Free A Nurse's Duty by Maggie Hope Page A

before answering her grandmother who was walking along the path from Low Rigg Farm. Gran was dressed for a journey, she saw, her black, shiny straw hat clamped over her iron grey hair and a thick natural wool shawl tied round her shoulders. Karen’s heart sank. Obviously Gran was going off somewhere.
    ‘Whyever didn’t you tell me you were coming?’ the old lady demanded, placing her hands on her hips and surveying Karen.
    ‘I … I thought I’d be a surprise,’ she answered weakly.
    ‘Aye. Well, you are that,’ asserted Mrs Rain. ‘I was just on my way to Stanhope, I was going to walk to the train. I’ve got a new lad now, he’s not over bright but he’s a good lad, he can look after the place for a couple of days. Aye, Alf’s all right, not like the last ’un.’
    Karen remembered the last young lad Gran had. He had been a disaster, always skulking in the barn.
    ‘It’s too far for you to walk, Gran,’ she said now, bending down and kissing the old lady on the cheek. ‘You should get the cart.’
    ‘Hadaway wi’ ye. It’s nought but a stride or two. But you’d better come in now anyroad, I expect you’re ready for a cup of tea.’
    She turned to the carrier who was still standing, listening to the conversation with interest. It wasn’t often Mrs Rain had visitors and he took his unofficial job as news gatherer seriously.
    ‘You can call back for us on your way back from High Rigg, Amos,’ she said. ‘We’ll be catching the Auckland train.’
    ‘Aye, right you are, Jane.’
    Amos touched his cap and clucked his horse into motion.
    ‘Where are you off to?’ asked Karen as she and her grandmother turned into the gate of Low Rigg, past the rowan tree which stood sentinel there. A carpet of leaves surrounded the trunk now that the summer was over, and the women crunched them beneath their feet.
    Jane glanced quickly up at her granddaughter.
    ‘How long is it since you were home, Karen?’ she asked instead of answering.
    ‘A fortnight. Why, is something wrong?’
    ‘Well, I wondered.’
    They had reached the kitchen door and Jane moved quickly to stir the fire together and put the iron kettle on the coals. Karen waited, knowing better than to question further.
    ‘I had a funny night last night,’ mused her grandmother, almost to herself. ‘I was sure Rachel needed me. I kept waking up and going off again and there she was, time after time, holding out her hand to me.’
    ‘Oh, Gran, it must have been something you had for supper,’ said Karen, relieved that she had nothing really to go on.
    ‘Aye, well.’ Gran pursed her lips. ‘I know the Minister says we shouldn’t take any heed, it’s only superstition, but I’m telling you … I have to go and find out for mesel’.’
    ‘We can go together, Gran,’ said Karen. ‘I was going anyway.’ A tiny throb of anxiety went through her. Gran’s dreams had proved pretty reliable before now. She remembered the time she had come in from school to find Mam stretched out on the kitchen floor, the first time Karen had seen her collapse. Da had been down the pit and Kezia off to Auckland for the messages and Karen was panic-stricken, not knowing what to do. And then, miraculously, there was Gran coming in the door and taking off her shawl, her sharp eyes taking in what had happened as she moved to pick up her daughter. Small and slight though she was, she pushed Karen out of the way and lifted Rachel on to the settle, holding her against her thin chest, rocking her, talking to her. And Karen had watched, trembling, as Mam came to herself and cried softly and Gran carried on rocking her.
    ‘Howay, my lass, your mam’s here. You’re fine now. I knew you needed me. I felt it when I was having me dinner, and I did no more than run for the train.’
    Karen remembered, oh, she did. Was this another time like that or worse? The two women drank their tea quickly and were waiting at the gate when the carrier’s cart came round the bend from High