bounced out as if nothing had happened, followed by her parents, looking exhausted but relieved. She chatted away to anyone who would listen and nobody saw Alex’s subdued look. Finally, as the fuss died down, Flora skipped up to him.
“Matthew rescued me,” she sang, “but you tried to save me first; you’re my hero,” and she flung her arms around her brother.
“Flora, why did you want to touch the fish?” he asked.
She regarded him with wide blue eyes. “I wanted to tickle the fish and make them laugh,” she said simply. “Do you want to see my bruises?”
Flora was indeed fine. The icy mountain water probably helped save her. She had been unconscious for no more than a few minutes before resuscitation began, but it had been a close call, as Matthew confided when we were alone.
He removed his watch with some difficulty. It had survived for so many years since Ellen gave it to him at their wedding. “I’ll get it mended,” he said, when I saw that it had stopped working. He had donned a jacket when he went to the hospital, but underneath he still wore the remains of the shirt from the previous day. He unbuttoned it, his movements unusually awkward.
“What is it?” I asked, reaching out to help him, then choked, mortified, as the fabric slipped from his back, revealing his right shoulder completely misaligned and bent like a misshapen bough.
He smiled ruefully. “It set before I could get it back in place.”
I ran my hand cautiously over the unnatural undulations. “Does it hurt?”
“No, not now. I’ll ask Henry and Ellie to set it for me.”
“How? Surely you can’t do that without…” Realization hit me. “Oh no, you can’t, Matthew; you’ll be in agony!”
“It’s the only way to get it straight and it can’t be operated on. I heal too quickly and anaesthesia doesn’t work. Henry will break it and Ellie can set it – she needs the practice. Sorry,” he apologized, when he saw I didn’t find it even remotely funny. “It won’t take long.”
I bit my lip. “I can’t watch. I can’t see you in pain.”
“I wouldn’t want you to; there’s no need.” He lifted my chin with a finger. “It’s really not as bad as it sounds.”
Yes, it was, and I felt physically sick at the thought of it. He didn’t tell me when the realignment was scheduled to take place and I couldn’t ask. Only later, when everyone else slept and I sat restlessly on one of the Barn’s big sofas, did I hear the front door open and guessed where he had been.
Ellie came in first, followed by Henry, then Matthew. Even in the soft light of the side lamp, Ellie looked a ghastly colour, and Henry not much better. Shooting me a look as she crossed the room, wordlessly she left by the back door to go home to the Stables. Henry slumped into one of the chairs, having aged a decade over the course of an hour. Matthew filled the kettle and switched it on. I broke the silence. “Is it over?”
Still wan, Henry smiled. “Emma, I leave it to you to ensure my father isn’t so irresponsible in future. I don’t want to be doing that again in a hurry. Dad, I don’t think tea will be quite up to it, though thanks for the thought.”
“The tea’s for Emma; this is for you.” Matthew handed him a glass of a rich amber liquid.
Henry attempted a laugh. “Cheers, I need this.”
“And I don’t need anything,” I said. “Show me,” I demanded, already easing the jacket away where it hung loose around him, not sure what to expect. His shoulder looked perfect and strong, his skin smooth and only the faintest smudges where the bone had been re-broken. Even as I watched, they faded and disappeared altogether. I kissed his shoulder, and laid my cheek against it.
He slipped his other arm around me. “You need your beauty sleep. Maggie will be here first thing in the morning and I know how much you’re looking forward to seeing her again.”
I prodded him ever so carefully and he kissed me back.
“You’re welcome to stay here,” Henry offered, but I thought that perhaps he and Pat could do with some time to themselves after the last forty-eight hours, so I declined with thanks. I looked hopefully at Matthew, but he shook his head. “Your bridal home is out of the question for another twenty-four hours. I’ll take you back to campus.”
“Can you drive?” I asked doubtfully. He answered by swinging his arm right around as if bowling for England. “OK,” I allowed, “let’s leave Henry in peace.”
Matthew knew exactly how much I looked forward to seeing Maggie again. I tried not to think about it when Elena nattered away, waving nail-varnish colours in front of me long before any normal human had the right to be awake. I tried not to think about what Maggie might say when we drove away from campus as students began to stir. And, as we walked in through the Barn’s kitchen door, I made every effort to be thinking about something completely different in case my nerves failed me and it showed.
She sat at the table flanked by Henry and Dan, mugs steaming in front of them in an attempt at normality. Her steel hair had been allowed to grow longer, and the boat-necked sailor top she wore over stone linen trousers was navy, not black. An element of compromise existed in the clothes she wore, a concession to femininity in the necklace half-hidden by the carefully chosen toning silk scarf. When she saw us she rose stiffly and waited until Matthew shut the door. She greeted him first, before turning to me. “Dr D’Eres…” she began, her eyes lowered. “Emma,” she corrected. She raised her eyes to meet mine. I didn’t know what I would see, but I would have been deluded if I expected warmth. I detected her usual chilly reserve, but the pungent hate seemed to have gone.
