Night Without End. Alistair MacLean
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coffee, gave her the necessary instructions, and then we left her and the big young man together: the girl heating a pan over a pile of meta tablets, the young man staring incredulously into a mirror as he kneaded a frost-bitten cheek and chin with one hand, and with another held a cold compress to a frozen ear. We took with us the warm clothes we had lent them, some rolls of bandages, and left.
Ten minutes later we were back inside the plane. Despite its insulation, the temperature inside the main cabin had already dropped at least thirty degrees and almost everyone was shivering with the cold, one or two beating their arms to keep themselves warm. Even the Dixie colonel was looking very subdued. The elderly lady, fur coat tightly wrapped around her, looked at her watch and smiled.
‘Twenty minutes, exactly. You are very prompt, young man.’
‘We try to be of service.’ I dumped the pile of clothes I was carrying on a seat, nodded at them and the contents of a gunny sack Joss and Jackstraw were emptying. ‘Share these out between you and be as quick as you can. I want you to get out at once – my two friends here will take you back. Perhaps one of you will be kind enough to remain behind.’ I looked to where the young girl still sat alone in her back seat, still holding her left forearm in her hand. ‘I’ll need some help to fix this young lady up.’
‘Fix her up?’ It was the expensive young woman in the expensive furs speaking for the first time. Her voice was expensive as the rest of her and made me want to reach for a hairbrush. ‘Why? What on earth is the matter with her?’
‘Her collar-bone is broken,’ I said shortly.
‘Collar-bone broken?’ The elderly lady was on her feet, her face a nice mixture of concern and indignation. ‘And she’s been sitting there alone all this time – why didn’t you tell us, you silly man?’
‘I forgot,’ I replied mildly. ‘Besides, what good would it have done?’ I looked down at the girl in the mink coat. Goodness only knew that I didn’t particularly want her, but the injured girl had struck me as being almost painfully shy, and I was sure she’d prefer to have one of her own sex around. ‘Would you like to give me a hand?’
She stared at me, a cold surprised stare that would have been normal enough had I made some outrageous or improper request, but before she could answer the elderly lady broke in again.
‘I’ll stay behind. I’d love to help.’
‘Well—’ I began doubtfully, but she interrupted immediately.
‘Well yourself. What’s the matter? Think I’m too old, hey?’
‘No, no, of course not,’ I protested.
‘A fluent liar, but a gallant one.’ She grinned. ‘Come on, we’re wasting this valuable time you’re always so concerned about.’
We brought the girl into the first of the rear seats, where there was plenty of space between that and the first of the rearward facing front seats, and had just worked her coat off when Joss called me.
‘We’re off now, sir. Back in twenty minutes.’
As the door closed behind the last of them and I broke open a roll of bandage, the old lady looked quizzically at me.
‘Know what you’re doing, young man?’
‘More or less. I’m a doctor.’
‘Doctor, hey?’ She looked at me with open suspicion, and what with my bulky, oil-streaked and smelly furs, not to mention the fact that I hadn’t shaved for three days, I suppose there was justification enough for it. ‘You sure?’
‘Sure I’m sure,’ I said irritably. ‘What do you expect me to do – whip my medical degree out from under this parka or just wear round my neck a brass plate giving my consulting hours?’
‘We’ll get along, young man,’ she chuckled. She patted my arm, then turned to the young girl. ‘What’s your name, my dear?’
‘Helene.’ We could hardly catch it, the voice was so low: her embarrassment was positively painful.
‘Helene? A lovely name.’ And indeed, the way she said it made it sound so. ‘You’re not British, are you? Or American?’
‘I’m from Germany, madam.’
‘Don’t call me “madam”. You know, you speak English beautifully. Germany, hey? Bavaria, for a guess?’
‘Yes.’ The rather plain face was transfigured in a smile, and I mentally saluted the old lady for the ease with which she was distracting the young girl’s thoughts from the pain. ‘Munich. Perhaps you know it?’
‘Like the back of my hand,’ she said complacently. ‘And not just the Hofbrauhaus either. You’re still very young, aren’t you?’
‘I’m seventeen.’
‘Seventeen.’ A nostalgic sigh. ‘Ah, my dear, I remember when I was seventeen. A different world. There was no trans-Atlantic airliner in those days, I can tell you.’
‘In fact,’ I murmured, ‘the Wright brothers were hardly airborne.’ The face had been more than familiar to me, and I was annoyed that I should have taken so long in placing it: I suppose it was because her normal setting was so utterly different from this bleak and frozen world.
‘Being insulting, young man?’ she queried. But there was no offence in her face.
‘I can’t imagine anyone ever insulting you. The world was at your feet even in the Edwardian days, Miss LeGarde.’
‘You know me, then?’ She seemed genuinely pleased.
‘It would be difficult to find anyone who doesn’t know the name of Marie LeGarde.’ I nodded at the young girl. ‘See, Helene knows it too.’ And it was clear from the awe-struck expression on the young German girl’s face that the name meant as much to her as to me. Twenty years queen of the music-hall, thirty years queen of the musical comedy stage, beloved wherever she was known less for her genius than for the innate kindliness and goodness which she tried to conceal from the world with a waspish tongue, for the half-dozen orphanages she maintained in Britain and Europe, Marie LeGarde was one of the few truly international names in the world of entertainment.
‘Yes, yes, I see you know my name.’ Marie LeGarde smiled at me. ‘But how did you know me?’
‘From your photograph, naturally. I saw it in Life the other week, Miss LeGarde.’
‘“Marie”, to my friends.’
‘I don’t know you,’ I protested.
‘I paid a small fortune to have that photograph retouched and made briefly presentable,’ she answered obliquely. ‘It was a splendid photograph, inasmuch as it bore precious little resemblance to the face that I carry about with me. Anyone who recognises me from that is my friend for life. Besides,’ she smiled, ‘I bear nothing but the most amicable feelings towards people who save my life.’
I said nothing, just concentrated on finishing the job of strapping up Helene’s arm and shoulders as quickly as possible: she was blue with cold, and shivering uncontrollably. But she hadn’t uttered a murmur throughout, and smiled gratefully at me when I was finished. Marie LeGarde regarded my handiwork approvingly.
‘I really do believe you have picked up some smattering of your trade along the way, Doctor -ah—’
‘Mason. Peter Mason, Peter to my friends.’
‘“Peter” it shall be. Come on, Helene, into your clothes as fast as you like.’
Fifteen minutes later we were back in the cabin. Jackstraw went to unharness the dogs and secure them to the tethering cable, while Joss and I helped the two women down the ice-coated steps from the trap-door. But I had no sooner reached the foot of the steps than I had forgotten all about Marie LeGarde and Helene and was staring unbelievingly at the tableau before me. I was just vaguely aware of Joss