The Boy With No Boots Part 7

Hilbegut Farm! The stone lions. The girl on the s.h.i.+re horse. It was her. Oriole Kate Loxley.

Chapter Nine.

THE BONDING.

The ten-thirty train steamed out of Monterose station with its precious cargo of children leaning out of the windows, waving to their parents. The atmosphere simmered with emotion, as parents craned on the edge of the platform to catch a last glimpse of the departing train. Hearing a shout, they turned to see Charlie thundering down the steps.

'Is there a doctor here? Or a Red Cross nurse?' he shouted. 'There's been a terrible accident a little girl. Is there anyone who can help?'

The lady with the fox furs stepped forward.

'I'm Joan Jarvis and I was a Red Cross nurse,' she said. 'And I have a motorcar here if she needs to go to hospital.'

'Come quickly, then. Quickly.'

A crowd had gathered around Kate, and Freddie was in the middle of it. In the moments before help arrived, he knelt close to Kate, hoping that somehow his presence might comfort her. He didn't know many prayers, so he made one up, saying it over and over in his mind. And he memorised every detail of Kate's face. To him she looked like a beautiful rose petal that had fallen there, her skin translucent, her lips a peachy pink, her eyelashes dark curling silks. She had high cheekbones, a softly rounded chin, and her nose, Freddie thought, was aristocratic, her nostrils like two perfect little sh.e.l.ls. On her left temple was a small mole, and on her neck a tiny pink scar like a crescent moon.

Freddie had never been that close to a beautiful girl. Oblivious to everyone around him he committed her face to memory so that he could keep her image with him forever. It seemed like the longest and most fruitful moment of his life.

Clasping her hand between his two rough palms, he sensed the subtle vibration that was uniquely hers, singing to him like the harmonics from a bell, those rhythmic sound waves that rippled out and out until they were gone but not lost. He hoped his own hands were transferring a stream of his energy and strength into her. This mysterious healing force was something Freddie had experienced himself, from his mother's hand touching him when he was ill or hurt.

Watching Kate, through those eternal moments, he felt he was floating beside her, in a place of s.h.i.+ning light, a sanctuary where there was no pain, no fear but only peace.

The noise of voices and running feet brought Freddie out of his trance unpleasantly like gravel spattering into his mind. Still holding Kate's hand, he kept his gaze focused on her face, watching her skin becoming paler and paler, the stillness deepening. He felt he was watching an angel, an angel slowly turning to stone.

'Move aside. Move back. Give her some air.' Charlie's voice was loud and rasp-like. 'This lady's a Red Cross nurse. Come on. Move back PLEASE.'

Freddie looked up then, into the coal-dark eyes of Ethie who was kneeling on the other side of Kate, and he saw straight into her frightened soul where guilt, frustration and terror were huddled together.

'Now then. I'm Joan. Let's have a look at the poor girl.'

The fox-fur lady was puffing and blowing from her run across the footbridge. She took off her hat, and the fox furs fell to the ground in a slinky russet-coloured heap.

'Here, kneel on this, madam.' Charlie took off his coat and put it on the ground for her.

'Joan,' she said firmly. 'And put the coat over her, she's getting cold. Let go of her hands now, please.' She turned to Freddie. 'Ah you again you stay here, will you? I might need your help.'

'I'm Kate's sister,' said Ethie loudly. 'That boy's nothing to do with her,' and she narrowed her eyes at Freddie.

'Are you, dear? Now don't you worry. It always looks worse than it is,' said Joan. She smiled kindly at Ethie and gave her a little pat on the shoulder, a gesture which became a potent spark of love, igniting Ethie into an explosion of sobbing.

'Can someone look after her, please?' Joan appealed, and a buxom woman in a brown and white gingham dress stepped forward and led the sobbing Ethie away. She sat her down on the gra.s.sy bank and let her cry, holding her in both arms.

Ethie's sobs were peripheral to what was happening to Kate. Joan had checked her pulse and breathing, and was gently stroking her face.

