Chapter Thirty-Four

Betty was the last one left in the kitchen, placing the morning’s breakfast cutlery and crockery in to soak, when she heard the dog-flap bumped. She waited, but when nothing happened, she placed the last cup in the sink. Turning to leave, she thought she heard the flap bump open once more and then…nothing. Something told her to go and take a closer look. Kneeling down, she pushed the flap up and was shocked at the sight before her.

Hurriedly, she unlocked the door, calling at the top of her voice, “Grace! I need you—now!”

To her credit, the nurse didn’t hesitate and came at a run, only to literally skid to a halt at what confronted her.

Betty stood with Bobby in her arms. She’d stooped to pick him up from where she found him slumped against her back doorstep. Clearly shocked, she told them, “I heard a noise at the dog-flap, twice, and so opened the door. He…he didn’t have the strength to push it open!”

“Christ! What happened?” Doris asked, nearly bumping into Grace’s back before the nurse stepped toward the bloody pair.

“Is he alive?” Mary asked, holding onto Doris’s shoulders.

Jane took one look, declared, “I’ll go and get Ruth,” and shot off through the back door.

“Grace?” Betty said, laying the dog on the kitchen table without a second thought.

“Someone get my bag, please! I dropped it in the hall,” Grace asked, as she stepped forward. “Can I have a tea towel, Betty?” she asked as she laid a hand on Bobby’s chest before looking up to assure the room, “He’s alive. Wet it for me, Mary,” she told her when presented with the requested item.

As Mary soaked the tea towel beneath the tap, Grace checked nothing was restricting the injured dog’s airway before accepting the towel and proceeding to wash and wipe away the blood soaking the side of Bobby’s face. When the cold towel touched his head, the dog’s head perked up. “Betty, hold his head for me,” Grace ordered.

That was how Ruth found the room when she ran in through the open back door. “What the hell? Bobby!” she cried, automatically springing toward her dog before being brought up short by Grace raising a hand to stop her.

Glancing up for a second, she told Ruth, “It’s not as bad as it looks. Head wounds,” she began, resuming her ministration, “be they in humans or animals, always tend to bleed a lot.”

A few seconds later, both Jane and Walter followed Ruth into the kitchen.

“I had no idea you could run so…” Walter began to say, stopping when he saw what was happening on the table. Instead, he immediately went and gathered his landlady in a hug, turning her around so she could watch what Grace was doing.

The temporary quiet was broken by a noise on the stairs, shortly followed by Terry bursting into the room. “What’s all the noise about?” he managed to get out before noticing the injured dog. “What happened?” he asked, the policeman in him kicking into gear.

“Another wet tea towel!” Grace called out before answering everyone’s question. “If I had to guess, I’d say he’s been either hit with something, or someone threw something at him. Maybe a stone or brick.”

Nobody could make out what Ruth mumbled into Walter’s shoulder, not that anyone really needed to guess, as everyone shared her sentiments.

“Is he going to be all right?” Doris asked, looking slightly on the pale side, though she recovered a little of her color when Grace took a moment from her ministrations to look up and say, “I’d say he’ll be fine. He’ll probably feel a bit off color for a few days, but there shouldn’t be any lasting harm. Though, Ruth, I’m not a vet, you know.”

Ruth broke away from her nephew and announced, “I’d trust you more than any vet I know, my dear. You just do what you think needs to be done, and you won’t find me ungrateful.”

Muttering, “Don’t be so silly,” Grace bent to her work for a few minutes more before straightening up. “There, he looks a lot better now he’s clean, doesn’t he?”

Ruth let out a sob and made a move to engulf her beloved cocker spaniel, only for Grace to stop her from doing so. “Not yet, Ruth. I’d like to put a couple of stitches in.”

“Stitches?” Ruth said, her hands flying to her mouth.

“Only a couple,” Grace repeated, laying a reassuring hand upon Ruth’s arm before taking her hand and pulling her a step closer. “Look down here. Betty, if you’d just hold him a bit harder, thanks. See, just above his ear? That’s the cut. It’s not long, but it is a little deep. It’ll only take me a minute, but I’d feel better if I stitched it up. It can’t stay like that, as it’ll only get dirty, and he’s almost certain to pick up an infection then.”

Ruth reached out her hand again, and this time Grace didn’t stop her. Being very careful, she stroked the opposite side of his head, then asked, “Will it hurt?”

Slowly, Grace nodded. “I’m afraid so. I don’t have any anesthetic on me.” At Ruth’s look of alarm, she hastened to say, “We can go and wake the vet up, if you’d prefer.”

