Freedom's Land (25 page)

Two others pushed their way through to join him.

‘We need to get the branch off him first,’ one said.

Gil stuck his arm out to stop them rushing in. ‘Don’t try to lift it yet. It’s heavy and if you let it drop, you could do more damage to him. Get something to wedge underneath it then it can’t fall back on him.’

He waited, alternately giving directions and keeping an eye on the injured man.

When the others brought some sawn-off pieces of a smaller tree, he helped wedge these under the heavy branch. Two stood ready to slip other pieces of trunk underneath as they eased away the branch that had done all the damage. Even to move it slightly was an effort.

Pam had come running from the house and was standing just beyond the fallen tree, watching, her tightly clasped hands up near her mouth. Gil was relieved that she had enough sense not to try to help.

The way Andrew’s arm had been trapped suggested to Gil that it might be broken, but to his relief it was only the forearm that was trapped, not the shoulder.
Only!
He cursed under his breath. Of all the rotten luck. A man engaged in physical work needed both arms. If it was broken, Andrew would be out of operation for weeks. He tested the safety of the propped-up branch. ‘Right. Let’s pull him away.’

Even when they moved Andrew, he didn’t stir or groan, which worried Gil far more than the prospect of a broken arm.

Once they were away from the tree, he stopped them. ‘Lay him down carefully and let me look at his arm. It has to be broken, or at least fractured after being walloped by that branch.’

‘Shouldn’t we wait for the doctor?’ Pam worried.

‘What doctor? The one from Pemberton?’

‘Well, the nurse at the hospital, then.’

‘Do you want Andrew to be jolted into town in my cart? That’d make the injury worse, I’m sure. Look, I’ve dealt with broken legs on animals, and done quite a bit of first aid during the war. Sometimes, if it’s a clean break, you can jiggle it back in place. I can’t do much if it’s shattered, though. He might even lose his arm if that’s the case. If I’m in any doubt, I’ll do nothing and we’ll send for the nurse or doctor.’

He began to get Andrew’s shirt off. ‘It hurts like hell to touch a broken limb, so I want to check it before he regains consciousness. Ah. The skin isn’t broken. That’s good. If he’s lucky, it’s just a fracture.’

Surrounded by a totally silent group of people, he felt his way carefully along the forearm, then felt it again and sat back on his heels with a sigh of relief. ‘It’s not shattered, but I can feel a bump where the bones are bent. I’m going to straighten it if I can and bind it to a splint while he’s unconscious.’

He stood up and looked round. ‘Someone get me one of those pieces of scantling off the cart – they’re the thinnest planks we have. Saw it to the right length for fingertips to elbow. Pam, have you got something we can bind the arm in place with?’

‘Yes. I’ve an old sheet I use for cleaning rags. I can tear that up. And shall I send my Joe to tell Norah?’

Her son was standing by her side, watching wide-eyed. He was ten and a sensible lad, so Gil turned to him. ‘Just tell Mrs Boyd that her husband’s hurt but alive. He has a broken arm and we’re bringing him home. Tell her to stay there and get ready for him.’ He made the boy repeat the message and then saw him run off along the track in the direction of the Boyds’ house.

There was a sound of sawing and as Gil stood waiting for the splint, he kept an eye on his friend. It was still worrying him that Andrew hadn’t regained consciousness, hadn’t even groaned when they moved him and set the arm. That always hurt like hell. He’d seen a lot of injuries during the war and done a fair amount of first aid. Give him a screaming patient over a totally unconscious one any day, if you wanted the man to recover.

What the hell was Norah going to do if Andrew died? No, don’t think of that. His friend wasn’t going to die.

They brought Gil the materials for the splint and stood round as he felt the arm again, then took a firm grasp and pulled carefully until the bone was as straight as human touch could make it. If Andrew had been conscious, he’d have been screaming in agony and they’d have had to hold him down. Gil had seen that happen more than once.

But Andrew didn’t even react.

When there was nothing more he could do, Gil bound the arm carefully to the narrow piece of wood and let out a sigh to release the tension. ‘Now, let’s get him on the cart. And make sure that arm doesn’t get jolted in any way.’

