Alice-Miranda at Sea Page 9

  At the mention of the name, the painful memory started flooding back. Neville couldn’t believe it. How dare he leave the United States and travel all the way to Spain, of all places, just as Neville was leaving Spain, on a ship, risking his life to visit him and explain his amazing discovery?

  Henderson interrupted the boy’s thoughts. ‘You’re looking awfully pale, Master Neville. Would you like a sip of water?’

  There was a loud rap at the cabin door and Henderson left the bedroom to answer it.

  ‘Well, what is it?’ Dr Nicholas Lush asked as he followed Henderson into the sitting room.

  ‘I think he fainted. His head hit the side of the cereal bowl. Did some damage, too. He chipped the bowl and I think there might be a small piece of Her Majesty’s china embedded above his right eye. There was quite a deal of blood but I wrapped a towel around his head and laid him on his bed. He’s just come around now,’ Henderson explained to the doctor.

  ‘I suppose I should have a look at him.’ Dr Lush walked through into Neville’s bedroom. He glanced at Neville, picked up the boy’s wrist, and then studied his watch. ‘So, you fainted, did you?’

  Neville didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

  ‘Well, how do you feel now?’ Dr Lush asked. He placed Neville’s arm back down beside him.

  ‘O-o-okay,’ Neville stammered.

  ‘Get that grubby thing off the bed,’ the doctor snapped, pointing at Neville’s case.

  Neville found his voice. ‘NO!’ He reached out and pulled it in close and then pushed it under the covers beside him.

  ‘What’s in it?’ Nicholas Lush sneered. ‘A golden trumpet?’

  Neville glared.

  Dr Lush leaned forward and unwrapped the towel from around Neville’s forehead. ‘Ah, yes, there does seem to be a piece of the Queen’s china lodged just above your eye, young man. I think that will require some digging and then a stitch or two. I suppose we’d better have you taken up to the infirmary, where I keep my weapons.’ Lush raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Weapons?’ Neville rasped and started to shake. Henderson came to his rescue.

  ‘May I have a word, sir?’ Henderson indicated towards the other room.

  ‘Make it snappy. This has thrown my whole day out.’ Dr Lush followed the younger man into the sitting room. Henderson closed the bedroom door.

  ‘Doctor, I think Neville would prefer to stay here, if he might. I can keep an eye on him while you get whatever you need,’ the steward suggested. ‘He’s just about the shyest kid I’ve ever met in my life. He hardly ever says boo and when he does manage to speak it’s one word at a time. I think he might have a complete breakdown if you have to take him to the infirmary. If it’s all the same to you and you can do the work down here, I promise I’ll watch him.’

  Nicholas Lush didn’t mind at all. He had loads to do – and attending to a slightly injured, non-communicative boy with a paper-thin constitution was not on the list.

  There was much more fun to be had on deck, talking with all those lovely ladies.

  ‘Well, where are his parents?’ Dr Lush asked. ‘I won’t be doing anything until I have their permission. The boy will need local anaesthetic and stitches.’

  Nicholas was painfully aware that Admiral Harding was quite the stickler for rules and regulations, and the last thing the good doctor wanted was any undue attention from the boss, who didn’t seem to like him much at the best of times.

  ‘His mother’s just across the hallway.’

  ‘Well, go and get her, or at the very least have her sign this.’ Dr Lush pulled a notepad from his bag, scrawled an illegible sentence and tore off the top page. ‘I’ll wait with the boy until you get back and then I’ll have to get some more supplies from upstairs.’

  Henderson walked across the hallway and tapped loudly on Ambrosia Headlington-Bear’s suite door. There was no answer so he let himself in. The sitting room was swathed in darkness and the bedroom door was closed. He knocked gently.

  ‘Yes,’ a husky voice called from within.

  ‘Good morning, ma’am.’ Henderson peeked inside.

  ‘I need a coffee,’ Ambrosia mumbled.

  ‘Very well, ma’am, but I need you to sign something.’ Henderson stepped into the room. Mrs Headlington-Bear was lying under the covers, a sleeping mask shielding her eyes.

  ‘What? Are they going to charge me for room service?’ she snapped.

