‘Of course. At once.’ Kim was all complaisance. ‘Anything you say, Miss Sayers.’ She touched her big toenail with one equally perfectly painted fingernail. ‘I think that’s dry enough — I’ll just slip into my slippers then — just give me a mo’ —’ And she slid to the floor in a little flurry of fur and pale green chiffon, and began to scrabble for her slippers with her long, somewhat bony feet, and then stood ready for Kate, both hands folded lightly in front of her. And Kate looked up at her, for Kim was considerably taller than she was herself, and managed to smile again. Clearly it wasn’t easy to be so debonair and relaxed. The air of desperation that wrapped round Kim was almost as tangible as the green chiffon. Kate could smell it, and she returned the limpid gaze from those heavily lashed lids as directly as she could and felt again the sinking doubts about having agreed to operate. Could it really be right, really be what this terrified anxious patient most needed?
The treatment room, blank and antiseptic, helped soothe her, and she led Kim there and waited, her head bent carefully over the notes as Kim arranged herself on the couch.
‘I want to have another look at you,’ she said lightly then, and set the notes down on the desk in the corner. ‘Just to check, you know —’ And at once Kim lay back on the couch and untied the ribbons that fastened her kimono and pulled up the matching nightdress to reveal the body beneath.
It was worse this time. In the psychiatric outpatient clinic Kate had seen Kim as she usually saw her patients; naked under a sheet, just another human body on display for her wisdom and trained hands. That she knew, was how the patients regarded their posture It wasn’t nudity, it was supplication; and that usually helped her to be as detached as she needed to be. She could actually believe she was as wise and as trained as she wished she was. That detachment had helped the first time, but now, to see those obviously male thighs and belly with their heavy dusting of dark hair right up to the umbilicus, and the penis flaccid and wrinkled against the purplish scrotal skin, surmounted by fatty humps of breasts with small pallid nipples, all framed in pale green chiffon trimmed with white fake fur, was deeply shocking. And she took a long slow breath in through her nostrils in an effort to control her face, fearing her distaste would show.
But Kim knew, and it seemed to please her. ‘It’s awful, isn’t it?’ she said in that trained soft voice that carried a hint of giggles in it. ‘It looks grotesque — it is grotesque. I’m a freak, aren’t I? A freak of nature. But it’s going to be put right, isn’t it? I’ve told all the people in the ward what’s happening, you know. It’s not a bad thing you’re doing, you see, it’s a wonderful thing and everyone ought to understand that. I was talking to one of the nurses and tried to explain to her, but she just laughed and went away, poor thing. But you understand, I know you do —’ and she ended on a little breathy hiccup. ‘You’re going to take it all away and make me normal, the way I was born to be.’
‘You’re quite sure?’ Kate said. ‘You’re here now but you’ve time to change your mind — you’re quite sure?’
‘I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life,’ Kim said, and the tremolo in the voice this time sounded genuine and not a trained elaboration put on specially to convince her. ‘It’s what I’ve longed for, so long I’ve longed for it —’ And again that breathy little hiccup that was half a giggle. ‘You can’t put it in words, really. You can only feel it. And it hurts dreadfully —’
‘Do you get erections?’ Kate said baldly, hating to have to do it but knowing she had to, and Kim stared up at her and said nothing.
‘Well,’ Kate said. ‘Do you? And won’t you — you understand that any possibility of real sexual function will be destroyed for ever by the operation? I can’t — I can try to fashion you a sort of vaginal gap eventually. If you really want me to. It won’t be easy but — well, I can do it. But I can’t give you any sexual response. That simply won’t be there. And if you lost what you already have —’ She carefully didn’t look at the genitals, staring hard at the belly instead. ‘If you lose this, then you may never have any sexual pleasure ever again.’
There was a little silence and then Kim said, ‘I thought you understood. The way Dr Rosen does. I thought you understood.’
‘Understood?’ Kate said carefully.
