The Furies (26 page)

‘But you haven't tested the vaccine's efficiency yet, have you?' Gabriel said, surprised to hear that Plotz had already used it – on himself.

‘We'll do the studies soon, and I'm in no doubt they'll show the vaccine's effectiveness…' He broke off as the car came to a stop outside the fever hospital. ‘This it?' Plotz asked, peering doubtfully through the window. ‘It looks more like a factory.'

‘It was a tobacco warehouse before we converted it into the fever hospital,' Elspeth said.

Plotz shrugged and opened his pocket watch. ‘Anyway I'm glad we're here. I need to get these samples quickly so I can make that train.'

They hurried into the hospital and as they entered the ward Gabriel saw Sylvia's eyes widen at the sight of him. Introductions quickly made, Elspeth informed her of the urgent purpose of the visit. Dr Wakefield was busy with an emergency chest drain, Sylvia told them as she began to pull notes from a trolley beside the nursing desk and directed one of the VADs to collect the temperature charts from all the recent admissions with typhus. She gave the notes to Plotz, who flicked through the pages while Elspeth scanned the temperature charts. Between them, they chose five subjects.

The first patient was an Austrian soldier, and after Gabriel explained the purpose of the procedure the soldier agreed to provide a sample and held out an arm. Gabriel rolled his shirt-sleeves back and bent to clean the skin of the soldier's arm with ethanol. Plotz handed him a glass syringe and needle and Gabriel took the blood sample and then injected it into a glass bottle filled with culture broth, which Plotz held for him. The same procedure was used to take samples from a further three patients.

But during the sampling on the last patient, several drops of blood splashed onto the back of Gabriel's right hand and wrist. After injecting this sample into the last bottle, Gabriel stepped aside: he held his blood-contaminated arm away from his body while Plotz secured the samples inside his bag before looking at his pocket watch again.

‘Aw, jeepers, look at the time,' he said. ‘Dmitri, I really
have
to get back to the station now. The next train for Belgrade is due and I must catch it if these are to be of any use.'

‘Of course: we'll go right away,' Anitch replied; then he looked at Gabriel – still holding his blood-tainted hand to one side – and frowned. ‘Perhaps you should stay and clean yourself up, Gabriel,' he said, ‘and I'll collect you after I've dropped Harry off at the station.'

Gabriel nodded and automatically extended his hand towards Plotz, before remembering it was soiled with blood and withdrawing it. ‘Better not shake,' he said with a dry look. ‘We don't know yet how effective that vaccine of yours is, Harry.'

Plotz, who had extended his hand at the same time, laughed. ‘Oh, don't you worry, Gabriel: it's effective alright,' he said with a chuckle. ‘Anyway, it's been a pleasure. If you ever want to work in New York again, be sure to let me know – I'd be happy to write a recommendation.' He nodded at Elspeth and Sylvia. ‘Dr Stewart, Sister Calthorpe, also a pleasure.' Then with Anitch at his side, he hurried out of the ward.

The urgency of Plotz's departure over, Gabriel looked at Elspeth and saw her smiling at him. Suddenly Sylvia's voice broke his thoughts.

‘Tut tut, Captain Bayer,' Sylvia said, arms folded in mock severity as she studied the flecks of blood on his wrist. ‘That last sampling was not your tidiest effort, was it? It's just as well you're immune to typhus. I hope you haven't forgotten where the wash basins are?'

‘No, Sister, I remember everything,' Gabriel said. ‘In particular that it is best not to argue with you.' He heard Elspeth gently laugh as he bowed his head to Sylvia, then spun on his heel and walked towards the washroom.

***

‘Hm,' Sylvia said to Elspeth when Gabriel was out of earshot. She was frowning thoughtfully as she spoke. ‘I haven't seen you looking this jolly in ages, Elspeth.'

Elspeth didn't reply, but instead felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she recalled the moment she had gone down from theatre to meet the famous American: the last person she had expected to see was Gabriel. But at the sight of him, she had felt such a thrill that even now she could not stop herself from smiling at the memory. As she had entered the ward she had seen he hadn't noticed her, and it had pleased her to stand quietly behind Lillian Chesney, watching Gabriel as he listened to Dr Inglis and Dr Plotz's conversation. For some minutes she had studied him, thinking he looked well, although she could read some sadness in his eyes. But eventually he had glanced in her direction, and with delight she had seen his sombre look vanish, replaced in an instant by a smile that filled his face…

She suddenly realised that Sylvia was speaking to her; she may, in fact, have been speaking to Elspeth for some time…

‘
Well
,
well
, Dr Stewart.' Sylvia now said, her hands on her hips, a look of understanding on her face. ‘I hadn't realised—'

‘There's nothing to realise, Sylvie. Yes, I am happy to see him, but—'

‘You don't have to explain, Ellie. Look, I have to help Dr Wakefield with the chest drain. There should still be some hot water left in the nurses' room samovar to make tea for yourself and Captain Bayer while you wait for Dr Anitch to return.'

