Deadlight-Hall(61)

Statement made by Doctor Ian Maguire, General Practitioner of Medicine.

I was called to Salamander House by Mr John Hurst, to tend to Douglas Wilger, who had, I was told, slipped, and fallen partly into the open kiln. When I arrived the boy was in great pain and in deep shock. The lower side of his face had suffered moderate burns, but the cause for real concern came from the other injuries. Almost the entire left half of his upper trunk was severely burned. It was not possible to determine the thickness of the burns, but they were extreme. The housekeeper had applied soda bicarbonate paste to the affected areas at once, which had afforded some slight relief. However, I used a solution of picric acid, which is a recognized cure for burns, and is sovereign in the reducing of pain and infection. Properly applied, and covered with gauze, it then allows for the formation of a scab, under which healing can take place.

Sad to report, when removing the boy’s dressings three days later, as I feared, the burns had been too deep to respond well to the treatment. There is severe shrinkage of tissue on the chest wall, which has drawn the flesh of the chest inwards, and in time will pull one, and possibly both, shoulders forward. This process will be progressive and is already discernible. Eventually it will result in what will be virtually a hunchback stature – although the hunching will be due to contraction of flesh and muscle, rather than deformity of bone.

The boy’s lungs are also damaged, and I think it unlikely they will heal. Coupled with the shrinkage of the upper trunk, he finds it difficult to draw in very deep breaths. Consequently, he is unable walk more than a few paces at a time.

Sadly, the lower left side of his face is somewhat disfigured from the burns. About that I can do nothing, although by God’s good grace, the burns missed his eyes.

Michael reread the last couple of paragraphs. ‘Shrinkage of tissue on the chest wall, which has drawn the flesh of the chest inwards, and in time will pull one, and possibly both, shoulders forward … Will result in what will be virtually a hunchback stature …’

Was this the misshapen shadow he had seen in Deadlight Hall? A lingering memory of a sad little ghost, its body maimed, its life probably spoiled? You poor wretched little creature, he thought, then turned to the next page.

Conclusions by Sir George Buckle:

While my fellow committee members and myself are sure that Mr Breadspear’s glass manufactory is run on proper and humane lines, in order to alleviate concern in the minds of several local people, a full and official inspection will be made of Salamander House.

I would make the point that such inspections are intended to bring about a moral climate of observance, rather than to supervise the general running of any industry. It is believed – indeed, it is recommended – that inspectors should not take from employers the ultimate responsibility for operating decent establishments.

Across the foot of this last page, in what Michael thought was the unknown Rosa’s handwriting, were the words: ‘What a cruel and unpleasant bunch of people! I am ashamed to think I have an ancestor among them!’

He wondered briefly which of the players in the long-ago drama had been Rosa’s ancestor, but could not see that it mattered. He reached for the other package, disentangled the string, and began to read the contents. The first was a letter from the ubiquitous Maria.

Deadlight Hall

November 1882

My dear Mr Breadspear

I was very glad to hear from you that the inspection of Salamander House concluded that no blame could be attached to you. I was also pleased to hear that the inspectors enjoyed the lunch you arranged for them. I dare say such people do not often have the chance of sampling grouse, and it was generous of you to serve your best wines, as well.

It cannot be easy for you to arrange such occasions in your house, after the terrible tragedy, and I am glad to think that much of the unpleasantness about that is dying down. Perhaps ‘unpleasantness’ is rather a mild word to use, but you will know what I mean.

What is not dying down, however, is the annoyance caused to me by that man, John Hurst, with his visits to the Hall and the books he brings for the children. I always look at the books very sharply before allowing them into the house, for on his own shelves at Willow Bank Farm, Mr Hurst has a number of very questionable volumes (some are even in French), which he brazenly says are great literature. There are paintings on the walls of the farm which Hurst calls Art, but which to my mind are nothing better than shameful flaunting hussies. During the lunch he gave for the ladies of St Bertelin’s Church charitable committee I did not know where to look. The lunch itself was what I can only call ostentatious.