Chapter 35

Time slows down when you witness an event that brings a man close to death. Constable Grable stared at the man lying unconscious on the pavement while he seemed completely ignorant about the pouring rain he was standing under. The minutes were expanding the same way the blood bloomed like a crimson rose on the right side of the man's shirt. Five minutes felt like a whole life. The man looked pale, he looked dead. He thought of his wish earlier on at the police station. To wish something and having that wish fulfilled may be two things seemingly connected but in reality they couldn't stand any further apart. Adrenaline shook his body when he brought the whistle to his lips and blew with all the force of his lungs. Two police cars approached, speeding through the summer storm. Their headlights momentarily fell on him and the wounded man. He shielded his eyes with his hand over his brows and looked at his colleagues who approached him in haste.

"We've got a stabbing." He said immediately to the first police officer that came close.

A couple more police officers approached Lord Wooster's mansion and knocked on the door. It didn't take long for the lady of the house to appear in front of them. She had been terrified. The front garden was flooded with the cold bright light from the police cars. Immediately her eyes coursed from them to Constable Grable and the body that was laying in front of him at the edge of the lawn. She let a cry of fear. Her eyes opened up with shock.

Everything after that, started gathering speed, and accelerated to such a degree, it became almost like a blur at the time. People started arriving at the scene. First it was Lord Wooster himself, with Sir Edward, the host of the soiree next door. He reunited with his wife who threw herself on him, with fright and relief equally colouring her voice and face.

"Christian was stabbed, Richard!" She told him with urgency, sounding distraught. "He must have fought with the burglars." She added.

Sir Edward had already knelt over Christian's body. Servants rushed around with open umbrellas trying to protect their master and his guests from the rain. In a radius which continued to increase in distance, a whole hubbub of activity was taking place with Christian being the epicentre of it.

"Is he dead?" Sir Edward asked Constable Grable who hadn't left his side. "I don't think so Sir...but we need to move him soon." He replied sounding reluctant however, this having been the first such case he had encountered.

Sir Edward turned back to Christian. He lay motionless, soaked to the bone, his shirt turning to a transparent film covering his torso. A pool of watered down blood trickled down from his wound. He had to do something to help him.

"Christian?!" He called his name, hoping for a response but there was none. He lifted his head and his eyes searched for the nearer officer.

"We must move him! He needs to get to the hospital for God shake!" Sir Edward raised his voice, with the worry turning urgent on his face.

"Don't move him, please!"

Almost everyone stopped and turned towards the woman's voice. The distance between Sir Edward's mansion and the edge of Lord Wooster's garden wasn't that great. Still her lungs were screaming for air, as dread had saturated every cell in her body. The small crowd that had gathered parted and she saw Christian's body on the pavement. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it would crash against her chest.

"You shouldn't move him!" she repeated while she was kneeling down over him. She fought the tears back with everything she had. Her nursing training and all the years she had worked in patient care came to the fore and she shielded every thought and feeling behind her Nightingale pledge. A strength from within transformed her face.

"You could be risking worsening the haemorrhage." Candy said with a confident steadiness in her voice.

Terry stopped in his tracks having not lost her out of his sight for even a moment. Only as she knelt down next to Christian, his eyes travelled to his unconscious face having turned a sickly shade of pale, his life draining with every second out of that gushing wound. The right side of his shirt was soaked with blood.

Sir Edward looked surprised with Candy's authoritative reaction. She looked up and met with his questioning face before her stare moved to stop on Terry's eyes.

"I was a nurse Sir Edward..." She said and broke her gaze from Terry, turning it back to the older man who had been kneeling on the other side of Christian. She had already placed her fingers on Christian's neck, searching for a pulse. A wave of relief washed over her body and a new rush of adrenaline rushed through her veins when she realised he was still alive, even if his blood pressure had dropped significantly. She placed her palm close to his nose and felt the warmth of faint breathing. The bleeding, she had to stabilise somehow.

"I need to reduce the blood loss!" She voiced her thoughts indicating every second was counting. She turned her head quickly over to Lady Wooster who was kept busy being asked by a police officer to describe the events of the night.

"Can someone bring me something clean, anything to put over the wound. A towel, something please!" She shouted. A servant run towards the mansion under Lady Wooster's orders.

"And alcohol! Strong one!" She added.

She turned to Christian, pushed the wet hair out of his face. She leaned towards him, kissed his forehead. She whispered to him to hang on, although it was something she wanted to hear. The green in her eyes rippled and sparkled, and she felt the moistness of the tears she made sure to keep back.

