Gabriel nodded and automatically extended his hand towards Plotz, before remembering it was soiled with blood and withdrawing it. ‘Better not shake,’ he said with a dry look. ‘We don’t know yet how effective that vaccine of yours is, Harry.’
Plotz, who had extended his hand at the same time, laughed. ‘Oh, don’t you worry, Gabriel: it’s effective alright,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘Anyway, it’s been a pleasure. If you ever want to work in New York again, be sure to let me know – I’d be happy to write a recommendation.’ He nodded at Elspeth and Sylvia. ‘Dr Stewart, Sister Calthorpe, also a pleasure.’ Then with Anitch at his side, he hurried out of the ward.
The urgency of Plotz’s departure over, Gabriel looked at Elspeth and saw her smiling at him. Suddenly Sylvia’s voice broke his thoughts.
‘Tut tut, Captain Bayer,’ Sylvia said, arms folded in mock severity as she studied the flecks of blood on his wrist. ‘That last sampling was not your tidiest effort, was it? It’s just as well you’re immune to typhus. I hope you haven’t forgotten where the wash basins are?’
‘No, Sister, I remember everything,’ Gabriel said. ‘In particular that it is best not to argue with you.’ He heard Elspeth gently laugh as he bowed his head to Sylvia, then spun on his heel and walked towards the washroom.
***
‘Hm,’ Sylvia said to Elspeth when Gabriel was out of earshot. She was frowning thoughtfully as she spoke. ‘I haven’t seen you looking this jolly in ages, Elspeth.’
Elspeth didn’t reply, but instead felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she recalled the moment she had gone down from theatre to meet the famous American: the last person she had expected to see was Gabriel. But at the sight of him, she had felt such a thrill that even now she could not stop herself from smiling at the memory. As she had entered the ward she had seen he hadn’t noticed her, and it had pleased her to stand quietly behind Lillian Chesney, watching Gabriel as he listened to Dr Inglis and Dr Plotz’s conversation. For some minutes she had studied him, thinking he looked well, although she could read some sadness in his eyes. But eventually he had glanced in her direction, and with delight she had seen his sombre look vanish, replaced in an instant by a smile that filled his face…
She suddenly realised that Sylvia was speaking to her; she may, in fact, have been speaking to Elspeth for some time…
‘Well, well, Dr Stewart.’ Sylvia now said, her hands on her hips, a look of understanding on her face. ‘I hadn’t realised—’
‘There’s nothing to realise, Sylvie. Yes, I am happy to see him, but—’
‘You don’t have to explain, Ellie. Look, I have to help Dr Wakefield with the chest drain. There should still be some hot water left in the nurses’ room samovar to make tea for yourself and Captain Bayer while you wait for Dr Anitch to return.’
‘Yes Sylvie, but—’
However, before Elspeth could finish, Sylvia had already turned away with a mischievous smile on her face, and Gabriel was walking towards her, rolling down his shirtsleeves, his jacket slung casually over his shoulder.
‘Sister Calthorpe had to leave?’ he asked.
‘Um…Yes…Dr Wakefield needs help with that chest drain.’
‘Ah. I see.’ There was a moment’s silence as they smiled diffidently at each other. Then; ‘That Dr Plotz is quite a fellow isn’t he?’ Gabriel said as he re-buttoned his shirt cuffs.
Elspeth shrugged. ‘I don’t know him well enough to draw any definite conclusions. But he must have a good reputation, if the Serbians asked him to come all the way over from America.’
‘In Austria we would call him a “Wunderkind”: I think in English you say “prodigy”?’ She nodded as he continued. ‘He has accomplished a great deal at a very young age. But I’m surprised he’s chosen to use blood to culture typhus bacillus. It’s proven that lice spread the disease, so the bacillus must be inside the gut of the louse. That’s where I would be looking.’
‘Well, I think it’s because in America he only had access to patients with typhus, and not to lice. Anyway he’s found a bacillus in the blood of patients with acute typhus, so…’ She shrugged.
‘But is it the cause of typhus?’ Gabriel looked doubtful. ‘I do believe he’s found a bacillus, but is it the cause of the infection?’
‘Why wouldn’t it be?