‘Sexual pleasure isn’t a great rod sticking up in front of you like some sort of — some sort of — oh, it’s horrible! I can’t say how horrible it is to have it. That isn’t sexual pleasure! Pleasure is silk against your skin and the softness of it, and walking along with your hair bouncing on your neck and —’ Tears filled the wide dark eyes. ‘I thought you knew.’
‘How can I?’ Kate said, trying not to sound brusque. ‘I’m not you. I don’t have —’ and she made an awkward little gesture that took in the bare belly and the genitals and the green chiffon. ‘I’m trying to understand. I have to because I can’t mutilate you if I don’t really understand, can I? I said I would operate and I meant it. But I have to be sure. I’m not going back on my word — if you’re certain, then with Dr Rosen’s backing, I’ll do as you want. But I have to be sure. And that’s what I’m trying now to be.’
‘Well, I’m sure,’ Kim said flatly and pulled down the nightdress a little, though the genitals remained exposed. ‘Have you — I mean, are you going to examine me or not?’
‘Yes,’ Kate said, ‘of course,’ and began to make a cursory check of the lungs and the belly, using her stethoscope as much to hide herself from her patient as to hear the lungs sucking and blowing and the heart beating, and her hands on the belly to put a wall between them as much as to check for any doubtful areas.
‘Well, you’re fit for surgery,’ she said and pulled the nightdress down to cover the body at last, grateful to be released. ‘In excellent health.’
‘I know.’ Kim sounded smug and sat up and ran her fingers through her red-gold curls to restore them to their perfect tumbled arrangement. ‘I’ve taken good care of myself. I watch every mouthful I eat, believe me, every mouthful, and exercise regularly.’ Again the little giggle tripped out. ‘I tried going to a dance class but the prejudice — my dear, these dancers, they’re an odd lot, and they infect all the other girls with their ghastly little — well, anyway I’ve stopped that now. I do my exercises with Lizzie on the TV every morning. Religious I am about it, and it’s paid off, hasn’t it?’ She was on her feet now, and patted her belly complacently. ‘Flat as a pancake, isn’t it? You have to be careful though — don’t want muscles where girls don’t have them —’
‘Why?’ Kate said, baldly, knowing she was being too crude but needing to be so. ‘Most women who worry about their figures and about make-up and —’ She made a small gesture that took in the hairstyle and the painted nails and the long artificial lashes. ‘They do it to attract men. Ultimately to get sexual pleasure —’
Kim looked down at her and then slowly smiled and shook her head. ‘I dare say you’re a wonderful surgeon, Miss Sayers, but you don’t really know about being a woman, do you? I know you are one, but you aren’t really. I mean, spending all your pretty young years studying and being a surgeon. It’s obvious you don’t feel like a woman. Short hair and no make-up — not that you don’t look very nice, of course you do. But you keep your nails short and square — I couldn’t help noticing because I always thought that surgeons had to have special hands with long fingers. And yours are quite ordinary really, aren’t they? Short square nails and all that — and well, you’re not what I’d call a feminine woman. Too modern really, I suppose. But I know what a real woman is, and I don’t care what the Libbers say about being old fashioned. I like it that way. Soft and gentle and, well, tender, that’s what it’s about. That’s what makes a woman feel so wonderful. When I’m properly dressed and made up I feel — oh, marvellous. It’s a much better feeling than that —’ And she gave a sharp little grimace and looked down at her own crotch. ‘That’s just like — oh, having a blocked-tip nose and then sneezing, no more than that. But pleasure
— ah, that goes on and on when you’re properly dressed and made up and — it’s such a peaceful feeling. I can’t imagine why you don’t have it all the time. Born right as you were, why spoil it for yourself? But there, it takes all sorts —’
Kate had listened with her mouth half open, wanting to interrupt, hugely offended at one level but fascinated at another. But she did not interrupt and even when Kim had stopped speaking she said nothing, just standing and looking at her, and after a long pause Kim lifted her brows and made a little face that both apologised and explained, and invited Kate to share the joke and excluded her from it, all at the same time. And Kate nodded at last and said, ‘Well, thank you, Kim. I’ve got your name on the list for tomorrow. I think I’ll leave it there. That will mean no solids after midnight tonight and no fluids after six a.m. Dr Hilliard will come and see you tonight — he’s my anaesthetist and you’ll find him very sympathetic. You understand that post-operatively you’ll have some considerable discomfort — catheters and so forth —’
Kim was smiling brilliantly. ‘Oh, yes, Miss Sayers. It’ll all be wonderful, I know that. Thank you, Miss Sayers. See you in the theatres!’ And she turned and went in a clickety-click of high heeled slippers and a froth of chiffon and white fur. And after a while Kate bent and picked up a scrap of the fur that had drifted off the hem of the kimono and then followed her patient out of the treatment room.
