The Girl From Seaforth Sands (34 page)

Amy flew across the foyer, her experience of hotels telling her not to waste time searching for someone in authority but to go straight through the green baize doors which would lead, she guessed, to the kitchen quarters. She ran along the dark corridor, heedless of the clatter her shoes made on the tiles, and burst through some swing doors and into the first of a series of kitchens. Startled faces turned
towards her, but she ignored them all, making for the big stone sinks she could see ranged along the wall in the next room. A man in a tall chef’s hat and the white jacket and checked trousers of his calling stood up as she ran past and tried to grab her, but Amy was too quick for him. ‘There’s a girl been shot,’ she said over her shoulder, grabbing a large white pudding basin from the sideboard and whipping down a pudding cloth from where it hung on the overhead rack. She turned the cold tap full on, half filled the basin, then turned back to retrace her steps, going very much more slowly so that she would not lose the water she was carrying.

‘Did you say someone’s been shot, chuck?’ a fat woman in a frilled cap and apron asked incredulously. ‘Well, if that’s so, it’s a doctor you’ll be needin’ – and some antiseptic – I’ve got a bottle of Listerine in me room; where’s the young woman at?’

‘She’s in the foyer, on one of the sofas, with two of my friends taking care of her,’ Amy said briefly, not pausing in her steady onward progress. ‘If you could bring the Listerine along there . . .’

She reached the foyer without further incident, the housekeeper close on her heels, to find the little tableau very much as she had left it, save that Dick now stood by the sofa as well as Philip. Both men were wearing the distraught yet helpless look worn by young males the world over when a woman they regard highly is sick or in trouble.

Philip swung round at Amy’s approach and said briefly: ‘There’s a doctor coming. Dick rang and explained. He said ten minutes and five have passed already.’

‘Let me through, young gents,’ the housekeeper said, briskly pushing both men to one side and
dropping to her knees by the patient. ‘We’ll loosen her clothing – it’s what you do when they faint, as I well know, for if there’s one thing housemaids excel at it’s faintin’ fits.’ With careful fingers she undid the tiny buttons, slippery with blood, at the high neck of Ella’s blouse, then at the cuffs and finally, at the waist of her skirt. Amy took the Listerine from her and tipped some of it into her basin. Then she began to stroke her friend’s brow, cheeks and neck with the water and antiseptic mixture.

She was wondering whether to move the handkerchief in order to clean the wound, when Philip’s hand shot out and caught her wrist. ‘Don’t!’ he said urgently and Amy could feel his strong fingers trembling. ‘She’s unconscious at present and feeling no pain, but if you put antiseptic on to raw flesh . . .’

Amy shuddered at the thought and was about to assure him that she would do no such thing, when the street doors opened and a short, sandy-haired man in a frock coat and high collar came briskly across the foyer towards them. ‘I’m Doctor McKay, is this my patient?’ he asked in a strong Scottish accent. ‘Someone said she’d been shot.’

He sounded so incredulous that Amy’s hands moved instinctively to show him the wound, but once again Philip stopped her. ‘Yes, doctor, it was probably only a ricochet but she’s been shot, nevertheless,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t think the bullet entered her body, I think it has merely ploughed a furrow along the side of her skull, but as you can see, she’s bleeding heavily. Ought she not to be in hospital?’

‘Ah, a flesh wound,’ the doctor mused. He had been carrying a small black bag, which he now stood down and opened. He brought out a pair of scissors
with which he snipped through the strip of petticoat holding the handkerchief in place. He stared for a moment at the mess of blood and hair which had formed beneath the impromptu dressing and then, to Amy’s horror, began with practised ease to snip away her friend’s long, blood-drenched tresses. When the wound was revealed, Amy had to turn away for a moment, a hand flying to her mouth. The wound must have been at least six inches long, and narrow, and the bullet – if it had been a bullet – had carried away the top inch of Ella’s ear. Amy imagined that most of the blood had probably come from the shattered ear, for the head wound, though still bleeding, did not seem as bad as she had feared from the amount of the blood that had soaked through the dressings.

