The Private Wing

by Claire Rayner

  “Oh, yes, you nut!” Tricia grinned at her. “And yes. I have been sulking and yes I’m sorry, and yes I accept your apology, and yes let’s forget it. OK?”

  “Oh, thank God for that!” Ngaire cried, and threw her arms around Tricia so violently that she nearly shoved her backwards against the window, and Tricia laughed and cried out in protest, and fended her off. And a door along the corridor opened and someone shouted, “Shut up, will you? I’m trying to get some sleep – ” and then slammed, and they both giggled softly, and went quietly along the corridor to Ngaire’s room, to sit and drink strong very sweet tea and gobble great doorsteps of hot buttered toast and jam, and talk until it was almost dark.

  And long before the hospital slid into the uneasy sleep that carried it from midnight to dawn, Tricia had, with Ngaire’s pleading to encourage her, telephoned David and talked for a long time. They were talking still, rather later than midnight, but then sitting in the cool dimness under the “Kissing Tree” with Tricia wrapped in David’s heavy cardigan and warm arms and the marvellous feeling of being loved that he always brought with him to comfort her.

  She went to bed that night feeling a good deal happier than she had when she had come off duty. The last thought she carried into sleep was the fact that the next morning Sister Cleland was off for the day and Dr Kidd had booked a lumbar puncture on one of the patients in Cavanaugh’s caseload, with which Tricia would have to assist while Bridie carried out Sister’s duties. And in spite of herself, it was a rather more pleasant thought than she felt it should be. Remembering the things David had whispered, out there in the shadow of the great beech tree.

  “Ah, come on, Trish! be a real old pal, won’t you? What harm can it do you, anyway?” Ngaire’s voice softened to a familiar wheedling note. “It’s not as though it’d make all that much difference to you, now would it? You said yourself you’ve decided not to go out at all this next couple of weeks so that you can swot for Finals – though I still think you’re mad, at that – so why not?”

  “Because I’d have to be out of my mind to get involved again with one of your crazy schemes. I’ve had enough experience in the past of what happens, and I’m not about to get myself into any more trouble than I am already.” Tricia rolled over on to her back, and closed her eyes against the brilliance of the sun. “What time is it?”

  “Almost twelve,” Ngaire sighed deeply. “It’s not as though it was likely there’d be any problems, anyway – ”

  “I’ll have to go and get into uniform in half an hour. Hell, it’s the first real sunbathing day we’ve had this Spring, and I’ve got to be on duty all afternoon and evening.” Tricia yawned widely. “There’s no justice in this world.”

  “Nor friendship,” Ngaire said mournfully.

  “Now just you listen to me, Ngaire Taylor!” Tricia sat up so sharply that the shoulder strap of her swimsuit slipped, and a couple of medical students lazing on the other side of the small swimming pool, that had been built for the staff out of a legacy left by a grateful patient, whistled and called at her. She waved back a little irritably and turned again to Ngaire.

  “What you’re asking me to do is out of the question on any number of counts. First, I’m in enough trouble with the powers-that-be as it is. As far as I can tell, Cleland sends a bad report on me to the office if I so much as break a thermometer. Twice since I’ve been on the floor I’ve had to go to the office and listen to Matron lecture me on the right way to behave. Twice in a month! I haven’t had so many bad reports in the whole time I’ve been here, I swear it. If I risk doing anything as daft as this so near to Finals, I’d probably get myself scuppered for good and all. Damn it all, suppose a case came in? Then what? I’ll have been on duty all afternoon and evening anway, so I’ll be half asleep long before midnight – and I wouldn’t have a clue what to do – ”

  “Yes, you would. You’re a natural on theatres, you know you are. You’ve always said so yourself – ”

  “Liking theatre work and being able to cover for someone are two quite different things,” Tricia said firmly. And then when she saw the miserable expression on Ngaire’s face, added uncertainly, “Besides, I’ve got a date.”

  “Oh, you liar!”

  “Not at all!” Tricia looked away, squinting across at the group of boys on the far side of the pool. “I’ve got a date with one of the senior students – ”

  “Trish this is me, Ngaire, remember? You told me what you’d arranged with David about studying, and knowing you, you’d never do anything so sneaky.”

