A Question of Guilt(61)

The phone was ringing. I snatched it up.

‘Hello?’

‘Sally – it’s me. Mum.’

‘Mum!’ I hobbled across the kitchen and into the hall where I’d have more privacy. ‘What’s happening? How’s Dad?’

‘There’s no change really. He still hasn’t come round. They’re doing all sorts of tests, scans – oh, I don’t know what they called them. His shoulder was out and they’ve got that back in. But they’re worried about internal injuries as well. I don’t understand half of what they’re saying, so I can’t tell you much, but I thought I ought to give you a ring. I knew you’d be worried.’

‘Yes, thanks, Mum. Look, the police are here at the moment, but . . .’

‘The police?’

‘Yes. It seems it was a motorcycle that caused the cows to stampede, and they’re talking to Sam. But as soon as they’ve gone, I’ll drive over. You are at Porton General, I presume?’

‘Yes, but . . . there’s nothing you can do here, love.’

‘I can be there for you and Dad.’

‘I know that. And there’s nothing I’d like better than to have some company, but . . .’

‘But nothing! I’ll be there.’

‘No, Sally, listen to me. The farm won’t run itself. Somebody’s got to be there to see to it.’

I felt a surge of panic. She was right, of course, the farm wouldn’t run itself. But I couldn’t do it! I wouldn’t know where to start! Born and brought up here I might have been, but I hadn’t lived here now for years, and even when I did, the nitty-gritties had been way outside my domain. Besides which, still partially disabled, I was not physically up to doing all the things that needed to be done.

‘Look, you’ve got Sam,’ Mum said, trying to reassure me.

‘But he can’t manage on his own.’

‘No, but he knows what needs to be done. Now listen, Sally, I think the best thing would be for you to try and get hold of one of the casuals your dad uses in the summer. There’s Bill Turnbull and his boy Mark, and the Greenings. All their numbers are in the book – you know the one – it’s by the phone in the hall. Ring them now, see if any of them can come and help out.’

‘Yes, I know the book . . .’ I could see it from where I was standing, a quarto-sized yellow book with a floral design on the cover. ‘But what if they can’t help?’

‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’ Mum was her usual pragmatic self – the self that had kicked in, I supposed, when she’d conquered the effects of the first shock of what had happened to Dad.

‘Don’t worry, Mum. Leave it to me.’ I was trying very hard to match her no-nonsense attitude and failing miserably. Inside I was a quaking jelly.

‘I don’t know when I’ll be home,’ Mum went on, ‘but I’ll ring you again as soon as there’s any news.’

‘If you’re going to be staying, there are things you’ll need.’ I was thinking on my feet now. ‘I’ll pack a bag for you, and one for Dad too, and bring them in as soon as I’ve sorted out things here.’

‘Perhaps that would be a good idea,’ Mum agreed. ‘There’s clean pyjamas in the airing cupboard, and his shaving kit is in the bathroom cabinet, and . . .’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll find it. What about you? Is there anything you want especially?’

‘No, just a toothbrush and comb and a change of clothes. Oh, and my handbag so that I’ve got some money for a cup of tea, and my mobile phone. I’m on the hospital one at the moment.’

Mum asking for her mobile phone really was a turn-up for the books. I’d bought it for her two Christmases ago, and it was something of a sore point with me that she never so much as switched it on, let alone used it. ‘I’ve got it for emergencies,’ she always said, typically stubborn. Well, this was certainly an emergency, albeit not the sort she had in mind.

‘I’ll be there as soon as I can,’ I promised.

Back in the kitchen the police seemed to have more or less finished interviewing Sam, and when I’d given them all the other details they required they got up to go.

‘We’ll keep you informed if we make any progress with our enquiries,’ PC Bicknell said, packing his paperwork together. ‘I wouldn’t hold your breath, though. We haven’t got a lot to go on, and unless the culprit’s got a conscience and decides to own up, there’s not going to be a lot we can do.’

‘I realize that.’ I just wanted them to go, so that I could get on with all I had to do, and drive into Porton to be with Mum.