Page 18 of The Last Kiss

Ash found himself thinking of West and couldn’t imagine abandoning him under any circumstances. “Don’t suppose there was m-much love there in the first place.”

Olive snorted inelegantly. “No, I dare say you’re right. Youth, good looks and a pot of money is what passes for love in our circles isn’t it?”

Ash laughed. “Good heavens, Olive!”

“What? I know you agree.”

“Well I d-do.” He lifted a teasing eyebrow. “Only I think you’re b-being rather generous. The youth and g-good looks go out the window so long as the money pot is big enough.”

“Or there’s a title in the case.”

They looked at each other and smiled; it felt as though they were reaching an understanding. “Our p-poor mothers. If they could hear us now.”

Olive’s smile faded. “Our mothers live in a different world.”

“I rather think they do. F-Fathers too.”

After a silent moment, Olive said, “Well, come along. Major Edwards is in here and he can see you before morning rounds.”

The doctor was younger than Ash had been expecting, a thin harried-looking man with wispy blond hair and a kind face. He came out from behind his desk as Olive introduced him, hand out to shake.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr Dalton.”

“Major,” Ash said, reminding himself that he didn’t need to salute.

Edwards gave a bland smile, then looked past him to Olive. “Would you look in on Rawlings, Miss Allen? He had a rather bad night and I’d appreciate your assessment.”

“Of course.” Olive nodded at Ash. “I’ll come and find you later.”

When the door closed, Edwards said, “Well, shall we take a look?”

Ash had to steel himself to this; he hated it. Sitting in the chair opposite the desk, he began the task of rolling up his trouser leg and unstrapping the prosthetic. Edwards crouched on the floor in front of him to look and Ash turned his head to gaze out of the window. It looked over the lawn that ran down to the gate and the road beyond. There were pine trees all around, murmuring together, and a breath of scented air pushed in through the partly open window to riffle his hair.

“Not bad,” Edwards pronounced, his fingers lightly exploring the wound. “Any infection after the surgery?”

“Yes, some.”

“But not for a while now? The scar feels solid, no granulation of the tissue.”

“Hmmm,” Ash said through his teeth.

“Some chafing, though. I think we can do better on the prosthetic. They’re doing excellent work at St. Mary’s. Do you bicycle or ride at all?”

Ash glanced at him. “N-no.”

“Neither?”

“No.”

“Swim?”

“I was t-t-told not to — in c-case of infection.”

“No, you should be fine to swim so long as there’s no skin abrasion.” He pressed the withered muscle, then further up above the knee. “Some exercise would be beneficial. And I can show you a better technique for padding the stump. We have a lot of experience here. Of course, Olive — that is, Miss Allen — could show you too, if you allowed it. She’s an excellent nurse. Especially gifted with our non-verbal cases.” Edwards pushed to his feet with a grunt of effort and went to a cupboard, pulling out a box of bandages. Then he dragged over another chair and sat. “Would you mind lifting your leg?” He gave a rueful smile. “My back…”

Eyes once more fixed on the window, Ash did as he was asked.

Edwards got to work in silence, then after a moment he stopped. “You’ll need to watch, you know, to learn the technique.”

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