A Small Slice of Summer Read online

  Half an hour or so later, the washing up done and the beds made, she set off, wearing old slacks because of the brambles, and a cotton shirt which had seen better days, and because there was no one to see, she had simply tied her hair in a ponytail.

  Her path led her away from the road which ran through the village, and presently it wasn’t a path at all, but a well-worn track running over grass and heather. It plunged presently into a charming little wood which filled the whole of the valley between her and the tor. She would sit there, she promised herself, before climbing the hill on the other side. She meandered along, looking where she was going because of the ankle, and wondering at the back of her mind why Jason hadn’t telephoned to say when he would be coming; perhaps he had thought better of it—perhaps the date Paula had asked about really was a date, after all. Had he imagined that she would stay at home every day in the hope that he would come, or didn’t he mind if he never saw her again, despite his friendly suggestion about the tors? She was uncertain—that was Mike’s doing; he had said one thing and meant another, and for all she knew Jason was like that, too.

  She was half-way through the wood, looking for somewhere to sit, when she saw the boy. He was lying a few yards from the path, on his stomach, his head turned sideways away from her, resting on his arms. A gipsy, she guessed; they often spent a few days tucked cosily in the valley and nobody minded, for they were only a small party of two or three caravans and bothered no one. She said hullo as she passed him, slowing her steps in case he woke up and wanted to talk, but he didn’t answer. She walked on and then stopped. Supposing he wasn’t asleep? He could be ill—dead even. She went quietly through the bracken and bent over him. He wasn’t asleep, but neither did he see her properly. His face was white and his eyes, half open, were clouded. She knelt down beside him and took a closer look. Here was a very sick boy, and in a high fever; she wondered how long he had been there and why no one had come to look for him, and when she took his pulse it was far too rapid and when she felt his skin it was hot and dry. She would have to get help; it would mean leaving him lying there, but there was little chance of anyone coming along the track—she might wait all day.

  The gipsies usually camped down by the little stream which ran through the wood at the bottom of the valley, where it branched away towards the open country again; Letitia had passed the rough grass track between the trees only minutes before. If he had come from there, the chances were that they hadn’t missed him yet. She took a last worried look at the boy and ran back along the path and down the track. It led steeply downhill, winding and uneven between the trees, until it resolved itself into a delightful small clearing, with the stream skipping and rushing over the grey stones of its bed, and the trees encircling it, so that everything was shaded and cool, and but for the birds, very quiet.

  She had been right; the caravans were there—two of them, with a little tent pitched between them, the horses hobbled close by and a lurcher dog tied to a caravan wheel. It barked when it saw her, but the bark sounded appealing more than menacing, and when she called ‘Hullo there!’ no one answered at all. She stood still for a moment, wondering what to do, when she caught a faint sound from the caravan furthest from her. A little nervously she crossed the grass and knocked on the open door, and when she heard the sound again, went in. It was dark inside and very hot and smelly too, and amidst the furniture crowding its interior, an old man lay on a bunk bed against one wall. He was ill too; even in the half-dark she could see that. She said at once in her practical way: ‘Hullo—you’re not well, are you? What can I do to help?’

  He muttered and mumbled at her and finally waved a feeble arm towards the door. ‘The other caravan?’ she asked, and he nodded.

  It was as crowded as the first one, more so, because here were two people, a youngish man and a woman. The man appeared to be unconscious, but the woman, Letitia was relieved to see, looked as though she might be strong enough to talk.

  ‘How long have you been like this?’ Letitia asked her gently.

  The woman stared at her, blinking uncertainly. ‘A day—two, I don’t know.’

  ‘The boy—I found a boy. Is he yours?’

  The dark eyes came alive for a moment. ‘Yes—he’s ill too? He went to find someone.’

  ‘Listen,’ said Letitia, ‘I’m going for help—I shan’t be long, can you hang on for a little longer? My father will get a doctor to come…’

  ‘The parson?’