Terry had kept frozen on his spot, watching the whole thing. How she locked his eyes into hers when she said she was a nurse once. He had never really witnessed this domain of her life. After almost a lifetime they knew each other, he saw a side of hers that was unknown to him. Not that he wasn't aware that she had been and still was a strong woman, able to act under pressure while keeping a cool head. Even as a teenager, she hadn't flinched when he had burst into her dormitory room by mistake. He had been reeking of alcohol, and sporting a bloody gushing on his arm, gained from one of his usual bar brawls when he sneaked out of the college at night. Candy was able to transcend everything, her own feelings, ego, thoughts just to do the right thing. Just to save a soul.

This was a summer storm, but another storm dawned in his mind. Candy was doing all she could to keep Christian alive in front of his eyes. Ten years ago, fate had made him a witness again in another drama, a more personal one. It had unfolded within a snow storm, up on a hospital roof where Susanna, the woman he had to give up Candy for, had decided that life without him wasn't worth a dime for her.

A religious soul could have come to the conclusion that Candy was a guardian angel in hiding and he could have a point, Terry thought. She was the one who got to Susanna first and pulled her from the edge of the roof. For the immediate time thereafter that event, he was tormented by thoughts whether Susanna had played them, knowing the extent the altruism inside Candy was running so deep, she was ready to give up her life for saving another.

28th of January 1897

The baby stirred and gave a little yawn in Abigail's arms. It took her out of her slumber. The warmth of the train coach and its continuous rocking had sent both the woman and the baby to sleep. It had been exhausting for the both of them. He waved his little hands to her. She touched his tiny fingers. By instinct the baby wrapped her finger with his. Her heart skipped in her chest. She had two children of her own already.

He had come out in this world just over ten in the morning. A whole hour and a half after his brother. Recalling the actual birth, Abigail could swear it was nothing less than a miracle. This beautiful baby should have been dead.

His mother had held her first born son for only a few moments, marvelling on the life she was holding in her arms even through her chloroform-induced drowsiness. Time was of the essence the doctor had said. The other midwife, Prudence took him from her arms and disappeared with him to the empty room which was connected to the delivery room by a side door.

Since the effects of the first dose of chloroform were still present in the organism of the mother, Dr. Gardner administered only half the dose to the woman this time.

Abigail watched the worry on her young face melting away with all her muscles relaxing by the pharmaceutical agent. The doctor had already said the second baby was in breech position. During the delivery of the first one, he had hoped that perhaps it would turn but to no avail.

The midwife kept the mother comfortable, patting the sweat off her forehead. Holding her hand, soft speaking words of encouragement. The contractions despite being under the effect of chloroform were stronger this time. A rare event but nevertheless it had happened before. The mother's cries filled the room. Abigail's eyes kept changing focus from the mother to the doctor. His face was getting increasingly serious with the minutes ticking by. He lifted his head and stared to her. Lips pressed to a thin line. Behind his glasses, his stare was feverish by the effort he was putting to deliver the baby. He passed the back of his arm over his glowing forehead.

"The umbilical cord is choking the baby..."

A chill run up to her spine even as she was on the train, thinking about it. An umbilical cord around the neck...time is precious and the chances of survival weren't great.

"Administer another half dose of chloroform."

She had heard the doctor's order and despite all the seriousness in his voice, she knew they were tittering on the edge with their patient. They were risking the mother loosing consciousness all together and as for the baby...his chances to survive this, were quite slim already.

The mother had turned and looked at Abigail. It was as if she was searching Abigail through fog but still a fear was evident for her baby to survive.

"Everything will go well Mrs. Graham." The doctor said with a calm tone in his voice.

The extra dose of chloroform they had administered would allow Dr. Gardner to reach in and try release the baby's neck from the cord. With great care, he managed to pull the baby's legs towards him. He knew he couldn't get any further. It was now or never. Sweat was travelling down his neck. The sun had come up bright illuminating the clear winter sky. The morning mist was dispersing outside.

Abigail crossed herself. Silent words of prayer were coming out of her mouth. "Richard..." The young woman whispered. Abigail gathered this must had been the name of the father.

The doctor reached and felt the tightness of the cord. Like a noose it wrapped around the neck. With measured moves he tried to pull it, relaxing its grip. He kept his cool even when it looked like it was a battle lost.