The doctor, however, continued to clip busily until a good half of Ella’s beautiful hair lay on the floor. ‘This will need cleaning and probably stitching,’ he said at last, ‘now I can see it properly without all that damned hair in the way. I would have liked to get her to a hospital, but we’d never do it, not with the crowds, the police, the troops and no possibility of finding a vehicle which could carry her.’ He turned to the housekeeper. ‘Prepare a room on the ground floor, Mrs Ellis. I’ll want a great deal of hot water, bandages and someone with a steady hand to assist me. Normally I’d send for my nurse, but if this young lady is to recover quickly we must act at once.’ He turned to look consideringly at Amy. ‘How about you? It seems you don’t faint at the sight of blood.’

‘I’d help you willingly,’ Philip said, before Amy could reply. ‘I have had some experience, since I joined a first-aid class in my last year at school.’

The doctor gave a snort, which he tried to turn into a cough, but shook his head. ‘Thank you, but I’d prefer the young lady, since I shall have to examine my patient to make sure there are no other wounds; a ricocheting bullet can cause more than one, you know.’

So Philip and Dick carried Ella, with great care and gentleness, through to the room which Mrs Ellis had prepared and laid her tenderly on the bed. She had still not recovered consciousness, which Dr McKay seemed to think a good thing, but as he left the room, Philip turned to take one more look at her. The still whiteness of her face went to his heart. She must get better, she must, he told himself, as he and his friend crossed the foyer and began to clear away the blood-draggled hair and all other signs that the wounded girl had lain there. Philip then took advantage of the gentlemen’s cloakroom to wash off the blood that had soaked into his jacket and had even penetrated as far as his white shirt. Then they sat on the shiny little sofa and waited, Philip suddenly conscious of a dreadful sense of fore-boding. Dammit, I liked the girl from the first, he told himself, staring towards the door of the room they had just left. She’s brave and outspoken and . . . and a real little darling; I can’t bear the thought of her suffering, let alone . . .

But even to himself he could not admit that Ella might die of her wounds, so he sat and waited, with Dick beside him, and said a silent prayer for the girl lying so pale and still beneath the doctor’s hands.

Ever afterwards, Amy could not remember the time she spent assisting Dr McKay without giving a strong shudder. It was not too bad while Ella
remained unconscious, but when she suddenly came to herself and uttered a long, whimpering scream, it was all Amy could do not to run out of the room, running and running until she no longer had to hear, or even think about, her friend’s agony.

The doctor, who had been inserting stitches in the wound, merely stopped work long enough to say gruffly to Amy, ‘You’ll find a small bottle of chloroform in the side pocket of my bag and a soft pad of gauze close beside it. The chloroform bottle has a dripper fixed in the neck; allow two or three drops, no more, to fall on the pad, then hold it firmly over Miss Morton’s nose and mouth.’ He looked up at Amy over the small pince-nez glasses, which he had perched on his nose as soon as he began the operation, and gave her a penetrating but friendly glance. ‘You’ve done your friend proud so far, lassie; don’t go letting her down now. Keep a steady hand and a brave heart and Miss Morton will be unconscious again in moments.’

With fumbling hands Amy got the necessary items out of the doctor’s bag, dripped the chloroform – which smelled perfectly beastly – on to the muslin pad and shrinkingly held it to her friend’s face. Ella had been breathing jerkily and uttering moans and little cries, her eyes opening and rolling desperately from side to side, even though the doctor had momentarily paused in his work, but within seconds of the pad being applied her breathing slowed and deepened, and the half-moons of her dark lashes sank on to her cheeks. With a sigh of pure relief Amy continued to assist Dr McKay until at last he stood back, laid down his needle and reached out a hand to grip Amy’s shoulder reassuringly. ‘You’ve done well, Miss Logan, and greatly assisted both
myself and your poor friend,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’m no’ in the habit of complimenting the young women who assist me, but they are trained nurses, which I take it you are not?’

‘No indeed,’ Amy said faintly. ‘I’ve often wondered if I might like to be a nurse, but today has changed my mind. I work in the offices of the Adelphi Hotel as a shorthand writer and receptionist, so perhaps I’d better stick to what I know.’

The doctor, busily cleaning his instruments in a kettle full of boiling water, laughed shortly and once again gave her a penetrating glance. ‘It’s a very different thing assisting at an operation with none of the facilities of a hospital theatre,’ he observed. ‘And what’s more, you know the patient – she is, I gather, a close friend of yours. Even I, Miss Logan, would hesitate to perform an operation without benefit of proper anaesthesia upon a loved one, so accept my congratulations.’