Oliver had sat in the Boardroom for some time after the rest of them had gone. He’d got his recording, for what it was worth, and he still had plenty of time to get it back to the studio, edited and topped and tailed ready for the six o’clock bulletin. Now he needed time to think. He could think here as well as anywhere else, and as the last of his fellow journalists went thundering away down the stairs, he opened out the letter again and smoothed it on his knee and reread it.
And after that got to his feet and went down to the yard. He’d find a black cab, that was the best thing to do, and send the tape back to Radlett at the studio and let him do the spade work on it. He’d have to do something about this letter now he was here at Old East. He couldn’t just let it go, tell himself — as he’d been trying to do — that it was just a lot of rubbish, a paranoid old chap making things up. There was truth in that letter; he’d dealt with enough stuff from the punters to know a true bill when he found one, and this was a true bill. He was certain of that and equally certain he had to deal with it, even though it seemed possible that it was Kate’s own embarrassment, of course. But he shook his head at that thought; it was much more likely to be the man she worked with and loathed so much — Le Queux, wasn’t it? Oliver seemed to remember that was the name. No need to fear Kate was directly involved in this matter. Of course she wouldn’t be. She’d never let it happen. But if her department was, then she would be able to help him. And by seeking her help, he’d be helping her too, and that would be no bad thing, Oliver told himself, as he reached the yard and went in search of his black cab. No bad thing at all.
Chapter Ten
‘Is it true, then, Ida?’ Tracy said and winked at Dawn. The day room was blue with cigarette smoke, most of it coming from the two girls, and Ida flapped her hand in front of her face ostentatiously as she came in and made for the corner chair she liked best. You got a good view from there not only of the TV screen but of the long walkway down the ward to the nurses’ station. You could watch your programmes and still not miss what was going on.
‘Is what true?’ she said and sat down carefully in the chair and pulled her dressing gown neatly over her knees. It was disgusting the way some of them sat around, showing everything, no shame at all. Stupid cows.
Tracy giggled. ‘Everything,’ she said. ‘You know everything ’t’s goin’ on. What about that Mrs Walton? What about her? Did they take it all away then and her as far on as she was?’
‘You ought to watch your tongue, miss,’ Ida said reprovingly. ‘At your age I’d have been ashamed to be so knowing.’
‘I bet you wouldn’t,’ Dawn said. ‘I bet you was always one what knew everything. What about what that Paki nurse said about the Prime Minister being in Old East then? Is that true?’
‘Not the Prime Minister,’ Ida said witheringly. ‘The Minister for Health. Yes, he’s here —’ She hadn’t meant to talk to these stupid creatures with their giggles and their whispers and the lewd way they whistled when the young doctors came into the ward, but there wasn’t anyone else in the day room to talk to, except for Mrs Dawes, and she was asleep in her armchair, so what could she do? ‘He’s got some sort of heart trouble, so he’s in the men’s ward for hearts and it’s so full the nurses don’t know how to get in between the beds, but he’s got a section all to himself where they’ve taken the beds out so as to get his phones in. And he’s got a couple of men there to watch him all the time in case someone comes to blow him up. And I think it’s disgraceful putting all of us to a risk like that —’
‘We ain’t at no risk, are we?’ Tracy looked alarmed. ‘How can we be at risk?’
‘Because the men’s ward for hearts is down under this one, isn’t it? And if they blow up the Minister of Health then we get blown up as well, like they were all blown up at that hotel in Brighton, the Prime Minister and all of them that time.’
