‘Shall I take him now?’ Richard asked, and sat with his son on his shoulder, rocking him gently. Lyn thought they looked so contented.
There was silence for a while. Richard had a quick peep inside the baby’s nappy, and decided that no change was needed. He rocked a little longer, and then laid the baby carefully in his cot. ‘Perhaps he’ll leave us in peace to have our meal,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Perhaps.’
Merry was now busy in the kitchen annex, laying the table. They would eat in a few minutes. Lyn thought of her past few weeks, of meeting Ross, of being forced to think about things that she had pushed to the back of her mind. It was time to lay ghosts. Richard could help her.
‘You trained with Gavin Bell, my fiancé,’ she stated baldly.
Richard looked at her warily. ‘Yes, I did. I was very sorry to hear that he—’Lyn waved impatiently. ‘I’m getting over it now, Richard. Don’t worry; I’m not going to get upset. But you and he were together, three years ahead of me. I want to know what he was like, how other people got on with him in the hospital.’
She paused, thinking how to explain what she wanted. ‘I was in love with him, I was going to marry him, but I’m now not sure what he was really like. Please, Richard, I need to know.’
She could tell that he wasn’t comfortable with the question. He paused before replying, and Lyn said with a touch of humour, ‘I know what you’re doing. You’re being a GP, trying to assess whether the patient should be allowed to know everything.’
‘Don’t think that complete knowledge is bound to free you, Lyn. I’ve had cases when patients demanded to know facts and have then been destroyed by them.’
‘I’ll take my chance,’ she said.
‘Very well. I wouldn’t have said Gavin was a friend, because socially we moved in different circles. He was a very clever doctor, far cleverer than me. He remembered everything, and had no problem studying. He was always on the move, whatever he did. We used to call him Quicksilver.’
Quicksilver. She’d never heard this before. But there again, there were areas of his life that she knew little about. It was a good nickname, so right for him: bright, shining, never still.
‘But?’ she asked.
Richard looked confused. ‘Why but?’
‘Your tone suggested you had reservations about him. What were they?’
‘No, no, I liked him. He was everybody’s friend. He’d help anyone; nothing was too much trouble for him.’
She could tell there was more, but that Richard didn’t want to upset her. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to come to terms with his death. At times I feel almost—resentful of him dying. I feel I didn’t know him.’
Merry had come in, sat by her husband, and taken his hand. ‘Tell her, Richard,’ she said. ‘She deserves to know.’
Richard was still unhappy; Lyn could tell he was picking his words with care. ‘Of all the doctors I trained with… he was the one most likely to get killed in the way he did. For some branches of medicine he was far too impetuous. He was a risk-taker. In some circumstances that’s a good thing; he would have been a good battlefield surgeon, for instance. But not most medicine.’
Richard screwed up his eyes. ‘I think there was a streak of… selfishness in his character. That’s an odd thing to say about a man who helped others so much.’
‘I know exactly what you mean about selfishness,’ Lyn said quietly. ‘Richard, thank you so much for telling me. You don’t know how you’ve helped.’
‘Food,’ said Merry. ‘Richard, you can fetch us a bottle of wine.’
CHAPTER SIX
Because of her baby Merry decided she wouldn’t go to the Halloween Ball, but one of the staff nurses told Lyn all about it. It was to take place in the physiotherapy department’s gymnasium, with all the equipment temporarily moved out. Usually the staff association went to considerable trouble, and the event would be well run and popular.
Lyn forgot her misgivings about going with Melissa, and concentrated on deciding on a costume. She loved dressing up, perhaps because so much of her youth had been spent in drab, functional clothes. Each day she took pride and pleasure in dressing well, and now the idea of pretending to be someone else, someone exotic, thrilled her.
Ross phoned her. ‘Are you going in fancy dress?’ he asked her cautiously. ‘Do we have to?’
‘Yes, I am going in fancy dress, and, yes, you have to as well,’ she told him firmly. ‘You’re not to be a party pooper.’
‘But I’ve no idea what to go as,’ he wailed.
‘Get an idea,’ she told him. ‘One thing is certain: I’m not going to dance with anyone who isn’t dressed up.’