'What's her name?' she asked Freddie.

'Miss Oriole Kate Loxley,' he said. 'From Hilbegut Farm but I think they call her Kate, her sister did.'

'Come on, Kate.' Joan was gently tapping the child's cheek which was now ivory pale. 'She's deeply unconscious.'

'Cracked 'er 'ead,' said someone. ''Ell of a crack it were.'

'She must not be moved,' Joan said. 'She might have broken her neck, or her back. We must get her to hospital.'

Freddie was horrified. He began to go pale himself at the thought of the serious injuries Kate might have. He felt nauseous and giddy.

'You stay calm, lad,' said Joan, noting his white face. 'You're doing really well, Freddie. Are you her brother?'

'No.'

'Just take some deep breaths.'

Freddie sat back, determined he wasn't going to pa.s.s out, and he didn't. The feeling pa.s.sed. He felt detached from Kate now, the image of her forever imprinted on his soul. There seemed to be little he could do to help her, except sit there and pray his prayer.

The shrill jangle of a bell announced the arrival of an old Model T ambulance with a red cross painted on it. Everyone moved aside to allow it free pa.s.sage down the street. In a daze, Freddie watched the driver and his crew of one nurse in a starched white hat. They brought a stretcher and carefully manoeuvred Kate onto it, immobilising her neck with big pads of brown leather. She didn't stir at all.

'Like the Sleeping Beauty, ain't she?' said Charlie who still had his rolled-up green flag in one hand.

'Someone should go with her,' said Joan, looking at Freddie.

'Her sister,' he said.

'She's in a bit of a state. Of course she is.' The motherly woman in brown gingham brought Ethie over to the ambulance. 'I'm Gladys,' she said, 'I'll go along with both of them. Someone's got to see to the pony. She's worried about it.'

And Freddie heard himself saying, 'I'll do that. I know where Hilbegut Farm is. I can lead the pony home.'

'She's called Polly,' said Ethie.

'I'll go ahead of you in my motorcar, and explain everything,' Joan offered. 'I know the way.'

Joan brushed herself down, and Freddie gingerly picked up the fox fur and handed it to her. They both stared after the ambulance as it revved and roared up the station road with Kate inside, its bell ringing urgently. Freddie felt as if his whole life had been turned upside down and shaken violently, displacing his usual codes of behaviour.

'You're a very helpful young man, Freddie,' said Joan. 'I wish you were my son.'

With those encouraging words ringing in his ears, Freddie then found himself being given Polly's reins to hold. He'd never led a horse in his life but he tried to act as if he was used to it. Polly had been caught and disentangled from the cart, she'd had a rest and was munching gra.s.s from the bank.

'Take her gently,' advised the man who had caught her. 'She's very shaken, and a bit lame. It was a disgraceful way to treat a pony. I shall be lodging a complaint to that girl's parents. Headstrong young hussy.'

'What about the cart?' asked Freddie, eyeing the wreckage lying on the side of the road. One wheel had come off and was propped against a wall. 'I could get the wheelwright to fix it.'

'We'll do that,' said the man. 'You go on, 'tis a long walk to Hilbegut.'

Freddie set out awkwardly, surprised to find Polly walking meekly beside him. He remembered how Kate had been talking to the s.h.i.+re horse, so he thought he would try it. What should he say? He wasn't used to talking non-stop the way Kate did, and he felt embarra.s.sed. So he waited until they were out in the country and then started on 'Innisfree' and a few other poems he knew. Polly seemed to enjoy them. She flicked her ears and gave him a gentle nudge with her soft nose. He walked with his hand on the crest of her mane, scratching her gently, and he began to enjoy her company.

It was six miles to the village of Hilbegut, through beautiful countryside that Freddie knew well. Across the Levels, over the river bridge and through the peat-cutting fields where the 'ruckles' of cut peat stood in the hazy sun like a prehistoric village. Then through the withies, tall forests of willow stems s.h.i.+mmering red and gold, reflecting in the water. A pair of bitterns fis.h.i.+ng, and vast flocks of lapwing with their strange wobbly flight that made their wings twinkle against the sky. The September meadows were full of the seed heads of knapweed, sorrel and thistle.

