water drains. Here, where it’s flat. On his stomach—Careful, for heaven’s sake! That’s it. Head to one side. Arms stretched out and bent. Leg bent, like this.”
A little water dribbled from his mouth. Nick leant over him. “Still breathing.”
“Unless it stops, I think the most urgent thing is to warm him up.”
The girl tossed over a towel. She had already untied a sleeping bag from one of the packs and unrolled it. “Dry him off and get him in here. His arms and leg will have to be straightened out, though.”
“He’s so c-cold … B-body to body contact would be b-best…”
“You’re shivering like mad yourself,” the girl said matter-of-factly. “I knew we should have brought a thermos. Put this on. I’ll do it.” She tossed Megan a scarlet polo-neck shirt.
“Th-thanks.”
Chaz muttered something irritable, but by the time Megan’s head emerged from the shirt, which was a size too small, he and Nick were zipping up the sleeping bag with the Indian inside. Luckily he was very slight, not to say skinny. The girl was also slender. Stripped of her shirt and boots but retaining her short shorts—not much more than hot pants—she wriggled in beside him.
“Ugh! It’s a bit like hugging a cold hot-water bottle! Don’t look so uptight, Chaz. I can just barely feel him breathing. He’s not about to try anything.”
“‘Barely’ is the word,” said Nick with a grin.
He was trying to untie his shirt from the makeshift rope but the strain put on it had tightened the knot. Megan realised his shorts had slipped off the rock into the water and disappeared. He dug in his satchel and brought out an anorak. It wasn’t quite long enough to cover him decently, but then she wasn’t exactly decently dressed herself. Imagining what DI Scumble would say if he saw her made her hot all over—no bad thing, considering.
“Megan? Are you all right?”
“Yes. I think so.” She sat down rather suddenly on the nearest step. “Sorry, just a bit woozy for a second. Did you say something?”
He regarded her with a worried frown. “I wondered whether we ought, Chaz and I, to try to carry Julia and the Indian bloke up to the road to meet the ambulance. But I’m not sure you’re in a fit state to—”
“I’m perfectly all right. The sooner he can get to a hospital, the better. There’s something about not jostling hypothermics, though. Better not, perhaps, if it’s risky.”
“We’ll take ’em with Julia underneath,” said Chaz, “so that if we drop them he’s well cushioned.”
“Hey!”
“No,” Megan said decidedly. “We can’t risk it. But someone should go to explain the situation to the ambulance men when they arrive and make sure they don’t go astray on the way down. Aunt Nell may be there—she went for help—but I can’t be sure. Chaz, it’ll have to be you.”
Chaz looked at his seminaked girlfriend snuggling in the sleeping bag with a completely naked male stranger. “Not me.”
Megan drew herself up and stared him in the eye. “You’re the only one who’s decently dressed. I may not look like it right now, but I’m a police officer, and I’m requesting your cooperation.”
“Police? Right!” he said sceptically.
Nick grinned. “Detective Sergeant Pencarrow of the Constabulary of the Royal Duchy of Cornwall,” he confirmed.
Chaz’s challenging gaze dropped. “Oh, all right. I don’t know the way, though. We were heading for the youth hostel in Boscastle.”
“Follow the stream. Thank you.” Megan turned away, hearing the thud of his hiking boots recede across the rock. “Miss…?”
“Julia. You don’t need to come the copper over me.”
“Julia, you will tell me at once if he stops breathing, won’t you.”
“Of course. I’m not doing this for fun, though I must say it’ll make a good story! He doesn’t feel quite so cold. That may be because I’m getting colder, though.”
“Seriously colder? Chilled?”
“Don’t think so. I’m
Charles G. McGraw, Mark Garland