‘I’m supposed to be the SR and you the humble SHO,’ he grumbled. ‘Why don’t you think that everything I say is automatically right?’
‘I do think that everything you say is automatically right. You invited me to a fancy dress ball so I’m coming in fancy dress.’
‘I think I’ll come as Bluebeard. He kept women locked in his castle and disposed of them if they didn’t do exactly as he wished. Would you like to come as one of his slave girls? A costume of nothing but bits of gauze and a pearl choker? That’s an idea I like.’
‘In your dreams,’ she told him. ‘I’ve made up my mind. I’ll come as an Eskimo.’
‘Then I’ll wear my polar-bear suit. Look forward to seeing you anyhow.’
She liked it when he phoned, most of the time they had a cheerful, jokey exchange with no reference to anything serious. Without saying anything, they had both decided that certain matters were best left for the moment.
‘I’m really looking forward to dressing up,’ she told Melissa the next day. ‘Have you decided on a costume yet?’
The question seemed to take Melissa by surprise. ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I’ll—’
‘I was talking to Ross on the phone last night,’ Lyn interrupted. ‘He said he hadn’t quite decided on a costume yet, but he was obviously taking a lot of time to get it right.’
This was rather a perversion of what had actually been said. But it had the desired effect. Melissa stiffened. ‘There’s a costumier’s I know,’ she said. ‘I’ll give them a ring tonight.’
Good. Now, whatever Lyn chose to wear, she wouldn’t have to sit with a Melissa dressed in the latest evening gown. But what would she wear?
‘I want to look especially good,’ she told Merry. ‘All I’ve done recently is work. I want to show I can enjoy myself as well. Going to this ball is a sort of a symbol. And I don’t want a dress that looks good but that I can’t dance in. I want to leap about a bit.’
‘Good idea.’ Merry surveyed her critically. ‘If you’ve got it, flaunt it. Sometimes I think you dress just a bit too conventionally. Make something of those legs and that bust. Let people see them.’
‘Well, up to a point,’ Lyn said.
In the end it was her mother who came up with a suggestion. Her parents had just arrived home from Scotland and she had phoned Lyn for a casual chat. Lyn had told her the problem.
‘No problem, dear. When we were in Mexico a couple of years ago we went to a celebration of the Day of the Dead. You know the Mexicans make a lot of it. Well, a lot of the girls there were wearing what they called a ghost dress. They’re made of some silky material, very thin, and covered with paintings of skeletons and so on. And there’s a big arching headdress to go with it. I bought one, I don’t know why; I’ll certainly never wear it. I’ll send it to you.’
Lyn smiled to herself. Her mother was constantly fancying clothes abroad, buying them, and then realising that never would she dare wear them.
‘Thanks, Ma,’ she said, ‘it sounds just right. Listen, I’m working for an SR who really wants to meet you both. Can we come down some time soon? He’s another wanderer in foreign parts…’
The dress arrived two days later. Lyn took it from its box, shook it out, and blinked a little. It was certainly an exciting dress. She had wanted to wear something startling
, attractive, and this was both of those. The material was a soft, clingy silk, the designs on it bold and pagan.
But it was sleeveless and low cut, and the long skirt was slashed to the top of the right thigh. She took off the blouse and trousers she had been wearing and wriggled into the dress. It did more than fit her; it clung to her. She pulled on the headdress and stared at herself in the full-length mirror. No longer was she a conventionally dressed young lady doctor. She looked like some barbaric queen.
There were more decisions to be taken on the night of the ball. To be safe and proper she should wear a full slip under the dress. But she didn’t want to. The dress just didn’t hang right when she did. It was meant to cling to the body. She threw the slip aside, and compromised by searching her underwear drawer for sturdy bra and briefs, instead of the silky scraps she generally wore.
Ross was working till the last minute; he had phoned her and apologised but explained that there was no way he could pick her up. ‘Got a glioma that must come out,’ he’d said, referring to a brain tumour, ‘and I know it’ll be a long job.’
‘No problem,’ she had said lightly. ‘We’ll meet in the doctors’ lounge. Melissa’s going to wait for us there.’
