A Surgical Affair (10 page)

Diana stared back at Mark. She knew what he was thinking. That she was so unlike Denise; not brittle and sophisticated. That he must play this slowly, carefully, or he would kill the precious, unusual relationship they had. One brash move, one unguarded word and it would be all over. She would run like a wounded fawn back to her Richard, and he would be left with Denise, or someone like her.

“She must like you a lot.” Diana was peeling an apple carefully, trying hard not to sound resentful or annoyed.

He shrugged. “I take her out occasionally, and she—”

“I see.”

“No, you damned well don’t see, Diana!” he told her fiercely. “You don’t see at all!”

“Don’t shout at me!” Diana retorted angrily. “Shout at anybody you like, but not at me.”

Mark sighed wearily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, but can’t you understand? Her parents are rolling in money, they’ve invited me to stay at their villa in Cap d’Antibes. That’s all there is to it.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’d be mad to refuse.”

“Is she beautiful?”

“She must have been when she was younger,” he said thoughtfully. “She 34 now.”

“I really believe he doesn’t care for her at all,” Diana thought. And instead of feeling angry, she became almost sorry for Mark. “Do you like being alone all the time?” she asked him, in a puzzled voice. “I mean, don’t you need to belong to anyone? Most people do. Who would look after you if you were ill?”

“I’m used to being alone. I reckon I’ve forced myself to become used to it since Mary died.” He grinned, propping his elbow on the side of the boat. “Anyway, I’m never ill.”

“I think,” Diana said slowly, “if I were a man, I’d want to be like you, not having to rely on other people.” She didn’t add, “Instead of being a woman, helplessly in love with you.”

They went to see the deer in Magdalen Park, but nothing was quite the same. They had just had their first argument. The day, which began so full of promise, seemed to have ended in sadness. It was as though fate was keeping them apart; fate, in the shape of Denise, or Richard, or Mark’s unhappy marriage.

They drove back to the hospital in silence, but it was an uncomfortable silence, not the silence of companionship. Diana wondered if she would ever completely understand Mark, because sometimes he was almost a stranger to her. Perhaps that was his fascination; he didn’t lay out his character before her, as Richard did. Or were all Australians like that?

She was glad to be back at the hospital, in familiar surroundings. Outside it, they were from two different worlds.

Mark’s hand was on her shoulder as they walked across the forecourt. He didn’t seem to mind who might be watching them from one of the windows. It was the first time he had touched her that day.

They were together again. They had come home.

The following week, Miss Field, house surgeon to Mr. Lawrence Cole? became Dr. Field, house physician to Dr. Thomas Barker.

Diana found Mark in the front hall, after the Hospital Board had selected her.

“I have the job!” she cried, rushing up to him, flushed and smiling with excitement.

“Congratulations! I knew you would!” He was grinning as he shook her hand warmly.

Diana was glad that he seemed so pleased and proud of her. Eagerly, she told him what had happened.

“Mr. Cole winked at me during the interview and made me feel less nervous. There was an old man of about 80, with a white beard, he was very deaf—”

“That’s the Chairman of the Governors.”

“They asked me if I would be having a holiday before I start, and I s
a
id, “Only a week, because I like being here!’ which was true, but they all seemed amazed.”

Mark stood, hands plunged in his pockets, gazing at her with that look of amusement she had come to know well.

“Come to a p.m. with me,” he said. “Then you’d better go up and tell Sister the news. She’s waiting to hear what happened. She’s feeling great because Cole’s just told her she can leave and go home to convalesce.”

“That’s wonderful!”

They started walking slowly toward the Pathology Department.

Diana went
o
n, “When Dr. Barker asked me what I’ll do at the end of the year, I said, ‘Surgery, sir,’ and he frowned and said, ‘I’ll change all that nonsense.’
”

“But you can’t be a physician.” Mark exclaimed in horror. “You’re a born surgeon! Look at the way you tie knots.” They laughed, and Diana thought. “I feel so happy. Mark doesn’t know I’ve been dreading the possibility of having to leave the hospital
... to leave him. Now I know that for six more months I’ll be able to see him, talk to him, even though we aren’t working together. That’s all I want.”

“Success does you good,” he told her, grinning. “No wonder Barker took you on. That blue outfit makes you look just right. Not too severe, but efficient—and attractive.”

Diana knew that Hamish Scott, the young registrar on her new team wasn’t resident in the hospital and was doing research in the biochemistry laboratory most of the day.

As if he had read her thoughts, Mark then said, “You won’t be seeing much of Scott.” Had she detected a note of satisfaction in his voice? “It’ll be Barker who calls you on the phone now. He’ll be teaching you, discussing the patients with you. In fact, he’ll have you with him nearly all the time.”

“Do you know,” Diana said jokingly, “I think you’re just a little bit jealous?”

But she hadn’t expected him to reply in a rather sad voice, “Maybe I am, Diana.”

As they stepped into the post-mortem room, Diana decided not to comfort Mark by reminding him that Dr. Barker was 56, gray-haired, plump, and the father of four children.

“I’ll let him worry a bit
,
” she thought happily.

Then they watched the dissection being made on the corpse of Mrs. Elsie Charlton, aged 71.

The pathologist glanced up at them. “Cancer of the stomach, which spread to the liver, bones and brain.”

Mrs. Charlton, the patient from Charity Ward who had taken four years to do it, had died at last.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Diana went to stay with her parents for a week. Her father, after 40 years as a G.P. in London, had retired to a cottage by the sea, in his native North Wales.

She would spend most of the day in her bathing suit, lying on a rug in the garden, or swimming in the sea. In the evenings, the three of them always had a large dinner and sat on the veranda, talking over their coffee, until the mist came down from the mountains.

“I’ll bring the tea out in a few minutes.” Mrs. Field called down from the bedroom window, one afternoon.

