Finding Mr Rochester by Trisha Ashley

Author:Trisha Ashley [Trisha Ashley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2014-02-18T05:00:00+00:00

6

By the time I caught up with Henry, he was already having words with George and they were squaring up to each other.

‘Get that tractor off my land! This is my final warning, or I’m calling the police,’ Henry threatened.

Whatever George was about to reply remained unsaid, because he suddenly looked up and his mouth dropped open as he caught sight of the horde of people in Victorian garb who’d streamed down the track after me and were now avid spectators.

Faced with camera phones, the photographer from the local paper and the focus of every eye, he became flustered.

‘I’ve a right to use this track,’ he began belligerently, but in a more uncertain tone than I’d ever heard from him before.

‘You’ve no right – and you’ve no real right to the rest of the land that you conned out of my father either, so if you weren’t so stupid you’d just keep out of my way.’

‘Your father thought me the better man, that’s why he left it to me,’ George said unwisely, and Henry took a hasty step forward, clenching his fists.

I grabbed one arm and Martha the other, but we hardly seemed to slow him down. But George quickly jumped back into his tractor and started the engine.

‘I’ll go this time, but I’ll be back!’

‘I wouldn’t, if I were you,’ Henry called out. Now he seemed to have ceased contemplating homicide, Martha and I released our grip on his arms. He folded them over his broad chest and watched critically as George began to turn his tractor in the narrow track.

I’d seen him do it easily before, but this time being the centre of so many eyes must have affected his concentration, because he misjudged it and one of the huge tyres slid down into the deep ditch. Then, slowly but inevitably, the whole thing rolled over, trapping George beneath it in the cold, dirty mud at the bottom.

The engine continued to roar until Henry turned it off and then, without seeming to pause for a second to consider his own safety, jumped into the ditch and crawled right under the precariously tilted tractor.

‘Someone call 999!’ I yelled, hoicking up my expensive skirts before sliding down into the ditch after him and instantly sinking up to my ankles in cold mud.

‘Is he all right?’ I asked, peering under the tractor.

‘Trapped his leg and I can’t get him out,’ Henry said and then the tractor shifted a bit and he swore and told me to get well back.

‘You’d better leave me, too,’ George said. ‘It’s going to come down on us any minute.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Henry said shortly. ‘I wouldn’t leave a dog in this situation.’

Then he asked me to pass him something he could use to stem the bleeding from George’s head, so I took off one of my many petticoats and gave him that.

I stayed in the ditch anxiously watching for any further movement from the tractor until the fire engine and police came, which was surprisingly quickly.

Then

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