‘With your help, yes,’ said Kate as she hurried inside and removed her coat. ‘Now, first thing, some boiling water. Can we boil some without electricity? A pan on the open fire? And while you’re doing that, I’ll have a look at Ellen.’

  By the time Roy had placed a pan on the fire, Kate had concluded her examination of Ellen and she was not very happy with what she had found.

  ‘I’m afraid baby’s not in a very good position for a quick and easy birth, Ellen. I need more facilities than we have here. I need to get you down to the surgery. I think there’s time; I got through without too much hassle. So, can you hang on for another half-hour or so?’

  Ellen attempted to smile. ‘I’ll try,’ was all she could say.

  Kate went downstairs to where Roy Marshall was busy with the fire, poking it to make it provide more heat, it doesn’t matter now,’ Kate interrupted him. ‘We must leave. I’ve got to get Ellen into the surgery - there’s a slight complication. Now, I’ll need her overcoat and some thick blankets. Can you fix those?’

  Within five minutes, the little party was leaving the cottage in driving snow, with Roy helping Ellen along to

  the waiting Landrover. Kate opened the front passenger door and they manoeuvred the bulky woman inside, Roy fussing over her like a mother hen while Kate arranged the blankets to provide the greatest warmth.

  ‘It’s not far,’ Kate reassured her. ‘There’s a good heater, so you’ll not get frozen stiff!’

  Roy climbed in beside Ellen, the three of them sitting close together on the front bench seat as Kate started the engine. Very steadily, she guided the Landrover along the narrow lane, its lights picking out the grotesque shadows formed by the drifting snow. She drove with the utmost care, relying on a slow, steady speed instead of a nervous dash.

  ‘Can’t you go any faster?’ demanded Roy, as Ellen began to moan softly.

  ‘I could, but we’d probably skid off the road on these corners,’ Kate snapped. ‘And I want to get her there, not get myself stuck in a ditch!’

  ‘Sorry, but she could give birth at any minute …’

  ‘Yes, she could. I know that, I’m a doctor, remember?’

  ‘Sorry, it’s just that I’m so bloody worried!’

  Kate was firm. ‘We must keep calm and we must keep going, Roy. We’ve got to keep our eyes on the road, and our wheels on the road as well. Right?’

  ‘I’ll shut up!’ he said, his eyes twinkling.

  She turned to smile her gratitude, but that tiny movement was fatal. As she took her eyes off the road for the briefest of moments, the Landrover skidded on a bend, and in a fraction of a second, its two nearside wheels were in the ditch. With a sickening crunch, it came to rest. Kate cursed; angrily she pressed the accelerator, but that only made things worse; as the wheels spun, the heavy vehicle sank deeper into the snow and the soft earth beneath.

  ‘Now you’ve done it!’ snapped Roy. Beside him, Ellen was whimpering in fear and apprehension.

  ‘We’ll have to push,’ said Kate, climbing out. ‘Ellen, can you shift into the driving seat and press the accelerator while we push from behind?’

  ‘I’ll try,’ she replied unhappily.

  But it was impossible. Nothing could move the vehicle.

  ‘What now?’ Roy was angry and upset. ‘This is a right mess, if you don’t mind me saying so. Stuck out here in the bloody wilds of Yorkshire with a pregnant woman and no medical help …’

  Kate didn’t need informing of the situation. ‘I’ll wait with her,’ she said with studied patience. ‘You’ll have to go back to the telephone kiosk and just hope it works. Ring my house, my husband should be in; if he’s not, ring Ashfordly Police to see if they can suggest anything; one of the moorland rescue service vehicles, a tractor even. Now, we must keep the engine running to keep Ellen warm.’

  Roy Marshall set off through the whirling snowflakes as Kate wrapped her arms around the sobbing Ellen.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ wept Ellen, ‘I feel so awful, I’m sure the baby’s coming, I know it is.’

  ‘Roy won’t be long.’ Kate tried to sound reassuring.

  But when Roy reached the kiosk, the telephone was dead. He banged on the dial but it was no good. It was absolutely silent. He looked around despairingly. At first, all he could see was the wasteland of snow, brightening the landscape around him. Then, in the distance across the moor, there was a glow. It was a farmhouse with an oil lamp in the window. He set off towards it.

  page 55

  CHAPTER FOUR

  When Nick returned to the mayhem, Stevie Walsh told him, ‘British Rail called on their internal phone. Their rescue train will be another two hours at least, maybe longer.’