  ‘That’s right. I’ll see to your son too. Don’t worry.’ She looked around her and found what she was searching for; water, cooled in the kettle—a great black kettle dumped on the floor under a table. She filled a mug and gave some to the woman, then wetted the man’s lips before she crossed to the other caravan and gave the old man a drink too. Then she fetched a pan and filled it with water for the dog—the beast would be starved as well as thirsty, tied up like that. Her eyes lighted upon a hunk of cheese on the table; she snatched it up and offered it to the poor creature, who demolished it in a couple of gulps. The horses would need attention too, but they would have to wait a little longer. She started back up the track, going as fast as she could.

  Where it joined the main path she paused. Perhaps she should get the boy to the caravans first and make him as comfortable as possible before she went for help, but with all the will in the world, she knew she couldn’t do it; he was far too big for her to carry, and to drag him over the rough ground would be madness—besides, her ankle, though mended, might not stand up to such treatment. She turned to the right, in the direction of the village, barely a mile away.

  The sight of Jason, coming along between the trees at a steady, unhurried pace, would have filled her with surprise, but all she was conscious of was relief. She said desperately: ‘Oh, there you are—what a mercy!’ She gulped deeply, being still short of breath from her haste. ‘They’re all ill—the gipsies—and there’s a boy.’ She waved an arm behind her. ‘The dog’s starving too, and there are two horses…’

  She felt his hands, firm and reassuring, on her shoulders. He didn’t waste time repeating her not very clear remarks, nor did he ask what she meant by them. He asked in a calming voice: ‘Where are they? Take your time—it will be quicker in the long run.’

  He was right; Letitia took several long, steadying breaths. ‘Down that track—there’s a small clearing at the bottom, there are two caravans there. The boy’s along this path—I think he’s unconscious.’

  ‘Lying on the path?’

  ‘No—to the left, a few yards from it, you can see him…’

  She felt herself pressed gently down on to a fallen tree. ‘Sit there. I’ll get him first, then you can show me where the others are.’

  Letitia sat, suddenly tired, wondering if she had dreamed it all. But not the boy, at any rate; within a very few minutes she saw Jason coming back, the boy in his arms. As he reached her, he said in an easy voice: ‘Now, dear girl, lead the way,’ and she started off down the track once more, but more slowly this time because though Jason was a giant of a man, the boy he was carrying must have been quite heavy.

  They reached the clearing without mishap, and the dog, hopeful of more food, strained at its chain and barked its head off. The old man opened his eyes as Letitia went into the caravan and mumbled something as the doctor laid his burden down on the second bunk.

  ‘The boy first,’ said Jason, and took off his jacket and cast it through the door on to the grass outside. ‘The others are in the caravan over there, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes—do you want me here?’

  ‘Not for the moment—see if you can get a kettle of water going, they need cleaning up, and perhaps you can cool some it for them to drink—boiled water can’t do them any harm, whatever it is.’

  She nodded wordlessly and crossed over to the larger caravan, found another kettle, already half filled with water, and set it on a Primus stove. There were a great many dirty cups and plates about too; she collected them up and piled them into
a tin bowl and carried them outside; presently she would wash them up. She found a bucket too and fetched water from the stream, then gave it rather awkwardly to the horses before beginning a hunt for something to give the dog. The cupboards were well enough stocked with food; she selected a packet of Rich Tea biscuits and a tin of corned beef, mixed them together on a plate and laid it before the dog, who polished it off with delight, washed it down with more water, and then allowed her to take him off his chain, tie a length of rope to his collar, and fasten him to a nearby tree, where he lay down at once and fell asleep.

  The kettle was on the boil when she returned and as the woman was dozing still, she went to see what the doctor was about, for it seemed to her that he was being a very long time.

  The caravan seemed hotter and gloomier than ever as she went in, and smaller too by reason of his size, but he had got both of his patients out of their outer garments. They lay in a smelly heap in one corner and he was bending over the boy.

  ‘There you are!’ he exclaimed, his tone implying that she had been somewhere or other enjoying herself. ‘I wish I had my bag with me. We’ll have to get help as quickly as possible, I fancy. Can I leave you to get these two reasonably clean and give them a drink? And throw out as many clothes as you can, will you? I’m going to have a look at the others.’