  ‘No, ma’am, it’s . . .’

  ‘Don’t talk. My head is throbbing,’ Ambrosia complained. ‘I’ve got a migraine.’

  ‘But, ma’am,’ Henderson tried again.

  ‘Just give me the piece of paper and bring me some coffee.’ Ambrosia sat up. She pushed the mask over her head and grabbed the pen from Henderson. Without even looking she scrawled a messy signature at the bottom of the page.

  ‘But Mrs Headlington-Bear, you should know what you’re signing . . .’ he began.

  ‘Is it life or death?’ Ambrosia drawled.

  Henderson tried again. ‘Well, no, not exactly. But it’s about your child.’

  ‘My child? My child does perfectly well without me.’ Ambrosia sank down into her pillows. She snapped the mask back over her eyes and pulled the covers above her head.

  ‘Leave,’ Ambrosia snapped. ‘I need to sleep.’

  Henderson retreated from Mrs Headlington-Bear’s suite wondering what had just happened.

  He walked back across the hallway to find the doctor drumming his fingers on the sideboard.

  ‘Well, did you get it?’ Dr Lush demanded.

  ‘Yes, but I don’t think she’s in the running for any “Mother of the Year” awards,’ Henderson said with a frown.

  ‘Not my problem.’ Dr Lush pushed the piece of paper into his top pocket. ‘I’ll be back shortly. But someone has to watch the boy for the next few hours,’ he informed Henderson.

  ‘That’s all right. I’ve only got him to look after, and his mother, and I know that she’s got an extended booking at the spa this afternoon as I made the appointment myself.’

  ‘Very well then. I’ll get my bag,’ Dr Lush headed off.

  Half an hour later, Neville was sporting two stitches, a blackening eye and a bump on his forehead. Henderson, who was taking his duties very seriously, had made himself at home on the sofa next to Neville’s bed. Fortunately, the doctor had given the boy some rather strong pain medication, and he had quickly fallen fast asleep.

  ‘So what’s so special about that trumpet of yours?’ Henderson smiled to himself as he observed the tatty case perched beside his young charge. He’d been wondering about it ever since Neville had arrived on the ship and shown the old thing such undying devotion.

  He might even have risked opening it and taking a peek, but not at that moment. He didn’t want to be in any more trouble with the First Officer.

  The steward walked back into the sitting room and ran his eyes along the bookshelves looking for something that might keep him awake for the next few hours.

  ‘The Great Gatsby.’ Henderson pulled the book out. ‘Okay, Mr F. Scott Fitzgerald, what’s all this about?’

  Alice-Miranda, Millie and Jacinta finished their breakfast and, together with Lucas and Sep, who’d arrived a little while after the girls, planned the day ahead. They decided to spend the morning at the pool, followed by some games on deck and maybe a movie in the theatrette during the afternoon. Admiral Harding had announced at breakfast that there was the strong possibility of a storm that evening and given some recent weather activity in the region, he predicted that the passengers may be confined to their cabins if a gale blew up.

  ‘Well, come on, we’d best make the most of the day,’ Alice-Miranda instructed. She stopped to greet her parents on the way out of the breakfast room but still couldn’t get near her a
unt or Lawrence, who seemed to have a never-ending queue of well-wishers demanding their attention.

  The children hurried off to change into their bathers and met back on the glass-covered pool deck. The deck chairs were filling fast as the guests were making the most of the unseasonally warm sunshine.

  Alice-Miranda and Sep laid their towels out on adjacent recliners and sat down.

  Sep glanced around at the rows of glamorous women in their brightly coloured swimsuits. ‘My mother would have loved this,’ he remarked.

  ‘How is she?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘Oh, fine, I think. She and Dad adore Spain and I’m assuming my mother spends all day every day lying by the pool at their villa anyway,’ he replied. ‘It’s funny, but I do miss them a little.’

  ‘Of course you do. That’s perfectly understandable,’ Alice-Miranda replied. ‘Have you talked to your sister at all?’

  ‘No, not really. Whenever I call, she just hands the phone straight to Mum or Dad.’