  ‘Oh, bloody hell,’ Nick swore. “These people need warmth and something to drink. How many have we got in the tunnel?’

  ‘A lot - the guard’s shepherding the walking injured in there now - but it’s dark, there’s nowhere to sit and there’s one almighty wind blowing right through.’

  ‘I reckoned on half an hour’s wait, no more. But two hours …’

  ‘You need to get them to the village hall, Constable,’ advised Stevie. “There’s chairs and toilets and tea-making facilities.’

  ‘But how? It means a long walk from here, too far for some of these people in this weather. Look at old Ferrenby, he should be here, helping to examine them, but he’s incapable. He’s in a state of shock. And there’s a few more like him, plus that kid whose leg was trapped.’

  Then, as if in answer to a prayer, Nick heard voices at the far end of the platform. Turning, he saw a lot of torch lights bobbing and weaving through the darkness. A party of helpers had arrived, led by Claude Jeremiah Greengrass and George from the pub.

  ‘Mr Rowan,’ Claude shouted, ‘we was going to look for Alfred, but I reckoned you needed us first. I’ve brought all the regulars from George’s pub, and a few besides we’ve gathered on the way, so is there owt we can do?’

  Nick felt relief wash over him. ‘Claude, you couldn’t have timed it better. Have you got transport?’

  ‘Aye, on the hilltop, we left it all there, tractors, cars, lorries, even Arnold Merryweather’s bus. He can’t get out of the village tonight, but he can drive up and down the main street.’

  ‘Right, most of the passengers are sheltering in the tunnel. We need to get them out and on to our transport, then take them to the village hall. If you can arrange some way of reaching them by road, it’ll save a long walk.’

  ‘I’ve a stock of food,’ George volunteered. ‘Nothing to warm it on, mind, but there’s bags of crisps and pickled eggs.’

  ‘Anything and everything will be useful, George,’ Nick answered gratefully.

  Greengrass interrupted, ‘There’s a cart track down to the tunnel entrance at yon end, Mr Rowan, an old cattle crossing. We can get down there, I should think, with tractors.’

  ‘Good, then if we can alert the WI ladies, I’m sure they’ll rustle up some tea and cakes and blankets. And

  there’s the injured, Dr Ferrenby’s among them, so don’t expect any work from him. We’ll need more people to care for them … right?’ ‘I’ll see about the arrangements for food, Nick,’ offered George.

  ‘And I’ll see about getting those people out of the tunnel, Mr Rowan,’ said Greengrass. ‘I know my way around those parts, you know. First, I’ll fetch all the helpers into the waiting room and you can tell ‘em what’s needed. Now, have you seen Alfred anywhere round here?’

  ‘No, Claude, sorry. Never a sight of him. But if I do …’

  Claude shrugged his shoulders sadly. ‘Aye, well, just asking.’

  And so the rescue attempt began. In a very short time, more villagers heard of the drama and joined the volunteers. Soon a way was ploughed through the snow by several tractors and positive plans were being made to transport the bewildered passengers away from the station.

  Satisfied that all was going smoothly, Nick went to find the keyholder of the village hall, Joe Brown, who was among those helping at the railway station. Joe welcomed the idea of using the premises, but issued one note of caution.

  ‘The power’s off, Mr Rowan,’ he said. ‘We’ve no light, no heat and no power to boil kettles and things. They can use the hall for shelter by all means, but I’d better remind you it’s not like a hotel, we can’t do much for them while they’re in there, not till the power’s restored.’

  ‘I appreciate that, Joe, but the thing is to get them into a dry shelter as soon as we can. That’s our priority right now. It’s going to be two hours or more before British Rail’s own relief train arrives, so I reckon the village hall’s our only answer. The tunnel’s only a short-term solution, it’s far too uncomfortable and cold, and the station waiting room’s far too small for everyone.’

  Stevie Walsh stepped forward from the crowd of helpers, his face gleaming from the cold.

