Chapter 8
"Caroline, what are you doing here?" Tristan asked, struggling to sit up in bed with the surprise of seeing his sister-in-law. True to her word she had spent the morning helping Deidre finish making the breakfast and had got the children ready for school with plenty of time to spare. This had left James free to make an early start on his house calls – the first of which, to his evident dismay, was to Mr Biggins' farm. He really wasn't in the mood to have to deal with the cantankerous and obstreperous farmer this morning. If the man started on him, the mood he was in, he just might say something he might later regret.
Rosie had appeared particularly delighted to have her Auntie Caroline help her ready herself for school, having missed her mother's influence in the mornings. They were both such lively and intelligent children – a joy to be around most of the time. Rosie was the more inquisitive of the two – always asking questions and wanting to find out more about the world around her – but Jimmy was bright as a newly polished button, and very little got past him. Sometimes, if Caroline thought too hard about it, it made her sad to realise that she and Siegfried might never have children of their own. They'd both left it later in life to get married – too late for children – but they were happy together, and everyone could see that they were very much in love.
The change in their routine had immediately set alarm bells ringing in the children's young minds however, and before he'd even had the chance to leave for work that morning their father had had little choice but to tell them what had happened the evening before. He implored the pair to keep the noise down so as not to wake Tristan, who was trying to sleep upstairs. Caroline had been regaled with questions regarding the state of their Uncle Tristan's condition.
"But he will be alright, won't he?" Rose had asked her as she'd packed what little she needed for the day into her satchel, and Caroline had helped her on with her shoes as she'd handed her her lunch, wrapped in brown paper – a corned-beef sandwich, small slice of homemade fruitcake, and an apple.
"Dog bites can be awfully serious." Jimmy had told her, much to his little sister's dismay. "I head dad say once that even the smallest nip can become badly infected if it's not taken care of properly."
"But Tristan has Uncle Siegfried and Doctor Alanson to look after him." She'd reminded them, with a gentle smile. "They know what they're doing, and they're taking very good care of him."
"Can we see him?" Rosie had asked her, but Caroline had shook her head. She'd finally managed to pacify the little girl by telling her that Tristan was sleeping. She'd explained to her that rest was the most important thing for him right now. He was doing everything required of him to help his body get better, and they needed to try and keep things as normal as possible so as not to worry him further.
They were good, well behaved, children though and it hadn't taken much encouragement from her to get them out the front door and walk them the short distance to the local school. Siegfried had agreed to give Callum a couple of hours off after morning surgery was over, and when she'd returned about twenty minutes later it was to find Deidre packing a picnic basket for them both. It was near enough freezing outside – certainly not appropriate picnicking weather – but Calum had suggested that they go for a short drive in the countryside and eat their lunch in the car. This would give them both the chance to talk in private, and she seemed to be looking forward to it.
Looking down at Tristan now Caroline couldn't help but notice that he was white as a sheet. It worried her. As an auxiliary nurse during the war she'd seen men at the very end of life. She'd seen those with injuries too terrible to talk about, and had treated men ravaged by infection and disease – but she didn't think she'd seen anyone who looked quite so sick as her brother-in-law since she'd left that terrible part of her life behind her.
"I'm your designated nurse for the day." She told him, smiling. Despite the fact that he seemed clear in his mind for now he was clearly far from well. His complexion was a deathly shade of pale, but his cheeks were flushed pink with fever, and his blonde hair was plastered to his forehead, which was slick and sticky with sweat. She looked over at the untouched trey of food Deidre had had brought up for him before she'd left – at the food now cooling and almost unpalatable. She very much doubted that he would feel like eating anything, but it was worth a try.
"Now Tristan how about some breakfast?" She suggested, taking in the variety of the food – toast and jam, scrambled eggs, and a pot of tea with milk and sugar. Deidre had spared him the fatty bacon and sausages, but there was a jug of water and a glass on his bedside table.
Tristan took one look at the food in front of him and paled even further. Caroline suspected that the strong antibiotics were probably at least partly responsible for his nausea.
"No thank you Caroline." He shook his head. "I'm not really very hungry."
"Now come on Tris, I know you don't feel very well at the moment, but you've got to eat something." She tried to coax him as she stabbed at a blob of buttered scrambled eggs with a fork. "You've got to keep your strength up."