  She did as he had bidden her, although to get the occupants of the caravan really clean was beyond her, but at least she bathed their faces and hands and unearthed fresh blankets before she tossed their discarded clothing out on to the grass. She was barely finished when Jason joined her. ‘The woman’s not too bad,’ he told her. ‘The man needs attention as soon as possible; he and the boy and the old man must have been ill for several days. The woman told me that there’s another caravan expected this evening. I think the best thing we can do is to get this lot to hospital, get the place cleansed and wait for the arrivals. They might be able to take over the animals—they’re friends of these people, I presume.’

  It was a relief to have someone there, making decisions in a calm way. Letitia nodded. ‘I’ll go and wash the other two,’ she told him. ‘The old man has a rash on his chest, but you’ll have seen that.’

  She went to pass him, but he caught her by the arm and swung her round to face him. ‘Yes, dear girl. Typhoid.’

  ‘Ty…oh! Are they bad?’

  ‘If you mean are they going to die, no, I don’t think so—not if we can get them to hospital within a reasonable time.’ His hand was still on her arm. ‘Have you by any lucky chance had a TAB injection lately?’

  ‘Yes, a month ago—we had a carrier on the surgical wards.’

  ‘Splendid, so you’re safe.’ He took his hand away and gave her a little push. ‘Off you go to your tasks. I’m going back to your home to ask your father to telephone the local doctor and arrange for someone to stop the other caravan when it comes. You’ll be all right here?’

  ‘Yes. Jason, no one’s had typhoid…’ Her eyes were a little worried, though her voice was as matter-of-fact as his.

  He smiled reassuringly. ‘I shall stand by the gate and bellow,’ he told her, ‘then I shall come straight back.’ He turned away. ‘Tot ziens.’

  She had no idea what that might mean, but it sounded cheerful. She called “Bye,’ and made her way over to the second caravan, and presently, armed with more warm water and soap, began her work. The woman, when her face had been bathed and her hair tidied and she had been got into a clean garment, looked hearteningly better, but the man hardly stirred. Letitia gave them both a drink and went to see how her other patients were faring. The old man was still muttering, but the boy looked a little better. She went outside again and added the clothes from the other two to the pile on the grass and went to put on another kettle, giggling a little as she did so; it reminded her of an old film, where invariably in an emergency hot water was called for, whether it was needed or not. Now there was no emergency any more, only a need for her to wash her hands. A cup of tea would have been welcome, but there was nothing safe to drink from. She was drying her hands on the seat of her slacks when Jason came back, and it wasn’t until she saw him coming towards her that she realized just how glad she was to see him again.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  HE WAS CARRYING his bag under one arm and she recognized the family picnic basket in his hand. In the other he held a small suitcase. He put it and the picnic basket down under the trees and came towards her, moving with a calm air of purpose which she found reassuring. ‘Hullo,’ he greeted her. ‘What pillars of strength your parents are. Your mother had the basket packed within five minutes—you’ve had no lunch, have you? Sit down now and eat something and drink the tea.’

  ‘I’m quite all right,’ she began.

  ‘I know that, but do as I say, or you won’t be of much use later on when there’ll be work to do. Your father telephoned the local doctor; he’s on his way. Once he’s seen these poor souls, we can get them away.’ He started towards the caravans. ‘I’m going to take another look—go and eat your sandwiches, and save a cup of tea for me.’

  She was glad of the food and still more of the tea, but she wasted no time on her scratch meal. Five minutes later she was beside Jason as he examined the boy once more. He looked round as she sidled past the table and chairs and cupboards. ‘Your Doctor Robinson has asked for a couple of ambulances; it’s going to be quite an exercise getting the four of them down to the road, but once they’re away the third caravan can come in and take over the animals while the Health people get these places fumigated.’ He nodded towards the pile of clothing outside. ‘I’m afraid that lot will have to be destroyed.’

  Letitia was giving the old man a drink. ‘Father has a stock of clothes he keeps, he’ll fit them out again. The jumble sales, you know.’