After the years in town, cooped up in the bakery, stuck all day in school, the walk into his old haunts was an unexpected delight for Freddie. He saw people working in the fields, cutting peat or bundling willow and it felt good to nod and touch his cap as he pa.s.sed by, feeling proud to be leading Polly. He stopped by a stone water trough to let her have a drink, amused by the way she stuck her face in and sucked noisily at the water, then shook herself all over sending bright drops flying out.

'You're a nice pony, Polly,' he said. 'In fact you're lovely. I didn't know how lovely a horse could be.'

He leaned on her for a moment, his arm across her warm back, and wondered what it would be like to ride. Better not push his luck, he thought, especially after what Polly had been through that morning. A sense of togetherness settled into Freddie's heart as he plodded on with Polly. He liked the quiet way she walked beside him; it had an ambience of trust and acceptance. Freddie felt he had been walking alone all his life through lanes and fields and streets, and now he was no longer alone. It wasn't just Polly's company. It was Kate. He carried her now, in his soul. They had shared that s.h.i.+ning sanctuary of peace, for a moment when time had stood still, and even though Kate was unconscious, he felt that she knew. They had bonded in spirit. Freddie was concerned for her, but he wasn't worried. He knew in his prophetic mind that she was going to recover.

The distant chimes of the Hilbegut Court clock interrupted his thinking. Twelve o'clock. Lunchtime at school. He must be home at the usual time. He planned to say nothing to his parents about his secret day, unless they asked, and then he would tell the truth. The time was coming when he would have to detach from them, stand up for himself. He was nearly fourteen, old enough to work, and he didn't want to be a baker.

The chimneys of Hilbegut Farm were coming into view now, and Polly had lifted her head, p.r.i.c.ked her ears and was stepping out with new energy. Freddie walked with that thought going like a chant in time with his footsteps: 'Won't be a baker. I won't be a baker. I won't . . .'

The stone lions stared beyond him into the distance as he pa.s.sed through the gate. After many secret visits in his childhood, he knew them well. They were old, and slightly different, covered in cream and soot-black lichens, both were snarling into the landscape, so alive that Freddie imagined them shaking the rain from their curly manes filling the air with droplets made fiery by the sun.

Pa.s.sing through the gateway was a different sensation, as if the lions guarded a world from which he had been banned. Now Polly was taking him through, eagerly, and he felt a sense of grat.i.tude, as if he had broken a seal, a way into fields of gold.

Ethie sat miserably in the hospital waiting-room on a brown leather chair. She felt grubby and unfeminine in her farm gear, her hair matted and dirty, her skin so p.r.i.c.kly that she longed to run to the river and plunge her head into cool water. She wanted to strip naked, hurl her farm clothes into a dustbin, and wash and wash until the sweat and the pimples and the guilt had gone. The river would sweep her far out to sea, under the waves like a water baby, and transform her into a beautiful being whose captivating charm would guarantee eternal forgiveness.

Her parents would never forgive her for what she had done to Kate, and to Polly. She hadn't done it by mistake. She'd done it with a hatred, so strong it had driven her mercilessly like a demon on her shoulders. Ethie felt suicidal, and she didn't know how to deal with it.

She'd wanted to sit with Kate, be there when she opened her eyes, and say sorry, and Kate would forgive her like she always did. But the nurses had refused, stiffly, and Kate had been wheeled away on a squeaking trolley into the mysterious disinfected interior. Hours pa.s.sed while the hospital clanked and rustled around her and every time the door opened Ethie jumped nervously, but nurses and other patients came and went, taking no notice of her.

At last her mother arrived with Joan, and Joan looked at Ethie kindly.

'Any news?' she asked.

'No. They won't tell me anything,' said Ethie.