Diana took off her sun glasses and looked up from her novel. “Right. I’ll put out the table.”

She was finding it good to be home. The peace and fresh air of the country, her mother’s delicious cooking, and three nights of uninterrupted sleep, had made her feel a different person. Diana stood up and stretched. “It’s odd,” she thought, “how some people don’t seem to need sunshine. It brings me to life. Without it, I feel pale and cold and only half alive. Now my body has a tan, I feel fit for anything.”

They laid the table under the chestnut tree, and relaxed in deck chairs. Mrs. Field, a tall, gray-haired woman, with the same intelligent, kind face as Diana, poured the tea. Her husband was, as usual, out fishing.

“Your letters make Mr. Cole sound a bit of a dragon, darling,” she said smiling.

“He’s not so bad, now he’s used to me,” Diana replied, through a mouthful of toasted scone.

“And what about your registrar, Mark somebody? You wrote so much about him when you first went there, and then we heard nothing. You still like him, don’t you?”

Diana was conscious of the keen gaze of her mother, who was always clever at detecting the most subtle changes of expression on her daughter’s face.

“I—um—he’s all right. The same as ever,” Diana murmured, hastily taking a piece of home-made lemon sponge.

“I’m glad you get on well. Let me see, he’s not married, is he?” Diana knew her mother was trying to sound casual, trying to conceal the curiosity she felt. “After all,” she always told Diana, “it’s only natural for me to be interested in your friends, particularly the male ones.”

“His wife died. Besides, he’s not my registrar any more. I’m working for Dr. Barker now.”

Diana hoped that her tone implied that there was nothing more to be said on the subject and that her mother wouldn’t pursue it.

She always had the feeling that her mother would somehow disapprove of her whole relationship with Mark. It wasn’t simple and straightforward. And Mrs. Field hated complications. The fact that Mark had been married before, unhappily too; that he was an Australian, that he seemed afraid to marry again—for Mrs. Field all these things would be insoluble problems.

Fortunately her mother began talking about the new people next door; so Diana found herself remembering her last few days at Mansion House Hospital.

After her final operation with Mark, a routine one on the thyroid gland, she had met his new house surgeon, an earnest-looking young man, and felt relieved that he was not a girl. She said goodbye to Mark in the common-room on the day she left for her holiday. Four other people were in the room, so it had been a quick, formal parting. The end all came very suddenly. And she knew that nothing would be quite the same when they met again.

Her mother interrupted Diana’s thoughts. “You’d better change darling. Richard will be here soon.”

Diana sighed. She’d completely forgotten he was coming.” “I don’t feel in the least like seeing Richard. I’ve reached a most exciting part in the novel I’m reading. It’s about a girl who—”

“When he phoned you were having your bath, he seemed so anxious to see you. I thought you’d like him to stay for a few days, you usually do.” Mrs. Field looked puzzled.

“I know—usually I do,” Diana agreed.

“It must be a bit dull for you, with
only your old parents to talk to, and the few people we meet in the village. Richard happened to have a few days off.”

They started to clear away the tea things. “Perhaps I’m just feeling tired after the hospital work,” suggested Diana, knowing she could not really deceive herself or her mother.

“Yes, that must be it. Richard is such a nice boy, and he seems so fond of you.”

Diana smiled. The number of times she had heard her mother say that! Her parents took it for granted that one day she would marry Richard. Every time he came to stay in Wales or Diana spent a weekend at his home, Mrs. Field would make some remark about how well suited they were, how their backgrounds were alike, what a brilliant future he had as a lawyer.

Richard arrived in high spirits, and the sun had bronzed his usually pale but handsome face. He was the same age as Diana with brown hair and an athletic body. Diana welcomed him without her usual warmth, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Well, Di?” he asked, as they went for a stroll before dinner. “How are you finding life as a doctor? Realized you’ve bitten off more than you can chew yet?”

How she wished he would not call her Di!

“No, Richard. I’m enjoying every minute of it. Especially the time in the theater.”

“The drama of scalpel meeting flesh, eh? The fascination will pass off eventually, mark my words.”

“You never did think I’d pass the exams and qualify, did you?”

“No. Frankly I never thought you were cut out for that sort of life, and I still don’t. You’re not tough enough, Di. I know you. I’ve known you for years now. You like literature, music, the theater. You aren’t the type to be messing about—”

“Messing about! I’m not messing about!” Diana was glaring at him furiously. “It’s useful work, surgery, and it’s something I think I can do fairly well. How would you suggest I earn my living?”

He stopped and gripped her arm tightly, gazing into her eyes. “Marry me,” he said urgently. “Marry me and let’s settle down in our own home. I’ll look after you. I’m doing well in my firm, and eventually I’ll be a partner. Where can all this hospital work lead you, anyway? Doesn’t it mean years and years more training, if you want to get to the top?”

“Oh, Richard,” said Diana despairingly. “We always end up arguing about this. You don’t understand what it would mean to me if I had to give up years of work, to throw it away. And if we married, you wouldn’t want me to go on practising, even if I were a G.P.”

“No. I’d want you as my wife and the mother of our children.
”

Diana looked at him sympathetically. “I know, Richard. And because I’m so—so fond of you, I could never be a doctor without knowing that you were encouraging me, that you were behind me. I couldn’t do it alone.”

“Diana, please try to see how I feel. Try to understand that I want you all to myself, not rushing out of the house at all hours of the day and night, at the beck and call of your patients.”

He had given her a straight choice: marriage or her career. An ultimatum.

“Richard, I want some time to think this all out.” She put her hand gently on his arm. “Dear Richard. I’ve said that before, haven’t I? You’ve been so patient with me. You’re always there, waiting, and I keep asking you to wait a little longer.”