  ‘I’ve written her a few letters,’ Alice-Miranda offered. ‘I hope she’s received them.’

  ‘Really? I mean, after what Mum and Sloane did. It was pretty unforgivable.’ Sep concluded.

  ‘They just got carried away, that’s all. There’s always a reason why people behave the way they do. You can’t really blame Sloane – she was just doing what your mother asked her to – and it’s hard to say no to grown-ups,’ Alice-Miranda replied.

  ‘I’m sure you don’t find it hard to say no – to anyone,’ Sep smiled.

  ‘Well, if you’re talking to Sloane at all, please tell her that I’d love to hear some news,’ said Alice-Miranda. ‘In fact, I think I might write to her this afternoon.’ And with that she skipped over to the side of the pool and jumped into its crystal depths.

  Sep grinned to himself. He’d really never met anyone like Alice-Miranda.

  The children spent so long in the water that by the time they hopped out, their fingertips and toes were shrivelled like raisins.

  ‘I’m starving,’ Millie complained. ‘We should go and get some lunch.’

  ‘Last one to the dining room’s a rotten egg,’ Lucas challenged.

  The children raced across the deck towards their towels when Alice-Miranda felt a stabbing pain in her left foot.

  ‘Ow,’ she winced.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Jacinta asked.

  Alice-Miranda hopped over to the sun lounge to inspect the damage, leaving a trail of red spots behind her.

  Millie and Jacinta rushed over to her.

  ‘It feels like there’s something in my foot,’ said Alice-Miranda, flinching as she held it up for her friends to examine. Small drops of blood leaked onto the deck.

  ‘I’d say you’ve got a splinter.’ Millie pulled Alice-Miranda’s leg up to take a closer look. A shard of timber was poking out from the soft flesh between her toes.

  ‘That’s not a splinter,’ Jacinta remarked. ‘More like a miniature javelin or a giant’s toothpick.’

  Millie glared at Jacinta. She didn’t want to alarm Alice-Miranda but it did seem a little more serious than a splinter and Jacinta wasn’t helping at all.

  ‘We’ll have to tell Admiral Harding,’ Jacinta proclaimed. ‘That’s really not good enough for a royal yacht.’

  Millie and Alice-Miranda exchanged quizzical glances.

  ‘Splinters. You shouldn’t be getting splinters off the deck of the Octavia,’ Jacinta tutted. ‘You’d think they’d have better maintenance, and the ship’s just been renovated.’

  Lucas peered at Alice-Miranda’s foot, which was now streaked with red.

  ‘You’ll have to get it out,’ he offered. ‘Or it might turn septic.’

  ‘And then you’ll have to get your leg amputated like my granny’s friend Ossie,’ Jacinta added.

  ‘That’s terrible,’ Alice-Miranda gasped. ‘Did he have a splinter?’

  ‘No, he had gangrene from years of heavy smoking, but his leg turned septic and they had to cut it off anyway.’

  ‘Jacinta!’ the children chorused. Millie gave her a shove.

  ‘You’ll need to see the doctor,’ Millie advised as she grabbed a towel and tried to mop up some of the blood.

  The children glanced around the deck. It seemed that all of the adults had already headed off to lunch.

  Alice-Miranda stood up. She couldn’t put pressure on the front of her foot at all, so with Lucas on one arm and Millie on the other, she hopped inside.

  ‘We’ll come too,’ Jacinta offered.

  ‘No, why don’t you and Sep go and organise something to eat? We won’t be long,’ Alice-Miranda called.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Jacinta replied. ‘You might have to have horrible huge needles and it could take a while to get that monster out.’

  ‘Jacinta!’ Millie glared. ‘Just go and get some lunch.’

  Lucas looked at Alice-Miranda. ‘It won’t be that bad.’

  ‘I’m sure Dr Lush will be very gentle,’ Millie reassured her friend.

  The children arrived at the infirmary to find Dr Lush outside taping a handwritten sign to the door.

  ‘I’m so glad we caught you,’ Millie panted.

  ‘What?’ the doctor spun around to find Alice-Miranda flagged by her friends.

  ‘Godfathers,’ Nicholas breathed. ‘What’s the matter now?’ He’d had enough of children already today.

