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With and Without, Within and Without

Page 44

by Euan McAllen


  At much the same time, in the hospital chapel, a junior doctor – a recent addition to the staff – picked up the collection box, flipped back the lid, and turned it upside; expecting to capture a pile of coins in the palm of his hand. But nothing came out, which was very strange: he himself had dropped a coin into it only yesterday, as had other doctors by his side. He knew he had to report it and so, with a heavy heart – for he was only interested in his patients, not loose change – he reported it to the Senior Doctor.

  Doctor Varvareo shook his head.

  ‘Despicable. Unheard of. Money has been stolen from our collection box. Money meant to serve the sick, pay for bed time. How could someone do that?’

  Quite easily, thought the doctor, sensing a massive overreaction.

  ‘So normally it goes to the Chief Accountant?’

  ‘Correct. It all ends up in his sack sooner or later.’

  ‘His sack?’

  ‘The sack of cash. All monies which belong to the hospital end up in there fully accounted for of course.’

  ‘Of course, by all those accountants.’

  ‘Correct. You have it.’ Varvareo heaved a sigh. ‘I will have to call a meeting.’

  Those summoned to the Meeting & Eating Room for a special meeting quickly became unsettled. Some felt like they had been arrested for they were surrounded by Ingel’s men on all sides. Something bad was up: Adolphinus sat at the top table, all-powerful, and looking mean. The audience consisted of a wary, watchful Captain Dolgar; an impatient, hostile Mostrum; an anxious, uncertain Paminio; and all the senior monks.

  Adolphinus called for silence then, when he had the full attention of the entire room, he dropped his bombshell. Ingel looked on, stony-faced, calculating, giving nothing away while his men kept their eyes solely on the monks, on the watch for signs of panic. Paminio and Mostrum looked up, horrified and perplexed, while Dolgar, like Ingel, stood stiff, resolute; giving nothing away. The senior monks looked deeply troubled – as if troubled by God.

  Adolphinus fixed his gaze on one face then the next. He had them pinned down. They were terrified. They were terrified of him! This was real power. He held his look for as long as possible until even he began to feel stupid. A very nervous-looking Paminio raised his hand, and everyone in the room looked at him. Adolphinus raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I have to inform you, Your Excellency, that the lock on the box was broken.’

  ‘Broken?’

  ‘I advised Bushcatti just before we departed and offered to get it fixed, but he did not want to wait. He trusted the captain and me to keep it safe. He trusted me.’

  ‘I see.’

  Adolphinus was not amused. And then Mostrum burst forth into battle. He pointed at Paminio.

  ‘He did it! It had to be him!’

  Paminio turned to face his accuser, hands-on-hips but wishing to throw a punch.

  ‘Don’t be so ludicrous!’

  ‘Did you take those items?’ asked Adolphinus.

  ‘No, Your Excellency, pardon me, Your Most Esteemed Excellency. No! I would never think of doing such a thing. I come from an honourable family. Educated, and professional.’

  Paminio’s reply sounded totally authentic, from the heart. This time he gave as good as he got, for he would not have to suffer Mostrum – now powerless – much longer.

  ‘You, Mostrum, it was you. You need the money. You have just lost your commission! You are an unemployed soldier – the most dangerous kind!’

  You have a point, a good point, thought Adolphinus. He looked at Ingel, who read his mind and returned a look which said ‘I agree’.

  Mostrum held up his hands. ‘Come on then, arsehole, search me. Come on, search me.’

  Paminio backed away. Point made, Mostrum lowered them and rested one hand on his sword, ready for anything. He simply did not care anymore. Dolgar shook his head and looked up at his master, determined to declare his innocence and full support. He was more than happy to interrogate the two suspects: Adolphinus only had to give the word. The senior monks looked at each other; some unable to believe what was happening, and in their monastery; some suspecting others; some refusing to believe that another monk could be capable of such a thing. The atmosphere in the room was tense, and beyond nasty. Just as Adolphinus was about to say something Mostrum exploded again and pointed at his new bitter enemy, Dolgar.