Tristan appeared reluctant, but took a bite from the fork Caroline held out for him, chewing the food slowly. Siegfried, who happened to be passing his brother's room, looked in on him through the crack in the door and smiled. The sight of his wife tending to Tristan with such genuine compassion filled his heart with joy.
He had married a truly wonderful woman. Many women might be considered attractive and were pleasing to the eye, but she was beautiful and graceful both inside and out. He could see that taking care of Tristan really was no burden to her – taking care of others was what came naturally to her. She'd trained as a nurse during the war because she'd felt it was where she could make the biggest difference to people's lives, and she'd accepted every member of the Scardale household as part of a large extended family, but Siegfried had always known that she had a particular soft spot for Tristan. It went beyond simple fondness – she'd actually grown to love him as she might if he were her own brother. It filled his heart with joy to know that she hadn't just taken him on when she'd agreed to marry him, but the rest of his unconventional family too.
Tristan ate what he could of the breakfast on the trey – he managed half a piece of toast and a couple of mouthfuls of scrambled eggs, but the sugary jam and tea proved a little too much for his stomach to stand. He then fell asleep for a while and whilst he slept Caroline sat at his bedside. She sat, silently reading, for over an hour, looking up from her page every now and again and getting up to check his temperature. After a couple of hours Tristan's fever spiked. A cold sweat glistened against his pale brow and he seemed more unsettled, tossing and turning in bed, and muttering to himself deliriously. He started to shiver, the shakes becoming increasingly more violent, and then he was sick. Caroline struggled to help the young man out of bed. He was frightened, and kept fighting against her. She tried to change his sweat soaked shirt and trousers, but he started to panic. He backed away from her and ended up on the floor, his injured leg unable to support his weight, and he swatted her hands away from him in the midst of his delirium. She called Siegfried up to help her, hoping he might be able to calm his brother.
"She's got me Siegfried, she's got me!" He cried, as the two of them tried to lift him off the floor.
"It's alright little brother, I'm here." Siegfried soothed him calmly. "We just need to try and get you back into bed."
They managed to manoeuvre the young man into the chair beside the bed, and whilst Siegfried helped his younger brother into fresh pyjamas Caroline changed the soiled and sweat soaked sheets. They both then managed to get him back into bed, and whilst Siegfried sat with him for a while she fetched a wet rag for his forehead to try and bring his fever down. When she returned, carrying a large bowel of water, it was to find that her husband had pulled up a chair at his brother's bedside, and was talking to him in a hushed tone. She watched him lean over to stoke a stray strand of hair away from his sweaty forehead – the gesture was such a tender one and done with such care that it touched her heat. Tristan appeared to visibly relax in his brother's presence – he stopped tossing and turning and sunk down into the nest of fresh sheets, allowing them the envelop his fevered body.
"Oh, thank you dear." Siegfried smiled as he took the bowel of water from her. He placed his palm to Tristan's forehead, checking the severity of his temperature, and feeling the heat of the flesh beneath his hand. He soaked the cloth and dabbed his brother's face gently with it, wiping away the beads of perspiration, before brushing back his blonde fringe and pressing it to his forehead.
Tristan's reaction was instantaneous. The cold water against his burning furnace of flesh proved to be a shock to the system. It was like dousing out the flames of a fire with ice water and he gasped, immediately reaching up to rip the compress away. The sharp intake of breath made him cough.
"No, don't' do that Tristan." Siegfried softly implored him, taking him gently by the hand. "It's just a cold compress to help bring the fever down." He explained. "Leave it where it is."
Once again the younger man appeared significantly reassured by the sound of his brother's voice. He stopped writhing, the cloth now safe to remain where it was for now, and lay back in bed, weak and shivering. His cheeks were still flushed with fever – they actually appeared to be a deeper shade of red – but he was definitely a few shades paler this afternoon which might also have accounted for their pronounced rosy hew.
"I'll make a start on lunch." Caroline suggested, placing a hand on her husband's shoulder, and he turned around to look at her as though he'd forgotten that she was there – that was alright though, she realised his mind was elsewhere. She observed the deep concern in his eyes, and she thought that she'd never seen him look as worried as he seemed right now.
