The Nightingale Girls - By Donna Douglas Page 0,118
way towards him. But her feet and clothes snagged on fallen branches, rusting hulks of metal and other old junk lurking forgotten beneath the murky surface, holding her back. She could feel her strength ebbing away as the churning water closed over her head.
Suddenly she felt strong hands gripping her, hauling her out of the water.
Dora sprawled, gasping, on the canal path. She could feel Nick’s arms still wrapped around her. ‘It’s all right,’ he said, over and over again, his voice thick. ‘I’ve got you. You’re safe.’
‘I think I’m going to—’ Dora sat bolt upright as her stomach lurched. She had barely managed to crawl into the long grass before she was violently sick.
Finally, when she was empty and wrung out, she crawled back to where he was waiting for her.
‘S-sorry,’ she said. Her teeth chattered so much she could hardly manage to speak. Cold seeped deep into her bones, making her whole body ache.
‘Here.’ Nick took off his jacket and draped it around her shaking shoulders.
‘Th-thanks.’ Dora tried to stand up, catching her breath as pain lanced through her.
Nick caught her as she stumbled. ‘Your leg’s bleeding,’ he said.
She looked down at the blood trickling from a jagged cut on her calf. ‘I must have caught it on a bit of metal in the water.’ She touched the wound and bit her lip. ‘It’s not too deep, thank heavens.’
‘It’s bad enough,’ Nick said. ‘You need to go to hospital.’
‘Later. I’ve g-got to find Josie first.’ She tried again to stand, but it was too painful. As she stumbled once more, Nick’s arms came around her.
‘You’re in no fit state. Your leg’s in a right old mess. Look at you, you can’t even stand on it.’
‘I told you, I’ll see to it later – Nick!’ she yelped as he picked her up in his arms. ‘What are you doing? Put me down!’
‘I’m taking you to hospital.’
‘No, you’re bloody well not! Put me down!’ Dora hammered on the hard wall of his chest, but he carried on walking, grimly ignoring her blows. ‘I mean it, Nick. I’ve got to look for Josie.’
‘There’s plenty of people out looking for her already. And what good are you going to be, hopping about on one leg?’
‘She’s my sister. I can’t just sit about doing nothing while she’s out there somewhere.’ Dora’s voice caught on the lump in her throat.
‘I’ll find her,’ Nick said softly. ‘I promise you.’ Their eyes met, and she knew he meant every word. With her arms wound around his neck, Dora could feel the warmth of his body, his muscles reassuringly solid. She felt the apprehension ebb out of her.
‘Now,’ Nick said gruffly, ‘for once in your life, will you do as you’re told?’
An hour later Dora was in Casualty, her leg stretched out in front of her as a nurse bathed the wound. She was horribly self-conscious about her wet, filthy dress, and her hair, free from its restraining ribbon, tumbled in a mass of muddy red curls.
‘Ow!’ Dora flinched as the salt water touched her raw flesh.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ The boot-faced staff nurse didn’t look up. ‘Stop making such a fuss,’ she said briskly.
Dora stared at the top of her starched cap and decided she would never, ever tell a patient not to make a fuss again.
The door opened and a bespectacled young doctor came in, stethoscope slung carelessly round his neck.
He looked Dora up and down, taking in her damp, bedraggled appearance. ‘I’m Dr McKay. Would you be the young lady who’s been swimming in the canal, by any chance?’ he enquired in a soft Scottish accent.
‘How did you guess?’ Dora smiled back at him.
‘Years of medical training.’ He examined her leg. ‘Hmm. The wound doesn’t look too bad. Nurse Percival has, as usual, done a grand job of cleaning you up. But I reckon we should still give you a tetanus jab, just to be on the safe side.’
He nodded to the nurse, who went off to prepare the needle. The young man then sat down on a chair beside Dora. ‘So why did you decide to take a dip? High spirits after the Jubilee, I suppose?’ His eyes behind his spectacles were the warmest brown she had ever seen.
‘My sister went missing.’ She couldn’t stop herself from blurting out the words.
‘Oh.’ Dr McKay looked dismayed. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Has she been found?’ Dora shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. ‘How old is she?’