‘You went up? How far was it?’
‘Ten miles there and back.’
‘Ten miles! You climbed ten miles up a mountain in the dark?’
She shuddered. ‘It’s not the climb that’s going to haunt me; it’s what was waiting at the top.’
‘That took some guts, lass.’
‘It doesn’t matter. What I did wasn’t important.’
Don’s voice softened. ‘Bobby, are you all right? No offence, but you sound… well, a bit tipsy. Your speech is slurring.’
‘I’m exhausted, Don. I’ve been pushing myself to keep going all night and now it’s catching up with me.’
‘So let me get this straight. In the past few hours, you’ve witnessed a plane crash, climbed a mountain, rescued two injured airmen… and then the first thing you think to do when you get a moment to yourself is to telephone me. At three in the morning, I might add.’
She gulped. ‘I thought… I thought you’d want to know about it right away so you could run it in the next edition.’
‘The hell you did. This isn’t really about a story, is it? What’s wrong, Bobby?’
Finally, Bobby gave in and let the tears she’d been holding back gush out. She was so tired, so very tired, but how could she ever sleep again? Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that smoking body in the plane. And the man stretched out on the ground, the man with half a face…
‘I… had to talk to you, Don,’ she sobbed. ‘I… I had to talk to… someone who wasn’t Silverdale. Someone who isn’t part of it all. I can’t break down in front of them – not until it’s over. They all look at me, expecting me to be strong. Make decisions.’
‘All right, I’m here,’ Don said gently. ‘Let it all out. Have they got any medicinal brandy at this hospital?’
‘No.’ She sniffed. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Well, see if you can find some and have yourself a glass. It’ll help. Do you want to tell me about what you saw?’
‘The men in the plane… were all dead. One of them… I could see it where there was a crack in the fuselage. It was horrible, Don. Just black and smoking and… dead. And the other man, one of the survivors – he was younger than me and… the skin on half his face had been burned off. It made him look like… it’s awful to say, but he looked like a monster or… or something from a horror film. Every time I close my eyes, I see it again in my mind.’
‘I’m sorry, Bobby. I wish I was there to help.’
‘Now I know what my dad sees when he wakes up screaming,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Now I know why he has to drink to forget. And it made me think… it all made me think…’
‘What did it make you think?’
‘About how I’d manage if…’ She shuddered. ‘I don’t want to talk about it over the telephone.’
In the distance she heard the muffled toll of Sumner House’s doorbell.
‘That’s probably the surgeon who’s driven over from Skipton,’ she said. ‘I have to pull myself together. I’ll be needed soon. Are you in the office tomorrow?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘I think… I’d like to come home.’ She dabbed at her eyes with the lucky handkerchief Charlie had given her the first time they’d met: the one with the horseshoe and his monogram embroidered in one corner. ‘I’m sure Reg will give me the day off after what happened tonight, and there are a few things I need to sort out with the house and our lodgings for Bowling Tide. If you’re working, I can come into the office and give you an eyewitness account. Assuming you’re going to run the story.’
‘I’ll run it.’
‘And if you’ve got time, I’d really appreciate some advice. There’s something personal I’d be grateful for a man’s perspective on.’
‘Come near the end of the day and we’ll take you over to the Swan for a game of darts, just like the old days. You can tell me what’s on your mind at the pub, if you can manage it without blubbering.’
‘I’ll be all right by tomorrow. Thanks, Don.’
The surgeon, Dr Lazenby, arrived with a reassuringly large bag of tools and medicines and was shown into the surgery by Topsy. Bobby met them there to answer any questions he might have about the pilot’s injuries, then she went down to the cottage with Topsy to change into some loaned clothes and get cleaned up while Mary and Mrs Hobbes put together the metal frames that went over the beds. After that, there was nothing to do but drink coffee and wait. Her throbbing head had sunk on to her shoulder when, an hour later, she was shaken awake by Mary. Topsy was dozing in her chair, and Mrs Hobbes had returned to the cottage to rest for a little while in case they needed to take shifts later on. A gramophone had been installed in the room earlier in the evening, and Topsy had brought some records from the cottage. The low, dreamlike hum of chamber music had filled the air as Bobby drifted into a shallow sleep, but it was silent now.