  ‘It could have been you!’

  In response, Dolgar sneered and showed him nothing less than total contempt, with a little pity throw in to show others that he did have a heart. He waved the pathetic creature away, much like he was waving off a troublesome housefly.

  ‘Don’t be stupid man. I would not risk my position and reputation. I am a professional soldier, and I am totally loyal to my employer.’

  Dolgar looked at Adolphinus – point made – and also rested a hand on his sword – to make another point. Adolphinus breathed in heavily as he looked back and forth between the two of them: he had had enough. Still angry, still frustrated and demanding the truth, he ordered Ingel to search all rooms: the rooms of Paminio, Mostrum, his personal guards; those of the senior monks, and the dormitories. He also ordered Ingel to interview all monks and novices to find what he could find. Ingel saluted and ordered his men out of the room. The senior monks looked on; some horrified, some feeling insulted; a few feeling sad, for in their minds something good had ended, and something bad was beginning. Both Paminio and Mostrum looked resigned, whereas Dolgar looked happy: he was above suspicion (and he felt above the law), and he saw his influence starting to grow. Good times ahead, he thought. Mostrum wanted to have the last say.

  ‘My men would not stoop to such a thing,’ he said firmly.

  Dolgar was suddenly in there, looking for a fight.

  ‘They are not your men. They are my men.’

  Mostrum’s retaliation was swift and skillful. ‘They’ll never be your men.’

  ‘Shut up both of you!’

  Adolphinus had had enough, and that was the cue for him to storm out, none the wiser.

  ‘Search their rooms!’

  He flounced out of the room, trying his best to act like a very important man would act in such a situation. He would have his jewellery back. This was a test by God. He left the room hated by almost everybody; the exception being Ingel and Dolgar.

  Rather theatrical, thought Ingel. Is this how my new chief is going to be all the time?

  ***

  Doctor Varvareo called a meeting. The Chief Accountant consented to attend, as did the B&B man. Sister Miuccia was present with her ward sisters; simultaneously looking aggressive and defensive. She never stopped staring at Doctor Varvareo. It was like he had the plague but refused to admit it. Due to a deficiency in chairs, the sisters stood close together, alert; obstinate even though nothing had been asked of them or directed at them. The Chief Accountant sat through proceedings bold as brass, with arms folded as if looking for a fight. The B&B man sat much the same except he was looking for a fight, and impatient to get back to his job. (He believed that without him ‘doing his job’ the hospital would grind to a halt.) At the back of the room, almost forgotten, obscured by the ward sisters, stood the orderlies; like a fish out of water, or sheep in water. They did not like being in the same room with so many important members of staff. They preferred to be left alone to get on with the task in hand. The crazy caretaker was not among them: he had been left behind.

  When the room had settled down, Doctor Varvareo calmly made his statement, informing his audience of the empty collection box. It was an outrage, he said, an insult to the hospital. Everybody agreed with him: this was an outrage. But the emotional response varied between mild surprise and pure outrage. The Chief Accountant was the first to say something.

  ‘It can’t have been much.’

/>   ‘But it’s the principle,’ replied Doctor Varvareo.

  ‘Quite right,’ said Sister Miuccia.

  Her ward sisters murmured their agreement, and Doctor Varvareo looked almost sheepishly at the Chief Accountant.

  ‘Please, will you talk to your accountants?’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘You know what. See if anybody admits to taking the money – perhaps it’s just a misunderstanding.’

  The Chief Accountant began to stiffen.

  ‘My accountants would never steal! And never such a trivial amount! They count coins. They do not pocket them!’

  ‘Apologies. I did not mean to cause offence.’

  ‘I should think so.’

  With that, the Chief Accountant folded his arms even tighter as if to stop them being stolen.

  Doctor Varvareo gave a heavy sigh – the one he nearly always gave during staff meetings – and looked around the room. Everybody was watching him, the exception being the orderlies who were staring down at the floor, visibly uncomfortable. He paused on the B&B man and received a dirty look back, which declared ‘how dare you’ and ‘innocent’. He tried to catch an eye of one of the orderlies.

