Shute, Nevil

Shute, Nevil by What Happened to the Corbetts Page A

Book: Shute, Nevil by What Happened to the Corbetts Read Free Book Online
Authors: What Happened to the Corbetts
Ads: Link
shook his head. ‘He wouldn’t want to do that.’
    ‘Do you think I could take him a tray?’
    ‘You might do that. If so, have a look at his head. He’s got a nasty flesh wound in his scalp. Had I better come too?’
    She shook her head. ‘I think I’ll go alone. Start cooking something I can eat when I get back.’
    She cut a few sandwiches and warmed up some coffee and some milk. Then she fetched bandages and lint, and went with the tray out of the front door and round to the next house. She entered the hall and stood for a moment in the dim, shadowy darkness, not knowing where to put the tray down. Then there was a movement on the floor above, a door opened upstairs with a gleam of light, and the builder came slowly down the stairs, carrying the candle.
    Joan said: ‘It’s only me, Mr. Littlejohn-Mrs. Corbett. I brought you round some hot coffee. I want you to drink it.’
    He came down and stood beside her. ‘Eh, that’s real kind, Mrs. Corbett,’ he said heavily.
    She led him into the sitting-room. ‘Sit down and drink it up,’ she ordered. ‘Then I want to have a look at your head.’
    He obeyed her, silently. There was a spirit stove and a kettle in the grate; she lit it to warm the water. When he had finished eating she cut the straggling grey hair away and washed the wound with a little antiseptic; then she bandaged it.
    ‘I’ll do it again tomorrow,’ she said. ‘You don’t want to be here tomorrow,’ he said heavily. ‘You want to get away to Hamble, to that boat.’ She caught her breath, ‘If only we could …’ He stood ponderously erect, the bandaging finished.
    ‘ I been thinking it out, sitting up there with her. I got to help you get away now, you and the kiddies and Mr. Corbett. That’s what I got to do.’
    He laid a heavy hand upon her shoulder. ‘Go in and have a sleep now. I’ll be along and have a talk with Mr. Corbett in the morning.’ He turned away. ‘I want to thank you for what you done for me, and for her,’ he said, with his back towards her.
    Joan said: ‘Please don’t, Mr. Littlejohn,’ and went away.
    In her own house Corbett had prepared a little meal for her in the kitchen. ‘We’ve got to get away from here to-day, Peter,’ she said. ‘It’s no good staying on here and waiting for it.’
    He nodded. ‘You’re quite right. We’ll go to-day.’ She stared around. ‘We shan’t be able to take much with us.’
    ‘It’ll only be for a short time, and Hamble’s only seven miles away. We can come back here every day if we want to-to see that everything is still all right.’
    She laughed bitterly. ‘Leave the house empty with no glass in any of the windows. Anyone will be able to walk in and pinch anything. But I suppose we can’t help that.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ll take the silver to the bank. Perhaps Littlejohn will be able to help us get the windows boarded up a bit more.’
    They went to bed.
    Corbett slept only for a short time; he got up with the first light, at about six o’clock. Joan was sleeping, and he did not wake her. He dressed and went out into the streets. There was a great deal more damage in his neighbourhood than there had been before. Ambulances were still about the streets collecting the wounded from the houses and the gardens; the cars were much hampered in their work by the unrepaired bomb-holes in the streets. In places it was impossible for the ambulance to approach the house. Over by the University there seemed to be a considerable fire; dense volumes of smoke were wreathing up into a grey sky.
    He met and talked to one or two people that he knew. All were now resolute to get out of the city. It seemed to Corbett that the ambulance crews alone of all the services were now working for the city as a whole. Everyone seemed to be concentrating on his individual needs, to the exclusion of his public duty.’ I’ve been with the fire service these last two nights,’ one man told him, tired and worn. ‘We haven’t

Similar Books

Inhale, Exhale

Sarah M. Ross

The Education of Bet

Lauren Baratz-Logsted

Spring Perfection

Leslie DuBois

Orwell

Jeffrey Meyers

Right Hand Magic

Nancy A. Collins

Rush

Maya Banks

Season of Hate

Michael Costello

Fan the Flames

Katie Ruggle