The Pearl of Penang

by Clare Flynn

  When they had gone, Evie set the house boy to work to gather the medical supplies and went into the sparsely furnished room that evidently served as her husband’s office. At the desk she picked up the telephone, called the exchange and asked to be connected to the Wellington estate. The tuan, Freddie Reynolds agreed to alert the local doctor and promised to be at Batu Lembah himself within an hour.

  The rest of the night passed in a blur for Evie as she paced up and down, waiting for the rescue party to return from the forest. The house boy, Ahmad, was a willing helper. He stayed on hand and before Evie needed to ask, he was ready with a fresh pot of tea.

  In an effort to distract herself, she picked up the copy of the Straits Times that Doug must have been reading earlier in the day. It was full of news of the British and Australian defeat of the Italians at Tobruk in North Africa. Evie pushed the paper away, unable to read it. Doug must have been sitting here at this table reading this paper, blissfully unaware that he was about to have an accident. For the umpteenth time, Evie prayed that he would prove to be unharmed. Perhaps a sprain, cuts and bruises, a broken limb even. But, please God, let it be nothing more serious, like a broken neck or a spinal injury.

  As the dawn broke, she grew even more restless. Frustrated not to be waiting at the top of the shaft when they brought her husband up, she paced back and forth in a stew of anxiety.

  It was almost noon when the rescue party returned, carrying Doug on a stretcher. Evie rushed down the steps of the bungalow and ran to meet them.

  ‘Is he all right? How badly hurt is he?’

  Frank Hyde-Underwood took her by the arm and tried to steer her back towards the bungalow. Evie jerked away from him and leaned over the stretcher. Doug, unconscious, was covered by a cotton sheet, soaked with blood where his legs were. His face was bathed in sweat and streaked with blood. His sun-baked skin was as pale as the sheet that covered him and his hair was matted.

  Frank put an arm around Evie to hold her back. ‘They need plenty of room, Mrs Barrington. The doc wants to move your husband straight to the hospital in Butterworth. His leg’s badly damaged.’

  ‘Why is he unconscious? Is he going to die?’ A wave of fear crashed into her.

  Frank’s expression was stern. ‘He’s in a great deal of pain. Getting him out of that shaft wasn’t easy for him. Your husband’s an extremely brave man. Once we got him out the doc gave him a shot of morphine to knock him out for a while until he can be treated.’

  ‘So it’s his leg? Nothing else?’

  ‘The doc doesn’t think so. Just cuts and bruises.’

  Evie watched as the stretcher bearers walked slowly with their burden towards Doug’s truck. They laid him, still on the stretcher, onto the open truck-bed and the doctor climbed up beside him, along with one of the Tamil workers. Reggie Hyde-Underwood jumped into the cab and started the engine.

  ‘I’ll drive us there, Mrs Barrington,’ said Frank, indicating Reggie’s car.

  ‘No! I’m going on the truck with him.’

  She clambered onto the truck-bed opposite the doctor, and asked, ‘His leg’s broken?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. He was lucky not to have broken his neck as well. It looks like he smashed into an overhanging rock on the way down, took a hammering from that and carried on falling, landing badly, feet first. His left leg seems to have taken the full impact and his whole body weight so it’s a very serious break. But I’m just the local quack. Simple fractures, cuts and bruises and mild doses of malaria are about my limit. We’ll need to see what they say at the hospital.’

  ‘But all the blood?’

  ‘Extensive lacerations where he hit the rock. But none seem to be very deep. But we won’t know until they examine him in Butterworth. The light was poor and I couldn’t get a proper look. The priority is to get him to hospital.’

  The doctor wouldn’t be drawn any further, so Evie could do no more than hold her unconscious husband’s hand as they bumped along the road to Butterworth.

  An anxious time followed as she waited with the Hyde-Underwood brothers in the corridor of the hospital while the doctors examined Doug. Evie tortured herself with wondering what was happening behind the closed doors to the trauma unit.

  After more than an hour, a white-coated doctor approached her and introduced himself as Dr Van Den Bergh. His expression was grim and Evie’s heart skipped a beat, fearing that he was about to tell her that Doug was dead.