  Tricia looked sideways at her, and then sighed. “Oh, all right, I haven’t got a date. I could have, I suppose – ”

  “Of course you could!” Ngaire put her hand out and pinched Tricia’s arm affectionately. “I’ve always said you’re a cracker, and that if old David hadn’t turned up so early I’d be hard put to it to compete with you – ”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere – ” and then, seeing the way hope flared in the small freckled face, Tricia finished hastily, “ – except on theatres to cover for you tonight.”

  “Oh, all right,” Ngaire said, and dropped her head. “I suppose you really mean it, so that’s that.”

  “Why can’t one of the others cover for you? Surely one of them’d change?” Tricia said. “You have to take turns at being on call like this, don’t you?”

  “No joy there – I’ve tried it. Mary’s off sick, and young whatsit’s on holiday, and Sister’s away too because she’s got a lot of extra time off due to her, because of the closure of minor ops and the extra work they had in general theatres last month because of it – that’s why I was sent to Private Wing Theatres to help out. I like it better than the General side, and it’s nice being able to see you around.” Ngaire looked up and smiled a little shyly. “Honestly, Trish. I do miss you when we aren’t working near each other, you’re so good for me.”

  “Mmm. Like castor oil,” Tricia said sardonically.

  “No, honestly. Except when you’re being so beastly like now. I keep saying, no cases can come in! I’ve checked. Private maternity is full, and they’ve no booked cases due for the rest of this month, so there can’t be any Caesars – and the forceps deliveries they do on the Floor. Every bed in the Wing is full – ”

  “And don’t I know it,” Tricia said. “We’re run ragged this week – ”

  “So how can there be anything to do but cover the phone, and sit there till midnight? People on call don’t have to stay after that – they can go to bed. So it’s only for an hour and a half. But if you won’t you won’t,” and again she bent her head, and began tugging at the grass, picking succulent stems to chew on and then spit out.

  There was a long pause, and then Tricia said, “Why is it so important, Ny? You haven’t said, you know! I mean, I know that as far as you’re concerned a date with a good looking man is the most important thing in the world, but just to see someone for about half an hour – even for you, that’s a bit over the top isn’t it?

  “Maybe,” Ngaire mumbled, and startled, Tricia rolled over on her front again to peer more closely at Ngaire’s face, bent industriously over her grass picking. “Good God, Ny, you’re crying! I’ve never – what on earth is it? Why is it so important?”

  “Oh, it’s – it doesn’t matter, just a date. Forget it,” Ngaire said with a confusion that was so unusual in her that Tricia worriedly pulled at her shoulder and made her sit up.

  “Now, tell me. Why is it so important? I didn’t listen to you properly before. To be candid, I hardly ever do when you start on about the men in your life. But I’ve never seen you cry over one of them before.”

  Ngaire looked up at her, and sniffed unappetisingly, her eyes red and wet.

  “It’s Pete, you see,” she said simply, as though that explained everything.

  “Who is Pete? And what’s so special about him?” Tricia said impatiently. “And put a move on, Ny, I’ve got to change in a minute.”

  “He’s from home. The merc
hant seaman, remember?” Ngaire quite suddenly went very red and looked away. “I – I’ve known him so long, you see, and he – I – we went out together in Christchurch when we were both at school, and – well, he’ll be at Tilbury docks tonight for just half an hour. They’re only in port three days, and he’s not supposed to have any shore leave – he’s second officer, and he’s needed aboard or something – but he could meet me for half an hour tonight, and I thought – well, Hell, he’s only a guy after all. Forget it. I – we’d both better change, hadn’t we? I’m not too hungry, but there’ll be trouble if we’re late – ” and she jumped to her feet, and tugged her bikini briefs more respectably around her bottom before walking across the grass towards the changing huts.

  “You’re in love, Ny!” Tricia said a little breathlessly, as she hurried after her. “I do believe – aren’t you?”

