The Mersey Daughter (Empire Street #3)(71)

‘So he is still alive?’ she said, hoping against hope that this was what he meant.

Wearily the admiral drew her down the corridor, the impatient matron at his side, Kitty following in consternation. When they were well out of listening distance of the far doors, he halted.

‘Yes, at the moment he is still alive,’ he said slowly. ‘He has been gravely ill, however, and has been unconscious for some days now. Even I have been permitted to see him only for short bursts at a time, and only from a distance. I am afraid there is no question of you being allowed to visit him. He wouldn’t know you were there—’

‘Absolutely not,’ the matron broke in. ‘We cannot risk transmission of any further infections. He has enough to cope with as things stand.’ She bit her lip, as if she had given away more than she intended to.

‘Is he not out of danger?’ Laura asked, controlling her voice with difficulty. She knew she must not reveal her true feelings, or they would tell her nothing.

The admiral’s face took on an expression of deep sadness. ‘I’m afraid not, my dear. All we can do is wait, and trust in the fact that before the fire he was a very healthy young man with everything to live for. Often that is what helps cases such as this pull through – that, and excellent nursing,’ he added, turning to the matron. ‘I appreciate you coming here. I feel all of this is rather my fault, you see. It was I who summoned him to an urgent meeting that night, and I know that meant you were forced to forgo your free evening to drive him there and back.’

Laura realised that this was the figure she had caught sight of from a distance in the doorway of the Reform Club. So the admiral was Peter’s uncle, and from the tone of his voice it hadn’t been a family gathering but something far more important. Had Peter had time to act upon the information he’d been given that night? How tragic if he’d been given a special mission and was now unable to complete it, all because she had chosen that particular route back to base.

‘If I hadn’t gone via Camden …’ she began, horrified as the significance began to hit her.

‘Hush, my dear.’ The admiral laid his hand on her arm. ‘It will do you no good to think like that. You did what you considered best, and by doing so you saved a small child. You are to be praised, not blamed. You and my nephew acted selflessly and with the utmost bravery, which cannot be wrong under any circumstances. He would have it no other way. Please do not tell yourself that you are at fault.’

Laura stared at her feet in their sensible uniform shoes, unable to meet his eyes. She’d clung to the idea that she’d be able to come to the hospital and find that all the rumours had been exaggerated, that Peter would be sitting up in bed, fit as a fiddle, and that they’d share a joke about the whole thing – how everyone was making a fuss over nothing and mollycoddling him. Now it seemed that was far from the case. She didn’t think she could bear it – to lose him just as she was beginning to discover what he meant to her. First Freddy, now Peter. She gulped and held back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her.

The matron had softened slightly but was still keen for them to leave. ‘Come,’ she said, ‘you can’t stand around here. There are patients all about and we can’t have them caused additional distress. Now you know what the situation is, you must go back to your base.’

Kitty stepped forward and took Laura’s arm. ‘Let’s go,’ she whispered. ‘We’re doing no good here. At least we know now.’

Every cell in Laura’s body urged her to stay, to be close to Peter in his hour of need, but she knew that would be impossible. She couldn’t even tell anyone how she felt – she barely knew herself. All she knew for certain was that she didn’t want him to die. She didn’t care if he barked at her to reverse in unfeasibly narrow alleys, to drive him for hours in the middle of the night, to take him to ridiculously out-of-the-way locations and back again while scarcely uttering a word. All that mattered was that he recovered.

‘Would you like to be kept informed of his progress, my dear?’ asked the admiral. ‘I can arrange it if that is what you want.’

Laura gave herself a mental shake, recognising that this was a considerable kindness. Of course the admiral didn’t know what she was thinking, but he must assume she had a keen professional interest at least.

‘Yes, sir. Thank you,’ she breathed. ‘I would appreciate that very much. All manner of rumours have been going round and one can’t help but imagine the worst.’ She attempted a smile.

‘Indeed. Never listen to the rumour mill, that’s my advice.’ He held out his hand. ‘Goodbye, Wren Fawcett, and good show.’ He nodded to her and to Kitty. It was a clear dismissal, and this time they did as they were bid, making their way back through the labyrinth of silent corridors until they were out in the autumnal sunshine and dry leaves blew about their feet.

‘We can get the bus,’ Kitty suggested, then stopped as she saw how wretched Laura was looking. ‘Are you all right, Laura? You look a bit pale. Would you rather try to find somewhere that’s open where we can have a cup of tea?’

Laura shook her head. ‘I think I need something a little stronger than tea, to tell the truth.’ She kicked at the leaves, despair and frustration filling her heart. ‘Oh Kitty, there were scores of routes I could have taken that night and I go and pick the one that could have got us killed, and now he’s in there and we don’t know if he’ll make it.’