  ‘Your husband has sustained multiple fractures to his left leg, Mrs Barrington. He’s fortunate not to have broken his neck or damaged his spine as well.’

  Evie felt a rush of relief. It was only a broken leg. People broke arms and legs all the time. Doug was clearly in a lot of pain but it could have been so much worse. She saw the doctor’s face was radiating discomfort.

  ‘What else?’ She was frightened. ‘There’s something else.’

  The doctor sucked his teeth and said, ‘It’s one of the worst injuries I ever seen. The entire tibial plateau is shattered - that’s the area under the knee cap, and his upper and lower leg bones and ankles are smashed into several pieces. The bones have pierced the skin in several places. The lacerations, the nature of the break and the fact that he has been lying with open wounds in the midst of the jungle means infection is inevitable. I’m afraid we’re going to have to amputate or he will likely die of blood poisoning.’

  Her vision blurred and she felt her legs weaken. The doctor indicated a chair and drew another over and positioned it in front so he could face her as he spoke. Frank and Reggie stood behind Evie, listening.

  ‘What exactly do you mean? Why can’t you put his leg in plaster?’

  ‘The breaks are too numerous and too severe for that to be possible. And even if it were, there’s still the probability of infection from the lacerations and the exposed bones. He’s been lying for hours with open wounds in the jungle. There’s a strong possibility of osteomyelitis setting in – an infection in the bone itself. In fact, I’d go so far as to say infection is a certainty. That’s why we have to remove the affected area before the poison can spread and take over his entire body, which would mean certain death.’ He looked her straight in the eye. ‘I’m sorry to be so blunt, but you need to understand the gravity of the situation.’

  Evie gasped, bile rising in her throat. It was as if she had been flayed, her body unprotected by skin, her nerves jangling and raw. ‘Does he know? Have you told him?’

  The doctor nodded. ‘Yes. And that’s the problem. He’s refused permission for us to perform the amputation.’

  Evie wanted to howl. ‘If his leg is removed, couldn’t he have an artificial limb fitted?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve told him that. Given time, he should be able to walk again with a prosthetic limb.’ He paused to draw breath. ‘I understand you have a young family, so Mr Barrington has much to live for.’

  ‘Let me be sure I’ve understood this properly. You’re saying if he doesn’t permit you to remove his crushed leg, he will die?’

  The doctor nodded slowly. ‘Almost certainly. I’m sorry.’

  ‘And even though you’ve explained that, he’s told you he doesn’t want you to do it?’

  The doctor looked down. ‘Yes.’ He raised his eyes to meet hers. ‘I need you to try to convince him to let us go ahead.’

  ‘You’re positive it’s the only way to save his life?’

  ‘Absolutely certain.’

  ‘Then you must do it. Whether he likes it or not.’

  ‘I can’t. Not if he withholds his consent. We can’t force a man of sound mind to undergo the amputation of a limb against his will.’

  ‘But in war they must do it all the time. Look at the last war. There were so many amputees.’

  ‘In the heat of the battlefield and possibly if a man was unconscious and unable to give consent and it was a matter of urgency, but your husband is conscious and has had a full explanation of the gravity of his situation. I have shown him the X-rays and he is adamant he do
esn’t want his leg removed.’ He gave a little sigh. ‘To tell you the truth, if anything, I was more explicit about the consequences with him than I have been with you. Our only hope is that you can prevail upon him.’

  Evie jumped up and ran into the side room. She bent over the big metal sink, retching. The loss of his leg was doubtless a terrible blow for a man like Douglas but the prospect of him dying was unthinkable. She was carrying an unbearable weight of responsibility. It was like being trapped under water.

  Evie took big gulps of air and told herself to hold together for Doug’s sake. Later there would be time for tears. Right now she had to be stronger than she knew how.

  ‘May I go in?’ she asked the waiting Dr Van Den Bergh, hearing the tremor in her own voice.

  ‘Yes, but not for long. We’ll need to give him more morphine soon to deal with the pain.’ The doctor stood up, his face showing his exhaustion.

