3 The Surgeon's Blade

by Faith Mortimer

  Robert put his foot down on the accelerator in anger. Peter could surely only have come to warn Libby about something. Robert wondered just what the something was, and had Peter seen him tonight? Muttering to himself, Robert swore. More people meant more problems to overcome, but there was one good thing that had happened today. Libby had finally decided to give Nigel the elbow. Robert really didn’t know what she had seen in the creep in the first place.

  Chapter 34

  The next day was very typical of an English summer. Libby drew back her curtains to a grey sky, swollen with dark and heavy-looking clouds. Vehicles were moving along her road with full headlights on. The noise which had wakened her was car tyres as they swished over the soaking tarmac. She groaned and once more asked herself why hadn’t she sold up and moved abroad to live? Most hospitals in the world were crying out for experienced nurses, and sometimes she wished desperately to get away from weeks and weeks of awful weather. It wasn’t that she loathed the odd wet day. It was just that very often one wet day let to another and another.

  With this depressing consideration in her mind she turned her thoughts to Nigel. He had insisted on coming round to see her later that day despite all her efforts to put him off. She knew she was being bamboozled into seeing him, but he had sounded kind and loving over the telephone. She had agreed meekly because she had yet to tell him it was all over.

  Now, she needed to get through the day at work, drive home and await his arrival. What a bugger, she thought as she dashed into her bathroom to take a shower. She only hoped he would understand they were not suited after all, and they could carry on as just good friends. Somehow though, she had a niggle of a suspicion that things would not go her way at all. After towelling her hair dry, she gave a shiver as she put on clean clothes. Today was so unlike summer. Cold, wet and dreary – maybe she would look into working abroad after all. Perhaps if she met Robert’s cousin, Diana, she would ask her about Cyprus. 300 days of sunshine a year? Now that was worth it!

  ~~~~~

  The morning flew by with a full quota of theatre cases. Both Lisa and Libby were working the afternoon shift together, and as the afternoon drew to a close, Lisa finally asked Libby why she was acting like a cat on a hot tin roof.

  “I’ve never seen you like this before. Is everything all right?” Lisa asked when there was a lull in the frantic activity.

  “Actually, yes and no. I’ve finally made up my mind. Nigel’s not the man of my dreams, and I’m going to tell him tonight. So I’m a bit hot and bothered about it all. You know what he’s like. He’s quite capable of throwing all his surgeon’s instruments out of the pram!”

  She looked at Lisa whose face broke into a broad grin. “Are you? Uh-ho! I don’t envy you, my girl.” She gave her a quick hug. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll see reason once you’ve talked things over. He’s intelligent, and he’s hardly likely to murder you! Ring me when he’s gone, if you want to talk.”

  “I might just do that, depending on how he reacts and what time he leaves.” She gave a sheepish grin. “This time tomorrow, I’ll be a free woman again. All I need to do is work out what I want from life. Do I want to be married and settled down or live on my own, as it seems I’m destined to do? I might even go and work abroad for a stint.”

  Lisa peered into her friend’s face. “Don’t be like that. You will meet someone. You can hardly fail not too with your looks. Look at your pilot friend. He was smitten when he first met you, and don’t tell me you weren’t interested. Once this is all over, you can always decide whether to have a relationship with him. Do ring me tonight once Nigel’s gone. I won't sleep until I know it’s all settled.”

  “Okay, as long as it’s not too late. Pregnant ladies need their rest,” she said, giving her a gentle poke in the stomach. “Have you felt it move yet?”

  Lisa laughed. “No, it’s far too early! By the way, have you told Jem about Nigel yet?”

  “Yes. He knows everything and was quite un-PC about it.”

  Lisa giggled. “Good. Jem knows what is best for you, even if you don’t. Oh look, there’s Nigel now.” She moved away from Libby towards the surgeon who had just walked up to the nurses’ station. “Good afternoon.”

  “Afternoon, Lisa. Libby – just to tell you that unless anything important crops up, I’ll be over about eight tonight.”

  Chapter 35

  Peter glanced nervously around him before looking Jem properly in the eye, as if making sure there was no one else to overhear their conversation.

  “Relax, Peter. There’s no one near us. The pub’s pretty empty at the moment. Most people have gone home for the night. Would you prefer to sit further away from the door? The table in the corner near the inglenook fireplace is empty.”

  Peter looked relieved and nodded as Jem stood up indicating they should move. “Come on then. Let’s get settled. Fancy a pint? I’ll get these.”

  Jem wandered over to the bar, making a comment to someone he knew on his way. He leaned on the bar while the barmaid pulled a couple of pints and then weaved his way back through the low tables to where Peter sat waiting. Although Jem knew Peter well, there were times when Peter was reluctant to talk about anything, let alone something as sensitive as Jem thought he had to impart. So far, all Jem knew was that Peter had something on his mind, and he presumed it concerned Libby.

  “I need to tell you Libby’s friend Robert is joining us, Peter. He should be here soon. Now, although you don’t know him, Libby does, and she trusts him. We want to ask you a couple of questions, if that’s all right.”

  Peter sat and stared at Jem with a puzzled expression on his face. “Why?” he eventually asked.

  “Well, Libby thought she saw you at her place the other night. If it was you, she wondered what you were doing there and why.”

  Peter’s eyes darted around the pub, and he swallowed before replying. “I was going to talk to her, but I lost my nerve.” He picked up a beer mat and began fiddling with it.

  Jem spoke with a gentle voice as he once again addressed a clearly anxious Peter. “Why was that? Libby’s nice and friendly. She wouldn't do anything to spite you.”

  “I wanted to warn her about that man.” He kept his face averted, turning the mat over and over in his hand.

  Jem eyes narrowed. “Which man is that? Do you mean Robert or someone else? Tell me.”

  “That night that little nurse was attacked. She looked like a lot like Libby, and I got confused. He might have a thing about blonde nurses.”

  Jem was patient as he waited for Peter to explain more. When he didn’t, he spoke in a soft, low voice. “Peter, what exactly did you see? Was it the attacker? Did you see him attack the nurse that night?

  “Not exactly.” Peter paused and frowned as if remembering what had happened. Eventually he looked up and tossed the beer mat back onto the table. “I wasn’t meant to be there, but I came back that night to fetch a magazine from my locker. That’s when I saw him – as I took a shortcut past the teaching block. I know all the doctors here. I’ve got a good memory for faces, and I know he wasn’t one of the regular ones.” Peter rocked his chair back and forth, alternating between the front and back legs.

  Jem nodded. “Indeed you have – one of the best memories I’ve ever known. Go on.”

  “Well, I wondered why he was there, you see. When we have locums they generally work during the day. There was no reason why he should have been in that part of the hospital either, as there’s nothing there at night. But that’s not what concerned me.”

  “No? So what was it then?”

  “He was wearing a wig and stage make-up. Not a mask as some people seem to think.”