‘Do we need to take him to the hospital?’ someone asked.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘I still think we should take him to the doctor in Pemberton,’ Ted said.

‘That’d be dangerous. Head injuries are unpredictable. I think we should get him on the cart and take him home, then someone should fetch the nurse to look at him. And if she thinks we should get the doctor, we will. But I’m not jolting him around, not while he’s unconscious.’

‘I’ll get some blankets for him to lie on,’ Pam said. ‘And a pillow for his arm.’

When the cart was ready, they lifted the unconscious man gently. Even when one of the bearers stumbled as they carried him to the cart, Andrew still didn’t react.

Bad
, Gil thought.
That’s bad.

He drove along the track slowly and carefully, with Ted sitting in the back making sure the injured man didn’t bounce around more than was unavoidable.

Norah was waiting in the doorway, looking pale but in command of herself. She ran to the cart as it drew to a halt. ‘How is he?’

‘Broken arm and knocked unconscious,’ Gil said briefly. ‘I’ve set the arm. One of the lads is going for the nurse.’

As Norah looked at her husband, anxiety sat like lead weights in her stomach. He was pale, his hair wet and dirty. She reached out to take a dead leaf out of his hair, upset by the livid bruise on his face, with the dried blood where the skin had been torn open by something sharp.

She’d never seen him so still and it seemed wrong. Every minute he was awake, he was doing something. He was the most active, energetic man she’d ever met.

Gil touched her arm gently. ‘Let’s get him inside and warm him up, Norah. Have you got any hot-water bottles?’

‘One.’ It was a modern rubber one, too, not an old-fashioned earthenware one. Andrew had shoved it in as an afterthought to protect something else. They’d not expected to need hot-water bottles in a warm country. No one had told them how cold the nights were in winter.

‘Show us which bed, then heat some water and fill the bottle. We’ll ask round and see if anyone else can lend you another bottle or two. We have to keep him warm, especially during the coming night. I don’t need a doctor to tell me that.’

‘Janie, go and get the kitchen fire burning up.’ She tried to speak calmly, but heard the wobble in her voice. ‘And if there’s not enough water, fetch some more from the well.’

For once, her daughter did as she was told without arguing.

Norah helped them settle Andrew, then went into the lean-to kitchen. It seemed to take a long time for the kettle to boil and she kept wanting to go back inside, to be with him.

Janie hovered beside her. ‘Is he going to die?’

Norah carried the filled hot-water bottle into the humpy, wishing there were some way of heating the place up. They’d talked of ordering a stove, but had decided to see how they went on without. The warmth from the fire in the lean-to did come through the metal wall that backed on to it.

‘Ted’s gone off to get you some more hot-water bottles,’ Gil said.

‘What else can I do?’ Norah asked. There must be something. She’d go mad if she had to just sit there and watch him.

Gil spread his arms wide in a helpless gesture. ‘You can pray he regains consciousness. The head wound’s more worry than the arm. Just – keep him warm.’

The words seemed to echo inside her head. She’d had no experience whatsoever with serious head wounds. They were something feared by everyone because they could knock the senses out of a person and leave them a drooling idiot.

Gil patted her shoulder. ‘If necessary, I’ll go into Pemberton and fetch the doctor to him. We’ll make sure someone stays with you.’

The men left her with Andrew and a short time later, there was the sound of pounding footsteps and the boys, who’d been working elsewhere, burst through the door.

Norah held up one hand. ‘
Quiet!
Your father’s broken his arm and he’s unconscious.’

‘He’s not going to die, like Mr Roberts did, is he?’ Jack asked, his voice shriller than usual.

‘No, he’s not.’ She spoke more confidently than she felt, but it reassured her as well as the boys to say it aloud.

Janie looked from one person to the other, then back at the bed, but held her tongue, thank goodness.

‘What can we do?’ Jack asked.

‘Nothing. Just wait and pray. I’ll need your help tonight milking the cows, though.’

Jack nodded. ‘We can do them for you, so that you can look after Dad. We’ll be very careful and keep everything clean, I promise.’

‘Thanks. You’re a good lad.’

He put his arm round his brother and stayed there, watching, his face white and anxious.

