by John Masters
Stella swept aside the blanket that curtained off the tunnel entrance, and stumbled into the hogan. It was no different from any other hogan but, coming in out of the cold and the wet, the heavy, warm atmosphere, compounded of the odours of piñon and juniper smoke mixed with mutton fat, nearly overpowered her. It took her a few seconds to adapt to the extreme contrast of the cosy haven and the sodden chill outside. Ason Atsiddy squatted on sheepskins, completely enveloped by a Pendleton blanket. Only her face was visible in the fire glow, but its sweaty grimace told the story of her agony.
Stella set out to persuade the woman to lie down, recumbency being unheard of among the Navajo as a position for delivery, and at length succeeded. As Stella’s hands warmed on her patient’s belly, which relaxed after a long contraction, she felt the unmistakable contour and reverberation of the infant’s head low on the right side. She dredged urgently back into her memory, of her training and experience as a VAD … what was it the doctors called that slight inner reverberation on palpation? … ballottement. This head was very low in the right iliac depression. Her heart sank. It was a transverse presentation, probably a shoulder jammed into the cervix. She could not remember all the complications that might also be present, but she knew the condition was an obstetrical nightmare. The doctors and nurses had always looked grave when faced with it. She had been present at two deliveries from transverse presentations, of which one baby had died. Now she was faced with it again, alone, under the worst possible conditions.
The children had kept the hogan fire going through the storm, and there was a smoke-blackened galvanised bucket half-full of water next to the ashes. Stella hoped it had boiled, for there was no time to boil it now. She took the small piece of yellow soap from her first-aid box, and had the oldest child pour water on to her hands and forearms, as she washed carefully, consciously trying to make haste slowly. Dawn filtered grey through the still-falling rain, and threw a soft illumination down from the smoke hole in the roof. Stella’s purposeful activity seemed to trigger an immediate sense of confidence in Ason Atsiddy, more than any words could have, and she allowed Stella to insert her still soapy right hand into her vagina without question. Stella felt carefully … the cervix was fully dilated and almost completely thinned – effaced … it was the infant’s left shoulder being presented. Now she knew what she must do to give mother and child a chance of survival, for she had seen it done. Whether she could actually do it … she would, she would!
First, left hand on the belly, for she could only work when the uterus was relaxed. The hand signalled when a contraction was ending … Stella pushed up on the presented shoulder, trying to rotate the head into the pelvis, and so convert this into a normal headfirst presentation. It was hard work, and on the third attempt Stella found she was sweating in spite of her cold, wet clothes.
The head would not move. She must try something else. Pausing a moment and getting the eldest child to mop her face, she began again. This time, when she dislodged the shoulder she inserted her hand well up into the uterus, felt for, at last found and identified a foot. She pulled gently, bringing it down. Then the other foot, and as she pulled the baby slowly rotated into a classic double footling breech. This she’d seen a dozen times, and though it was a difficult presentation, particularly during the delivery of the head, it seemed like nothing after the long agony of the shoulder arrest.
An hour later, the baby was born – a boy, who cried loudly on greeting the Navajo world of his inheritance. Except for a bruised left shoulder he seemed none the worse for wear. Ason Atsiddy, totally exhausted, gave Stella a faint, eloquent smile of relief and gratitude, which, again, said what no words could have.
For the first time since she had first taken heroin, at the hands of Dr Deerfield, Stella felt a slow warming flood of pure, clean excitement and equally pure joy welling up in her, to overflow into a low cry of gratitude to the Navajo land, this woman, this baby, for giving her the opportunity, and the power, to break free. John worried about the Trading Post, whether it would succeed, how all his plans and hopes would go … but she knew. They were of the Dinneh, and they would go on, together now, she and John and Peace, and the People.
Daily Telegraph, Tuesday, October 14, 1919
NORTH RUSSIA EVACUATION
The War Office announces that the evacuation of North Russia has now been completed. The last transport sailed from Murmansk on Sunday afternoon.