  “Well, what if I am?” Ngaire turned and said it almost savagely. “I don’t exactly enjoy being in love with a bloody sailor I don’t get the chance to see from one year’s end to the next. And the dear Lord knows I’ve tried hard enough to find someone else to fall in love with all these years here.” She shrugged then. “But there it is. I get a cable from Pete, and I’m all of a tiz, and floating on pink clouds six inches off the ground, and can’t get away for a couple of hours to meet him. And don’t tell me to ask the office for special permission. They know as well as everyone else here the flibberty Ngaire Taylor falls in and out of love with every guy she meets, ha ha isn’t it funny, and they aren’t going to fall over backwards to arrange for me to meet another guy, are they?” she smiled her crooked smile again. “Even if this is the only one that’s for real or is ever likely to be. Oh, hell, forget it. We’d better get dressed.”

  Tricia sat on the edge of one of the anaesthetist’s tall stools, both palms flat on the red sorbo rubber of the operating table pads, and looked slowly around. Above her the big shadowless lamp glowed its deceptive softness, deceptive because of the brilliance with which the light picked out every detail of the area it illuminated. Every fine golden hair in the network of tiny lines on the back of her hands shone clearly in it. Beyond the brightness of the centre in which she sat she could see the gleaming tiles on the walls, the rows of chrome-bright shelves, empty now, but which bore rows of equipment and packs of dressings and all the other trappings of modern surgery when a case was in progress. The tall swab rack and the board beside it on which the pack and swab counts were made for each case, the big glass-fronted cabinets, filled with rows of beautiful, elegant shining instruments. They had a tremendously satisfying effect on the eye, with their patterns of loops and slender blades, curved forceps, wickedly sharp scissors, dumpy little hammers and small bone chisels. Lovely, she thought. So right, in this setting. If only they’d sent me here –

  She sighed sharply then and peered up at the far wall where the big clock whispered the minutes away and creased her forehead in irritation. Ngaire had gone off in a great flurry of excitement – and Tricia had to admit she had never seen her look quite so starry eyed and lovely even though she was dressed only in her uniform, promising solemnly to be back at midnight, in time to take over. And now it was almost a quarter past twelve, and no sign of her. How typical!

  She slid her feet to the floor and began another prowl of the theatres, walking softly from the anaesthetic rooms, with their silent Patient trolleys and science-fiction-designed anaesthetic machines to the sterilising rooms with their gently hissing banks of chrome sterilising tanks, to Sister’s office with its comfortable clutter of surgeon’s armchairs and rickety old coffee table loaded with assorted flower patterned cups and an electric percolator and a biscuit tin; the only human place in the unit, really she thought, though I like the clean perfection. And she took a chocolate biscuit from the tin; being alone in the thick silence like this somehow made her hungry.

  She nearly choked on the crumbs as the shrill peal of the telephone shattered the silence, and she whirled to stare at the instrument on the desk with eyes wide with horror. Oh, no! To have been sitting here for an hour and a half, with no call, or anyone knowing Ngaire and she had committed this almost unforgivable sin of switching on-call duties without permission, only to have the phone ring, now, was too dreadful. And where the hell was Ngaire? She should have been here long ago, Tricia thought wildly, staring agitatedly at the door as though expecting the small cheeky figure to come bouncing through it immediately. But the phone rang insistently on, and still there was no Ngaire and something had to be done –

  Her throat was dry and, considerably hampered by the remains of the chocolate biscuit, she picked up the hand set and said huskily, “P – Private Wing Theatres.”

  “My God, were you asleep?” a thin voice clacked. “This is Dr Kidd. Look, I’ve got to use the theatres quickly. The excision of cerebral tumour from the First Floor that was done this morning – I think he’s slipped a vein tie. The intracranial pressure is building up fast, and I’ve got to release it. I’ll want to trephine – burr holes, right? The neuro team are all heavily involved with a major traffic accident on the general side, so I’ll have to do it. I hope to God you know your neurosurgical routines well, because I can’t pretend I know my way round your neuro theatre all that well. OK? In half an hour, no longer – ”

  “Oh, no – ” Tricia almost yelped it. “No, no you can’t – it’s – not yet. She’ll be back soon, you’ll have to wait, really you will – ”

  “What did you say?” There was a sharp crackle as the voice on the other end of the phone was raised. “Who the hell is that? I am talking to the Theatres, aren’t I?”

  “Yes – yes, you are. But I can’t – oh, my God, I should have known this would happen – ”

  “Who is that? Oh, hell, I’ve no time to waste like this. I’m coming up – ” and the phone crackled and the dialling tone hiccupped and burred loudly in her ear and Tricia stood lumpishly staring at it in horror.