“Maggie,” I responded, taking a mental step forward. I offered my hand. “I’m so glad you’ve come.”
It was one of those moments when you don’t know which way it will go – neither, by the expressions on the faces of those watching, did anyone else. Maggie regarded me for a moment as if calculating what lay behind my response. She shook my hand. I say shook – all it amounted to was the merest touch of my fingers before she withdrew, but it was enough.
“I’m pleased I was able to be here. We are having… tea.” She avoided sneering the word, but only just. “Would you care to join us?”
I smiled. “Thank you, that would be most kind.”
Good grief, what a charade. The atmosphere vibrated as Maggie and I enacted a ritual tea ceremony while plotting each other’s demise. All we needed was an obi or two and cherry blossom and the scene would be set for a Samurai showdown. She set a mug of tea on the table opposite her and I perched on the stool. Matthew sat next to me.
Henry cleared his throat. “I was telling Maggie what an exciting few days we’ve had.”
She took the cue. “I hope your niece is quite recovered. I believe near-drowning can have unforeseen side-effects some time afterwards.”
Now, did she do that on purpose or did the cattiness come naturally? I didn’t need to say anything because Matthew answered. “In this case, you’ll be pleased to hear that Flora will make a full recovery. She’s a robust little girl and very brave.”
Maggie’s face cracked a smile; it was the first time I remembered seeing one and it didn’t look natural. “I’m relieved to hear it; there’ll be no need to postpone the wedding after all.”
“None at all,” Matthew said steadily.
There was a few minutes’ respite as Matthew discussed transport arrangements with his son and grandson for the following morning. Maggie sipped her tea while watching me over the rim of the mug. “What a lovely ring,” she said out of the blue. “It looks very old. Is it?”
For once she appeared genuinely interested, so I told her what I knew of it, leaving out the fact it belonged to her great, great grandmother four hundred years previously, which might have been a bit of a giveaway. Her stare never wavered. Even when I finished, her cold cat eyes continued to watch me: my mouth, the way I used my hands to illustrate a point. Eventually, I dried up. Searching for something to say, I returned the compliment. “That looks like an interesting necklace, Maggie. Have you had it long?”
One hooked eyebrow rose higher and, with a slow smile, she lifted the silk scarf to reveal the necklace. A gold snake coiled around her neck, each scale perfectly articulated, the head – with its brilliant ruby eyes – clasping the tail in its mouth. I had last seen it around the neck of Matthew’s first wife. A chair scraped noisily as Henry left the table, throwing an angry glare at his daughter.
“Ellen left it t
o me,” she said smoothly, watching her father’s back. “Do you like it? Not a day goes by when I don’t wear it in her memory.” Her eyes slid to mine and then to Matthew. I wouldn’t rise to her challenge, and I couldn’t let Matthew be provoked. Henry ran the tap as he washed his mug with serrated movements.
“I remember her showing me,” I replied evenly. “It was her favourite piece, wasn’t it, Matthew? I’m sure Ellen would be delighted to know how much you treasure it.”
We all knew the meeting to be futile. We had done our best to build bridges, but this was one where the foundations of the association were flawed through to the very bedrock, and no amount of concrete could render the structure of the relationship any more solid than a tenuous fabrication.
“Well,” I said, standing and relieving us all of the agony of further artifice, “I have a lot to do before tomorrow. It’s good to see you recovered, Maggie. Dan, thanks for everything you did yesterday.” I picked up my mug and went over to the sink on the pretext of washing it up. “Henry?” I said quietly, putting my hand on his arm. “Thank you, and I’m sorry.”
Once in the courtyard and out of hearing, I let out a long breath. “Well, we tried.”
“Yes,” Matthew said, “we tried.”
It was the only blot on the day because, shortly afterwards, Matias, Elena, and my family arrived for the rehearsal, and there was no time to think about Maggie, only getting things in the right order, and remembering who did what and stood where. Beth felt better for a long sleep and Rob, though drawn, had regained his humour. Only Alex still seemed quiet.
After the extensive practice in which I thought it would be a miracle if it came together on the day, Matthew had a brief word with Rob, and then disappeared with Alex through the adjoining door at the far end of the Barn and into his own home. I hovered by the door, indecisive. I waited for a few minutes and, just as I made up my mind, saw Matthew and Alex cross the courtyard to the garage block. Curiosity burned.
“Em, we’re going upstairs to do our nails, OK?” Elena called from the stairs. “Then it will be your turn – don’t go away.”
