Giant’s Bread · Book I · IV · Chapter 1 4 1

I

Vernon woke, after a long time, to find himself in bed. It was, of course, the natural place to be when you woke up, but what wasn’t natural was to have a great hump sticking up in front of you in the bed. It was whilst he was staring at this that someone spoke to him. That someone was Dr. Coles, whom Vernon knew quite well.

“Well, well,” said Dr. Coles, “and how are we feeling?”

Vernon didn’t know how Dr. Coles was feeling. He himself was feeling rather sick and said so.

“I dare say, I dare say,” said Dr. Coles.

“And I think I hurt somewhere,” said Vernon. “I think I hurt very much.”

“I dare say, I dare say,” said Dr. Coles again⁠—not very helpfully, Vernon thought.

“Perhaps I’d feel better if I got up,” said Vernon. “Can I get up?”

“Not just now, I’m afraid,” said the doctor. “You see, you’ve had a fall.”

“Yes,” said Vernon. “The Beast came after me.”

“Eh? What’s that? The Beast? What Beast?”

“Nothing,” said Vernon.

“A dog, I expect,” said the doctor. “Jumped at the wall and barked. You mustn’t be afraid of dogs, my boy.”

“I’m not,” said Vernon.

“And what were you doing so far from home, eh? No business to be where you were.”

“Nobody told me not to,” said Vernon.

“Hum, hum, I wonder. Well, I’m afraid you’ve got to take your punishment. Do you know, you’ve broken your leg, my boy?”

“Have I?” Vernon was gratified⁠—enchanted. He had broken his leg. He felt very important.

“Yes, you’ll have to lie here for a bit, and then it will mean crutches for a while. Do you know what crutches are?”

Yes, Vernon knew. Mr. Jobber, the blacksmith’s father, had crutches. And he was to have crutches! How wonderful!

“Can I try them now?”

Dr. Coles laughed.

“So you like the idea? No, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit. And you must try and be a brave boy, you know. And then you’ll get well quicker.”

“Thank you,” said Vernon politely. “I don’t think I do feel very well. Can you take this funny thing out of my bed? I think it would be more comfortable then.”

But it seemed that the funny thing was called a cradle, and that it couldn’t be taken away. And it seemed, too, that Vernon would not be able to move about in bed because his leg was all tied up to a long piece of wood. And suddenly it didn’t seem a very nice thing to have a broken leg after all.

Vernon’s underlip trembled a little. He was not going to cry⁠—no, he was a big boy and big boys didn’t cry. Nurse said so. And then he knew that he wanted Nurse⁠—wanted her badly. He wanted her reassuring presence, her omniscience, her creaking rustling majesty.

“She’ll be coming back soon,” said Dr. Coles. “Yes, soon. In the meantime, this nurse is going to look after you⁠—Nurse Frances.”

Nurse Frances moved into Vernon’s range of vision and Vernon studied her in silence. She too was starched and crackling; that was all to the good. But she wasn’t big like Nurse. She was thinner than Mummy⁠—as thin as Aunt Nina. He wasn’t sure⁠ ⁠…

And then he met her eyes⁠—steady eyes, more green than grey, and he felt, as most people felt, that with Nurse Frances things would be “all right.”

She smiled at him⁠—but not in the way that visitors smiled. It was a grave smile, friendly but reserved.

“I’m sorry you feel sick,” she said. “Would you like some orange juice?”

Vernon considered the matter and said he thought he would. Dr. Coles went out of the room and Nurse Frances brought him the orange juice in a most curious-looking cup with a long spout. And it appeared that Vernon was to drink from the spout.

It made him laugh, but laughing hurt him, and so he stopped. Nurse Frances suggested he should go to sleep again, but he said he didn’t want to go to sleep.

“Then I shouldn’t go to sleep,” said Nurse Frances. “I wonder if you can count how many irises there are on that wall? You can start on the right side, and I’ll start on the left side. You can count, can’t you?”

Vernon said proudly that he could count up to a hundred.

“That is a lot,” said Nurse Frances. “There aren’t nearly as many irises as a hundred. I guess there are seventy-five. Now what do you guess?”

Vernon guessed that there were fifty. There couldn’t, he felt sure, possibly be more than that. He began to count, but somehow, without knowing it, his eyelids closed and he slept.⁠ ⁠…