Home to Witchend by Malcolm Saville

Author:Malcolm Saville
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-26T00:00:00+00:00

7. "Call Me Tim"

For ten minutes the twins stumbled in single file without speaking, up the narrow track towards the top of their secret valley. Dickie was ahead, but when he turned he was surprised to see that Mary was not making much progress. She raised her hand, shouted something and sat down in the heather.

When he reached her he saw to his dismay, that not only were her jeans torn, and her knee bleeding, but that her face was wet with tears.

"Thank you very much, Richard," she gulped. "I might be dead or sore wounded for all you care. I might be right down at the bottom there with those dead sheep... You should know that I am not the sort of woman to scream for help, but you didn't even look round when I called... Don't waste your time with me, Richard, just get on with your private explorin' and escapin'."

He had the sense not to attempt a reply, but produced a grubby handkerchief, licked one corner and wiped away the blood from a not very serious graze. As he tied the improvised bandage he said, in what he imagined to be a professional voice, "It is my opinion that we shall save your leg. Miss Morton. It is not likely to fall off."

Then, as he felt her hand on his hair, he added, "Sorry I hurried on. Truth is I don't like what's happened to us and I'm sorry if I wasn't thinking. Let's stay here for a bit till we're ready. We shall find somebody to help when we're up on the top."

He sat down beside her and they looked back the way they had come. Their hawthorn tree, well below them now, was still half hidden in a cloud of muddy spray, but what was left of the bluff blasted by the water explosion was hidden behind the opposite side of their own valley. They could still hear the roar of the tumbling waters but the cries of the sheep were stilled.

Mary edged a little closer to him and felt for his hand. "Sorry, too, Dickie. Sorry I fussed. I slipped on a wet rock and then I thought you'd forgotten me. It's all been rather horrid, hasn't it? Those poor sheep and that frightened man... You saw him, didn't you? He looked young. Sort of wild and scary. I'm sure he was shouting, but I don't think he could see us, do you?"

The glimpse of that strange, wild figure was fading now and Dickie was doubtful. He remembered the frightening, thudding noise and how for a few seconds the sky was blotted out. And everything was brown at first. Brown rushing water and mud and rocks high against the sky. But what could a young man be doing up there alone? Perhaps he was washed away and somebody would find him right down at the edge of the wood with that first dead sheep?

He struggled to remember whether they had seen him just before the water burst out of the hillside, but he wasn't sure.

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