  In an odd detachment from the reality of Doug’s condition, she wondered whether the doctor had been on duty throughout the night and how often he had to break news like this to relatives.

  ‘I’m sorry to place all this on you, Mrs Barrington. But time is critical.’

  ‘How long do we have?’

  The doctor’s voice was steady. ’Once septicaemia sets in he’ll be unlikely to last more than forty-eight hours.’

  Numb and barely able to think straight, Evie nodded and followed the doctor into the room. ‘Five or ten minutes,’ he said before leaving her alone to face her husband.

  Doug was lying on his back, eyes closed, his brow furrowed with pain, his face ashen. Evie stood beside the bed for a moment, uncertain what to do or say. She reached for his hand.

  ‘Evie,’ he said, opening his eyes.

  She bent over him and dropped a kiss on his brow. It was ice cold but clammy with sweat. With her handkerchief she wiped his forehead. His skin felt as though death was imminent.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ve made an utter hash of things. I went crashing through the jungle without paying attention to what was under my feet. I should have known better.’ He closed his eyes for a moment and winced with pain. ‘I’m a damned fool.

  She stroked his brow. ‘Never mind all that. The doctor has told me he needs your permission to perform an operation.’

  ‘Damned quack. Wants to cut my leg off. I told him to bugger off.’

  She tried to keep the fear out of her voice. ‘But Doug, the doctor knows what he’s doing. He says if he doesn’t amputate, your life is in grave danger. Worse than that. He says you will almost certainly die.’

  ‘My life’s over anyway.’ He turned his head away on the pillow. ‘Whether he chops it off or not I’ll never be whole again.’ He turned back to look at her again. ‘I’d be a cripple for the rest of my life. I can’t live like that.’

  Evie could hold back the tears no longer. The dam had broken. She grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly in her own. ‘Please, Doug. Don’t do this. You have so much to live for. Little Hugh. And Jasmine. And me. We need you.’

  He sighed. ‘They’re not taking my leg. I’ll go to my grave with it. I intend to stay whole. How can I run the estates from a wheelchair?’

  ‘The surgeon says you can be fitted with an artificial leg. You can learn to walk again.’

  He snorted derisively. ‘He’s no idea what’s involved in running a rubber estate. I’m an active man. That’s my life. You know that, Evie. I won’t be carved up like a piece of meat. I’d rather be dead.’

  He looked away from her. ‘Anyway it’s right that I should be punished for what I did to my brother. My death isn’t going to be as quick as Bertie’s, but it will be soon.’

  Her tears were driven by anger as well as sorrow. ‘Don’t speak like that. You were not to blame for your brother’s death. You were a little boy. You meant your brother no ill.’

  ‘I’m too tired to argue. Please go, my darling, so they can give me another shot.’ His face contorted with pain and he clutched her hand. ‘I’m grateful to have a chance to say goodbye to you. Seeing you again was the only thing that stopped me using my gun to shoot myself when I was in that hole. Now go.’

  She started to protest, but recognising that his pain was clearly intolerable, she bent over him and kissed him again. ‘I’ll be back when you’ve had some rest.’

  He reached for her hand. ‘Please respect my wishes, Evie. If you care at all for me, let me go the way I want to go.’

  The door opened and a nurse entered. ‘You’ll have to leave, Mrs Barrington. Your husband needs to sleep. You can come back tomorrow morning.’

  Tears streaming down her face, Evie moved towards the door.

  His voice was faint as she touched the handle. ‘And thank you, Evie. Thank you for putting up with me. For giving me my son. I know you’ll bring him up to be a better man than me.’

  Her heart breaking, she pushed the door open and left him to the nurse and the comfort of a hypodermic needle.

  Dr Van den Bergh was waiting in the corridor. He looked at her anxiously and she shook her head. ‘I’ll try again when he wakes up,’ she said.

  The doctor frowned. He didn’t need to say anything. She could read in his eyes that he was thinking it may already be too late.

  ‘Isn’t there anything else you can do to stop infection?’

