The Ghost Road by Pat Barker Read Free Book Online Page A

Awkwardly, like
untalented dancers, they shuffled across the floor, the curtains ballooning out
around them. Rivers put his hands up and loosened Moffet's grip. 'No, you're
all right, I've got you.' Two steps, then Moffet fell forward into his arms.
Rivers lowered him back on to the bed. 'I think that's probably enough for
now.'
    Moffet collapsed against the pillows.
    'It's important to keep at it, but I wouldn't try it
just yet without an orderly.' He hesitated. 'You know we're going to have to
talk about why this happened.'
    He waited, but Moffet remained stubbornly silent.
    'I'll be along again later.'
     
    * * *
     
    Later that afternoon, Major Telford—as he must now remember
to call him—sidled up and tapped him discreetly on the shoulder. 'Yes, Major
Telford, what is it?'
    A conspiratorial whisper. 'Spot of bother in the latrines.'
    Rivers followed him into the wash-room, wondering
which bit of Telford's anatomy had dropped off now.
    Telford pointed to the bathroom. 'Chap's been in there
ages.'
    'Yes, but—'
    'Keeps groaning. Well, he did—stopped now.'
    Rivers rattled the handle. 'Hello?'
    'Tried that, it's locked.'
    It couldn't be—there weren't any locks. Rivers lay down and looked under the door. A lot
of water had slopped on to the floor, he could see an arm drooping over the
edge of the bath—a puffy, white arm with blood oozing from the wrist. A chair
had been wedged under the door handle. He tried pushing it, but it was no use.
He stood up and kicked. The door was hardly thicker than cardboard—the
bathrooms were mere cubicles put in cheaply when the War Office adapted the
hospital for military use—and the second kick broke the hinges. He burst into
the room, startled by his own face in the looking-glass. Moffet lay in the
bath, pink water lapping the shining belly as it rose and fell. Breathing anyway. His head had slipped to one side, but his
nostrils were clear of the water. A whisky bottle skittered across the floor as
Rivers knelt by the bath. Cuts on both wrists, superficial on
the right—deep on the left. Loss of blood probably fairly heavy, but you
can never bloody well tell in water. He pushed Moffet's eyelids up, smelled his
breath, felt for the pulse...
    'Dead, is he?' Telford asked cheerfully.
    Dead drunk. 'I think he'll be all right.'
    Lack of space was the problem. Barely enough room to
squeeze between the wash-basin and the bath at knee height. He had to bend from
the waist to get his hands round Moffet's chest and then his fingertips slipped
on the cold, plump skin. Telford stood, looking on.
    'Get his legs.'
    They heaved, but without co-ordination, Rivers finally
managing to haul the shoulders out of the water just as Telford grew tired of
waiting and dropped the legs back in. They were gasping for breath, shoulders
bumping in the confined space.
    'All right, together,' Rivers said. 'One, two...'
    Moffet came clear, only to fall back with a splash, a
great plume of water flying up and drenching them both.
    'I'll try to get m'leg under him,' Telford said.
    They lifted again, and Telford stepped into the water
so that Moffet was balanced across his thigh, Rivers supporting the head and
shoulders. They froze like that, an improbable and vaguely obscene pietà. 'All right?' Rivers asked.
    'Right, I've got him.'
    They collapsed in a heap on the floor, blood from
Moffet's left wrist flowing more copiously now, bright, distinct drops
splashing on to the mottled tiles. Rivers dragged a clean towel off the rail
and pressed it hard against the deepest cut. 'There, you take over,' he said.
'I'll get Sister Roberts. Just press now, no need for anything else. No tourniquets'
    'Shouldn't dream of it,' Telford said, fluffing his
shoulders.
    Rivers intercepted Sister Roberts on her way down the
ward. 'Moffet,' he said, pointing behind him. 'He's slashed his wrists. We need
a wheelchair.'
    He returned to find Telford entertaining the now
semi-conscious Moffet with a story about an inexperienced groom