Bobby took Topsy’s shoulders and looked sternly into her face. ‘Topsy, there’s a man coming here whose guts have been ripped open by flying metal and who has had the skin half-burned off his face. I don’t think you want to get his blood on your pretty clothes, do you?’
Topsy’s eyes widened. ‘His skin burned off! Lord, that sounds awful! Did you really see that up there?’
‘Yes,’ Bobby said quietly. ‘It was a terrible thing to witness. He… might not make it here. He was at death’s door when we found him. But if he does, we must be ready to help him in any way we can. You haven’t done your VAD training yet, have you?’
‘Well, no, but I’ve been reading a lot so I’d be ready. I took a book from the library here, all about medical instruments and what they’re used for, and another about how to dress wounds and things. Maimie let me practise my bandaging on her.’ She giggled. ‘She looked like an Egyptian mummy just risen from the crypt, Birdy.’
Bobby could imagine the type of book Topsy had been reading. Calm, clinical descriptions of the right way to make a sling or apply a dressing, aimed at Girl Guides probably, with lots of neat little diagrams where both patient and nurse were smiling happily. Nothing about the horror of being faced with a man whose life was ebbing away with his stomach sliced open and half his face looking like something less than human. How was her friend going to react when she saw what Bobby had seen by the glow of an oil lamp earlier in the night, except this time in the cold, unforgiving glare of an electric bulb?
‘Is there an operating theatre?’ Bobby asked.
‘It’s not quite grand enough to be called a theatre but there’s a surgery,’ Topsy said. ‘In the south parlour. There’s an operating table in there, and a basin and all that type of thing.’
‘There’s a surgeon on his way from Skipton. When he comes, show him in there so he can see what he’s got to work with.’
‘What will you do? You look like you’re ready to collapse, Birdy. I can give you the key for the cottage if you want to rest awhile.’
‘No.No, I can’t rest – not until it’s done.’ She pressed a hand to her forehead. ‘But… could I please use your telephone?’
Chapter 22
Topsy showed Bobby into the room that had previously been the office of the headmistress responsible for the evacuees’ school. It would be assigned to the hospital matron now, Bobby supposed, or whoever was to be in charge of the place. Wearily, she sank into a chair at the desk, picked up the receiver and spoke to the operator.
‘Bradford 5726, please,’ she said. ‘Donald Sykes.’
Of course, he might not pick up. It was three o’clock in the morning. Bobby felt a wave of guilt, slightly fuzzy at the edges from the exhaustion, about the fact she would also be waking Don’s wife Joan and their young daughter Sal. Still, she needed to speak to him. She wasn’t sure why exactly, but she knew she needed to.
The phone rang for a little while before there was any answer.
‘Hello?’ a grumpy, sleep-slurred voice said at the other end.
‘Don, it’s me.’
‘Bloody hell, Bobby! You’d better be dead or in prison if you’re waking me up at this time.’
‘Not quite. I’ve got a story for you – a good one.’
‘Huh. What story would I be interested in from the back end of nowhere?’ he muttered. ‘It’s not even rightly our patch.’
‘You’ll want to cover this, I promise.’
‘Bobby, at three in the morning, I’m not sure I’d want to cover it if you were calling to tell me you’d had a telegram containing Hitler’s personal surrender.’
‘This is big enough for the nationals to be interested in, Don; I’m sure it is. A bomber crew came down in the fells tonight – I saw it happen. Six RAF cadets from the airbase ten miles away.’
There was silence while he took this in.
‘All right, I’m listening,’ Don said grudgingly.
‘You’ve got your pencil?’
‘There’s one by the phone.’
‘I was on duty at the ARP hut when it happened. A Vickers Wellington went into the side of the mountain in thick fog and burst into flames.’ She paused while the journalist part of her brain fumbled for a detail. ‘Mark… IC. The crew were all Free Polish – four dead and two survivors. A rescue party from the village hiked up to the summit with stretchers to bring them down.’
‘You saw them brought down, did you?’
‘No, I went up with the rescue party. I’m at Sumner House now, Sal’s old school. It’s been fitted up as a hospital – it hasn’t officially opened yet but there are facilities to care for them here.’