His Majesty the King has sent the following telegram to General Rawlinson:
On completion of the evacuation of the Allied troops from North Russia I desire to congratulate you and all ranks under your command on the successful manner in which this difficult operation has been accomplished.
I wish to express my appreciation of the skill displayed by the commanders, and the courage, discipline, and power of endurance of all ranks. These qualities have enabled the forces both at Archangel and Murmansk to be withdrawn from their advanced positions in contact with the enemy, transported over great distances to their bases, and embarked with practically no loss of life …
General Rawlinson … arrived at Glasgow yesterday on board the troopship Toloa … Over a thousand troops, including Russian and Serbian officers, also arrived by the same boat. After inspecting the guard of honour, composed of a detachment of Argylls, General Rawlinson motored to Kelvingrove Park, where he viewed the equestrian statue of Earl Roberts. The General was an intense admirer of the late Field Marshal, on whose staff he served for a quarter of a century … He subsequently left by train for London.
The Bolsheviks were lucky they had had their revolution towards the end of the war, Cate thought. The world was on the edge of bankruptcy, and above all, war weary. If this had happened in 1912, say, half a dozen countries would have banded together to intervene with overwhelming military strength, and strangle the revolution before it could gather strength. But that was a fruitless speculation: it was the war which had caused the revolution; without it, the Romanovs would have struggled through another half-century, at least, with nothing worse than an assassination or two, and some scattered peasant revolts.
‘More coffee, madam?’ Garrod said, leaning over Isabel, at the other end of the table.
‘Please,’ Isabel said, smiling up at the old maid – ‘That’s enough … thank you.’ She drank, and looked across at Cate. ‘Did you see the bit about the troops returning from Russia?’
‘I’m reading it now.’
‘Well, you remember I was saying, the other day, that the USA was going to go into the export business? What I meant was that Britain was going to go into the import business, importing ideas from all over, trying to change things for the better after the miseries of the war … and that a lot of these ideas were going to come from the USA, for better or for worse.’
‘I remember,’ he said. ‘And that’s why I ought to go over with you, to learn, you said.’
‘Quite. But you are now reading about another country from which you – and all of us – are going to import ideas, willy nilly.’
‘Russia? The Bolsheviks?’ Cate exclaimed. ‘Well, I suppose you’re right. I was just thinking that if their revolution had taken place at some other time, the rest of Europe would have strangled it at birth … and they wouldn’t bother to do that unless they were afraid that the Russian revolutionary ideas would be infectious.’
‘Quite,’ Isabel said again. ‘Forewarned is forearmed.’
‘Do you mean we ought to visit Russia, too? To learn what influences we might expect here?’
‘It wouldn’t be a bad idea,’ she said. ‘It’s hard to tame a horse if you don’t know its strengths and weaknesses … but one thing at a time. We’ll wait till the dust has cleared over there … a couple of years, at the least, I should think.’
Chapter 29
England and Germany: October, 1919
David Toledano moved out from behind his tall little desk at the end of the crowded room, and bowed deeply – ‘Good morning, Sir Guy. To what d
o I owe the rare honour of this visit?’
Guy said, ‘Cheese it, David … Don’t you have a private office?’
David grinned. ‘No. Only my father … but I shall have one on January 1, 1920. My father’s retiring the day before … Have you come to tell us that you will accept the offer he made to you, to come in with us? I wish you would, Guy. I’m going to feel awfully lonely in there, in spite of all the earnest old men in yarmulkas who will advise me.’
Guy said, ‘Sorry, David. I’m out of the RAF, but I have other plans. We – Florinda and I – are starting an organisation to repair people physically or psychically destroyed by the war. We need money. Lots of it.’
David leaned back against his desk. ‘Pheeew,’ he whistled softly. ‘What’s the plan?’
