leaping in on top of both of them. Ellie upended him and, as he lay on his back, they started roughing up his stomach. Then Ellieâs wheezing excitement burst into asthma and she lost her noise and laughter and breath.
Later she said, âI hope I donât die of asthma.â
Her comment made James nervous and embarrassed.
âDonât be stupid,â he said.
âPeople do,â she replied.
James didnât answer. He remembered the ladybird song.
THE HOSPITAL WAS a temporary one: a field hospital housed in an old convent. Its supplies were short and the girl did not appear to be badly hurt anyway. Her leg was broken in several places but it would heal. She had scratches, abrasions, bruises. She was shocked, malnourished, dehydrated. All of these things would heal, though they might leave scars. There were other patients more badly hurt; in some of them the candle-flame of life was flickering, so that those watching over them hardly dared draw breath themselves, lest they take oxygen from the perilously light air flitting in and out of the tired lungs.
The scarring on the girlâs face was old: it told nothing except that she had known pain before and had survived it.
Yet the expected healing did not seem to be taking place. The girl lay dry-eyed in her bed, complaining of nothing, accepting what was offered, but speaking to no-one. She seemed to fade a little more every day, so that the early expectations of a quick discharge gave way to fears for her survival.
âIf only she had her family. . . or a friend,â a doctor said.
âWho knows weâre here?â answered the nurse. âAnd weâll never have the time to go looking for her relatives. Maybe someone will turn up.â
âDo you know where your parents are?â the doctor asked, leaning across the bed. There was no response. âI donât know if she understands a word I am saying,â the doctor sighed, standing up again.
âI think she does,â the nurse answered. âShe seems to be listening to our conversation now.â
The two women left the room, the nurse muttering to the doctor. âIf she was with her family when the bomb went off I wouldnât hold much hope of her seeing them again.â
Though she had spoken so quietly, the girl heard her.
WITH THE BATTERY indicator now clearly on the wrong side of halfway, James knew that it was now or never for the next great experiment. He keyed in the latitude and longitude with little hesitation: 41° 0â 0â 75° 0â 0â. But he trembled and sweated as he chose the date: 27. 09. 2099, 1000 hours. With a gulp, closing his eyes, he pressed âEnterâ.
His body seemed unaffected but something grew hot in his hands. With an effort he opened his heavy eyes and looked. Steam was coming out of the machine. It was heating up so quickly that already it was almost toohot to hold. James, desperate, stabbed at the Return button. He missed the first time, and now the machine felt like it was about to melt. James opened his hands to let it go. As it began to fall he stabbed at it a second time. Luckily he connected. The machine lay on the carpet and the steam began to clear.
Presently he was able to pick it up again without damage to his hands. Thoughtfully, he put it on his desk.
WAKING EARLY, IN the luxury of the huge four-poster bed, Luke yawned and stretched and grinned. The old-fashioned starched white linen sheets felt purer and cleaner than anything he had experienced before. He wondered if it would be ridiculous to have fresh ironed sheets on the bed every night at home but realised reluctantly that neither he nor Sara would ever have time to do it. Most days they didnât even make the bed.
He turned on one side and looked out the windows to the long, sloping ornamental garden and the lawns and fountains beyond. Ever since he had been told about these stately homes his trips to Europe had been
Later she said, âI hope I donât die of asthma.â
Her comment made James nervous and embarrassed.
âDonât be stupid,â he said.
âPeople do,â she replied.
James didnât answer. He remembered the ladybird song.
THE HOSPITAL WAS a temporary one: a field hospital housed in an old convent. Its supplies were short and the girl did not appear to be badly hurt anyway. Her leg was broken in several places but it would heal. She had scratches, abrasions, bruises. She was shocked, malnourished, dehydrated. All of these things would heal, though they might leave scars. There were other patients more badly hurt; in some of them the candle-flame of life was flickering, so that those watching over them hardly dared draw breath themselves, lest they take oxygen from the perilously light air flitting in and out of the tired lungs.
The scarring on the girlâs face was old: it told nothing except that she had known pain before and had survived it.
Yet the expected healing did not seem to be taking place. The girl lay dry-eyed in her bed, complaining of nothing, accepting what was offered, but speaking to no-one. She seemed to fade a little more every day, so that the early expectations of a quick discharge gave way to fears for her survival.
âIf only she had her family. . . or a friend,â a doctor said.
âWho knows weâre here?â answered the nurse. âAnd weâll never have the time to go looking for her relatives. Maybe someone will turn up.â
âDo you know where your parents are?â the doctor asked, leaning across the bed. There was no response. âI donât know if she understands a word I am saying,â the doctor sighed, standing up again.
âI think she does,â the nurse answered. âShe seems to be listening to our conversation now.â
The two women left the room, the nurse muttering to the doctor. âIf she was with her family when the bomb went off I wouldnât hold much hope of her seeing them again.â
Though she had spoken so quietly, the girl heard her.
WITH THE BATTERY indicator now clearly on the wrong side of halfway, James knew that it was now or never for the next great experiment. He keyed in the latitude and longitude with little hesitation: 41° 0â 0â 75° 0â 0â. But he trembled and sweated as he chose the date: 27. 09. 2099, 1000 hours. With a gulp, closing his eyes, he pressed âEnterâ.
His body seemed unaffected but something grew hot in his hands. With an effort he opened his heavy eyes and looked. Steam was coming out of the machine. It was heating up so quickly that already it was almost toohot to hold. James, desperate, stabbed at the Return button. He missed the first time, and now the machine felt like it was about to melt. James opened his hands to let it go. As it began to fall he stabbed at it a second time. Luckily he connected. The machine lay on the carpet and the steam began to clear.
Presently he was able to pick it up again without damage to his hands. Thoughtfully, he put it on his desk.
WAKING EARLY, IN the luxury of the huge four-poster bed, Luke yawned and stretched and grinned. The old-fashioned starched white linen sheets felt purer and cleaner than anything he had experienced before. He wondered if it would be ridiculous to have fresh ironed sheets on the bed every night at home but realised reluctantly that neither he nor Sara would ever have time to do it. Most days they didnât even make the bed.
He turned on one side and looked out the windows to the long, sloping ornamental garden and the lawns and fountains beyond. Ever since he had been told about these stately homes his trips to Europe had been
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