That Tender Feeling by Dorothy Vernon Read Free Book Online Page A

cheekbones, which seemed to stretch his skin to an unbelievable tautness in an expression of acute agony. He was writhing and mumbling; perspiration stood out in beads on his forehead. She didn’t know what to do. A dreadful inadequacy held her captive that she had to struggle free of, and then she was racing all the way back down the passage to the bathroom, which was situated next to the master bedroom, for cloths and towels to sponge him down.
    She realized how limited her knowledge of first-aid was and acted solely on impulse. His brow was on fire; his body was a burning furnace, yet his teeth were chattering, and he was shivering as though he were in the grip of freezing ice. As she sponged his face, she had to dodge his thrashing arms and legs. She wasn’t too adept at getting out of the way, and he scored one rather nasty blow on the side of her face. She persevered regardless, murmuring words meant to soothe and comfort throughout her ministrations. Finally, he seemed to sink into an uneasy sleep.
    All this time she hadn’t had much opportunity to think what she should do next; she had been too busy doing it. But now indecision held her again. He really ought to be gotten out of those wet pajamas, and the sheets, which were also damp and clammy from his perspiration, should be changed. She had never seen a naked man before, but it wasn’t squeamishness that prevented her from stripping him but lack of strength. She had a go at moving one arm, but it was a dead-weight, and she was defeated before she began.
    She wondered if she ought to take her car and go into Gillybeck to rouse the doctor but decided against it. She hadn’t been able to leave him before, and now that he seemed to be over the worst of whatever it was, she decided that it was pointless as well as cruelly inconsiderate to drag a busy, overworked practitioner from his much-needed sleep.
    She still didn’t feel that she could abandon him and go to her own room. He might wake up and wonder what had happened. She didn’t want him to be confused or unduly worried. She found a pair of clean pajamas in one of the drawers in the chest of drawers and sorted out clean sheets from the linen cupboard in case he did wake up and she could manage to swap his pajamas and change the bed. Then she returned briefly to her own room for the quilt on her bed, and this she wrapped round herself. Then she curled up in the padded armchair to rest as best she could. Sleep was out of the question; she was much too agitated and concerned.
    It was an uneasy vigil. Time crawled. It seemed like an hour, although it could only have been ten or so minutes before he opened his eyes.
    â€˜Rusty . . .what the blazes! Oh . . . obviously I woke you. I’m sorry. I . . . er . . . hope you weren’t too alarmed.’
    â€˜If it’s something you know about, you might have warned me. You scared the life out of me,’ she said, incensed by his apparently nonchalant attitude.
    â€˜Cool it, spitfire. I didn’t think it was necessary. Just in case you had to go to the bathroom during the night, I made sure you had a room at that side of the house.’
    â€˜Oh! Was that why you acted like you did?’
    â€˜I thought I was far enough away from you for you not to hear anything in case I did have an attack. Perhaps I make more noise than I realized.’
    â€˜I’ll vouch for that. Attack of what? I cursed not having a phone. I didn’t know whether I should have gone for the doctor.’
    â€˜I’d have skinned you alive if you had. It’s nothing.’
    â€˜Humph! It didn’t look like that to me.’
    â€˜Nothing to get into a panic about. Touch of malaria. Got it in Saudi Arabia. That’s why I’m home.’
    â€˜Saudi Arabia? I thought it was Australia.’
    So he was the man her father had phoned about, the one who had come home because of illness and said that he might look her up. Fancy it being