from pain and shock, and the smile he tried to offer her ended in a grimace.
‘What . . . what happened?’ she mumbled, though what did it really matter
how
her dear Barney had been injured?
‘’Twould seem one of the dogs slipped out,’ Arthur answered as he came towards them, having stopped to investigate the cause of the accident. ‘With the strain already on the chains, it must’ve swung out with some force and hit the poor lad afore he knew it.’
Ling caught the accusing look her father cast at Mr Mayhew. As the experienced quarryman in charge of an apprentice – even if Barney was his own son and had less than a year to go before he was qualified – it was his responsibility to ensure the dogs were all properly hammered into the stone before it was lifted. But then it wouldn’t be the first time that Arthur had complained that Barney’s father wasn’t as thorough as he should be.
‘We’d best get you home, lad,’ Arthur said with firm compassion, taking command since Mr Mayhew seemed too aghast to organize what was needed. ‘Then Ambrose and I’ll fetch that bench down. We won’t mind working on a while, and the cutters’ll want it ready for Monday morning.’
Barney glanced up, his features strained and rigid as he nodded briefly. As Ling well knew, they were all of them, quarrymen and masons alike, paid on the end product. If there was a delay caused by an accident, everyone would understand, but if anyone could make up the lost time they would do so.
‘Take your time, son,’ Mr Mayhew said as he and Arthur helped Barney across the uneven floor of the quarry. Ling’s heart ached with frustration as, for the moment, there was nothing she could do to help. She had heard of people losing their limbs because of broken bones, or fractures as she remembered Elliott had called them as they had chatted on that enchanted afternoon. A break could interfere with the nerves or blood supply, he had explained, or if an operation was needed then there was always the danger of a potentially lethal infection. Ling’s hands were tightened into balls at her sides. This was all her fault. Her retribution for letting her attentions wander, if only fleetingly, elsewhere.
Please, God, forgive me
, she prayed silently,
and don’t take Barney away
.
To Ling’s utter relief, the surgeon was able to put Barney to sleep, reset the two broken bones, since both had been damaged, and encase the arm in a plaster of Paris cast without recourse to surgery. Afterwards, Ling was allowed to sit by Barney’s bedside, holding his other hand and crooning softly to him. His eyes flickered open, he gave what seemed to her a wan but contented smile and then he drifted asleep again.
Ling dropped her head into her hands. Thank God he was all right.
Seven
‘Get yersel out from under my feet, Barney Mayhew!’
Barney was only too happy to obey. He had been struggling with a book Ling had given him to read while he couldn’t work, and he was glad of any excuse to abandon it. The sight of his sister wielding a broomstick was all he needed. Since their mother had died many years ago, Eleanor had taken charge of all things domestic, wearing the crown over both their father and Barney himself, and yet, despite her always seeming to be rushed off her feet, chaos reigned perpetually. Apart from his passionate love for Ling, Barney was also looking forward to living in her parents’ orderly household – as he imagined they would for the first few years of their marriage until they could afford somewhere of their own.
He smiled indulgently under Eleanor’s challenging gaze. Reading was all very well when the school day was over and Ling was free to sit at his side, his senses stimulated by the curve of her jawline and her pretty, laughing eyes. But on his own the words seemed to dance up and down on the page, and he was grateful to Eleanor for driving him outside.
The pleasant, early September morning seemed to ease his
‘What . . . what happened?’ she mumbled, though what did it really matter
how
her dear Barney had been injured?
‘’Twould seem one of the dogs slipped out,’ Arthur answered as he came towards them, having stopped to investigate the cause of the accident. ‘With the strain already on the chains, it must’ve swung out with some force and hit the poor lad afore he knew it.’
Ling caught the accusing look her father cast at Mr Mayhew. As the experienced quarryman in charge of an apprentice – even if Barney was his own son and had less than a year to go before he was qualified – it was his responsibility to ensure the dogs were all properly hammered into the stone before it was lifted. But then it wouldn’t be the first time that Arthur had complained that Barney’s father wasn’t as thorough as he should be.
‘We’d best get you home, lad,’ Arthur said with firm compassion, taking command since Mr Mayhew seemed too aghast to organize what was needed. ‘Then Ambrose and I’ll fetch that bench down. We won’t mind working on a while, and the cutters’ll want it ready for Monday morning.’
Barney glanced up, his features strained and rigid as he nodded briefly. As Ling well knew, they were all of them, quarrymen and masons alike, paid on the end product. If there was a delay caused by an accident, everyone would understand, but if anyone could make up the lost time they would do so.
‘Take your time, son,’ Mr Mayhew said as he and Arthur helped Barney across the uneven floor of the quarry. Ling’s heart ached with frustration as, for the moment, there was nothing she could do to help. She had heard of people losing their limbs because of broken bones, or fractures as she remembered Elliott had called them as they had chatted on that enchanted afternoon. A break could interfere with the nerves or blood supply, he had explained, or if an operation was needed then there was always the danger of a potentially lethal infection. Ling’s hands were tightened into balls at her sides. This was all her fault. Her retribution for letting her attentions wander, if only fleetingly, elsewhere.
Please, God, forgive me
, she prayed silently,
and don’t take Barney away
.
To Ling’s utter relief, the surgeon was able to put Barney to sleep, reset the two broken bones, since both had been damaged, and encase the arm in a plaster of Paris cast without recourse to surgery. Afterwards, Ling was allowed to sit by Barney’s bedside, holding his other hand and crooning softly to him. His eyes flickered open, he gave what seemed to her a wan but contented smile and then he drifted asleep again.
Ling dropped her head into her hands. Thank God he was all right.
Seven
‘Get yersel out from under my feet, Barney Mayhew!’
Barney was only too happy to obey. He had been struggling with a book Ling had given him to read while he couldn’t work, and he was glad of any excuse to abandon it. The sight of his sister wielding a broomstick was all he needed. Since their mother had died many years ago, Eleanor had taken charge of all things domestic, wearing the crown over both their father and Barney himself, and yet, despite her always seeming to be rushed off her feet, chaos reigned perpetually. Apart from his passionate love for Ling, Barney was also looking forward to living in her parents’ orderly household – as he imagined they would for the first few years of their marriage until they could afford somewhere of their own.
He smiled indulgently under Eleanor’s challenging gaze. Reading was all very well when the school day was over and Ling was free to sit at his side, his senses stimulated by the curve of her jawline and her pretty, laughing eyes. But on his own the words seemed to dance up and down on the page, and he was grateful to Eleanor for driving him outside.
The pleasant, early September morning seemed to ease his
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