Hardacre (The Hardacre Family Saga Book 1) by CL Skelton

Author:CL Skelton [Skelton, CL]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: families, family saga, Second World War, Yorkshire, romance, Victorian, Edwardian, historical fiction, First World War, love
Publisher: Wyndham Books (Family Saga)
Published: 2014-12-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

It was some time past midnight that there was a sharp knocking on Harry’s door.

They had all retired early. It had been a most exhausting day for everyone, and none of them had had much sleep the night before. The Macgregors had called as arranged, armed with an invitation for the whole family to pay them a visit in the Highlands of Scotland the following month. After that they had tactfully left (it was quite obvious that the Hardacres were a very tired family), declining an invitation to stay on for dinner. Indeed, it was very shortly after dinner that they had started to drift off to bed.

‘Mr Hardacre, Mr Hardacre, are you awake?’ It was a strange woman’s voice.

‘Who’s there?’ called Harry.

‘It’s the night nurse,’ was the reply.

Harry was out of bed in a flash. He flung on a dressing gown and opened the door.

‘What is it?’ he demanded. ‘Is it Mrs Hardacre?’

‘I think we should call the doctor, sir,’ said the girl.

Harry pushed past the nurse and across the corridor into Judith’s room. He turned up the gas light and went over to her bed.

‘She’s asleep,’ he whispered.

‘Yes, sir, but she’s very restless, and just look at her face.’

Judith was flushed, and a fine perspiration was evident on her brow.

‘Is it too warm in here?’ asked Harry.

‘No, sir, I don’t think so, sir,’ said the nurse. ‘It might be a fever, sir, that’s why I thought we’d better call a doctor.’

‘Right,’ said Harry, ‘I’ll telephone for him immediately.’

He ran downstairs to the telephone in the hall and asked for the doctor’s number.

‘There doesn’t seem to be any reply,’ said the operator.

‘Keep ringing,’ said Harry, ‘they’re probably asleep.’

At last the sleepy voice of a woman answered. ‘Hello,’ it said.

‘Can I speak to Dr Johnson?’ said Harry. ‘I’m sorry, but this is an emergency.’

‘There is no Doctor Johnson here,’ said the voice, ‘this is Mr Worthing’s residence.’

Harry apologized and hung up. He was annoyed, and it did his temper no good when it took him about three or four minutes to get the operator again. He envisaged her sitting talking and giggling with the other operators, drinking tea while bells rang or lights flashed and emergencies all over London were ignored. When he finally got her again, he gave her Doctor Johnson’s number and, through gritted teeth, demanded that she stay on the line until she was sure that a satisfactory connection had been made.

‘Hello?’ It was the calm, unemotional voice of the doctor, giving no hint that he had just been roused from a good night’s sleep. ‘This is Doctor Johnson speaking.’

‘Hardacre here,’ said Harry. ‘Doctor, could you possibly come round to Grosvenor Square ‒ I know it’s late, but …’

‘One moment, young man,’ said the doctor. ‘You have a night nurse?’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it was she who asked me to call you.’

‘Oh,’ said the doctor’s voice, ‘I was going to ask if I might have a word with her, but in that case I’ll come over immediately.’

The doctor rang off, and Harry went back to Judith’s room.

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