Skylark by Jenny Pattrick Read Free Book Online Page B

lost livelihood. If my foot was ruined, would Mr Foley keep me in the circus? ‘Maria is at Brannigan’s boarding house,’ I whimpered. ‘Can you get me there? It hurts.’
    Jack Lacey carried me to a bale of straw and laid me there. The two-headed goat stopped his endless munching to watch, four-eyed, as the stranger gently took off my shoe, then removed his cravat and carefully bound my foot. Supported in this way it felt better immediately, but Mr Lacey wouldn’t allow me to walk. His eyes were dark, the skin of his face pale and clear. He was as gentle as a woman in his ministrations. Close up I could see that he was not as old as his height might suggest.
    ‘Could you bear it,’ he asked, ‘if I took you on my horse to the doctor? His rooms are a little distant, but not too far.’
    I nodded my thanks. I was prepared to suffer any pain to have the foot mended. A doctor might be able to set the bone.
    Jack Lacey’s smile was a revelation. The solemn young man was suddenly astonishingly handsome, his cheeks dimpled, his eyes alight. ‘Well then, let us waste no time. My horse is close by.’ He carried me to a strapping bay stallion, lifted me to the saddle, then mounted awkwardly behind. Oh the searing pain as my foot was jolted this way and that! I gritted my teeth, but even so, little cries escaped. His strong arms around me and the warmth at my back were reassuring. Domino, the stallion, walked gently at his master’s command and off we set into the dark night, away from the noise of the crowded tent and the crash of the sea on the beach below, towards the home of Doctor Horatio Ingram.
    Oh that foot was painful! I still feel the old ache on a cold nightor after a long walk. As Mr Lacey walked the horse up a dark drive, I could make out movement on the veranda ahead. A lamp hung above the door, lighting three or four figures, huddled together, talking quietly in their own tongue. One was coughing badly.
    Mr Lacey dismounted, lifted me gently from the saddle, carried me up the steps and rang a large brass bell which hung beside the door. After a few moments we heard steps on the hallway inside and the door was flung open. A large, aproned woman stood in the lamplight, her hair in curling-rags, her arms full of blankets.
    At the sight of Mr Lacey her face grew thunderous. ‘Jack Lacey, wherever have you been? Doctor Ingram is sorely in need of you.’ Without waiting to listen to any explanation she bustled over to the group on the veranda and handed them blankets. ‘Take these and wrap up warm. I’ll bring hot tea in a moment.’ Then she turned back to Mr Lacey. ‘What have you brought us now?’ she boomed. ‘As if we weren’t busy enough. Bring her in, bring her in then.’ And she stomped back inside, shutting the door on the group of natives. Evidently there were different rules for white patients.
    Jack Lacey was given no credit for his rescue. He gave me a rueful smile and a shrug as the formidable Mrs Ingram quickly sent him off again into the night, riding his own horse and leading another.
    ‘That Jack Lacey,’ she grumbled to me as she settled me into a comfortable chair, rattled the poker in the coal range to bring up the fire, and dragged a huge copper kettle from the back of the hob, till it sat squarely over the heat. ‘He had no business to go off like that. Where did he find you, dear?’
    ‘At Foley’s Circus,’ I said, gritting my teeth against the throbbing pain. ‘I am an artiste there — Miss Tournear.’
    She was not impressed. ‘Doctor Ingram has been called to a birthing several miles inland. The pigeon arrived tonight with the news. How is he going to get back here to treat these poor natives without a fresh horse? Whatever was that boy doing at the circus? He’ll lose his job if I have my way. Willing grooms are two a penny.’
    The kettle let off steam as if in sympathy with the woman’s displeasure. She ladled tea, sugar and milk into a large teapot, hung three