  ‘Do any of you know anything, have anything to say? Did any of you see anything?’

  Nothing, just a feeble shaking of heads, so finally he turned to Sister Miuccia, knowing she would cause him trouble. She looked in a particularly fierce mood this morning. Had a patient been causing trouble?

  ‘Please, Sister Miuccia, will the sisters check out the nurses?’

  Her reply was coldly delivered.

  ‘We will look into it. But I do not expect to uncover anything. Our nurses do not steal. Isn’t that right sisters?’

  The sisters all agreed, some nodding furiously.

  ‘Well, whatever. And will you check with your orderly, the crazy one? He might have taken it by mistake.’

  ‘He did it!’ said the B&B man.

  ‘Of course, he didn’t,’ said Miuccia. ‘I will vouch for him.’

  ‘Of course not, he would ask your permission first wouldn’t he?’

  Doctor Varvareo promptly stepped in to stop an escalation of hostilities.

  ‘Please, both of you. Not here.’ He had given up now. ‘Thank you all for your time. I appreciate we are all busy. Back to work now, I think.’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Miuccia. ‘What about your doctors? It could have been one of them.’

  Doctor Varvareo stared at her, clearly annoyed. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘So will you interrogate them?’

  ‘I will talk to them, yes.’ If that will shut you up, he thought.

  ‘Good.’

  With that final volley, the meeting broke up, with bad feelings all round as the crowd shuffled out. All that, just over a few missing coins? Stick to your patients, thought the Chief Accountant, and leave the money to me. Let me out of here, thought the B&B man. Amateurs. Always the stupid doctor thought Miuccia. How did he ever get to be the senior one?

  Later that day, Doctor Varvareo sat in his office, taking a much-needed rest between receiving routine reports from his doctors. The knock on the door suggested the next doctor. Varvareo corrected himself: no, it was her; it was her signature hard knock, demanding he listen to whatever she had to say.

  ‘Come in, Sister Miuccia.’

  In she flew, like a witch, with a nurse in tow. It was the nurse whose hand she had kissed in the chapel. They were not holding hands now. Varvareo stood up, now alert. He could see something was seriously wrong.

  ‘You, stand there,’ said Miuccia, and she pointed at a spot on the floor.

  The nurse did as she was told and stared down at the invisible spot. Cowering, she stood straight with her hands folded one over the other in front of her. She was ten again, and Miuccia was fifteen again.

  ‘What is this?’ asked Varvareo.

  ‘This nurse here, she did it. She stole the money.’

  The nurse began to sob. ‘I did no such thing!’

  ‘I found coins in the dorm, in her bed.’

  ‘They’re not mine. Someone put them there!’

  Varvareo had to intervene, quickly and firmly; not wishing a scene, not in his office; especially one which involved two women, one of whom could not stand him.

  ‘Look me straight in the eye, girl. Did you steal from the collection box?’

  ‘No, sir. Never! I swear, no!’

  ‘That’s good enough for me. Go. Back to work now.’

  ‘What!’

  Miuccia was outraged.

  ‘It’s a bit too obvious isn’t it? Leaving coins in your own bed, for a cleaner to find, or an orderly in a dorm search?’

  Miuccia bit her lip. She had no reply to that, at least not for now.

  ‘She’s acting.’

  But Varvareo was not having it and waved her away.

  ‘Please, stop this. Go now. Leave me alone; I have work to do. Important work.’

  ‘I always have work to do. Just as important,’ retorted Miuccia.

  Having got in the last word, Miuccia swung round and stormed out of the office; the sobbing nurse in tow.

  But the nightmare was not over yet for the poor, pretty young nurse who had dared to spurn Senior Ward Sister Miuccia. She was led back to the dormitory and made to stand by her bed, to attention, while Miuccia gathered up a few of the other ward sisters and proceeded to accuse her again. Second time around, the nurse was close to having a nervous breakdown. Second time round, Miuccia received much the same response. The girl did not look like one trying to hide guilt. And coins in the bed? Too obvious. The ward sisters all agreed to give the girl the benefit of the doubt. She had a good track record. They needed good nurses in this hospital.