Guy spoke slowly and carefully. ‘There are four organisations trying to help look after ex-servicemen … see that they get their disability pensions, help them find jobs – create jobs, even. I know that Field Marshal Haig is very concerned about all that, and will take an active part once he retires, or resigns from the ridiculous job Lloyd George has shunted him into – Commander-in-Chief, Home Forces … What we want to do is something more ambitious. We want to take these wrecks … these people whom the war crushed under its tracks … and, if we can, make them more than they were before. We think – Florinda and I – that there is music in the souls of many men who have never had the chance to let it grow, flourish, take over. Art, too … how many men – cripples even – might be able to paint really well if we can open their eyes to the whole horizons of art, and all its nooks and crannies, and give them what skills they will need – and have the capacity to absorb? Why should such people not formulate ideas about the way we should reorganise the world, using what we have learned in the war, studying the changes that have come about, and the reasons for them …?’
He paused for breath and Toledano said, ‘What are the mechanics of all this? How are you going to set about it?’
‘Get an estate, with a big house, and room to build more … or to put up Nissen huts … then take in the wounded, the sick. Find the teachers. Knock down barriers. Build roads back to ability, pride – and beyond.’
‘You’ll have a resident staff, then? A pretty big one.’
‘No larger than it has to be … We need to be reasonably close to some biggish city, so that local doctors, alienists, specialists and experts of all kinds, can devote half a day or a day to us without spending several more hours travelling … A lot of the staff will be the patients themselves. We might be able to use Willum Gorse – he lost both legs at the end of the March ’18 retreat – as a telephone operator, for instance … Will you help?’
‘Of course,’ David said slowly. ‘I might have guessed that you would do something quite unexpected. That was how you fooled Wokingham, that match in ’14, when you won for us with a dropped goal … And that day you twice got C.B. Fry out for a pair of spectacles … I’ve been imagining you in a frock coat and top hat, refusing to lend the Government a penny more than a hundred million … or, if you wouldn’t come in with us – and privately I never thought you would – then as Marshal of the Royal Air Force, sending great bomber fleets out over Germany … or perhaps it will be France next time … How much do you need?’
‘I have no idea, David. Suppose we start with a million. And you have to agree to be on the Board of Governors, and for the moment to act as Treasurer.’
Toledano threw up his powerful hands. ‘Me? I’m a banker, Guy, not an accountant. I can’t add or subtract for toffee.’
‘But one of your old men in yarmulkas could do it?’
‘Of course. All right. Done! Tell me when you actually want the money. Meanwhile I’ll get the right sort of bank account started for you. What’s the name of your organisation?’
‘We don’t have one yet. We have an idea, but I can’t tell you for sure for a couple of weeks yet. We want the organisation to spread beyond England – to be world-wide … Thanks, David.’
Toledano held out his hand, saying, ‘You’ve lit a spark, Guy. I was feeling guilty … I personally had a jolly interesting war. We took Jerusalem, so now we really can say, “Next year, in Jerusalem,” at Passover … The bank made hundreds of millions out of the war. Oh, we earned it, but nevertheless, we made a lot of money … And I, at least, haven’t slept too well since, thinking of those who didn’t have a jolly good time. I’m with you all the way.’
‘Thanks, David. It’ll cost you a lot.’
‘Not as much as two legs, or two eyes, or a sound mind.’
Lord Walstone spread his legs a little wider in front of the fire, holding his thumbs tight in his waistcoat pockets, below the gold chain and fob. He said, ‘I will give you an answer as soon as I can, Sir Guy. Perhaps a week. Your proposal needs some thinking over, you know. Millions of pounds don’t grow on trees. Not in this country, mate. Let me show you out.’
He unhitched his thumbs and strode purposefully ahead of his caller to the door, opened it for him, and went with him down the long parquet-floored passage to the front door of Walstone Park. Then he returned, to find his wife Ruth standing by the fireplace.
‘That was young Rowland, the airman,’ he said. ‘Sir Guy, and him only twenty-two! Come here on some harebrained scheme to help ex-servicemen, as far as I can make out. He has his nerve … asked me for a cool million, right out, just like that! Well, I s’pose if you’ve shot down seventy Jerries and flown across the ruddy Atlantic without stopping, you have to have a nerve. But get a million from yours truly? I’m a wide boy, I am. Not bloody likely!’
Ruth said, ‘I was listening from the Blue Room, Bill. The connecting door was open.’