A sigh of relief.

Such was the relief this sigh carried, it felt like a wind swept the room and the dread that had fallen like a mist was dissolved in that very brief moment...

The little soul that came out looked more dead than alive. The mother groaned. She was coming in and out of consciousness but she knew. She asked if her baby was alive.

"We're doing everything we can to save him Mrs. Graham." The doctor said while Abigail was cleaning the baby from the blood and the fluids it was covered with. It looked like a wax lifeless doll. She questioned whether it could be revived. The doctor cut the umbilical cord and ordered the midwife to take care of the rest as he stepped in the next room. The revival of a new born sometimes could feel traumatic and even if his attempts were successful, its fate was already sealed. His "parents" were awaiting with as much anxiety and worry, hope. To give the love they harboured for the child they were never able to have of their own.

Prudence was looking after the firstborn. He was sleeping in the cot as blissful as the newborns were sleeping.

The doctor turned the unconscious baby upside down and started rubbing its body as vigorously as he could. Trying to establish the blood to circulate within. He put it back on the bed, massaged his chest, rubbed its legs. Like the dawn of the sun over the horizon, the cheeks in its face started rosing up. Again he turned the baby upside down. He gave it slaps on its bottom, shook it gently. He saw his mouth opening. A small breath. The eyes opened.

He took a sharp breath of air in and felt the searing pain on his side. A burning sensation over the right side of his belly made him flinched and groan. His body shook and his head thrust forward.

"Thank you God!" Candy said between her teeth. Instinctively, she pulled her head up to look only for a few seconds towards where Terry stood. Marion was with him. So was Archie and Isabel. Worry was evident in everyone's faces. She gave them a hurried smile.

Christian's hand moved towards its wound but it was stopped mid-way. He opened his eyes to meet with hers.

"Don't touch...", she said. Alongside the very expensive, strong brandy she had washed his knifed side with, the servant had brought some cotton bandages they were keeping for emergencies and a towel. Her movements showed her nursing experience as she patted and cleaned around the wound. Quickly she started putting the bandages in place. He remembered their first date. He had teased her about having been a nurse.

"You'll need to put pressure on, while we drive you to the hospital." She said.

Christian felt slightly claustrophobic with all the commotion and everyone having gathered around him but he hadn't the strength to protest. "You scared us boy!" Sir Edward exclaimed.

The police also wanted to ask him what had happened. "All I know is that he saved me!" Lady Wooster's voice came to join the rest of the noise that came from the crowd all talking at the same time.

"I'm sorry Rose..." He managed to just whisper between attempts to make light of the situation with some weak smiles. She put her fingers over his lips. Her heart was flying inside her chest, overflowing with relief he was there but she had no idea how serious his injury was and the blood he had lost...she looked at the stream of the red rain water running along the side of the pavement.

"You don't have to say anything now." She replied quietly.

"Miss...we should move Mr. Blake now and take him to the hospital." The police officer in charge said to her.

Time was running out. They shouldn't ponder any longer. The pouring down had calmed down to a summer light drizzle. The air smelled of soaked grass and damp tree barks.

"I'll take Mr. Blake to the hospital."

Before even Candy replied to the police officer, Terry stepped in. Christian turned and looked at him, alongside everyone else.

"The man is seriously wounded by the looks of it." He continued, "My car is decidedly faster than those Ford type police cars you have here." He turned and pointed to the cars almost sounding contempt and he risked offending the officers but Candy knew that tone in his voice.

When Terry decided on a course of action he thought best - and most times he was right, it had to be said - he could sound standoffish alright. She actually thought he had kept quiet for more time than it was usual for him.

"You can follow us." Terry added seeing that the officers were not looking overly taken by his suggestion. His car was a sport two-seater. It would have been a snug fit for Christian but it could be better for him not to be tossing too much about and keep still. Islington Infirmary wasn't very far away from there. Ten minutes give or take, in full speed.

He came right up to where Christian and Candy were. He saw the way she looked at him. Her not being happy with him barging in uninvited one has to say, taking control. Still the gravity of the situation called for such an initiative. No matter that he felt guilty having been consumed by his own thoughts about Candy in his life, and Marion and everything felt so superficial, shallow and self-absorbing.

If he hadn't been so occupied with making Candy notice him, perhaps he would have noticed Christian being out for some time. He could even have joined him for a smoke and he wouldn't have ended stabbed in the middle of a summer storm, sprawled on the road, bleeding to death.