  ‘We’re doing all we can. We’re giving him sulpha drugs – the strongest anti-microbials we have. But his natural resistance is low because of the loss of blood and the stress of the pain. He was lying injured for several hours before he was brought to the surface. Time is the enemy here, Mrs Barrington. We’ll give him morphine to reduce his pain and help him sleep while we let the drugs try to do their work. You should go home and get some sleep yourself. You need to think of your baby. And Mr Barrington tells me you have a little girl. She needs you too. Come back tomorrow morning.’ He placed a hand on her arm. ‘Say your prayers that after a night’s sleep, he may change his mind.’

  Evie allowed herself to be ushered out of the hospital to return to George Town with Frank and Reggie.

  She wanted to be alone, to fold her baby in her arms and never let him go. What kind of a world had she brought him into? A world where God would allow a man like Doug, so strong, fit and healthy, to be cut down in his prime.

  To her relief, the brothers left her on the doorstep and didn’t offer to come inside. It was already eight in the evening. Incredible to believe that only the previous evening she’d been sitting in the garden here with her guests, unaware of Doug’s plight. In that brief time her entire world had been changed irrevocably.

  Aunty Mimi opened the door, eyes brimming with tears. ‘Solly for Tuan. I light many candles in temple today for him.’ She looked away. ‘For you too, Mem,’ she said, before disappearing into the kitchen.

  Mary Helston was waiting in the drawing room. She opened her arms and wrapped Evie in an embrace.

  ‘My poor darling. Frank called me from the hospital and told me what’s happened.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘How is Doug?’

  ‘He wants to die. He’s decided to die. I need a stiff gin.’ She moved towards the sideboard but Benny appeared and did the honours, while proffering his good wishes for the tuan. Evie collapsed into a chair.

  ‘It’s food not alcohol you need, Evie. When did you last eat?’ Mary’s face was full of concern.

  Evie waved her hand dismissively. ‘Where’s Jasmine?’

  ‘Upstairs helping Susan bath the babies. She’s anxious to see you, but I asked if I could have a few moments with you first.’

  ‘What does she know?’

  ‘Just that her daddy has had an accident and is in the hospital.’

  Evie put her head in her hands. ‘How the hell am I going to tell an eight-year-old her father’s going to die.’

  Mary closed her eyes. ‘Oh, Lord, Evie. Surely it won’t come to that?’

  ‘Short of a miracle it will. Even if I manage to change his mind in the morning it may sti
ll be too late to prevent blood-poisoning.’ She ran her fingers through her tangled hair. He’s made up his mind to die. Doug is an obstinate man and he refuses to contemplate losing a leg. He thinks death is preferable.’

  ‘You have to tell her the truth. If you dress it up she’s going to be even more shocked when she finds out. Tell her he’s had a terrible accident and prepare her that he may not make it. Children are more resilient than we give them credit for.’

  Evie began to cry softly. ‘I don’t think I’m strong enough to get through this.’

  ‘Yes, you are. You are the strongest person I know.’ Mary gave her another hug. ‘And tomorrow, once he’s got over the shock, he may look at things differently.’

  ‘Tomorrow may already be too late. I need to talk to Jasmine.’

  26

  Telling Jasmine what was happening to her father was the hardest thing Evie had ever had to do, but the child made it easier. The little girl listened solemnly, then said, ‘I’ll be like you. We’ll both have no daddy.’ Lip trembling, she was clearly struggling not to cry, and Evie’s heart lurched as she gathered her step-daughter into her arms.

  ‘We’ll have to be strong for each other and for Hughie,’ Evie said, stroking the little girl’s hair. ‘Sometimes I’ll be very sad and I’ll need you to cheer me up and sometimes you’ll be sad and I’ll try to cheer you up.’

  ‘What happens if we’re both sad at the same time?’

  ‘Oh, my darling!’ She squeezed the child tight against her breast. ‘We’ll have to hope that Hugh can cheer us both up.’

  Jasmine nodded, her face grave. ‘Hughie’s always good at making me smile. He’s a very happy baby. He makes me happy too.’