"Thank you my dear." He smiled at her, and she bent down to kiss him on the cheek. She looped her arm around his shoulders. "Of course, we mustn't forget lunch." He said. "You must be starving."
"Actually," She smiled, "I was rather more concerned about you Siegfried." She told him. "I don't seem to have much on an appetite today, but you barely ate anything at breakfast, and I bet you didn't have anything to eat last night either."
Siegfried couldn't deny the truth in her statement – his wife knew him well. He nodded, as his gaze returned to Tristan's sleeping form. It wasn't a peaceful sleep, and Siegfried seemed disturbed by his brother's fitful dozing – Caroline didn't want to pressure him. She gently planted another kiss on the top of his head before untangling herself from him and slipping quietly – unnoticed – out of the room.
She prepared them all a light lunch, and to her relief Tristan's fever began to break enough that he too managed a little something to eat. His mind was still clouded with fever but he was lucid enough to ask for a small slice of homemade fruitcake. Siegfried was very reluctant to allow his brother the sweet treat, concerned that it's richness might be too much for his stomach to handle, but Caroline was loathe to deny him anything he'd specifically asked for and didn't see that a piece could do any harm. She slipped him a tiny slither, just to taste, but he wasn't able to keep it down for long.
He proceeded to vomit several times throughout the following couple of hours – bringing up his meagre stomach contents. This in itself wasn't unusual, the infection was running its course in his bloodstream and nausea was a common side effect of most antibiotics, but Siegfried became concerned when he continued to do so even after there was nothing left for him to bring up. When Diedre and Callum returned he dispatched her next door to call for Doctor Alanson. He wasn't there, his wife informed her that he was out on a house call, but said that she would send him round as soon as he returned.
The Doctor finally arrived one anxious hour later.
"He's weak." He explained, his Scottish accent thick, as he drew Siegfried slightly aside upon completing his examination of his younger brother. Both men turned to look at Tristan who was lying in bed, still semi-conscious and barely lucid. His fever had spiked again and before the doctor had arrived Siegfried had been worried as delirium had once again started to creep in - although mercifully the vomiting seemed to have subsided for now. He'd done everything he could to try and bring his temperature down - he'd opened the window in Tristan's bedroom, despite the bitter chill of winter frost outside, he'd removed the knitted blanket from his bed, and had continued to apply cold compresses to his forehead - but still the fever raged. He was sweating profusely and shivering, his teeth chattering, and he seemed confused. Siegfried could see that his brother was obviously fighting a massive infection. His complexion was still as white as the sheets covering him, and he grimaced at intervals with the pain that the torn and jagged flesh of the wound in his leg caused him.
"What he really needs now is food in his belly." Doctor Akanson told him. "I can give him antibiotics for the infection, and painkillers for his pain, but if he doesn't eat he's only going to get weaker. All the drugs in the world can't help him if his body can't do at least some of the work."
Siegfried sighed - this wasn't what he'd wanted to hear. He looked down at his little brother, his face a mask of concern and frustration.
"The thing is doctor," He started to explain gravely, "he's not exactly unwilling to eat, but he doesn't seem too enthralled with the idea at tge moment either. He needs quite a bit of coaxing. Perhaps it's quite understandable, but I like to consider myself something of an expert where my brother is concerned, he is something of an open book most of the time, and it's just not like him. Tristan loves his food almost as much as he seems to enjoy pickling his liver every evening and revelling in the attention of the ladies. I tell you one thing though, he's going to be damn near impossible to live with after this."
Siegfried forced himself to smile, but the corners of his lips didn't quite make it as far as his cheekbones. The doctor however returned his smile.
"Well perhaps some attention lavished on him by some pretty young lass is not wholly underserved after everything he's been through, ey' Siegfried?" He asked.
"Perhaps," Siehfried nodded, as he considered this, "when the time comes I might be inclined to be a little more lenient with him." He agreed. "But my main priority at the moment is what we need to do to help him get better." He said. "I may not be a doctor Harry, but I am a medical man and I'd much prefer to know what we're up against here."
"He has a small spot of blood poisoning Siegfried, nothing more." The doctor told him. The man was clearly trying to reassure his anxiety's but Siegfried's heart sank. It wasn't as if he'd been told anything he hadn't already suspected, but he also knew that there was no such thing as 'a small spot' of blood poisoning. It was a very serious and potentially life threatening infection.