  ‘Alice-Miranda has a splinter and she needs you to get it out,’ Millie informed him.

  ‘A splinter? For heaven’s sake, couldn’t one of you have dug it out? There’s a first aid kit on the pool deck, which is obviously where you’ve come from . . . dripping water all over my floor. And you do have parents, don’t you?’ He unlocked the door and walked back into the consulting room. ‘Well, are you coming?’

  ‘Interesting bedside manner,’ Lucas whispered, catching Millie’s attention. Millie rolled her eyes.

  ‘I am so sorry to inconvenience you, Dr Lush,’ Alice-Miranda began. ‘It’s just that I was running and tripped on the deck and I seem to have acquired a rather large splinter in my foot.’

  Dr Lush let out an exasperated sigh and instructed the children to help Alice-Miranda over to the examination table.

  ‘Hop up there,’ he directed.

  Alice-Miranda attempted to push herself up but caught her damaged foot on the stool.

  ‘Ouch,’ she squeaked. ‘I think I might need some help.’

  Millie and Lucas glared at the doctor.

  ‘What?’ he said. ‘Oh you want me to lift her up?’ He curled his lip and huffed loudly before depositing Alice-Miranda on the table.

  Nicholas Lush was not having a good day. Between that pasty boy in the Albert Suite and several nasty bouts of seasickness, which he couldn’t understand given that the ocean resembled a millpond, Nicholas’s intention to spend his time making better acquaintance with some of the lovely ladies on board had not worked out at all. And now a splinter had put paid to his lunch plans.

  He held up his right hand and with rather over- dramatic flair, wrenched a latex glove over his outstretched fingers then repeated the act for his left. Nicholas fished around in the top drawer of his desk and found a magnifying glass, with which to inspect the minuscule fragment.

  He picked up Alice-Miranda’s heel and moved her foot up towards the glass.

  ‘Good Lord.’ He reeled in open-mouthed horror. ‘That’s not a splinter. You could whittle a figurehead from that beast.’ His heart began to thump and he wondered what sort of surgery might be required to remove the shard protruding from between Alice-Miranda’s toes.

  Alice-Miranda bit her lip and looked to her friends for reassurance.

  ‘Way to go, Dr Lush,’ Lucas admonished. ‘I’m sure Alice-Miranda is feeling much
better now.’

  ‘Find her parents,’ Dr Lush commanded.

  ‘Oh, it’s all right,’ Alice-Miranda advised. ‘Millie can hold my hand, sir. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘That’s well and good, but you will be requiring an anaesthetic and quite likely some stitches with the mess that will make . . . I mean the extent of the digging required; and I won’t be doing anything until I have signed permission from one of your parents,’ Nicholas stated. ‘In the meantime, I suppose I can give you something mild for the pain.’ He looked at Alice-Miranda’s foot and shuddered.

  Alice-Miranda sat patiently on the examination table. Millie and Lucas had done as they were told and gone to locate her parents. Dr Lush retreated to his desk where he looked to be consulting a thick medical textbook.

  ‘Have you removed many splinters like this one before?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘Of course,’ he snapped.

  ‘Then may I ask, why are you looking in that book?’ She craned her neck to get a better view.

  ‘Nerves,’ he replied.

  ‘Oh, don’t be nervous,’ Alice-Miranda soothed. ‘I’m sure you’ll do a perfectly good job.’

  ‘I’m not nervous, you silly child,’ he bit. ‘You have nerves in your foot. I just want to check that I’m not about to damage any of them.’

  ‘Oh,’ Alice-Miranda sighed. ‘That’s a relief. Because I’d be a little bit nervous myself if you were anxious at all.’

  Lush was reading, mid-sentence and deep in thought when the telephone rang. He hesitated, then picked up the receiver. ‘Lush,’ he answered. ‘Not now. I have a patient.’ He was clearly not enjoying the conversation. ‘What do you mean she’s missing? We’re on a ship – she can’t be far,’ he breathed. ‘Well find her, you imbecile!’ The doctor slammed the telephone down.

  ‘Is everything all right, Dr Lush?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘Of course,’ he snapped. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’