‘There are many bacteria that live inside man, so how do we know the bacillus he has isolated – this Plotz bacillus of his – is the cause of typhus?’
She looked into his eyes. ‘You’re referring to Koch’s Postulates, aren’t you?’
The slightest of smiles appeared on his lips. ‘I am indeed.’
‘I think I see what you’re getting at,’ she said, pleased to be temporarily distracted from her feelings by thinking about the science of the problem. ‘So far Plotz has only fulfilled the first two of Koch’s postulates: finding an organism in infected patients and then growing it in pure culture. But he also needs to show that his bacterium will cause typhus when introduced into a healthy host.’
‘Exactly – otherwise he could end up looking very foolish.’
She nodded. ‘I do feel a little sorry for him. There must be a great weight of expectation on him to produce a vaccine quickly. It would be quite easy to make a mistake. Ideally, he should have more time to test his bacillus in the same way that Koch did for tuberculosis…’ She faltered as she saw him trying not to grin. ‘What?’ she said, when he finally could not help but smile at her.
‘It’s just…so rare to meet a surgeon, with such a good knowledge of microbiology.’
For a moment she looked thrown, but then her face relaxed. ‘As you know from before, I would normally be offended at hearing such a comment from a man. But this time I’ll take it in the spirit I hope it was meant, as a genuine compliment—’
‘As a genuine compliment to a surgeon,’ he interjected, ‘who just happens to be a woman.’
Her face broke into a smile. ‘My microbiology training in Edinburgh was very good. Anyway, would you like some refreshment? Dr Anitch may be a while before he returns and Sister Calthorpe has said we might find some tea in the ward office.’
‘If it’s not too much trouble, that would be very nice.’
She led him to the nurses’ room, which had previously been the warehouse supervisor’s office. Opposite the door was a window with a vista of leafy tobacco fields, and underneath the window was a table, upon which sat a copper samovar, wisps of steam leaking from a tap, a teapot, cups and tea-box stacked beside it. Apart from a desk and two chairs to one side, the room was otherwise empty. Gabriel took a seat at the desk while Elspeth half-filled the teapot with hot water and swirled, then emptied it. As she carefully measured tea leaves into the pot and refilled it with fresh hot water, she could sense his fascination with her total absorption in the task.
‘I’ve long known about the English obsession with tea,’ he finally said. ‘But I see you Scots are just the same.’
She placed the teapot and two cups on the desk, and then sat opposite him. ‘It’s a tradition of the British Empire,’ she said, ‘from the great tea-estates in Ceylon and India.’ She lifted the pot lid and looked inside the as she swirled the contents. ‘It’s even in our language now. We have tea-dances, tea-gardens, tea-rooms – it’s all part of our nation’s identity.’
‘And in Austria, we identify with the coffee bean,’ he said, and Elspeth smiled as he continued. ‘When the Austrians saved Western Civilisation by defeating the Turks at the Battle of Vienna in 1683, they found sacks filled with strange dark beans. And so began our love affair with all things coffee. The Viennese cafés are famed for their varieties of coffee – fiaker coffee, rum coffee, iced coffee – so for us Austrians, coffee is as much a part of our culture as tea is in yours.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, Captain Bayer, but we have no coffee. So you’ll have to make do with tea for now,’ she said with mock seriousness. He dropped his head slightly and pouted with feigned sadness, and looked so ridiculous
that she couldn’t help but gently laugh.
‘You are a cruel woman, to torment an Austrian about his lack of coffee,’ he said. ‘I can stand the lice, the dirt, the cold. But the lack of coffee is almost unbearable.’
She laughed once more and he grinned back at her; for a moment they held each other’s gaze. Then she looked down at the teapot and swirled the contents again. After a while she placed it on the table and looked up at him.
‘Is there anything else from Austria you miss?’
He furrowed his brow. ‘I was born and brought up in Klagenfurt.’ He looked at her, but she shook her head. ‘It’s a small town in the Austrian Tyrol,’ he explained, ‘in the mountainous region between Austria and Italy. It’s a beautiful place, surrounded by lakes and mountains. My mother – she was a nurse – died a few years ago, but my father still lives there.’ She saw a wistful expression appear on his face. ‘He is a retired pastry chef, but still makes wonderful strudels and tortes.’
