Green for Danger (22 page)

“Not serious at all; it would be if it were left, of course. He's developing osteomyelitis, and we must drain the wound, that's all.”

“Osteo-what?” said Cockrill crossly; he hated to be ignorant of what other people clearly understood.

“Osteomyelitis—infection of the bone, Inspector. We take out the stitches and pack the wound open so that the pus can't collect; and cover the whole thing with plaster of Paris, instead of having him strung up to an extension.”

“Why is he strung up anyway?” said Cockrill.

“Well, the bones are fractured and they were overlapping; that usually happens. The extension pulls them out so that the broken ends can meet and unite again. I think that about explains it, eh, Eden?”

“A most masterly exposition,” said Gervase.

“So you see it's all very simple, Cockrill. There is a little infection, pus is forming, and it mustn't be allowed to collect, so we arrange matters so that it can drain away.”

“It may sound simple to you, it's double Dutch to me,” said Cockie; he added, gently probing: “I can't even visualise how you go about it.”

Major Moon fell innocently into the trap. “Come along to the theatre to-morrow and see for yourself.”

Cockie affected great astonishment. “Goodness gracious—could I really?”

“Well, of course; we'll rig you up in a gown and you can stand and look on. You'll probably enjoy it.”

Cockrill thought it extremely unlikely that he would enjoy it, but he was anxious, for his own reasons, to get into the theatre, and he said cheerfully: “I'll be there!” and as soon as they had dispersed hurried over to his office to give orders to his men. He had known for some time Who; and now he knew Why; but he could not make an arrest until he knew How. It was taking a risk, but perhaps tomorrow would show.

2

Esther had thirty-six hours' leave on the day of William's operation, so as to be ready to switch from night duty to day duty on the following morning. Frederica was by now sufficiently recovered to go back to work. They assembled for one of their rare meals all together, lining up at the serving hatch in a queue of V.A.D.s.

“
Stew!
” said Frederica.

“What's for pudding?”

“Rice and some rather sordid looking prunes.”

Forty girls were already at their lunch, elbow to elbow, round two inadequate tables. Knives screeched against china as they scooped up the thick gravy and scraped it on to their forks, heads poked forward to lessen the distance between their plates and their open mouths. Tongues wagged unceasingly. “Pass the salt, Mabel. Ask Mrs. Brown to shove the bread up this way.… I tell you, Simpson, I simply can't swap duty with you.…” There seemed no apparent reason why some should be called by their surnames, some by their Christian names, and some with the added Mrs. or Miss. The Commandant sat at their head looking rather forlorn.

“What about going back to quarters?” said Woods.

“Yes, let's. I can't take this.”

The cooks obligingly served all their stew on to one plate and the pudding on to another. “You Woodites! Don't you ever eat in the Mess?”

“No, we'd rather go to the parrot house in the zoo; if we can't get that, we go back to our quarters.”

“Well, we don't blame you,” said the cooks who, by nature of their calling, ate by themselves when the rest had finished.

“Those Woodites are too toffee-nosed for words,” agreed the V.A.D.s, closing up the queue after them when they had gone.

Esther and Freddi and Woods did not care two hoots if the V.A.D.s thought them toffee-nosed. They emptied their plate of stew into a saucepan on the gas-stove in their own little house, and heated up the savoury mess. “It looks too revolting, darling, but it smells all right. What shall we do with the prunes?”

“Put them down the huh-ha,” said Frederica.

“Now, Freddi, nonsense; you
must
eat them—they're good for you.”

“They look like little old, old negro gentlemen,” said Esther, holding one up on a fork and making it do a little shuffling dance on the plate.

“If only we had some black treacle to heat them up in!”

“And a dollop of Devonshire cream.…”

“Well, we haven't,” said Woods cheerfully. “And we're not likely to for another million years.…” She was glad that Esther had made the little joke about the black gentlemen, for it showed that she was pulling herself together a bit. She seemed to have the willies about this mere little operation on William.

“Well, work again for me to-night,” said Freddi, tucking into the stew. “How are my suffering patients, Esther? Tell me the worst.”

“Edwards and Smith have gone out. Johnson's up and that old gall-stones, the one Colonel Greenaway did, is getting up tomorrow … what's his name, I never can remember? There's retention of urine, but perhaps he won't still be retaining it by the time you go on this evening, it'll be an all-time record if he is, that's all I can say; and there's an appendix for to-morrow and a hernia. The two hernias Major Moon did the other day seem to be all right. They had a lot of pain, I think; they're always grumbling, so don't take too much notice. Pop's getting on marvellously—he
is
so sweet; and there's a rather heavenly sailor-with-the-navy-blue-eyes come in for observation, query appendix.…”

“And a perfectly divine fractured tib. and fib. in the corner bed,” said Woody, laughing.

This was a trifle rash, however, for at mention of William's name Esther's face clouded over; she did not respond, but jumped up from her chair and asked what Freddi had done with the rice.

“It's on the kitchen table. Woody, darling,
need
I eat these dreary prunes?”

“Yes, Freddi, you must; they're good for you. Esther, you've hardly had any of your stew.”

“Well, I can't take it, darling; don't badger me.”