Everyone in the room could sense the internal conflict going on inside Ruth. She, of all people, wouldn’t wish to hurt her dog, but trust in Grace’s skills versus the uncertainty of causing Bobby any more stress and pain than necessary were warring away inside her. Bobby chose that moment to let out a whine, and Grace picked up the tea towel as his wound had begun to seep blood again. This made up her mind.

“Do it.”

After taking a second to look up into Ruth’s eyes, the nurse nodded and handed her the tea towel, guiding her hand. “Keep the pressure on. I’ll just get ready,” she told her, crossing to the sink and beginning to wash her hands, saying as she did, “Everyone, and I’m really sorry about this, Ruth, this is going to hurt Bobby. I’ll be as quick as I can, but I’m going to need your help. We have to keep him as still as we can, so I’m going to need everyone, especially you, Walter, to hold Bobby down. I reckon it’ll take two, possibly three stitches, and that’s going to take me about a minute.” Accepting a clean tea towel from Doris, she turned back to the room, drying her hands. “There’s no sugar-coating it. This is going to hurt him, but you can’t flinch, and you can’t loosen your grip, no matter how much he’ll howl—and he will. Ruth, I know that isn’t what you want to hear, but I promise I’ll be as quick as I possibly can.”

Everyone turned to Ruth for her reaction. Without looking up, she put down the tea towel and took up position next to Betty where, grim-faced but determined, she took hold of Bobby, laying her arm firmly upon his neck, but without causing a restriction on his breathing. “Ready when you are,” she said, though she didn’t look up when she spoke. Everyone else took this as their cue and took up various positions as Ruth began to mutter as many soothing words into his ear as she could, her face down by his ear.

Without another word, Grace placed her bag on the table, quickly found a needle and some catgut, and without hesitation, began her work. True to her word, Bobby did howl, and though Ruth instantly had tears streaming down her face—not that she was the only one, by any means—to her credit, she followed Grace’s orders to the letter and didn’t let go her hold. Everyone else around the distressed animal did the same, taking their strength and determination from Ruth.

True to her hopes, around a minute later, Grace straightened up, gently wiped around Bobby’s wound, and then threw the bloodied tea towel aside. Reaching down to stroke the panting dog, she told him, “Well done, you! You were so brave.” She looked up. “Everyone, when I say so, let go and stand back a bit. Ruth, stay where you are but let go now and get ready to restrain him. He’s going to want to jump down, and I don’t want that just yet.” Checking everyone had given her a nod, Grace said, “Now.”

Immediately he felt the arms and hands loosen, Bobby did try to stand, only for Ruth to at once gently wrap her arms around his neck, being extra careful to avoid the stitches Grace had applied. His eyes were a little wide, and he was panting, but after an initial squirm, as Grace had predicted, he calmed and leant against his mistress’s chest, his breathing gradually becoming normal.

“There you go,” Ruth told him as he settled down into her familiar embrace, licking her tear-addled but smiling face.

Grace tentatively reached out a hand toward Bobby, as if half-expecting him to bite her. Instead, he turned his attention to the nurse and proceeded to baste her hand. Smiling at Ruth, Grace let out a deep sigh of relief. “He’s a right little trooper, isn’t he?”

“I’ll say,” Ruth agreed.

“The whole station’s fallen in love with him again after yesterday,” Jane piped up.

Grace looked up, her eyes wide as dishes. “Don’t tell me! He didn’t turn up on station when that Nazi plane went over, did he?”

Everyone in the room nodded their heads, beaming at the brave dog in undisguised pride.

Shaking her head, Grace told them, “Well, I never! We never got an air raid alarm, you know. Perhaps the hospital could hire him out, Ruth?”

“Not a chance!” Mary declared, laughing as the tension in the room began to ebb away.

It took Grace a while to make her exit after gathering her things together, as everyone in the house wanted to give her a thank-you hug and kiss, and Ruth kept coming back for more. Grace finally had to say, “You’re going to make me later than I already am,” although she said it with a big smile.

“That goes for us too,” Jane said.

Ruth gave her another unexpected hug. “I can’t thank you enough. I really can’t.”

“There’s no need, really. As for Bobby, he should be okay without anything for the pain. They’re surprisingly sturdy. If he does appear in any discomfort, take him to the vet, but I doubt he’ll need it, and if you see him scratching at his ear, which is entirely possible, then wind a bandage or rag around his head. It doesn’t matter if he looks silly. Now, I really must go. I’ll pop around tonight to see how he is.”

“Don’t forget to be careful,” Betty told Grace as she went to leave. “Remember what Lawrence said.”

“You beat me to it,” Terry surprised everyone by saying from the top of the stairs. “Well done, Betty. How’s the patient, nurse?”

“He’s going to be fine!” Ruth answered, beaming, at the foot of the stairs, the patient clutched safely in her arms.