  An uncompromising Miuccia dismissed her staff and soon after, had a private word with the nurse; catching her when she was alone – in the chapel of all places. ‘Be my friend, and I’ll be yours,’ she said, trying to take hold of the nurse’s hand a second time. But no, the nurse could not be bought. She had her morals. So a wicked, vindictive Miuccia sacked her on the spot.

  The girl had to pack up her personal possessions and be out that day. The Accountants Office would hand over her outstanding pay. The girl would head home in disgrace, but head held high, while other nurses would be shocked, then angry upon hearing the news,. The ward sisters would gossip and grumble and agitate, but say nothing to their boss – she who must be obeyed. Two of them – the bravest two – would approach Senior Doctor Varvareo, but he would refuse to intervene or take sides, for he had no power over the infamous Senior Ward Sister. They were her nurses: she employed them; she sacked them. Resentment towards her position of total, unrestrained power would grow.

  ***

  Mostrum marched up towards the hospital A&E, like he was marching to war; eyes fixed on his goal; a violent man consumed by violent thoughts; a man for whom winning or losing the fight was sometimes never enough. He had a badly bruised, swollen eye; the result of a fistfight with Captain Dolgar. He rattled the coins in his pocket, hoping he had enough to pay for treatment.

  Mostrum was stopped in his tracks by a stupid peasant leaning against a wall and staring at him with a stupid grin on his face as if mocking. No respect. The face was familiar. The idiot was holding a small sack and had one foot on top of what looked like a wooden toolbox. The sack smelt disgusting – more disgusting than the idiot peasant. Rigger held it up and shook it proudly.

  ‘Rats. Dead rats. You want one? I’m selling them cheap.’

  He pointed at Mostrum’s bad eye and laughed.

  ‘How did you get that? Woman trouble?’

  Mostrum was in no mood for jokes or stupid questions: he slammed into Rigger and grabbed him by the throat, pinning him up aga
inst the wall. It happened so fast that Rigger had no time to react. His eyes widened, and he began choke.

  ‘You laughing at me, peasant?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘One more word out of you and I’ll kill you. Understood?’

  ‘Understood.’

  Mostrum pushed the man aside and walked on, whereupon Rigger grabbed his toolkit and raced off. The hospital was full of rats. Kill one, and another one takes its place. In ‘All-comers, Enfeebled’ Mostrum demanded attention, and treatment, fast!

  ‘Someone fix this! I have the money!’

  A nurse asked him to sit down while she went and fetched a doctor. Mostrum did not like to sit, but he sat down anyway, daring anyone to look him in the face. Sick people made him sick. When Sister Miuccia was informed of the soldier in A&E she went mentally ballistic, and raced to see him. Pushing aside the doctor, she was all over Mostrum before he knew what was happening. The look in her eyes wanted to unleash a special kind of terror.

  ‘Steady on girl. This doctor here, he’s doing the business.’

  ‘Who assaulted my nurse?’

  ‘What? I don’t know. And I don’t care. Fix my fucking eye. And take your fucking hands off me.’

  Faces inches apart, the two tried to outstare each other. Eyeballing each other, it was two to one in Miuccia’s favour. The doctor – a junior – looked around, extremely nervous now. He was getting the worst of it.

  ‘Was it you? It was you, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  ‘Do you know who did it? You must know. They reported to you.’

  ‘I said, fuck off. You there, fix my eye. It’s fucking hurting. And get this stupid woman off me. She’s fucking dangerous!’

  The doctor, feeling powerless, held up his hands; wishing to help but afraid to intervene. This was the infamous Senior Ward Sister Miuccia, and she was on the warpath. He thought about getting another doctor. He was not feeling well. Miuccia never felt better.

  ‘Tell me, soldier!’

  ‘Fuck off. Speak to that shit, Dolgar. He’s Captain now.’

  ‘I did, you stupid idiot.’

 

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