He didn’t panic or yell or anything but just said, “Looks as if you’ve had a spot of trouble, eh?” And he picked Jennifer up and I followed them to the pensione. Mrs. Bazlinton got the pensione owner to call the doctor. In the meanwhile we all sat in Jennifer’s room and waited.

No one asked what had happened. After Mr. Bazlinton took my shorts off her foot, Mrs. Bazlinton went faint and had to sit down because the cut was a lot worse than she’d imagined. It gaped open and the edges were all blue and when they undid the strap a little from around her knee the blood welled out so they tied it tight again. And Mr. Bazlinton said, “Nasty business, eh?”

No one really noticed me. I just sat on the edge of the bed and waited. Jennifer said it hurt. Mr. Bazlinton said, “That’s my girl,” and held her hand.

The doctor arrived and when he saw the cut he said, “Mama mia! ’Ow deed thees ‘appen?”

Jennifer said, “I trod on a bottle on the rocks.”

The doctor said, “You could ‘ave been bleeding to death. Eet eesa very deepa.” He spread out his stitching things and Jennifer got very pale and closed her eyes.

“I’m afraid I can’t watch this, dear,” Mrs. Bazlinton said. “Your father will stay with you.” And she walked to the door. Then she turned to me, “You’d better come along as well,” she said. So I got up to go. But Jennifer opened her eyes and said, “Please, Mum, can he stay? I’d feel better.”

When she said that, it was like a firework went off in my head and I could have done a cartwheel but I didn’t, of course.

Mrs. Bazlinton said, “Certainly, dear.” And she went out.

Then the doctor put Jennifer’s foot to sleep with some shots. The first one hurt and Jennifer cried out a little in pain. But after that her foot was numb.

While the doctor threaded up his needle and waited for her foot to numb up completely, he said, “Who deed thees?” And he pointed to the rubber strap and the shell tourniquet.

Jennifer said, “He did,” and looked at me and smiled.

Then the doctor said, “You ‘ave saved thees young lady’s life. You should be a dottore?

“We’re frightfully grateful, old chap,” Mr. Bazlinton said.

“That’s O.K.,” I said.

Jennifer smiled at me and the doctor put in the first stitch.

Chapter 31