  ‘Surely one of the local farmers or smallholders has a portable generator we could borrow?’ he suggested. ‘They use them for milking during power cuts and I knew a farm which kept the whole house lit up with a generator. If we could find one and connect it to the hall’s power supply, we could bring up the lights and get the heating going …’

  Nick pondered the idea. ‘Most of them will be needed for milking, either tonight or in the morning,’ he said. ‘What we need is somebody with a smallholding who’s not using their generator tonight!’

  ‘Like Claude Jeremiah Greengrass?’ suggested Stevie.

  ‘Will he have one?’ asked Nick.

  ‘He had one before I got put away, Mr Rowan. He used it to power his sawbench. He’s cut up many a tree with the power of his little generator.’

  Nick nodded enthusiastically. ‘Come on, let’s ask him.’

  They found Claude enquiring of the guard whether Alfred had, by any chance, jumped into the guard’s van for a ride. Nick explained Stevie’s idea.

  ‘It’s illegal, Mr Rowan, tapping into the mains …’

  Claude began, blinking innocently, I mean, it’s not the sort of thing I’d ever do or even think about doing.’

  ‘But you do have a generator that’s not being used? If we went up to your spot, could we fetch it back and use it to produce power for the hall?’

  ‘Aye, well, I suppose so. It’ll need a drop of petrol and t’plug might need cleaning, but I reckon it’ll start. Mind, I know nowt about connecting such a thing to the mains, me being an honest individual, like.’

  ‘Stevie?’ asked Nick.

  ‘I know how to do that, Claude,’ he said without hesitation. ‘Come on, stop messing about, these people need hot drinks and warmth.’

  ‘Aye, well, if the law says it’s all right, it must be all right. I wonder if Alfred’s gone home by now? He’s mebbe there, eh?’

  ‘He might just be there, Claude, sitting in your favourite chair while you’ve been gallivanting about looking for him.’

  ‘I’ll flay the hide off him if he is!’ snarled Claude. ‘Come on, Steve, we’ve got work to do. Damned dogs …’

  ‘Have you a trailer, Claude?’

  ‘Aye, and a small tractor. If somebody could run us up to my ranch, I can be back here in less time than it takes to boil a kettle.’

  As Walsh and Claude Jeremiah disappeared into the snowstorm to beg a lift, Nick set about supervising the movement of those in the tunnel and still on board the train. A regular relay of tractors did manage to run down the lane which crossed the rails near the tunnel. By clambering on board the tractors in twos and threes, the stranded people were lifted up the lane to the main road, where Arnold’s bus was waiting. A mighty cheer arose when the first busload moved away, heading for Aidensfield village hall.

  Nick was already at the hall with Joe Brown when they arrived. By the light of their torches, Nick and Joe surveyed the large, cold room. There were plenty of chairs and Joe found some candles and oil lamps, but in these conditions it was not the most pleasant of reception areas. Some of the village ladies were arriving with baskets of food and blankets, and so the relief of Aidensfield began.

  Finally Stevie Walsh returned, carried on a rough-sounding tractor driven by Claude Jeremiah. Both were smothered in wet snow but behind them they bore a portable generator on a trailer. The entourage shuddered to a halt.

  ‘Here’s t’power generator, Mr Rowan,’ Claude called. ‘A real beauty, it is. Served me for years, it has. But me, being an honest person, has no idea how to make a connection, you understand. Stevie says he’ll fix it.’

  As the ex-prisoner set to work, Greengrass stood transfixed, silently admiring the skills of this man.

  ‘The man’s a genius, Mr Rowan, a real genius,’ he enthused. ‘Look at those hands, the hands of a craftsman, they are …’

  Nick nodded in agreement. ‘Thanks, Claude, for helping like this, it really is appreciated.’

  Claude shrugged, blinking into the snow. ‘Aye, well, one good turn deserves another. You’ve not seen anything

  of Alfred, have you? He’s not gone home, I checked all my outbuildings and shouted his name. I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to look around lately!’

  Guilt tugged at Nick once more. ‘The minute this emergency’s over, Claude, we’ll resume our search for Alfred,’ he promised. ‘Now, look, more people are arriving, they need chairs and cups of tea …’

  ‘Right, I’d better go and get mine first, then, so I can be free to help George and them others,’ and Claude vanished into the depths of the dark hall. He began to shout, ‘Alfred, Alfred, are you in here, you daft bugger?’

