Chapter Eight

 

The white robed figure came stealthily into Theatre 2, moving silently and with care as he manoeuvred himself around the steel trolley and held his latex-gloved hands in the air for a few moments before uncovering the instruments. He removed the sterilized huckaback towel that covered them and they gleamed in the light of the great lamp that hung above the operating table, sparkling with such deceptive function; so soon to invade the body of their next victim, spilling blood in the hopes of producing a healing cure. I was mesmerized... not by the glitter of the instruments as they sparkled and shone in pristine array, but by the amber-green eyes of the tall man who stood beside them, in total control of what he was about to do. His hands fascinated me in the deft manner by which he lifted each pair of forceps, one after another and presented them to the surgeon.

“Towel clips,” demanded the Colonel... and snap …they were placed into his hands. “Acriflavine rinse,” he commanded again and the saffron sponge splashed liberal balm across the shaven abdomen. “Spencer-Wells forceps... scalpel....” The orders came fast and exacting... and each obeyed with the precision of a robot.

I was dumfounded. I could not believe my eyes as this military drill was enacted before me, as if by numbers. I watched the minute beads of perspiration rise on Colonel Steel’s forehead and I signalled for the orderly to mop his brow.

“Count the swabs... be sure to count the swabs... “

The orderly obeyed, catching each red-soiled gauze piece in his long taloned forceps and hanging them methodically where they could be counted on a hoop-la board of metal hooks

“Twenty four used Sir... One pack complete.”

“More swabs... more... more.”

The orderly moved swiftly across the room

“Second packet in the kidney dish Sir. Total now forty eight.”

I saw Darius blink as the sweat ran down his brow and I moved forward to mop him myself. He bent forward but I don’t think he recognized me and I wanted to keep the swab that I had used, but realized that the count would have been wrong, had I done so. I did so want to keep that swab too....

“Retractors... “

Darius moved into action again.

“Hold these two together. I want to get under the aorta... steady...“

Darius moved again, in silence and in precision to the commands of Colonel Steel and Major Tarapor squeezed his oxygen pump to ensure it was active. He smiled at me... a wide broad-beamed smile, showing white gleaming teeth against his dark skin and I knew that the operation was a success, for an anaesthetist always knows first when things are going according to plan.

I marvelled at the discipline I observed in Darius Crane and after only ten weeks of training....

“Sutures... cat-gut please... not silk.”

“Cut.”

Darius snipped the suture ends in an instant and withdrew the scissors to await the second command. It came again in seconds....

“Cut”

He repeated the same performance

“Tie off at nine o’clock and be sure to count the swabs ...including the one in which you broke the pentothal file ...cutting needle for the epidermis and he’s all yours,” Colonel Steel turned to face me. “Swab... swab, please ...quickly, Sister or I’ll drown in my own sweat.” He smiled the smile of triumph that I had known so well in the past....”And Darius, you can take over the strapping from here, please.”

 

***

 

Colonel Steel snapped his gloves from his hands and dropped them into a pedal bin near the drum bank by the autoclave room before he removed his cap and mask. His smile continued over his leather-like features whilst the anaesthetist swung his white booted foot against his chair as he examined the phial he held securely in his hand, later to return the pentothal ampoule to the anaesthetic trolley and checked his drug output. Darius followed the Colonel into the duty room.

“You’ve done a fine job there, Darius... don’t you think so Sister.

Colonel Steel looked at me and smiled, awaiting my approval and I must have blushed a little.

“I’m quite amazed at your progress Darius,” I said, almost in awe of the young soldier who stood beside me. “You conducted yourself in the Theatre like an old veteran... Congratulations. Do you think now... that you might take up hospital work when you leave the army?”

Darius lowered his head and I thought I could trace a slight sense of embarrassment, but of course, he was beginning to acquire quite a fine tan and I could see no trace of a blush on his handsome features. Mr.Tarapor offered his cigarettes around and made his own contribution of praise on the events that had taken place that morning.

“I find it hard to believe that you have never done this kind of work before, Darius. Of course, I do believe you when you say you haven’t but it is really quite remarkable for one to learn so quickly and so efficiently.”

“Thank you Sir....” Darius spoke with appreciation and respect,” I have a little knowledge of music, but that is all,” he replied and I looked at him now that he had removed his face mask and pulled his cap from his head.“Music?” I asked, “In what kind of instrument?”

“The piano, but only very little knowledge, I am no professional in any way,” he replied and his dark hair fell loosely across his smooth, silk-like brow; the smoothness accentuated by the thin film of perspiration that had gathered there, giving his face a satin appearance. He pushed his hair back with an air of nonchalance and I tried to catch his eye but he would not look at me... for some reason or another. I wanted to touch him; to run my fingers through his hair and press those full sensual lips to mine, but I knew I was on a dream-trip again and playing with my stupid imagination, but it was agony for me just the same as I watched his beautiful, magnetic, hypnotic eyes, that showed no particular interest in me whatsoever ...and I ached....