Irene turned up, stayed for a while, then, when it was clear there was nothing anyone could do and Norah wasn’t going to fail under the strain, she suggested taking Janie back with her for a while.

Norah found it a relief not to have to keep an eye on her daughter.

Pam arrived soon afterwards and offered to have the boys.

‘I’m not leaving him,’ Jack said at once. ‘Mum needs us for the milking.’

Norah looked at her friend, hoping Pam would guess that she wanted the children out of the way.

Pam nodded as if she understood. ‘The boys could come across to us after milking and have tea with my lot, then spend the night, if that’s any help.’

‘Thanks. I appreciate that.’

‘I’m
not
leaving him,’ Jack said again.

‘It’d help me not to have to feed you or worry about you.’

He studied her face, then thrust his hands in his pockets and kicked at the edge of a blanket that was hanging on the floor. ‘I want to help.’

‘As soon as your dad comes to his senses, you can help a lot. And you can come back early in the morning to milk the cows. Till then, we need peace and quiet here. And I need you to keep an eye on your brother.’

Ned hadn’t said anything, was still staring at his father, looking close to tears. She went to give him a quick hug, but it was all the energy she could spare and she soon went back to her husband. Bringing in one of the rough stools Andrew had made, she set it beside his bed. She felt shaky and close to tears, but refused to let them fall. Her thoughts were bleak, though. To lose her man so soon after she’d found him was more than she could bear to think of, so she tried to set that dreadful thought aside.

Only it kept coming back to worry her.

Time passed and as Gil had promised, there was always someone with her. The groupies had set up a roster, it seemed. It comforted her a little to know people would rally round like that, as neighbours would have done in the streets back in Lancashire.

The two boys crept in and out of the humpy very quietly to look at their father and there was always another adult nearby. After a while, she asked the boys to make sure all the animals had enough water, then check the chickens and collect any eggs. Anything to keep them busy.

She tried to talk sense when anyone spoke to her. Some told her of people they knew who’d been knocked unconscious and recovered just fine. She wished they wouldn’t, wished it was Gil sitting with her. He was a restful person and she didn’t want to talk, just watch over her husband.

But the nurse had been unavailable, due to a difficult birth, and on her advice, Gil had gone off to Pemberton to fetch the doctor. Head wounds worried everyone, it seemed.

The hours dragged past so slowly Norah thought the clock must have stopped. Andrew lay as still as a corpse, his chest rising and falling slightly, his breaths warm if you held your hand near his face. She did that from time to time, for the sheer comfort of it.

And she waited.

In the early evening, Pete turned up to help with the milking.

‘Let the boys do it,’ she whispered. ‘If they manage all right, they can take over. It’ll give them something to do.’

He nodded and shepherded the lads out, then came back to assure her that they were good milkers, though Ned was a bit slower than an adult would be. ‘You can leave it to them.’

‘Did Janie come to help?’

‘No.’

Just wait till she saw her daughter! She’d give her a good telling-off.

When they’d finished cleaning up after the milking, the boys came to stand white-faced and anxious beside the bed. There was no one else with them because Pete had stayed outside.

‘I heard someone say he’s going to die.’ Jack’s voice broke on the words.

She cursed whoever had been so careless as to say that in the boys’ hearing. ‘I told you before: he’ll not die if I can help it!’ She went across to put her arms round them and they both clung to her, trying not to cry. It was the first time they’d come to her for comfort in this way, and she drew comfort in turn from the feel of their bodies against hers, drew strength from their need for her – and from Andrew’s even greater need.

When Jack stepped back, he dashed away tears with one hand. ‘Boys shouldn’t cry,’ he said gruffly.

‘There’s no one to see you but me,’ she said gently. ‘And it’s natural to be upset when your father’s injured like this.’

He looked at her as if unsure, his eyes bright with more tears.

‘I’ve cried too. I love your father very much.’ She moved back to Andrew’s side. ‘I’ll be with him every minute, I promise. And Pete’s come to stay with me overnight. Best thing you can do is get a good night’s sleep and be fresh to take over the milking in the morning. Jack, you’re in charge of that from now on.’