  “Oh, no,” she said again, but the phone burred on, and then she heard a distant rattle and clanging, and knew that the lift had opened outside the Theatres door, and any moment Dr Kidd would come storming in –

  She put the phone down, and closed her eyes and stood there, absolutely rigid. It wouldn’t do any good, but there was nothing else she could think of doing.

  “What in the name of all that’s – what the bloody hell are you doing here?”

  She opened her eyes and stood staring at him, taking in the fact that he was uncharacteristically dressed in a polo necked sweater over creased old slacks, and his usually sleek hair was rumpled. They must have called him out specially, she thought confusedly. That sweater suits him. Yellow’s his colour.

  “You’re not on Theatres, are you?” his voice was rough with impatience.

  “I’m covering for Ngaire. She’s supposed to be on call, but – well, something came up and she asked me to, so I – I must have been mad. She swore she’d be back by midnight, and – oh, I could kill her – ”

  “Well, you’ll just have to get on with it,” he said sharply, and turned away towards the central preparation area of the Theatres. “Where’re the neuro packs?”

  “I don’t know,” she hurried after him. “I’ve done Theatres, as a junior, on the general side, but I’ve never worked these Theatres and – ”

  “You don’t know!” he shouted. “Christ Almighty! What sort of a – how the hell did you think you’d manage when you said you’d cover if you don’t know where anything is?”

  “Ngaire said she’d checked. The Wing’s full, no maternity cases due – she swore nothing could happen – ” Tricia said miserably.

  “Not much! Look, this just isn’t on! I’ll have to call Night Sister and get someone over from the general side, or else they’ll have to call out one of the day staff. I can’t risk – ”

  “Oh, no! you can’t do that! They’ll throw Ngaire out on her ear – both of us – if they find out! You can’t – ”

  “Listen, you young i
diot, when it comes to a patient’s welfare I don’t care if they hang you up by your feet and behead you – the patient comes first. I’ll phone – ”

  “But it won’t do any good!” Tricia cried desperately, running after him as he loped back into the office. “There isn’t anyone else to cover! That’s why we did this stupid thing – there just isn’t anyone, what with people being off sick and – and – you said yourself there’s a major flap over on general theatres, so even if you do call, they won’t be able to send anyone.”

  He stopped, and turned and stared at her, and then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “What have I done to deserve – ” he murmured, and then shook his head, much as a dog shakes water from his pelt when he comes out of a river.

  “OK. OK. We’ll have to cope. Now, come on. Let’s look round this place – instruments? Do you know where they are?”

  She nodded eagerly. “Here – ” and almost slid in her haste as she ran over the terrazzo floor towards the second of the three operating theatres that together made up the Private Wing Unit.

  He followed her, as she fumbled against the wall for the bank of switches, and then the lights sprang on, vividly, bringing into life the tidy quiet theatre, making it look for all the world like a stage set, as though it were cut out of cardboard and cleverly painted.

  He pushed past her, and made for the big instrument cabinets on the far side, and hurried past each one, peering in.

  “General surgery – ENT – eyes – skin – ” he murmured. “Ah – here we are! Trephines, brain suckers – here’s the neuro lot.”

  He tugged the door open. “Right. Do the lot – every bloody instrument in the cabinet. Boil ’em and set up on the biggest trolley you can find in the sterilising room. Go and change first, for God’s sake – you’ll have to get that hair covered, and get gowned up – now hurry! And I’ll start setting in here as soon as I’ve changed.”

  He came back towards her, to where she stood in the doorway, still numb with the shock of trying to take in what was happening, and he stopped for a moment and looked at her very directly – and his eyes were exactly on a level with her own – and said with a little less roughness in his voice, “Well, come on! Don’t stand there looking like a scalded cat. You said you’d cover for your nutty friend, and cover you will. You’ve got some sense, somewhere, so use it. Acting the paralysed with fright bit isn’t going to do much to help a patient with a bleeding point inside his skull, is it? Think what you’re doing, start at the beginning, think out each step logically, and we’ll manage. After all, I’m doing the surgery, so all you’ve got to do is what I tell you. And I’ll be telling you every step of the way. So let’s get on, shall we?”