'And are you feeling better, my dear?'

Ethie looked at Joan gratefully. No one usually called her 'my dear'. But she'd cried all her tears. She looked apprehensively at her mother, reading the darkness in her eyes as anger.

'I couldn't help it,' she said. 'We just got there and Polly was startled by the train. She . . .'

Sally gave Ethie a hug, patting her back rea.s.suringly. 'Don't you distress yourself, Ethie. We'll talk about it tomorrow when you've had a bath and a rest. We just have to keep calm now and everything will be all right.'

Her kind words soothed her troubled daughter like hot cocoa.

'Kate's going to be all fine, you'll see,' said Joan.

The door opened again and a doctor in a white coat came in with a nurse fluttering beside him.

'Are you Mrs Loxley?' he asked.

'I am.' Sally's eyes flickered with anxiety.

'Your daughter is basically all right,' he said. 'She's conscious now. She's got a cut at the back of her head which we've st.i.tched and bandaged. We've checked her thoroughly and everything is fine. She needs rest, that's all, to get over the concussion.'

Sally collapsed into a chair. 'Oh thank G.o.d. Thank G.o.d,' she wept, and seemed incapable of saying anything else until she'd composed herself.

'You can see her in just a few minutes,' said the doctor. 'The nurse will fetch you.'

Sally nodded, her eyes misty. 'Our beautiful Kate,' she whispered. 'I couldn't bear to lose her. She's such a a light a s.h.i.+ning light.'

'Freddie was right, wasn't he?' said Joan. 'And he's such an extraordinary young man.'

And Ethie glowered, thinking again of how she might float away in the river and become a beautiful sea nymph.

Kate lay quietly in the starched white bed, her eyes roaming around the unfamiliar hospital ward, her head tightly bandaged and her dark plaits, still with the red ribbons, over her shoulders. She was glad to be lying so comfortably, against a stack of pillows, and glad to be opposite a window which looked out on a clump of elm trees and the rooftops of Monterose. Hundreds of sparrows fussed on the roof tiles, and she could hear them chirruping, reminding her of the farmyard at home. Her school uniform was neatly folded on the chair next to her bed, and someone had put a jug of water and a gla.s.s on the table for her. She was fascinated by the nurses who glided to and fro like sailing boats. To find that someone so strict and efficient was also kind and cheerful was inspiring to Kate. Once she felt well enough to talk she asked so many questions that eventually the ward sister told her to be quiet and rest.

'She's a chatterbox,' she heard her saying.

'Where have I heard that before?' Sally came into the ward and straight to Kate's bed. Tears poured down her cheeks.

'Don't cry, Mummy. I'm all right.'

'I know. Silly, aren't I? These are good tears, Kate. Oh, I'm so, so thankful you're all right.'

'What about Daddy?' asked Kate.

'He's not very well, dear. He's got to stay in bed for two weeks. Doctor's given him some medicine let's hope it works. Hope and pray.'

'And Ethie? Was Ethie hurt like me?'

'No, she wasn't,' said Sally carefully. 'But she's deeply upset, and sorry too.'

Kate was quiet. It wasn't the first time she'd puzzled and soul-searched over Ethie's behaviour. She decided not to say anything further, sensing that her mother had enough to deal with.

'I want to be a nurse, Mummy,' she said seriously, and then another question surfaced. 'What about Polly? Poor Polly, she was exhausted. She was sweating and she lost a shoe, and Ethie made her made her gallop on the road when she didn't want to . . .'

Seeing her daughter close to tears Sally just hugged her quietly, rocking her a little.

'You stay calm, dear. Polly is fine. A nice young man brought her home, walked all the way with her. Freddie, he said his name was.'

'Oh.' Kate's eyes widened. 'I know him.'

'No, you don't. He's a big boy, not anyone from school that you know.'

'Oh, but I do,' said Kate. 'He was with me when I was lying in the road.'

'But how would you know that, Kate? You were out cold for two hours.'