‘Why, you little eavesdropper …’
‘I want you to give him the money. And be on his Board of Governors.’
Lord Walstone roared, ‘D’you think I’m out of my fucking mind, Ruthie? Here I work …’
‘Do not swear, Bill.’
‘Here I work like a bloody nigger to make money for you and Launcelot and Christine, so you won’t have to beg in the streets, or go to the workhouse, and have a roof over your heads and good clothes on your backs, and now you want me to give it all away for …’
She said quietly, ‘You know we’ve gone far past worrying about shoes and shirts and food, Bill. We’ve talked about this before, remember. When I said you must find something else to do with your brain than make more money. Well, here it is.’
‘But … give it away!’ Hoggin wailed. ‘That’s not right.’
‘It’s the only thing that is right, for you, now. To give, not take. Give your money … and yourself. You’ve done what you set out to do. You’re rich. You have a title. But how much have you enjoyed your money, since the end of the war, say?’
Hoggin went to the sideboard, opened it, and poured himself a bottle of Bass. He said, ‘Not so much, that’s a fact. Don’t know why … I’ve made some big deals … spent a lot of money and energy getting the Hounds started again, but … I think I’m bored. I’m not sure, ’cos I’ve never been bored before, so I don’t know what it feels like, really.’
She said, ‘This is the cause, the new task, you’ve been looking for. Sir Guy will need a great deal of practical help, when he starts his house … purchase of food, furnishings … bookkeeping, pay of staff … You could allot one day a week to him. And it wouldn’t be far for you, if he does get Scarrow Hall.’
Bill said, ‘He ought to. Beacham’s dead broke, and has to sell. Who’s going to buy a barrack like that, except some organisation? Christ, it’s bigger than this place … More modern, though. All the floors level, at least, and there’s room in the stairwells to put in lifts … bloody great kitchen … only a mile and a half from Hedlington Station.’
‘With bus service to the cinnie, for the girls working there,’ Ruth said. ‘Make this your new goal, Bill. Make it work, work as hard for it as you did for yourself and for us. Sir Guy’s going to get some very important people
in with him, you know. You’ll be working with them. Next thing you know you’ll be invited to join their clubs … The King might make you a viscount, even an earl.’
‘Well …’ Bill began.
She interrupted, ‘You owe it to the people who fought while you were making money. And I want Launcelot’s and Christine’s father to be a very respected man, working hard for those less fortunate than he.’
‘All right,’ Hoggin said at last. ‘All bloody right! I give in. One million spondulicks to begin with … I’ll telephone him this afternoon, when he’s back in London.’ He began to stride up and down the floor – ‘We ought to be able to buy Scarrow Hall for under a hundred thousand. I’ll see if I can get the Building Inspector to declare it’s unsafe. Might cost me a thou, but …’
‘Bill!’
Guy and Florinda were sprawled on the huge sofa in Florinda’s Half Moon Street flat, kissing comfortably. They had been at it for half an hour when Florinda slid her tongue into his left ear, searched around inside, then leaned back saying, ‘That’s so you can hear me better, cock o’ my ’eart. I am about to say something important … It’s about this thing we’re doing, helping the people broken up by the war. I’m not going to have you spending the rest of your life feeling guilty, you know … going around moaning and moping because you’re so wicked, you blew up all those blokes and houses and starved all those women and kids personally, yourself.’
He leaned away from her – ‘I don’t feel like that, Flo. I did feel guilty, but this work, this plan we have, is changing that. I feel really good, really happy, for the first time in years. War humbles you, and I’m feeling humble – it was about time – but good, too, now.’
She said, ‘All right, but if I ever catch you crying in your beer, I’ll give you a swift kick in the pants, got it? Now, another thing … You were a major when you were twenty, commanding that squadron. That took more than guts, it took brains. And then the generals picked you to make reports on bombing policy, and they sent you to Paris, and all over, to talk with big cheeses about things that were going to cost millions, and affect all of us, and England. Now you’re devoting yourself to this Scarrow Hall, and the comparatively few people who are going to come to it …’