  The doctor looked a little at sea, but it was hardly the time to go into the manifold blessings of the village jumble sale—besides, she could hear footsteps. They belonged to Doctor Robinson, who greeted her with the freedom of an old friend and edged past her to join Jason. Presently the two men went over to the second caravan, to join her after a few minutes.

  ‘No doubt of it,’ pronounced Doctor Robinson, ‘it’s typhoid all right. Luckily you happened to come this way, Tishy, and luckier still that you have had your TAB so recently. I’ve just been suggesting to our good friend here that you should both go to the Isolation Hospital and get cleaned up.’ He eyed Letitia’s person. ‘Nothing smart you mind parting with, I daresay? All old stuff?’

  She was on the point of replying when Jason said: ‘I asked your mother to put a few things in a case for you—you can change in the hospital, and leave that stuff to be burnt.’ His tone implied that it should have been burnt months ago, so that when she asked: ‘And what about you?’ her voice was tart. How dared he criticize her clothes; that her slacks were a bit shabby she was bound to admit and the cotton shirt had seen better days, and neither had been improved during the last few hours, but what could it matter to him anyway?

  ‘Oh, I’ve a change of clothes,’ he told her carelessly. ‘Perhaps you would make sure that they’re more or less ready to go?’

  His voice was that of a consultant asking a nurse on his ward to carry out his instructions; kindly, distant and polite. Letitia found herself obeying. She was rather despairingly searching for some sort of nightwear for the boy when she heard voices and the tramp of purposeful feet, and peered round the door to see the clearing suddenly full of men—ambulance men, clad in protective clothing, bearing stretchers. They started about their business with cheerful competence, and one by one the patients were strapped to their stretchers and borne away, leaving the two doctors, the horses, the dog and herself.

  ‘They’ll be along to get this lot cleaned very shortly,’ observed Doctor Robinson. ‘They’ll take you along in one of their cars, I daresay—can’t offer you a lift myself, I’m afraid.’

  ‘The animals,’ said Letitia, not caring a great deal as to the arrangements suggeste
d. ‘I won’t go until there’s someone to look after them—I’ll wait until there’s someone…I daresay they’ll be here before the caravans are sealed.’

  To her surprise Jason agreed with her. ‘That dog looks as though it could do with some exercise and I need to stretch my legs. I’ll free the horses too and then get them tied where they can get at the grass.’

  ‘The dog won’t understand,’ persisted Letitia, aware that she was being childish about the animal.

  ‘Probably not, but I’ll talk to these gipsies when they get here—and his boss won’t be away all that time, you know. Typhoid isn’t the long-drawn-out business it used to be now that we have Chloramphenicol.’

  ‘Yes…I was just wondering if I could have him at home with me—I know I have to go back in a day or two, but Paula will look after him and Shep and Bossy won’t mind. Do you suppose he would stay?’

  ‘Probably. There’s no harm in trying—the boy could collect him when he’s better.’

  Doctor Robinson closed his bag. ‘Well, I’ll be on my way—you two will be all right?’ He shook hands with Jason, pinched Letitia’s cheek and started off along the track. Before he disappeared from view he turned to call: ‘I’ll tell those men to hurry themselves if I should meet them.’

  He was barely out of sight when Jason declared that he would see to the horses at once and then attend to the dog. ‘Well, I’ll start getting the caravans ready for the men,’ declared Letitia, ever practical. ’empty cupboards and drawers and get the canned stuff out of the way—the rest of the stuff will have to be dealt with, I suppose?’

  ‘I should imagine so. Do you want any help?’ He had picked up a bucket and was already walking away from her. She said ‘No,’ because in the circumstances it would have been silly to have said ‘Yes,’ the question having been rhetorical. She plunged into the nearest caravan and worked with such a will that by the time the men arrived she had almost cleared the second one as well. Of the doctor there was no sign; presumably he had gone with the dog. She went forward to meet the Health team, uncertain as to what she should do next; when he appeared silently from the thickly growing trees at the side of the clearing, the dog at his heel. From then on she had no need to do anything; he seemed to know exactly what was needed, what had to be done, and who was to do it, and while he made no attempt to interfere in any way Letitia could see that he was regarded as being in charge of the business.