The English Tutor (18 page)

“
It
’
s Miss Clancy was the one who was hurt, I
’
m thinking,
”
said Michael John.

“
The girl
’
s got as many lives as a cat! Get back to your work, Michael John, and don
’
t stand there trying to make excuses for her. If anything had happened to that boy
—”

“
Were you hurt, Clancy?
”
asked Mark.

“
I
’
m all right,
”
she said.

“
Well, you
’
d better go upstairs and change your wet things,
”
he told her.

She turned and went slowly up the stairs, pulling herself up by the banisters, and Kevin went into the library.

“
I
’
ll not be going out now,
”
he said.
“
Just go up and satisfy myself Brian
’
s all right when Agnes has got him to bed.
”

Mark stood for a few minutes in thoughtful contemplation of the rain-drenched lawns beyond the open front door, then he went upstairs and along the passage to Clancy
’
s room. He had not liked the way she had dragged herself up the stairs.

He found her sitting on her bed still in her wet skirt. She had taken off her sweater and was contemplating her arm with a face as white as paper.

“
You
’
d better let me see it,
”
Mark said quietly.

He knelt down beside her and took her arm in gentle fingers. A deep ragged cut ran nearly from shoulder to elbow and was bleeding profusely.

“
My poor child,
”
he said,
“
this must hurt like anything.
”

“
I fell on one of those sharp stones in the drive,
”
she said.
“
I feel rather queer.
”

He spread a towel on the bed and told her to
li
e down.

“
I
’
ll just put a rough dressing on it to stop the bleeding, then I
’
ll take you down to the doctor,
”
he said.

When he had dressed her arm, he took off her wet shirt and found her another to put on, then he wrapped her in a coat and told her to stay where she was while he fetched the car.

“
You
’
d better go quickly,
”
she said in a small distressed voice,
“
I think I
’
m going to be sick.
”

He met Kevin on the stairs, on his way to see Brian, and asked if he might borrow the car to take Clancy to the doctor.

“
Doctor?
”
said Kevin blankly,
“
—what would Clancy want with a doctor?
”

“
Several stitches in a very nasty cut and a strong dose of sal volatile to stop her from fainting,
”
said Mark curtly.

Kevin stood aside to let him pass, his face wrinkled in almost comical dismay.

“
Heavens!
”
he said, and added:
“
You look quite angry, my dear fellow!
”

“
Yes, I am angry,
”
retorted Mark.
“
It was a pity you didn
’
t make sure the child was all right before you treated her to that display downstairs. Sometimes, Kilmallin, your partiality for your son makes me a little tired.
”

In the doctor
’
s surgery, Clancy sat propped against Mark
’
s shoulder while her arm was stitched. She was very white, but she did not cry out, but held Mark
’
s hand tightly until it was over.

“
A nasty cut,
”
old Doctor Boyle said when he had finished.
“
It
’
ll give you a bit of pain at first, I
’
m afraid, but you
’
ve got healthy blood, and you
’
ll soon heal.
”
He gave her some tablets in case she was unable to sleep, and told Mark to bring her down again in a couple of days.

There was no one about when they reached Kilmallin, and Mark took Clancy up to her room and told her to get into bed.

She sat down on the bed, very straight and upright.

“
Kilnmallin
was so angry,
”
she said.
“
I didn
’
t run into Brian on purpose. He was so angry.
”

“
Of course you didn
’
t. Your father realizes that now. He was just upset.
”

“
He looked at me as if he hated me,
”
she said, and all at once she began to weep.

He went to her and sat on the bed beside her, drawing her gently into his arms, and she put her free arm round his neck and crumpled up against him.

“
Cry it all out, you poor child, you
’
ll feel better then,
”
he said.

Shock and pain and Kevin
’
s anger combined with Mark
’
s kindness caused a storm of weeping which she had seldom experienced. He sat there, stroking her hair, and letting her cry until she was quiet again, then he gently laid her back on the bed and fetched her a glass of water from the wash-stand.

“
Feel better now?
”
he asked, brushing the dark hair back from her forehead.

She smiled up at him a little shakily.