 

***

 

I worked with Darius Crane for another five weeks before I was informed that I was to return to England for further onward duties in occupied Germany and I remember thinking very bitterly, that it was hardly worthwhile, the Government sending me all the way back to Iraq again, after my leave, if they knew that I would have to leave again so soon. What a waste of money... I thought... to say the least. My pride would not allow me to bend and I knew that my dream affair with Darius was over as I prepared my mind to accept the forthcoming move to a different climate... but I wasn’t happy. Working with a man like Darius Crane was the dream of any Theatre Sister, I thought as I scrubbed up for the last operation of the day. It wasn’t a major op. and he would assist me, whilst Major Tarapor gave the anaesthetic. I had begun to love him as I had never thought possible and I had to be careful to keep my mind on what I was doing as I held the forceps in my shaking hands and hoped I would see the task through to the end... and with success.

“You doing this one on your own, Sister?” Major Tarapor asked as he squirted the serum from his syringe into a large kidney dish. I noticed it was chipped badly under the rim and made a mental note to dispose of it when we had completed the operation.

“Yes, it’s only a simple I.A.T. I’ve done lots of them before.”

Darius looked at me; his eyes piercing from the space between his mask and his cap and my blood went still. I tried to smile, even if I knew he would never be able to see my shrouded face, from my own confined space... but it helped, if only from a psychological point of view... and I looked down in preparation to start. He passed me the towels and then the towel clips as I squared off the area for incision. The skin looked handsome with its iodine wash and the carbuncle almost winked at me. I steadied my hands and took a deep breath before I cut... and the puss oozed out … laughing at me as it shot itself all over the towels.

“Swab …”

Darius stared at me but he did not move.

“Swab,” I shouted again, glaring back at him and he immediately placed a large gauze swab over the open wound.

“Leave it there for a few seconds to let the poison out.”

The sight of the yellow, green matter that came from the wound made me feel ill and yet I had done so many of those things in my time and hadn’t turned a hair. I looked up at the ‘Eyes’ ... and I fainted.

 

***

 

I came-to in the duty room with Darius rubbing my hands …

“Are you alright, Sister?” he asked and almost mocked me with his look.

I wanted to scream... I was so ashamed for the way I had reacted and I hated it when he called me Sister...

“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry to have been such a nuisance in there. Should have had breakfast, but I didn’t feel like it this morning... sorry.”

He smiled... rather gently this time I thought and my heart ached again. Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to be who he was and where he was? Why couldn’t I have been sent to Germany before he came to Basra... and wreck my life. Why ...Why ... Why?

I found it hard, even to address him by his Christian name and yet I detested having to call him ‘Private Crane’... It hurt to think of it, let alone say it but that name was on my heart and lips from the first moment I set eyes on him. I wished Father Garry had been there. He would have understood. He would have known what I should have done and told me and I would have done it ... Private Crane... Private Crane... to this day I shall never understand my attitude towards him, nor my conduct towards him at that time.

 

***

 

I learned that Darius was to remain in the Theatre at the 15th General in Basra in the desert and that he wasn’t due for release from the army for at least another three years. Our age difference brought that about, as my time of service was longer and therefore I would be demobbed sooner. I played with the idea of signing on as a Regular, hoping that I might be allowed to remain in Iraq, but enquiries at Baghdad Central Office assured me that I would be sent to Germany, whatever I did ...and Darius seemed well enough disposed to continue as he was doing and took to the Theatre and the work he was doing there, like a duck takes to water. So much so that Sister Jacnara was posted back to her own hospital, the 17th Indian General, in Baghdad and Darius was given the non-commissioned rank of full Corporal, (acting without pay for the probationary period of three months) - a promotion very rarely acquired by medical staff of the R.A.M.C, as I have already said. Everything Darius did was blessed with success. He was a perfectionist in everything he did; in everything he touched, it would seem and certainly for me in the way he walked and talked. I found myself watching his every movement with concern and I became angrily jealous when I saw him in the company of any of the other Sisters. He was gradually chipping away at my aloofness, my stupid dignity and my false pride and yet I was sure he had no idea of the effect he was having on me. I was like a teenager with a crush on a movie star or a schoolgirl besotted by her gym-master and when I saw him swimming one evening in Abedan, at the R.A.F. pool there and he had by this time acquired a premature but quite magnificent tan, I just flipped... He was driving me crazy and my inherent pride would not allow me to bend. He sailed through my life like a Matador... an Astronaut... A GOD… and he broke my heart each and every time he looked at me.

 

***

 

When eventually, my time came to return again to England, I felt quite ill. I was going into another world, with new faces and new patients, but without …the one person who was beginning to mean everything to me. The one love of my life ...The only love of my life. I dreaded the thought of seeing Jeremy and Aunt Martha again, even if only for a little while whilst I awaited my posting to the Fatherland... I wanted to get away somewhere on my own, but I didn’t know where I should go and just wished they would send me direct to Germany from Basra and get it over with. I wanted to wait somewhere on a quiet beach for him to come to me, but I was sure that if I took off all my clothes and stood on the highest diving board, ready to jump from a great height, Darius Crane wouldn’t even hear the splash. I was in despair and my heart was heavy... for after the long agonizing months of heartache, I had got nowhere…BUT he did smile at me on my last evening before I was due to leave Basra; a long, lingering, sensual smile, that simply said... Good-bye.