Bernard Cornwell - Sea Lord

“And the liferaft didn’t work,” I added.

“Jesus.” He was horribly depressed, but he forced himself to talk optimistically about the boat which would replace Sunflower . He said we’d pick her out together, equip her together, and make her maiden voyage together. “But this time we’ll make sure there’s a gas alarm in her.”

I shook my head. “There won’t be another boat, Charlie.”

“Of course there will!”

“I can’t afford one, and I won’t take your money. You’ve given me enough already.”

“You’ll take what you’re given, Johnny.” He stopped his pacing and stood staring out of the window. “Bastards,” he said softly, then he turned ruefully towards the bed. “I told you not to get involved.”

“I’m involved now. I’m going to kill those two. For Jennifer’s sake.”

He smiled. “Like that, is it?”

“It’s like that.”

He grimaced. “I often wondered when you’d fall, Johnny. I get Yvonne and you end up with a millionaire’s stepdaughter.”

“If she lives, and if she wants me.”

“You saved her life,” he said as though that gave me full rights over that life.

“No,” I said disparagingly. Yet I probably had saved her. The helicopter pilot came to tell me as much, and so did Harry Abbott on his second visit. He listened glumly as I described the fire, and to my conviction that the gas pipe had been deliberately cut.

“I didn’t think to guard the boat,” Harry said ruefully, “only you.” He seemed genuinely upset at what had happened.

“I want those two, Harry.”

“We’re looking for them, Johnny, we’re looking for them.”

“And Elizabeth, if she’s behind it.”

“Who else?” He lit a cigarette and stared moodily at the bandages on my ankle. “Mind you,” he went on, “she’s taking damned good care to keep a long way out of it.”

“Out of it?”

“She’s done a runner. I went to question her, see, but her husband says he thinks she’s in France. Thinks!” Harry said disgustedly. “I’ll not be able to nail her, Johnny, not unless I can find Garrard and persuade him to talk.”

“Then find him, Harry, and give me a few minutes alone with him when you do.”

“You know I can’t promise you that.”

I took a cigarette off him. My precious pipes were gone, as was everything else. Doctor Mortimer, my black angel, had forcibly suggested I use the opportunity to give up smoking, but I’d failed again. “How the hell does Elizabeth have the money to go to France?” I asked Harry.

“I asked her husband that. He says she sold your mother’s house.” Harry frowned pensively. “That Lord Tredgarth, he’s a miserable sod, isn’t he?”

I didn’t want to talk about Peter Tredgarth. “Tell me how Jennifer is, Harry.”

He didn’t answer for a long time, then he shrugged. “Bad.”

“How bad?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Don’t ask me, Johnny, because I don’t know.”

I found out the next day when Helen, Lady Buzzacott, came to visit me. I was sitting in an armchair by the bed and tried to stand when she came into the room. She told me not to be so silly and to stay seated. She put a bunch of grapes on the bedside table. “Why do the English always take grapes to hospital patients? It’s really a ridiculous habit, but quite unbreakable. I was getting quite frantic because I hadn’t bought you any, so I made Higgs drive through the town centre and stop outside a fruiterer. So there they are, and you’ll probably tell me you hate grapes.”

“I like grapes.”

She sat on the edge of my bed. “You’re looking better than I expected, John.”

I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“Whatever for?” She asked the question too lightly.

I opened my eyes. This was difficult. This was a meeting I had been dreading, but I had to say my piece and I had to let her know that I meant what I was saying. “I’m sorry for taking Jennifer out in the boat. I’m sorry that I didn’t check the gas line before we sailed. I’m sorry I didn’t pump the bilges. I’m just sorry about what happened.” I had begun to cry, so closed my eyes again. “I’m just sorry, Lady Buzzacott. It was my fault.”

“I’m sorry too,” she said, “but I don’t blame you.”

I couldn’t say anything. I was blubbing like a child. I felt entirely responsible for what had happened to Jennifer. I’d taken a lovely girl and I had turned her into burnt meat.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Helen Buzzacott said very clearly. “Of course you can look back and see a score of things you might have done to prevent it happening, but that isn’t the point, John. The point is that you did nothing to cause the accident. All you did was go for a day’s sailing, and I can’t think of anything more innocent than that.”

“Shit,” I said, and reached for a paper handkerchief.

“And Jennifer’s going to be all right,” Helen said.

I looked at her through a blur of tears, but said nothing.

“Or rather we hope she’ll be all right,” Helen amended the statement. “The burns are really quite frightful, but I’m told they’re very skilled at these things nowadays.” She spoke in a very matter-of-fact voice, but it was clear that she had suffered agonies for her daughter in the last few days. “Of course it will take a lot of time, and a horrible amount of surgery, but she’s got a very pompous doctor who says that in the end she’ll be as good as new. Of course one can’t tell if he’s just telling professional lies, but he’s certainly a very expensive liar if he is.” Tears were glinting on her cheeks. She tried to ignore them. “They’re starting the first skin grafts tomorrow, but I shouldn’t be telling you all this. I should be asking about you.”

I pushed the box of paper handkerchiefs towards her. She took one, then caught my eye. “Shit,” she said through the tears. She blew her nose, sniffed, and wiped her eyes. “I don’t know, John. I looked at her and I think it’s impossible that she’ll ever recover. She’s no hair left, but her face isn’t too bad. It seems she crouched down and put her face in her hands, you see. Her hands are quite shocking, and I gather they’re the most difficult to repair properly, but at least she can wear gloves, can’t she?” She was crying again. “Then her legs and her back are very bad. Her bottom is awful, but the pompous man says it really will be all right, and I can’t do anything but believe him. Hans says she should go to Switzerland, but I can’t see why.”

“Nor can I,” I said fervently.

“Hans says they’ve got very good cosmetic surgeons there, but I think he’s just being xenophobic. He did go to see Jennifer, but he found it rather upsetting. She’s been on one of those air beds like an upside-down hovercraft. It’s too silly, really.” She blew her nose again. “She’s not entirely compos mentis , but she did ask after you.”

“Tell her I’m fine, and very sorry.”

“I won’t tell her you’re sorry. You can do that yourself. And are you fine? Doctor Mortimer says you’re an appalling patient. He says you won’t give up smoking.”

“I can’t.”

“You should, but I didn’t think you would so I went to Dunhills and bought you some pipes. I don’t know anything about pipes so I’ve probably done the wrong thing, but here you are.” She gave me a big bag full of the most expensive pipes. “I chose some tobacco at random,” she went on, “the man in the shop said you’d probably be very particular, but I just bought what smelt the nicest.”

I took the tobacco. “You’re very kind.”

“You did save my daughter’s life.”

“And risked it,” I said bitterly.