Amy glanced towards the bed, where her friend now lay peacefully upon her back, her head and neck swathed in bandages and her eyes closed. ‘Thank you, Doctor McKay,’ she said humbly. ‘But what must I do now? I don’t suppose the hotel will allow her to remain here until she is fit to be moved and God alone knows how long this strike will last. Liverpool people are not easily cowed; sometimes it is worse to try to outface them when they feel themselves to be in the right. Unless the government is prepared to give
something
, the strike could still be going strong at Christmas.’

The doctor, packing away his instruments and clearing up the debris from the operation, tutted and shook his head gently. ‘The hotel will keep Miss Morton until I can find a conveyance to carry her to
a hospital,’ he said firmly. ‘As soon as I am able I shall send a nurse round to look after your friend.’

‘But the cost . . .’ Amy breathed. ‘We none of us have much money, doctor, although there are four of us sharing our room. I don’t know how we shall ever repay you, let alone the hotel and a nurse . . .!’

‘Don’t try to meet trouble halfway,’ the doctor said briefly. ‘This wound was caused by a stray bullet, presumably fired by a member of the army. They may well be responsible for the cost of putting right what they did.’

With that he left the room, and Amy was sitting by her friend’s bed and wondering what was to become of them, when there was a tap on the door and Philip’s head appeared round it. ‘The doctor says she’s come through it pretty well,’ Philip whispered, tiptoeing in. ‘He said you were worrying about the cost – don’t. I’ll see to everything, not that I think we’ll end up with a huge bill. Now stop fretting and as soon as the nurse arrives I’ll take you home. The crowd outside seems to have dispersed, so I’ll get you there easily enough.’

‘I can’t leave Ella, not with the best nurse in the world,’ Amy whispered back. ‘I’ll stay. But Philip, could you go round to Huskisson Street and tell the others what’s happened?’

‘I’ll go right away.’ But Philip lingered, looking down at Ella’s pale face and mangled cropped head. ‘Poor little devil, I’d give anything . . . but the doctor seemed to think she’d be all right in a day or so. Is there anything else you want, though, Amy? I don’t like to think of you sitting here alone without so much as a book to read or a drink. I could nip out and bring something back at once, before I make for Huskisson Street. How about if I fetch you in a
newspaper and some . . . some biscuits, or peppermint humbugs? Come to that, you may need proper food later on. And how about a book to read while you wait for Miss Morton to wake up? And toiletries? A change of clothing?’

Amy laughed softly, but shook her head. ‘Thanks, Philip, but Mrs Ellis said the hotel would feed us, and I’d rather you went straight to Huskisson Street and didn’t waste time fetching me stuff I can do without. But when you do come back it would be nice if you could bring in some beef tea, if such a thing is available, because the doctor said Ella would want fortifying drinks at first rather than food. Oh, and some lemon barley water, if you would be so good.’

‘I’ll bring whatever I can find,’ Philip promised. He grinned ruefully across the bed at Amy. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can, I promise, but because of the looting it may not be easy to find everything you want. Still, I’ll do my best. Goodbye for now.’

When he had gone, closing the door softly behind him, Amy leaned back in her seat with a tiny sigh. He was a nice chap, was Philip, she had always known it but now she knew he was a good friend in a crisis as well. After all, he scarcely knew Ella but was prepared to stand by her for his old friend Amy’s sake. Presently, worn out by the rigours and excitements of the day, she snoozed in her chair, though she never allowed herself to fall asleep completely. She was too anxious about Ella to risk missing her friend’s slightest move.

Amy could not have slept for more than ten minutes when the doctor himself came in, telling her that he had arranged for Ella to have a bed in the Royal
Infirmary nearby. ‘I met Mr Grimshaw in the foyer,’ he told Amy. ‘He had managed to get hold of a hansom cab, so I told him to keep hold of it . . .’ he smiled grimly at his own joke ‘. . . so that my patient might ride to the Infirmary in relative comfort. If you will wrap her in a blanket I will fetch Mr Grimshaw. He has volunteered to carry the wee lass out to the cab and since he tells me it was he who brought her in after the shooting, I’m sure he is quite capable of doing so.’

When Amy, Philip and Ella arrived at the hospital they were shown directly to a long ward and as soon as the stretcher bearers had gently rolled the still unconscious Ella on to a high white bed, Amy and Philip were told to wait in the corridor, while the patient was examined by a hospital doctor.