"With strong antibiotics you should see a marked improvement in his condition within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours." The doctor continued. "He'll need close and careful monitoring but I see nothing in his current condition to cause any undue concern or alarm at this time. We need to be on the alert but his heart rate is regular and his pulse is strong. The signs of septicaemia are certainly nothing you yourself wouldn't have competence enough to recognise. You seem to have coped brilliantly so far." He told him.
"I have done my best for him Harry." Siegfried conceded. "I did what I thought I had to, but I am not a doctor."
"I know he looks bad Siegfried," The doctor acknowledged, "but it could have been a lot worse. If it wasn't for your quick intervention last night, getting the antibiotics into him as quickly as you did, we would have found ourselves in a very different situation right now. Cleaning and dressing the wound probably also helped to slow the spread of the infection." He commended him. "No, my concern is not so much for the leg at the moment, there is infection there but it remains quite clean, there is only a minimal amount of pus, and it doesn't smell fowl or gangrenous." He considered. "I'm more concerned that if we don't get some food and, even more importantly, some fluids into him soon then he is going to become dehydrated very quickly, especially if he continues to struggle to keep anything down. It might mean getting him into hospital for a few days, if only so we can get him on some IV fluids and some stronger antibiotics."
Siegfried looked at his younger brother, observing Tristan's restlessly sleeping form. He didn't say anything but the doctor could see the concern within his eyes as clearly as if he'd spoken of it aloud.
"Perhaps finding himself surrounded by pretty young nurses at his beck and call might help lift his spirits a little." Doctor Alanson smiled. "But we'll hold off making a decision about it now. I'd like to try something else first if you'd be up for it?" He considered thoughtfully. The idea had only just occurred to him, and it wasn't following proper protocol, but Siegfried was a man with more medical knowledge than his average patient, and therefore was more than capable of overseeing what he had in mind. "I'm afraid it would mean a lot more work for you though, and it would be quite a responsibility."
Siegfried looked at him expectantly. He didn't say anything but Doctor Alanson correctly interpreted this as a cue to go on explaining.
"It's unconventional, but I would like to set him up with some IV fluids at home." He explained. "It would mean that you would need to keep a much closer eye on him, ideally he shouldn't be left alone at all. He's already confused and the delirium could lead him to pull the cannula out, either intently or by accident if he were to lash out. It would also require you to change the fluids every couple of hours, but I'm sure with your medical expertise I could leave that in your very capable hands." He smiled slightly.
"Of course." Siegfried nodded. He remained completely unfazed by the sheer magnitude of the task he'd just been asked to undertake, but knowing him as well as he did Doctor Alanson wasn't surprised by his reaction.
"It's no substitute for solid food." He told him – this went without saying. "But if you can get him to eat and drink a little without him bringing it back up in the next day or so he might be alright. Just out of interest, what have you given him to eat today?" He asked him out of curiosity, almost as in an afterthought.
"Ummm… I'm not sure." Siegfried considered this for a moment, trying to think of everything his brother had consumed that day. It wasn't as lengthy a list as it would have been under normal circumstances but his mind had been elsewhere, and it was Caroline who'd been taking care of Tristan for most of the day. "You're probably better asking Caroline, she's spent most of the day with him." He explained. "I do know he's only picked at a few scraps of food though. He had some scrambled eggs this morning, but he wasn't able to keep them down for very long. He's had a few crusts of toast, and a slice of bread with butter and some plain chicken breast at lunchtime. Oh, and a small slice of Mrs Alton's fruitcake. I didn't think it was a good idea, Mrs Alton is a fine cook and makes one heck of a fine fruitcake but it is tremendously rich. Tristan insisted though, and Caroline was loathe to refuse him a small taste. He kept the bread and chicken down for a while… the same couldn't be said for the fruitcake I'm afraid."
"Anything to drink?" The doctor asked.
"Mainly just a little water," Siegfried replied, "and a couple of cups of weak tea with sugar. No milk."
Doctor Alanson nodded.
"Well, you've both done well to keep him on a lighter diet." He commended him. "The fruitcake may have been a bad idea though, but it's encouraging that he asked for it."
Siegfried too nodded in agreement.
"Caroline's cook him up a weak broth with vegetables now." He explained. "We're going to try and get him to sip some of that and hope he can keep it down."