The medical staff might be going to let their hair down to a certain extent, but there were limits. Nurses and technicians had joyfully agreed to meet in their fancy costumes in pubs near the hospital, but the doctors had felt that appearing like that in public would compromise their dignity. They would meet in the slightly stuffy hospital doctors’ lounge.
Lyn took a taxi to the hospital, wrapped in a long coat and with her headdress in a bag. Then she nipped into the ladies’ cloakroom, made a few last-minute adjustments to her make-up and put on her headdress. There were others in fancy dress around her, and after looking at them she felt slightly better. There was a size-fourteen-or-more nurse in charge somehow crammed into a size twelve fairy’s dress. There was an eighteenth-century lady with the necessary high silver wig, and the equally necessary vast amount of bosom showing. Display seemed to be the order of the day. She walked along to the doctors’ lounge.
Melissa saw her as soon as she entered, and vigorously waved her over. She was dressed as Morticia out of The Addams Family, in a long black dress with a long black wig. Her face was pancake white with heavily made-up eyes and a dark red lipstick. She looked striking. By her side two other people stood as Lyn approached. Melissa was being friendly, putting everyone at their ease. ‘This is Lyn,’ she said, ‘the SHO who does all of my hard work. Lyn, that’s a wonderful dress! This is my father, Sir Sidney Yates.’
Sir Sidney was a tall, smiling bald man, dressed in surgeons’ greens, with an abundance of rather suspect bloodstains. On his belt was hung a selection of silver saws.
‘My daughter loves my title,’ he said, squeezing Lyn’s hand. ‘I think she wants to be Dame Melissa. I couldn’t think of a fancy dress, Lyn, so I came in my working clothes.’
‘And this is my brother Simon,’ Melissa went on. ‘I’m afraid he’s a doctor too.’
There was something a little odd about Melissa’s tone, but Lyn couldn’t quite decide what it was. She turned to shake hands with the third member of the little party. So far he had remained in the background, in the shadow of a pillar. Now he stepped forward and Lyn gasped. Simon Yates was the most beautiful man she had ever seen! He was dressed as Apollo or some other Greek god.
Guessing by the way it hung, Lyn thought the white toga he was wearing was not made out of a sheet. Its whiteness contrasted with the tanned arms and one naked shoulder. His curly blond hair held a little silver circlet. And his face!
‘So pleased to meet you, Lyn,’ he said, ‘and may I say that your dress is truly stunning?’
‘Thank you,’ she mumbled. ‘I like yours too.’
He placed a hand on her arm, and guided her to a seat on a couch as if he were handling delicate porcelain. ‘I’ll get us all something to drink,’ he said. ‘Lyn, what would you like? And I gather a Dr McKinnon will be here soon—do you know what he might like?’
She thought it was a considerate question and suggested they both have a glass of red wine, before she turned to talk to Sir Sidney.
‘My old friend Henry keeping you busy?’ he asked. ‘That man works like a lunatic. You might not see so much of it in the hospital, but he’s on countless committees and so on. I’ve told him that if he doesn’t ease up he’ll end up on my table.’
‘He’s always got time for my little problems,’ she told him truthfully. ‘He’s a very good teacher.’
‘Never learned how to say no to a request. That’s vital if you’re to have a happy doctor’s life, Lyn. Ever thought of a career as a cardiac surgeon?’ She had, but had been discouraged by the competition.
‘It’s hard to get into,’ she pointed out. ‘Everybody wants to be a heart surgeon, and there still seems to be a prejudice against women.’
‘I’m afraid there probably is. What it is, we’re trying to keep quiet the fact that heart surgery is easy. Just plumbing. If there’s a dripping tap in our house, who d’you think gets called to fix it? The real hard medical work is done by people like you and Melissa and Henry.
She decided she liked Sir Sidney. Unlike a number of other consultants she had met, he was not consumed by admiration for his own success.
Simon returned with a tray of drinks, handed them out and sat by her on the couch. ‘I must ask, what are you?’ he said. ‘Or is it just something that you dreamed up?’
She explained about her parents and the dress from Mexico. Sir Sidney had heard of Jack and Jo Webster, but Simon had not.