  As Nick went in to check on the progress of the operation, the lights suddenly came on. A massive cheer arose from the rescued passengers and as it died down Claude announced proudly, it’s my generator that’s doing this, you know. Now, where’s that tea?’

  But Nick’s attention was upon Alex Ferrenby. He was sitting on a chair like a wax figure, alone, silent and forlorn. Nick went across to him.

  ‘Alex? It’s Nick!’

  The old man jumped. ‘Nick? Where are we? What’s happened?’

  ‘Everything’s OK. You’re going to be fine. Now, you just sit there, Alex, don’t move.’

  ‘Where’s Kate? Is she helping?’

  ‘She’s attending to another emergency, she’ll be here as soon as she can.’

  ‘Oh, well, that’s all right,’ and he resumed his fixed gaze. Nick patted him on the arm and went to help with

  handing out cups of tea. Poor old Alex. What had happened to him?

  Outside the village hall, as the snow continued to fall, Stevie Walsh’s gaze fell on Claude’s deserted tractor and trailer. Transport! The keys were in the ignition, and on the spur of the moment, he unhitched the trailer, wiped the snow from the seat and settled in the driving position. In seconds, he was chugging away - towards Farm Cottage near Elsinby.

  Roy Marshall was struggling back to the stranded Landrover, his clothing caked with frozen snow and his fingers and toes numb with cold. He found the vehicle with its engine still running.

  Ellen was in the driver’s seat, sobbing and distraught as the pains continued to grip her, while Kate did her best to ease her discomfort. Roy opened the passenger door.

  ‘It’s no good,’ was all he said. ‘Their phone’s off as well, they’ve no power, there’s drifts five feet deep up there. It’s terrible, Doctor, it’s a nightmare.’

  ‘You’d better hop in for a few minutes to get warm,’ suggested Kate. ‘We’ll have to have another go at freeing the Landrover, that’s all we can do. I don’t want Ellen to give birth here …’

  ‘Can’t we go home?’ pleaded Ellen.

  ‘You can’t walk back in your condition, not in this weather,’ said Kate. ‘Look, let’s sit and think for a minute, there’s bound to be an answer …’

  As if on cue, a pair of lights materialised through the snowstorm, two high and bright lights, far too close together to be a motorcar’s headlamps.

  ‘Somebody’s coming on a tractor!’ shouted Marshall. ‘How about that?’ and he leapt out of the Landrover to stand in the lane and wave down the oncoming tractor. The women watched as it eased to a halt in front of them. Kate climbed out too, her heart lifting at the thought that this might be a farmer, perhaps one of her own patients upon whom she could call for help.

  A powerful young man leapt from the driving seat; he was smothered in snow but sounded very cheerful nonetheless. Kate did not recognise him.

  ‘Trouble?’ he asked.

  ‘We need to be towed out of the ditch,’ Kate said. ‘Once we’re back on the road, we can manage. We’re heading for Aidensfield.’

  ‘I’ve just come from there. Nasty business with the train,’ he said.

  ‘Train?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Derailment in the station. Nobody’s killed, though. They’re in the village hall now, drinking tea.’

  He provided a brief account of the derailment, highlighting the part played by the villagers in rescuing the injured passengers.

  ‘Oh my God, it all happens at once!’ cried Kate, appalled, is there a doctor there attending the injuries? I’m a doctor, you see …’

  ‘Dr Ferrenby was on the train, but he’s in a state of shock. He’s not able to do much. There’s help around, though. The whole village has turned out. George from the pub has organised food, and we’ve got power on at the hall. Anyway, let me tow you out of here, it’ll only take a moment with the tractor.’

  Stevie busied himself fixing the towing rope and then said, ‘You, mister, into the driving seat and put it in third, keep it in a high gear, ease it out gently, don’t rev too hard or you’ll get the wheels spinning. That’ll get you nowhere.’

  ‘Right,’ said Roy, still shivering from his previous outing.’

  ‘Gentle on the accelerator,’ their rescuer reminded him. if we both give power, I’ll be able to haul you out, right?’

  ‘Yes, sure, we must be getting on, we’ve a pregnant woman in here, she’s due any minute. We’re off to the surgery …’

  ‘Pregnant woman, from up the road?’

  ‘Yes, Farm Cottage, at the end of this lane.’