Call Me Sister by Jane Yeadon

lassie needs the phone? Once she’s spoken to Sister then we’ll help as best we can. Come on, Nurse, it’s in the kitchen, and so are we. Oh, sorry, Hugh Campbell,’ he added, sticking out his hand.
    He didn’t say, but it was obvious from the half-empty plates that they were in the middle of their tea. The lingering smell of bacon made me feel hungry and my fingers tingled, registering that frostbite had moved from probable to less likely. The family made light of my apologies for interrupting, showed me the phone then sat down to listen with friendly interest.
    Sister Shiach answered the phone on the first ring. Once I’d finished, she was matter-of-fact. ‘Well it’s good that his temp’s going up. You’ve done fine, but it sounds as if he’d be the better of a right thaw-out so he’s probably best in hospital. He won’t want to go, of course but he’s in no position to object. Once he is there, he’ll get a good chance to be built up as well. I’ll call the doctor, tell him Willie needs to be admitted to the Ross Memorial.
    ‘Yes, it’s great that Dingwall’s got a hospital.’
    ‘Uh-huh, and you’ll need to go with him in the ambulance you’re about to call. Once you’ve done that, get back to the boys. Stay with them and keep warm yourself. Their neighbours are good folk, really helpful. They’re always fretting about the Duthies so if they want to help, you could ask them if they’ve any spare soup. Jock could probably do with some.’ She added, ‘I expect the boys have plenty firewood. They must. From time to time, they give some to the Campbells. I’ll let you get on to make that ambulance call now but,’ she dropped her voice, ‘you’ll already know you’ve got a bit of an emergency on your hands.’
    I’d never dialled 999 before and the watching family was plainly impressed when I did.
    ‘Thanks for that,’ I said, replacing the receiver, ‘but now I have to get back. They say they’re on their way.’
    ‘Right, I’ll come with you to make sure you manage on the road,’ said Hugh, grabbing a huge overcoat. ‘I’ll go and start the Land Rover.’
    Mrs Campbell, who must have heard the phone conversation, put in, ‘And I’ll give you some soup. It’s lucky you called when you did. We had some for tea. It’s lentil. I know the boys like that. Sometimes they’ll accept something, but only if we take some of their sticks. They’re far too proud for their own good. Look!’ She brandished a thermos. ‘I’ll fill this and there’ll be some for you too. You must be perishing. The Duthies’ house is like an ice block. We do worry about them. It’s good to get this chance to really help them.’
    I nearly told her not to hurry. The warm kitchen with its comfortable furnishings and kindly folk made the idea of returning to an igloo an even chillier prospect than it already was.
    I said, ‘I’m torn between worrying that I’ve left the Duthies with such a big blaze, it’s put the house on fire or,’ I leant against the Rayburn cooker’s rail, ‘it’s gone out. In which case, I’ll be glad of this warm up.’
    Mrs Campbell was bustling about with the briskness of a woman on a mission. She was reassuring. ‘We’d have seen the flames if it had. Anyway, Hugh will go with you, make sure you get back quickly and safely. The farm road can be tricky. Well done for getting here in one bit. You could easily have landed in a ditch.’ Handing over the thermos she said, ‘See you, and have some of that now and I’d advise using the cap. You might not survive eating from a Duthie plate.’
    I was moved by her kindness. What with herself and her husband so enthusiastically helping, I went out into the night feeling that, from one minute of being on my own, I’d now got a committed team on side. Added to that was the Campbells’ Land Rover. With its throaty roar bellowing into the night, the engine was a reassuringly powerful sound.
    Hugh had brought it to the house and,