‘I’ve eaten apple strudel before,’ she said.
‘That’s the most well known, although my favourite is cherry strudel. And he makes the most fabulous Sachertorte,’ he said, and she frowned; ‘It’s a very rich and moist chocolate cake,’ he explained.
‘Like a chocolate gateau?’
‘Yes, but less cream, more chocolate.’
‘Sounds delicious.’
‘It is.’ He paused before continuing. ‘And what do you miss most about Scotland?’ he asked her.
‘Well…’ She lifted the teapot lid for one final inspection. ‘You might expect I’d be missing the Scottish countryside. But the rolling hills and trees of Serbia – especially the pines – remind me so much of the Isle of Skye that I don’t miss it at all. And we are very lucky to find so many of our home comforts here: tea, of course, Colman’s mustard, Peak Frean biscuits, Dundee marmalade – I have most of the things I’m used to at home.’ She began to pour tea into one of the cups. ‘I’m really content helping our Serbian allies, using my training as a surgeon to serve my king and my country.’
He smiled and nodded, and a comfortable silence developed as she filled the second cup. ‘I’ve not asked you before, but is there a Mrs Bayer?’ she suddenly found herself asking as she pushed the cup towards him.
The question seemed to take him – as well as her – by surprise. ‘Oh…’ He paused.
She could feel herself beginning to blush. ‘I’m sorry Captain…it was impertinent of me—’
‘No no, it’s quite alright,’ he said, already waving a hand dismissively. ‘I’m happy to answer.’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘My career has always been the most important thing in my life. I never really had the time…surgery is hard. It can be a very…’
‘Demanding vocation?’ Elspeth said, finishing his sentence for him. He nodded. ‘I know that well,’ she continued. ‘Sometimes think I’m married to my career as a surgeon.’
He picked up the cup, and holding it in both hands took a drink of tea. ‘And do you have a…’ –He hesitated before he found the right word , ‘a “sweetheart”, I think you say?’
She felt flustered at the question, disconcerted that it made her face feel hot. And then she felt foolish because – after all – she had asked him almost the same thing.
‘No,’ she said, avoiding his gaze. ‘Like you, I’ve been too busy to look for romance. Besides, most women doctors I know are unmarried, for much the same reason.’ She felt him looking at her, but picked her cup up and kept her eyes on the rim as took a sip of the brew.
‘You love being a surgeon, don’t you,’ he said, a statement rather than a question. She looked up at him again and smiled.
‘Oh yes. It’s the most important thing in my life. I’ve wanted to be a surgeon for as long as I can remember. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.’
‘It’s most unusual: a woman, so passionate about being a surgeon.’
‘Actually I remember the exact moment I knew it was the career for me.’
‘Really?’
She nodded, holding the cup to her chest, staring out of the window at the tobacco fields and smiling as she recalled the memory. ‘My father was a general practitioner on Skye. One day I was playing with my dolls on the front lawn of the practice – I must have been about six or seven years old, I think – when I saw a young boy carried into the waiting room by his parents. I didn’t know it at the time of course, but he was very ill with diphtheria, choking and gasping from swollen glands in his neck. Then I heard the mother shout in anguish, and out of curiosity I followed them into the waiting room and saw the boy had stopped breathing.’ She lowered the cup to the desk and Gabriel nodded for her to continue.
‘Then my father hurried out from his office and performed an emergency tracheotomy on the boy, right there and then, on the floor of the waiting room. And I watched it all unfold in front of me because, in the chaos of the moment, I had been forgotten about and slipped quietly into a corner of the room and stood there, amazed by what I was seeing. I saw my father calmly slice through the tracheal rings in the front of the neck with a scalpel – I can still hear the hiss of escaping air even now – and then the gratitude in the eyes of the parents when the boy began to breathe again. The incident hadn’t frightened me at all: not the blood, nor the parental panic, not even the sight of the scalpel parting the tissues in the neck. On the contrary, it had been a fascinating thing to watch.’
‘I can see it made quite an impression on you.’