"Well, you can but try Siegfried." The doctor smiled. He seemed to approve. "Persistence may pay off, but I also think a certain degree of trial and error is going to be needed here." He advised him kindly. "Try not to worry too much. I know it's easier said than done but Tristan's young and he's strong. I'll call around again later after I've finished my final rounds to see how he's doing and set him up with the IV, but I wouldn't be surprised if he's doing a lot better by the morning, we just need to get some fluids into him."
"Thank you Harry." Siegfried smiled. They'd started to make their way out onto the landing, and as they pulled Tristan's bedroom door closed behind them he gestured to the stairs. Both men were about the same age, both Scottish in descent, and in a small village like Darrowby it was hard for two men not to run in the same social circles. Although they both had their own separate groups of friends and casual acquaintances they'd always got on rather well, and it wasn't unknown for them to enjoy a drink or two at the Drovers together every now and again.
"I appreciate your input on this." He told him. "My little brother does have something of a talent for getting himself into these scrapes, but nothing quite like this before. I do my best of course, but as I've already said being a vet doesn't make me a doctor, and my own medical knowledge will only stretch so far."
"You're too hard on yourself Siegfried." The doctor chuckled as they started to descend the small staircase. Doctor Alanson went first and Siegfried followed. "I meant what I said. You did a pretty fine job patching Tristan up in my absence. I couldn't have done much better myself if I'd been here."
"All the same." Siegfried said as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs whilst the doctor reached for his hat and coat. He was only going next door, but mere habit dictated that he should put them on regardless. Doctor Alanson paused as the vet hurried ahead of him to get the front door, and as he passed him he tipped his hat respectfully.
"I'll see you later then Siegfried." He smiled.
"Thank you again Harry." The vet said.
As he stepped out into the cold, late afternoon air, and he hopped down from the front step to street level Doctor Alanson heard the front door close behind him.
Once the doctor had gone Siegfried heard the kitchen door open and turned to see Diedre standing in the doorway. She looked worried, her blue eyes glistening, and he smiled warmly at her as he approached. He hadn't eaten properly since the previous afternoon. He hadn't had chance to eat very much of his own lunch, he'd been too busy trying to coax Tristan into eating something, and so had only picked at a few scraps from his own plate. The smell of the broth cooking made his stomach growl hungrily.
"How is he?" She asked, and Caroline too now appeared at her side – both women were evidently eager to hear what the doctor had had to say.
"I heard Doctor Alanson mention blood poisoning. I wasn't listening in, I was collecting the washing from Callum's bedroom and just happened to be passing when I heard you two talking about it." She was quick to explain, her Scottish accent sounding even thicker in her upset. Her cheeks were flushed deep red from standing over the stove waiting for the broth to boil, and both women appeared suitably hot and flustered – but concern oozed out of the young Glaswegian like the sweat which glistened against her top lip. "I may not be a doctor, or a nurse, or even a vet," She told him, "I may not have any real medical knowledge to speak of at all, but I do know what blood poisoning is, and I know what it can mean. If we can't bring his fever down it's bad, isn't it?" She asked him.
Siegfried looked to her, and then to Caroline – he could no longer conceal his concern – nor, he realised, would it be fair on the two women to be anything other than completely honest with them. They were both clever, and well educated, and it would be doing their intelligence a huge injustice by trying to keep the extent of Tristan's illness from them. Caroline's experience as a nurse would mean that she wouldn't be taken in by her husband's lies anyway, and she wouldn't appreciate being treated like a child who needed to be coddled no matter how well-meaning his desire to protect her may be. She could read Siegfried like a book.
He nodded.
"Well, yes my dear, I'm afraid it is, very bad…" He said, placing a gentle hand on Deidre's arm. "But hopefully you also heard what else Doctor Alanson said. Tristan is young and strong. He has everything good going for him. We're going to get him set up with some IV fluids and antibiotics tonight, and hopefully, by tomorrow morning even, he should be feeling much better."
"You don't really believe that though do you Siegfried?" She asked him sadly. She'd observed the deeply concerned look in his eyes, and heard the lack of conviction in his voice.
"We can but try my dear." He said, forcing another smile for her – but he couldn't deny that the smile was weak because he had his doubts.