Barney appeared at the door. “Hallo, my divinities; can I come in?”

“If you think you will ever be able to love Freddi again, after seeing the squalor in which she eats,” said Woods.

“I can just about bear it. Would it be a good idea if I took the saucepan off the table for you, before I sat down?”

“Hoi, no, that's our sweet,” said Woody, grabbing it.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and Frederica left the table and perched herself on his knee, putting her arms round his neck and rubbing her golden head against his cheek. “
You
won't make me eat prunes when we're married, darling, will you?”

“Not if you ask him like that,” said Woody, laughing.

Esther sat at the table pushing the prunes around with her fork. “Are you giving William's anæsthetic this afternoon, Barney?”

“Well, that's what I came to ask you about,” said Barney. “Would you like somebody else to do it, Esther? Perkins could give it.”

“No, no, of course not; I
want
you to.”

“I thought you might prefer it if we didn't have all the original crowd,” said Barney carefully.

Esther stopped chivvying the prunes and put down her fork. “Well, Barney, I would have preferred it, in a way, but I couldn't say so, could I? Major Moon and Gervase both offered to arrange for other people to operate, but it seemed so awful to accept. I do genuinely want you to give the anæsthetic, darling. I mean, I know Captain Perkins gives them sometimes, but he's not really an anæsthetist,
is
he? and I'd much rather you did; but the others … oh, dear, I know I'm being silly, I know Woody and Frederica think I'm making a fuss, but I can't help it.…”

“No, we don't, darling; we perfectly understand.”

It was possible that Frederica, with that unflurried detachment of hers, ‘understood,' but Woods, though she would not have acknowledged it for the world, was irritated by all this display of nerves and hysteria. She had always thought that Esther tended to dramatise her sorrow and sense of loss at her mother's death, and really it was absurd if she were going to get all intense about William and spoil their happiness by developing an anxiety-complex. Woody's mind worked in a direct, straightforward line of solid common sense; she made very little allowance for superabundance of imagination.

Esther turned upon her sorrowful and reproachful eyes. “I know I'm annoying you, Woody; but if you'd been through what I have.…”

Woods was overcome by remorse. “Oh, Esther, sweetie,
don't!
I do understand, honestly I do; and I haven't forgotten a bit about all you've suffered. It's only that it's such a little thing, darling, and it's foolish to get so het up about it and make yourself ill over nothing. You ought to be cheering poor old William up, not going to him with a face like a ghost.…”

“I went in and had a look at him this morning,” said Barney. “He seemed quite full of beans. Have you seen him, Esther?”

“No, I've only just got up from sleeping-off my night duty. I—I don't seem to want to see him, Barney; I'm afraid of bursting into tears or doing something silly.”

“Oh, nonsense, ducky, go along and visit him now. He'll be having his pre-operative injection soon, and I expect he's wondering where on earth you are.”

Esther dragged herself to her feet. “Well, all right. I'll see you in the theatre then, Barney?”

“Oh, Esther, you're not coming in?” said Woods.

“Of course,” said Esther. “I couldn't let him go all alone. I may not stay while Major Moon's doing him—I can go out to the waiting-room; but I must see him before he goes off. Major Moon won't mind if I come, Barney, will he?”

“Not a bit, I don't suppose,” said Barnes. “And if he did, you can wind him round your little finger.”

“Yes, I believe the old boy's got quite a crush on her,” said Woods, as Esther departed. “It was that night that she and William fixed things up. I went in afterwards and she was in the bunk with Major Moon, and he was looking at her as though she were made of—of treacle and Devonshire cream,” said Woody, laughing, harking back to their supper. “I'm not surprised, because she really did look perfectly lovely that night, all lit up like a Christmas tree. Well, I must push off to my arduous duties and leave you two love-birds alone.”

Barney could not appear broken-hearted at this suggestion. He sat on the bed with Frederica held closely in his arms, and thought that he had never been so happy in all his life. Even on the night that she had consented to marry him, she had sent a stab of pain and jealousy through his heart with that odd little, sly little glance at Gervase Eden. But now—she refused to have anything to do with Eden, she had promised to marry him, Barney, as soon as they could arrange the wedding.… He took her head in his hands, tilting it back to kiss the long line of her throat. “Oh, Frederica, my little love.…” Elusive, detached, inarticulate, it was only in moments such as this that she would ever be entirely his; but now he held her in his arms and kissed her warm throat and the little round chin and the beautiful Burne Jones mouth. “Frederica, I love you, I need you so.… My sweet, my adorable, my desirable one.…”

Here was language Frederica understood.

CHAPTER IX

1

W
illiam was lying on a wheeled stretcher when Cockrill arrived and, losing his way, blundered into the anæsthetic-room. Sergeant Bray was sitting in a corner in a white coat, counting over instruments with an air of deep concentration and apparently only for the pleasure of jumbling them up together and sorting them out again. He favoured the Inspector with a reassuring nod of the head. Cockie cast his hat and mackintosh into a corner and stood rather uncomfortably looking down at the patient. The etiquette of an operating theatre was outside his sphere of experience. William lifted his head from the pillow, smiled wanly and said: “Hallo!”

“Hallo, my boy,” said Cockrill.