She nodded. ‘At one point Morag, our receptionist, noticed me. She ran across and took my hand, tried to lead me away. But I struggled free and pushed her aside: she was getting in my way and I didn’t want to miss a second of it.’
Gabriel gently chuckled. ‘I have a picture of it in my mind,’ he said. ‘You, a wide-eyed little girl with pigtails, standing silently in the shadows, pushing an older woman aside—’
‘Reasonably accurate, except I had plaits.’
He laughed again as she continued. ‘And what about you, Captain: what made you decide to become a surgeon?’ she asked.
He lowered his cup to the table. ‘Well, it was not an event as dramatic as yours.’ He paused. ‘I can’t even remember the precise moment as you do. But my mother was a nurse, so I had always considered a career as a doctor. My parents were not rich, so it was only through a scholarship with the army that I was able to train as a surgeon.’ He paused. ‘I always knew that I might one day be called upon to fight a war…I expected that.’ He sighed. ‘But I never expected to see some of the awful things I’ve seen.’
She nodded; he fell silent and she smiled in sympathy with him. ‘It must have been a shock being taken prisoner.’
‘It was. I hadn’t expected that either.’
‘Well, you may not be prisoner for much longer. Dr Curcin told us that German and Bulgarian forces are reported to be massing at the Serbian borders. An invasion is expected any day now.’
He nodded. ‘Yes. Dmitri told me about the rumour.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘It doesn’t surprise me: three times we Austrians failed to overcome the Serbs, so the Germans will have lost patience and decided to do it themselves. And it’s an opportunity for Bulgaria to take revenge for their defeat at the hands of the Serbs during the last Balkan war.’
‘If it happened, you might be freed.’
‘I suppose so.’ He hadn’t spent any time thinking about the possibility of freedom. Now his first thought was about her. ‘But what would your hospital do if the invasion comes?’
‘Dr Curcin has told Dr Inglis that we should evacuate south to Greece, but she is most reluctant to leave and says we should stay and continue to look after the wounded.’
A worried frown came over his face. ‘I agree with Dr Curcin. You really must leave if another invasion comes.’
She smiled at his obvious concern for her. ‘We’ll see.’ And then, concerned at the gloominess of their conversation, she quickly changed the subject. ‘You studied medicine in Vienna I gather.�
��
Yes,’ he said. ‘I qualified nine years ago.’
‘I’ve heard the training there is excellent, a legacy of your Professor Billroth. Even Dr Inglis spent time studying in Vienna and she highly recommends it, saying it helped broaden her experience. She also studied in America.’ She gave him a curious look. ‘I was just thinking about Dr Plotz’s suggestion before he departed. Would you ever consider moving to America?’
Gabriel frowned. ‘I haven’t thought about it before,’ he said, scratching the short stubble on his head. ‘But I never intended on staying in the army permanently. Before my posting to Sarajevo, I worked in Vienna and always thought that one day I might return to work there as a civilian surgeon.’ She saw a sadness cloud his eyes. ‘But the war has changed how I feel about my country. I don’t like what I have seen done in the name of the Austrian people.’
He paused; she stayed silent.
‘So yes,’ he continued, ‘there have been times I thought it might be good to make a fresh start. However, I cannot foresee what will happen to me, whether I will survive the war or not or what the future of Austria will be. The war has been a terrible thing for my country.’ He saw a flare of surprise in her eyes and realised the tactlessness of his last remark.
‘Of course I realise that the Serbian people have suffered worse,’ he quickly added, ‘much worse. But I’ve seen a whole generation of Austrian youth – their finest young men – die on the battlefield or of diseases in the prison camps. And that our local dispute with Serbia should have expanded into a war that involves Russia, France, Germany – even your own country…’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘It’s the terrible waste of life that shocks me more than anything.’
She stayed silent while he paused.
‘It was after the Battle of Vienna that the reign of the Hapsburg Empire began,’ he said. ‘And I think that this war – this Great War – may well mark the end of that empire. Our losses of men and materiel, our poor leadership…’ He shook his head unhappily. ‘I could be accused of treason for saying this, but the Austro-Hungarian Empire will not survive.’ He gave a sad smile. ‘The coffee beans will go on, but the Hapsburgs won’t.’
The Furies Page 25