Copyright Oggbashan August 2020 (Edited December 2021)
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
This is inspired by the Lehar song: Einar Wird Kommen.
+++
It was my own fault for being stupid and impatient.
I had been out for a walk on Dartmoor, and I wanted to get back to the public house for a drink before they closed at two o'clock on this Sunday lunchtime in the early 1960s. There would be nowhere else open for miles, and I was thirsty.
I was descending beside the waterfall at Tavy Cleave when I stepped onto a wet, moss-covered rock while checking the time on my watch. Both feet slid from under me, and I came down on my backpack in a crash that knocked the breath out of me. My feet slid between two rocks and I either twisted or broke both ankles. Although I was able to extricate my feet, I couldn't put any weight on them. I couldn't crawl half a mile to my car, and even if I could I wouldn't be able to drive it -- and the pub would be shut by the time I got there.
I was able to crawl up and away from the waterfall that was soaking me with spray. I sat or sometimes flattened myself on the grass. When I had dried off in the warm sunshine, I extricated my groundsheet from my backpack and made a sunshade. The noise of the waterfall and the stream tortured me with my now insistent thirst, yet I couldn't get to the water safely.
I was cursing my own stupidity for looking at my watch when I should have been looking at where I put my feet. I had also forgotten to tell anyone I would be walking on Dartmoor so no one would notice I hadn't returned. It had been a spur of the moment decision and I didn't expect problems in summer.
I had decided to walk on Dartmoor to think about my recently ended relationship with Andrea. I had known that our attachment was failing for about a year. Eighteen months ago, she had been offered promotion that meant working in London. Even though I drove to London to see her about once a month, it had been a strain keeping the connection alive at a distance. But then she had been offered a year in Hong Kong. That would be very profitable and could enhance her career.
There was no way I could afford trips to Hong Kong. I had an expensive mortgage on the house I had thought would be our family home. That house and mortgage had been the obstacle that stopped me looking for a job in London to be with her. I could buy a house in Plymouth. I couldn't afford one in London without a substantial increase in income and the only positions on offer to me didn't pay enough. Maybe in five years' time when I had paid off some of the mortgage and I had been promoted I might be able to get a London position. But our relationship was failing under the strain.
Last Thursday I had the expected 'Dear John' letter from Andrea. I had been expecting it since I knew from mutual friends that she had found a boyfriend in Hong Kong. It shouldn't have been a shock, but I had hoped...
That letter ended my diminishing hopes. She was engaged and would be married in three months' time and would stay with her new husband in Hong Kong.
I had walked for miles in the hot sun. I had emptied my water bottle and although the stream was only a few yards away it would be too risky to try to get to it. My only hope was that someone would pass Tavy Cleave and get help for me. Until then? The tinkle of the waterfall tortured me with increasing thirst.
I looked at my watch again. Before I had slipped it had been twenty to two, just enough time to get to the public house before they shut. Now it was half-past three and there had been no one around. I leant forward to loosen the laces on my boots which were hurting because they were so tight around my swelling ankles. I didn't want to take them off because they provided some support. If I had broken my ankles, they might hold the bones in place.
I was thinking again, with regret, about Andrea. She had been more important to me than my career. But her career was more important to her than me or her extended family, all of whom lived in and around Plymouth. In Hong Kong she was earning much more than me. Her living expenses would be higher, but her salary was so good that she would still be much better off.
When her new husband returned with Andrea from Hong Kong they would probably work in London on even larger salaries. Their combined income now was more than twice what I and Andrea could have expected had she stayed in Plymouth with me. When they came back to London? Three times, four times? As a career move it was obvious. As a lifetime move?
Andrea had left me bereft, but I knew I was losing her when she went to London. I had over a year to appreciate that Andrea had ambitions that didn't include me. But it had still hurt to receive the letter that was the final ending.
I winced as I shifted my position slightly. My ankles were now hurting all the time. If someone didn't come past soon, I might be here all night. I had food but without water I might find it difficult to swallow.
I wondered. Was it that Andrea's ambition was greater than mine? Or that I hadn't enough? I had been buying my house for three years. At first, I had found the mortgage very expensive because I had bought a family house, not one for a single person. I had hoped it would be the home for us and children. Now, since I had had several annual pay rises and another one for achieving my professional qualifications the mortgage was affordable. In a year or so's time I could expect to be promoted and then earn what Andrea had been earning in London.
I heard someone singing above the waterfall. I shouted "Help!" but my dry mouth reduced that to a croak that was lost in the sound of the waterfall. The person scrambled down beside the waterfall. I threw off the groundsheet and waved my arm.
"OK. I'm coming!"
It was a female voice. I was slightly worried. A woman on her own couldn't move me. I squinted into the sun. The woman was large and heavy-built, but I was even larger and heavier. I lifted a hand to shade my eyes and look at her.
"Hello John," she said. "What have you done to yourself?"
I recognised her and her voice. This was Jane, Andrea's cousin.
"Hello, Jane," I said. "I have either broken or wrenched two ankles. I can't walk."
"Bugger! And I can't carry you. I'll have to contact the Dartmoor Rescue team and wait with you till they come. And the last bus leaves in half an hour. I'll miss it. Blast!"
"Where's your car?" I knew Jane had a car.
"At the garage. I took it in on Thursday because the brakes were not as good as they should be. Apparently, they need some spare parts. They've dismantled the brakes, but the parts won't arrive until Tuesday. I should have it back on Wednesday. Where's your car?"
"In the public car park opposite the pub. But I couldn't drive it, not with these ankles."
"But I could. OK. I'll go to the car park, use the public telephone there to contact the rescue people and then come back. OK?"
"I'd like a drink first. I'm out of water and I can't move to the stream. I've been here for hours close to water but thirsty."