‘It certainly is unusual,’ Simon said, running his finger across one of the signs on her back. ‘These patterns are patched on, aren’t they?’
Sir Sidney leaned over and peered at her front. ‘Needlework isn’t as good as mine,’ he said. ‘This woman would be no good at aorta work.’
All Lyn’s previous worries had by now disappeared. It was a cheerful, good-humoured group; she was going to enjoy herself. Even Melissa was making an effort to unbend. All that was needed was for Ross to arrive.
‘Anyway, how are you getting on with my evil big sister?’ Simon asked. ‘I don’t suppose you could put a Mexican curse on her, could you? You know she’s blighted my career? I had to become a doctor just to compete with her. When I was younger, I wanted to be a jet pilot.’
Melissa leaned over to thump him, and Lyn joined in the general laughter. It was obvious that there was a lot of relaxed love between the two.
A voice said, ‘Sorry I’m late,’ and she looked up. Even though she knew who it was, her heart lurched. Every time she met him this happened. Ross was smiling down at them. He was dressed as an American gangster, in a tight pinstriped suit, a black silk shirt with a white tie, and a fedora over one eye.
‘I couldn’t think of a fancy dress, so I came in my normal medical outfit,’ he said. ‘There was an article in today’s paper—doctors are holding the country to ransom.’
He touched Lyn on the shoulder, and then walked round to sit next to Sir Sidney where there was a spare seat. Sir Sidney shook his hand vigorously. ‘That article you published last month about electrical impulses in the brain stem,’ he said. ‘Very interesting: a good basis for more research. Now, you know I’m particularly interested in arrhythmia, why hearts go into say, atrial fibrillation. It struck me that the impulses—’
‘Dad!’ said Melissa sternly. ‘You’re talking shop!’
‘I enjoy talking shop. Besides, young Ross here is fascinated by what I’m saying. Aren’t you, Ross?’
‘As a matter of fact, I am.’ The two men moved their chairs a little closer together, and soon were engrossed in their learned conversation.
Melissa looked at her watch. She winked at Lyn, and said, ‘We’ve finished our drinks, let’s go downstairs to find our table. We can stack this pair in a corner somewhere and let them carry on with their talk.’
‘That
seems a good idea,’ said Simon. So they moved.
Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make the gym suitably spooky for Halloween. There were black and orange streamers, Jack-o-lanterns on the tables, and gravestones here and there. Most people had picked their costumes with care, Lyn saw a Mad Hatter, a Roman centurion, and more than a handful of ghouls.
The room was dimly lit, but as she entered it Lyn felt that she was moving out of darkness into light. For the past nine months her life had consisted of nothing but misery and work. Now she was going to enjoy herself.
For nine months she had neither looked at a man, nor thought about one—except Ross in the past few weeks, she reminded herself. But here she was now, in the company of the two most attractive men and enjoying the attention she was receiving. People were noticing her dress too. She looked far different from the usually demure Dr Webster.
They found their table and Ross set off at once to fetch another round of drinks. Lyn asked for something long, non-alcoholic and cold. She guessed that this was going to be a warm night, and she didn’t want to spoil it by getting dehydrated.
‘Let’s dance,’ said Simon, and led her onto the floor.
She’d half forgotten how much she enjoyed dancing, it had been so long. When she’d been with Gavin she hadn’t danced much, because his idea of a good evening had been to sit talking in the pub with a bunch of his mates.
Simon held her close. He was dressed in a toga, she in a sleeveless dress, so there were naked bits of their bodies that rubbed together. His skin was warm. She supposed she liked it—it was nice—but she pushed him gently away and he moved at once.
‘I’m really enjoying this, dancing with you,’ he said.
Surprisingly, though, for such an athletic-looking man, he wasn’t a very good dancer. He tried—someone had taught him some steps—but he didn’t move with the naturalness that Lyn needed. He had little sense of rhythm, but he smiled at her and Lyn was happy.
The music came to an end, and something new was starting. Most people stayed on the floor and Simon wanted to. But, ‘Let’s go back to the table,’ she said. ‘I’m getting rather warm and I’d like a drink.’
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