  Jem stared at him. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I know all the colours actors wear on their faces. I’m very good at making up at my drama group, and everyone asks me to do them when there’s a production on. I’ve used Ben Nye make-up for years because it is proper theatrical make-up. Their kits contain expert componen
ts that produce professional results on the stage. I won’t work with anything else. You see, Nye’s formulas go on velvety smooth, and they stay on for hours. This man was wearing a blended crème based foundation with crème eye shadow and lip colour. He’s not as good as me in applying it, as his eyebrows didn’t look quite right. I thought they were a bit too thin.”

  “What about the wig?”

  “It looked like a standard issue from any department store. Dark hair, quite short and he’d used a medium to tan foundation on his skin.”

  “How can you be sure he was wearing all this?”

  Peter shrugged. “I just know. People say I have an eye for detail and this was definitely someone wearing stage make-up.”

  “Not a mask then? That’s what the police think.”

  “No. I’m almost 100 per cent sure this was simply stage make-up.” Peter tilted his chair back and stole a look at the nearby window.

  Jem nodded as he listened. He believed Peter. He may have been considered as an odd fellow to get to know, but he had always been honest with Jem. He was about to ask Peter another question, when he let his chair drop back to stand on all four legs and suddenly stood up. Jem sat back in surprise.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I…ah. I just remembered I’m supposed to be somewhere else. I…I’m sorry, but I can’t stay to meet Libby’s friend. Just tell her I am sorry I surprised her like that. I never meant to. I was going to tell her to be careful, but it doesn’t matter now as you can.”

  Jem was left sitting with his mouth slightly open at Peter’s rapid departure. It was the oddest thing. Was it possible Peter didn’t want to meet Robert and if so, why not?

  Chapter 36

  Nigel arrived home from the hospital early in the evening. His theatre list that afternoon had been cut down for once, and with no afternoon clinic, he had found time to dictate his notes for his secretary so he could leave late that afternoon. Traffic was light as he sped down the dual carriageway in his Porsche, and he contemplated his forthcoming date with Libby. It seemed ages since they had enjoyed an evening in each other’s company, and he was looking forward to it. He would take a quick shower, change into some comfortable clothes, and pass an hour or so with Stella before leaving his apartment.

  The only problem he could foresee was when he eventually explained to Stella that he was going out – alone – and visiting Libby. Having Stella stay with him had its own good moments. Despite any rancour during their early married years, Nigel considered time a great healer, and these days they got on much better. They had actually rekindled past mutual interests, and as he had thought many times during the past week or so, Stella now often took the lead during their sexual activity.

  It all boiled down to sex, he thought, as he geared down on approaching his apartment block. When they were at university together, their sexual relationship had been one of a common healthy appetite. During the years when they were married and both were pursuing their careers, Nigel sensed a cooling and waning on Stella’s part and turned towards extra marital activity among their joint friends, colleagues and quite often his patients. Nigel found Stella’s friends and colleagues to be easy targets. They were often unattached and with healthy sexual cravings of their own. His patients were often more difficult to seduce, but over the years Nigel had found an easy, if prohibited, way round that. He wasn’t a qualified doctor for nothing.

  HBut having great sex with Stella was not what Nigel was after. He appreciated having her all right, but because she was free and available, there wasn’t the challenge that he so enjoyed. Neither was it illegal.

  He parked the car and made his way over to the lift. He clutched a bouquet of summer lilies: tall, wicked-looking spikes with an exotic and heady perfume. Stella adored presents of any sort, and Nigel hoped the simple gift would go half-way to placating her once he explained he needed to go out. If not, he thought with a shrug of the shoulders, then it was too bad. Despite their newfound rapport, Stella wasn’t what he needed that evening.

  She must have been watching from the living room window. Before he found time to insert his key, she threw open the door and exclaimed with pleasure on catching sight of the flowers.

  “Darling, how wonderful! After roses, lilies are always my favourite. How are you? Had a good day?” She enveloped him in a waft of scent and kissed him full on the mouth. He suppressed a laugh as he contemplated what her reaction would have been if he had said they were not for her but for Libby. She was dressed in a short red skirt showing inches of curvy thigh and a skimpy, almost see-through, top.

  “Not too bad. It’s good to finish early. I could do with a drink though.”

  “Come through while I fix us one. What’ll you have – a whisky or gin?”

  “To tell you the truth, I’d like a beer. There’s some in the bottom of the fridge.”

  Nigel dumped his case in the hall and followed Stella towards the kitchen. He noticed she had prepared a tray of canapés and immediately felt a little guilty because of what he was about to tell her.

  “They look good. Are they for us or are you expecting others?” he said, indicating the display.

  “Silly, of course they’re just for us. I’d have told you if we were expecting company.” She snuggled nearer as she handed him his beer, her unfettered, full breasts brushing against his arm. “I thought we’d stay in for once and forego dinner out. I’m going to cook fillet steak for us. How does that sound, darling?”

  “It sounds wonderful,” he said, taking the beer and walking through to the living room. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to cry off as I’m going out tonight.” He crossed over to the huge picture window glancing down at the scene below.

  Stella joined him, pouting at his words. “Oh Nigel. Can’t it wait? I was so looking forward to having a quiet evening in. We’ve been out to so many restaurants, and I wanted to play the little wife for you tonight.”

  Nigel smiled, knowing full well what she had in mind. At any other time it would have been appealing. How on earth was he going to tell her just who he was seeing? He tensed. This was becoming ridiculous, he was an adult. She knew about Libby. She had known about her almost from the first time they had gone out together. What was the point in being divorced if Stella still acted as if they were still married?

  “Sorry, darling. I know you’ve gone to a lot of trouble, but business can’t be helped. Tell you what. We’ll have the canapés, and I’ll leave here as late as I can. How about that? Say about seven thirty?” he said in a smooth voice while casting a quick look at his Rolex. “That gives us a nice relaxing couple of hours, hmm?”

  “I suppose if it is work, then I can’t begrudge you the time.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “It doesn’t matter. I can always go over what I’m delivering tomorrow.”

  “Of course. Your paper on ‘Caesarean section for the primigravida mother and the psychological ramifications’. I’m looking forward to your lecture. It’s surprising, as in the States, Caesarean rates are actually falling, yet here in the UK, they’re considering allowing first-time mothers the choice of either a C-section or a natural birth. I would have thought it would be the other way round.”

  Nigel wanted to draw her away from the real reason he was going out that night. Being a coward, he preferred an easy life, and if Stella thought he was meeting a work buddy, then so much the better. “Come and sit down, tell me all about your day.” He patted the seat next to him on the sofa and drew her down. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