‘You said they had two men watching him so he won’t get blown up,’ Tracy said. ‘So what are you going on about?’
‘Ah’ Ida said darkly, ‘but supppose they don’t see? They had men watching that hotel an’ all but they blew that up all the same, didn’t they?’
‘Who did?’
‘Terrorists,’ Ida said and waved one hand to take in all the lurking terrorists in Old East. ‘They’re everywhere.’
‘Well, if they’re under here and blow us up, maybe we’ll just fall down to the men’s ward, eh, Trace?’ Dawn said and giggled. ‘Land on a nice soft bed Might be a bit of talent down there, you never know. They’ve got male nurses down there, I’ll bet you. I wish we had ’em her.’
‘Oh, yes, can’t you just see ’em here? Doing the dressings and the stitches and all for everyone, shoving in the catheters and paddling around —’
‘Make a nice change,’ Dawn said. ‘Better than these nurses we got. It’s just bread and bread sandwiches when they do you. No fun at all.’ And again she gave that coarse laugh that Ida found so nasty.
‘What about you then, Ida?’ Tracy said after a while, and nudged Dawn as she stared at the woman in the corner chair, her eyes bright with malice. Found out, have they, what they’re goin’ to do?
‘None of your business,’ Ida said shortly and stared at the TV screen, on which a group of Australians were jabbering at great length about nothing much at all. That was one of the good things about these soap operas; it never mattered whether you watched them regularly or not, you could always get into them. ‘Just you mind your own, and shut up.’
‘Why should I?’ Tracy said, suddenly pugnacious. ‘You’re interested enough when we talk about our business aren’t you? You ask all the questions and get it all out of us. But when it’s us asking you, it’s all Madam Muck and touch-me-not.’
‘It my personal tragedy,’ Ida said, still staring at the TV screen. ‘That’s what Dr Buckland said. My personal tragedy. I’m not going to make an exhibition of it to you two, the way you go on —’ And now she did look at them, staring hard, her chin up and her mouth tightly closed, and after a moment Tracy looked away and said ‘Oh, come on, Dawn. It’s like a fucking morgue in here. Let’s go and see what’s goin’ on down the other end —’ And she got to her feet and pulled her shortie dressing gown up a little higher to show even more leg and went out and Ida watched them go and considered shouting something after them. But didn’t. Got to have more pride, that was the thing. Hang on to your pride.
Not that it was easy. She looked across the day room to where Mrs Dawes snored in her armchair, her head thrown back so that her jaw dropped revoltingly, and then back at the screen. It would help a lot to talk about her p
ersonal tragedy to someone. It really would. She’d tried to talk to the nurses, but they were always too busy, one way or another, though nice enough. Even the Paki one was nice and did her best. Not her fault she was a Paki, really. And she stared consideringly down the long walkway towards the nurses’ station, trying to see if she was around. Maybe she could talk to her? Not the other one, her friend, who always looked so sulky and stared at everyone so hard, not her. She was creepy, that one. The Paki one, though, talked — well — nicely, not rough like some of the others, but quietly and nicely. Talking to her might be nice. But she was going somewhere. She could see that from here; Sister was telling her something while she was talking on the phone at the same time and she was sending her somewhere. So there was only the Australians on the TV, after all. And Ida sniffed a little dolorously and settled down to watch them more carefully.
Suba felt agreeably important as she went down to Accident and Emergency. To be sent to fetch a very ill patient like this was something that didn’t often happen to first years. It had been a hectic morning, really hectic, what with so many people being off sick and the ward stuffed so full of patients, and Sister in a rotten mood as a result, but she’d managed better than she expected. And then Sister had told her when they’d got the dressing round finished at last that she’d done well, so she was glowing with that anyway. Now, to be sent on a job that really a second or third year should go on was extra good. Wait till she told Daddy. It would help him — wouldn’t it? — to get used to what she was doing a bit quicker. It was getting very difficult, the way he nagged on the phone about it every time she called home. You’d think she was doing something really awful like being a film star or something, the way he nagged.
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