“
Yes, thank you.
”

“
I
’
ll send your aunt up to you if I can find her, or one of the maids if I can
’
t. You may have trouble manipulating that arm in and out of garments, and we don
’
t want to start it throbbing.
”

“
Thank you,
”
she said again.
“
You
’
ve been terribly kind.
I wonder
—”

“
Yes?
”

“
I wonder if you
’
d think it cheek—I wonder if you
’
d
mind
—”

“
I shouldn
’
t think I would. What is it?
”

She looked a little shy.

“
I wonder if I might call you Mark like Clodagh does.
”

His smile was tender.

“
No, Clancy, I wouldn
’
t think it cheek at all. I should like it very much. Is this supposed to be a seal on our friendship?
”

“
Well, not exactly,
”
she said,
“
only it does stick in my throat every time I have to say Cromwell.
”

It was new for Clancy to be the focus for sympathy, and Mark was interested to see how she blossomed under the attentions of her family. Kevin, a little shaken by the Englishman
’
s flash of anger, tried to make clumsy amends by visiting his daughter and shouting apologetically at her from the foot of the bed. Aunt Bea hovered vaguely with anxious inquiries, and even Agnes left her other nursling to administer practical aid and sharp lectures not unmixed with a grudging concern.

For the next few days Clancy basked in the warmth of unfamiliar solicitude. She enjoyed having her meat cut up for her and being let off lessons by Mark. She even enjoyed Brian
’
s sulks, so seldom were they caused by her father
’
s lack of attention. Only Conn did not join in the general concern. Perhaps he had not heard that she had been hurt.

It was a week later that Mark drove her down to the village to have the stitches taken out.

“
Will it hurt much?
”
she asked a little apprehensively.

“
Not much if he
’
s quick and neat,
”
said Mark.

But it did hurt. Doctor Boyle was old and a remote country practice had not taught him much skill or gentleness. Clancy looked rather white when he had finished with her, and Mark had to stop the car on the way home to allow her to be sick behind a bank.

She lay back beside him with her eyes closed, looking very like Brian, and he thought with slight disquiet, that in a severe illness, she might have the least resistance of the two, despite the boy
’
s avowed delicacy. There was a fine-drawn tension in her face that should not have been there at seventeen, and Mark realized that all her life she had probably lived under an unconscious strain.

“
Relax,
”
he said gently, slowing down the car to minimize the roughness of the road.

Her eyes flew open and she looked apologetic.

“
I can
’
t,
”
she said.
“
I have to hold on to my stomach.
”

“
Not just your stomach, silly child,
”
he said,
“
relax your mind. You
’
re always one jump ahead of something.
”

“
Am I
?
”
She sighed and slipped further down in her seat.
“
Sometimes it
’
s
h
ard not to be. It
’
s very difficult being my age. Conn can
’
t have heard about my arm. He hasn
’
t been to see us for ages.
”

“
I expect he
’
s busy.
”

“
He would have come if he had known. That time last year I got kicked, he used to row across the loch at night and shout good night under my window to cheer me up. Oh, look! There
’
s his old car outside that cottage. Do stop, Mark, and I can tell him.
”

Mark pulled up at the side of the road at the same moment as Conn came out of the cottage.

“
Conn! Conn!
”
shouted Clancy, her sickness forgotten.
“
We
’
ve just been to the doctor and he hurt like anything, but it
’
s all right now, and there were five stitches—just imagine! You didn
’
t know, did you, that I fell off my bicycle a week ago and cut my arm right open and bled and bled?
”

Conn came over to the car and leant in at the window.
“
Of course I knew,
”
he laughed.
“
You don
’
t imagine that sort of news doesn
’
t get round at once?
”

She stared at him.

“
You
knew
?”

“
Of course. Micky-the-post told me when he brought the letters the next morning.
”

Her eyes looked enormous, lifted to his teasing face.

“
But you never came,
”
she said.

“
Ah, sure, I
’
ve been busy. What
’
s a little cut anyway? You
’
re always falling off something, you hooligan.
”

Her lips trembled.

“
It wasn
’
t a little cut. It had five stitches, didn
’
t it, Mark?
”

Mark was watching her thoughtfully.