  ~~~~~

  Gunning the Porsche down the road, Nigel knew he was going to be late. After two glasses of chilled Chablis and a fat marijuana joint, Stella had become been wildly amorous. Once she sat astride him, and he realised she wasn't wearing any panties, he knew he was lost. He had been aroused at once, and as she ground herself down with complete and utter abandon onto him, he ejaculated within minutes. Relaxed after the sex, it was hard to drag himself towards the bedroom and shower. Stella was becoming a real
sex fiend, and he almost expected her to follow him into the tiled wet room and demand he make passionate love to her once again. He tore off his remaining few clothes and stepped under the hot water, a fully-pressurised jet playing down on his head.

  He was going to get away with it but only just – Stella was ugly when jealous. For some reason, she didn’t recognise him and Libby as an item. Initially, when Nigel had tried to explain that they were going to live together permanently, Stella either changed the subject or laughed.

  “How many times have I heard you say that, my love? You always return to me. You’ve been shagging your way through the women of the world ever since I first met you. But it never means anything because you never get them to say 'yes' and agree to move in with you, so you always stay home. Darling, it hardly matters now. I’m well used to your little games. So let’s stop pretending, eh?”

  How many times had he come near to it? Really near? He tried to remember, and the years clouded his mind. He couldn’t remember whom he had planned his life with. This time though, he was going to make it with Libby. He patted the pocket of his jacket, making sure he had remembered to bring that item that would make tonight extra special. The song was still going through his head as he walked up her path to the front door to her ground-floor flat, “You're mine, you belong to me, you, I will never free you, you're here with me to stay, you're mine, you are mine completely.”