"Help me to get him up...?" He said to her and Sir. Edward who had also given a hand with the bandages when Candy had opened up his bloodied shirt to treat the wound.

"My love, you need to keep pressure on your wound." She said to Christian and put the towel over his bandages. Them too were soaking up the blood pretty fast. She prayed that the knife hadn't caused internal damage. If some artery had been cut...She shuddered but kept everything behind a calm face. He didn't say anything but kept staring at her while he kept pressing the towel on his belly.

With Candy's help, he lifted his torso enough for Terry to put his arm behind to grab him from the left side. Sir Edward did the same from the right. They counted to three and pulled him up. He groaned with pain. Everything spun around him. He could hardly stand. A couple of police officers came to help too.

"He should have been put on a stretcher." One of them whispered.

"No time." Terry replied as someone opened the door of the passenger seat.

"Stop talking as if I'm not here!" Christian managed to say. He struggled to keep it together. Fog was descending on his mind. He sat down. Someone helped him to bring his legs inside before they shut the door.

"You can say whatever you want to say at the hospital..." He whispered to Candy. He knew she disapproved him taking control like that. He turned and glanced at Archie and Isabel.

"Go with Archie, he'll drive you to the hospital." He added just as he was getting in. The driver on one of the police cars started its engine. Terry did the same on his car. He pushed the pedal, the engine roared.

"Keep tight, ok?" He turned and looked at Christian. He looked like death but he nodded.

Terry didn't say anything else. He pressed the speed pedal once more, putting the car in motion. He glanced once more to Christian. He had let his head flop to the side. The road was clear in front of them. Terry's car was speeding towards the hospital, with all its cylinders on fire.

"I would hate it if you died on me, pal!" He shouted to Christian. He had to keep him talking but he wasn't responding. The moisture-laden evening air hit their faces. "Can you hear me?" Terry raised his voice again, while keeping his eyes on the road.

It took Christian a little while to get the strength to actually respond. His lips curled up in a side smile without moving anything else in his body. "As long as you arrive at the hospital on time, I'll hold." His voice came out laboured.

There was a whole procession of cars behind the two men, all heading towards Islington Infirmary.

"Don't worry, I know my way around these roads." He said back, and took a turn to the left.

Christian pressed the towel on his wound. It was a foolish thing he had asked Alice to do but how else could they escape? He could easily trap her and give her to the police, come to think of it. But he would unleash a war with London's most powerful gang. Alice wouldn't yield any information that would put McDonald and his men in danger.

"So you're one of those bloody toffs that live round here." He jabbed Terry with his words, trying to take his mind off. He lifted his eyebrows in response. In fact he felt relieved knowing Christian was teasing him.

"Says he, whose father was a banker." He replied. If he could hold up the banter between them for the rest of the route, it would be fine.

Christian turned towards Terry. The air managed to wake up his senses a bit. He opened his eyes, only just ,so to focus them on him.

"Does that mean I'm of interest to you...?" He asked him, honestly wondering where he got his information.

"Don't flatter yourself pal." He replied, sounding sarcastic. "The Evening Standard had an article about you and your exhibition." Silence once again spread between them. Christian let his head drop sideways again. His eyes closed. His breathing became shorter, shallower. They were almost at the hospital.

"Did you see the burglars?" Terry turned quickly to glance at him. Trying to get another response.

"Huh?" Christian was almost out of it.

"Did you see anyone's faces Christian?" He repeated. The memory of Alice flashed in his mind. How he forced her hands. The pure agony in her dark stare. And the blade as it went in his body.

"Didn't see her face..." He mumbled.

"Her face?" Terry shouted, while his eyes widened with surprise. "A woman stabbed you?"

Christian took a laboured breath. They were there. Terry stopped the car. He turned and looked at him. The towel was red. The rest of the cars were fast approaching. Christian was slipping in and out of consciousness. Terry run to the passenger side, opened the door, and passed his arm under Christian's armpit. Held him firmly from his back.

"I'm lifting you Christian." And he did, just as he said it. He dragged him to the hospital door, with his head having fallen forward. A couple of doctors and some nurses appeared with a stretcher. The rest of the people had arrived. They put him on the stretcher and rushed inside.

Candy run towards Terry. He was holding the blood soaked towel. She broke down the moment she approached him. Dread choked her as he opened up his arms for her.

"He'll live...don't worry sweetheart." He said in an effort to comfort her. He also tried to believe that himself.