Tess’s head butted the wooden fence, poking her head through the wooden posts and then Ella caught sight of a flash of George’s favourite virulent mustard yellow on the path leading to his front door.
‘George!’ she called out, and ran over, fiddling to unlatch the gate. He lay crumpled on the path. ‘Oh, my goodness.’ Ella ran to his side and bent down. His face had a doughy grey cast with a slight clammy sheen to it. Too scared to touch him, she crouched down next to him.
‘Can you feel a pulse?’ asked Devon, pushing her out of the way and crouching down beside her.
Ella gave him a helpless look, hating feeling so useless. ‘I . . . ’
He placed one hand on the old man’s chest, the other one with unerring accuracy homing straight in on George’s pulse. ‘He’s breathing. Just. And there’s a pulse.’
Now she was beside him, she could hear short rasping breaths.
Devon began to tap George’s sallow face very gently.
‘George, can you hear me? Hello, George. It’s Devon. If you can hear me, give my hand a squeeze.’
Ella watched, dry-mouthed, as Devon picked up the lifeless arm and took George’s hand in his, holding her breath until she saw the older man’s fingers move in a feeble attempt. George let out a weak, breathy, incoherent moan.
‘OK.’ Although Devon’s face looked grave, he managed to give Ella a reassuring but grim smile. ‘He’s alive. Breathing, conscious and has a pulse. All good signs but we need to get him warm and comfortable. Can you get blankets and a pillow and I’ll call an ambulance?’ He fished his mobile out of his pocket.
Relieved that she had a practical task, Ella jumped to her feet and raced back to the cottage.
When Ella returned, Devon was on the phone talking to the emergency services. He nodded towards George’s prone body and then at the duvet.
She knelt and tucked it around George, biting her lip. He looked so uncomfortable lying on the hard path but she guessed they shouldn’t move him. Thank God Devon was here otherwise she wouldn’t have known what to do.
Even now he was giving the person on the other end of the phone concise information about George’s breathing, pulse and age.
‘The ambulance is on its way,’ he said tucking his phone back in his pocket. ‘Well done.’ He leant over George and took his hand again.
‘George. Can you hear me? Don’t try to talk, just squeeze my hand to say yes.’
Ella stared at the wrinkled brown hand, dotted with liver spots and the joints gnarled through years of use, cushioned in Devon’s larger capable fingers. Something shifted in her chest at the sight of Devon’s broad masculine hands. Capable, strong and still gentle. They’d offered her comfort earlier. It was easy to imagine him at work, in command, dealing patiently and calmly with his patients. Animals and owners would trust him.
‘We need to keep him conscious if we can,’ said Devon in a very low voice. ‘I’m going to run inside and just check if he takes any medication and grab some things for him.’
Taking a sharp breath, she nodded and watched Devon leave.
‘Hi George, it’s Ella.’ She took his cold hand in hers and rubbed the back of it, feeling the bones just beneath the skin. His eyes were glassy and unfocused but every now and then she felt his fingers move beneath hers. ‘You’re going to be fine. There’s an ambulance on its way. So it looks like it’s my turn to keep aneye on your place. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s all locked up properly.’
Another gentle squeeze butterflied against her hands. What would have happened if they hadn’t come back when they did? And how long had he been lying there? Ella looked over at Tess. Clever dog. She and Dexter, for once, sat side by side at a respectful distance, watchful and still as if on bodyguard detail. How did they know to do that, when normally they were racing and bounding about like idiots?
‘Tess found you, George. She’s a bit like Lassie. I bet you remember Lassie.’
Quite where she dredged it up, Ella couldn’t recollect later, but she chatted inanely to George for the next ten minutes.
In the quiet of the village they heard the siren coming way before they spotted the blue lights of the ambulance speeding down the road.
At last the paramedics loaded George onto a stretcher, an oxygen mask strapped to his face.
It was only when they went to shut the door, something snapped inside Ella. It felt all wrong, the vulnerable figure tightly wrapped in the red blanket all on his own.
‘Wait. Can I go with him?’
‘Are you family?’
She hesitated. She couldn’t bear the thought of him going on his own and being alone in hospital. ‘Yes, I’m his niece.’
Chapter Eighteen