‘Yes Sylvie, but—'

However, before Elspeth could finish, Sylvia had already turned away with a mischievous smile on her face, and Gabriel was walking towards her, rolling down his shirtsleeves, his jacket slung casually over his shoulder.

‘Sister Calthorpe had to leave?' he asked.

‘Um…Yes…Dr Wakefield needs help with that chest drain.'

‘Ah. I see.' There was a moment's silence as they smiled diffidently at each other. Then; ‘That Dr Plotz is quite a fellow isn't he?' Gabriel said as he re-buttoned his shirt cuffs.

Elspeth shrugged. ‘I don't know him well enough to draw any definite conclusions. But he must have a good reputation, if the Serbians asked him to come all the way over from America.'

‘In Austria we would call him a “Wunderkind”: I think in English you say “prodigy”?' She nodded as he continued. ‘He has accomplished a great deal at a very young age. But I'm surprised he's chosen to use blood to culture typhus bacillus. It's proven that lice spread the disease, so the bacillus must be inside the gut of the louse. That's where I would be looking.'

‘Well, I think it's because in America he only had access to patients with typhus, and not to lice. Anyway he's found a bacillus in the blood of patients with acute typhus, so…' She shrugged.

‘But is it the cause of typhus?' Gabriel looked doubtful. ‘I do believe he's found a bacillus, but is it the cause of the infection?'

‘Why wouldn't it be?

‘There are many bacteria that live inside man, so how do we know the bacillus he has isolated – this Plotz bacillus of his – is the cause of typhus?'

She looked into his eyes. ‘You're referring to Koch's Postulates, aren't you?'

The slightest of smiles appeared on his lips. ‘I am indeed.'

‘I think I see what you're getting at,' she said, pleased to be temporarily distracted from her feelings by thinking about the science of the problem. ‘So far Plotz has only fulfilled the first two of Koch's postulates: finding an organism in infected patients and then growing it in pure culture. But he also needs to show that his bacterium will cause typhus when introduced into a healthy host.'

‘Exactly – otherwise he could end up looking very foolish.'

She nodded. ‘I do feel a little sorry for him. There must be a great weight of expectation on him to produce a vaccine quickly. It would be quite easy to make a mistake. Ideally, he should have more time to test his bacillus in the same way that Koch did for tuberculosis…' She faltered as she saw him trying not to grin. ‘What?' she said, when he finally could not help but smile at her.

‘It's just…so rare to meet a surgeon, with such a good knowledge of microbiology.'

For a moment she looked thrown, but then her face relaxed. ‘As you know from before, I would normally be offended at hearing such a comment from a man. But this time I'll take it in the spirit I hope it was meant, as a genuine compliment—'

‘As a genuine compliment to a surgeon,' he interjected, ‘who just happens to be a woman.'

Her face broke into a smile. ‘My microbiology training in Edinburgh was very good. Anyway, would you like some refreshment? Dr Anitch may be a while before he returns and Sister Calthorpe has said we might find some tea in the ward office.'

‘If it's not too much trouble, that would be very nice.'

She led him to the nurses' room, which had previously been the warehouse supervisor's office. Opposite the door was a window with a vista of leafy tobacco fields, and underneath the window was a table, upon which sat a copper samovar, wisps of steam leaking from a tap, a teapot, cups and tea-box stacked beside it. Apart from a desk and two chairs to one side, the room was otherwise empty. Gabriel took a seat at the desk while Elspeth half-filled the teapot with hot water and swirled, then emptied it. As she carefully measured tea leaves into the pot and refilled it with fresh hot water, she could sense his fascination with her total absorption in the task.

‘I've long known about the English obsession with tea,' he finally said. ‘But I see you Scots are just the same.'

She placed the teapot and two cups on the desk, and then sat opposite him. ‘It's a tradition of the British Empire,' she said, ‘from the great tea-estates in Ceylon and India.' She lifted the pot lid and looked inside the as she swirled the contents. ‘It's even in our language now. We have tea-dances, tea-gardens, tea-rooms – it's all part of our nation's identity.'

‘And in Austria, we identify with the coffee bean,' he said, and Elspeth smiled as he continued. ‘When the Austrians saved Western Civilisation by defeating the Turks at the Battle of Vienna in 1683, they found sacks filled with strange dark beans. And so began our love affair with all things coffee. The Viennese cafés are famed for their varieties of coffee – fiaker coffee, rum coffee, iced coffee – so for us Austrians, coffee is as much a part of our culture as tea is in yours.'

‘Well, I'm sorry, Captain Bayer, but we have no coffee. So you'll have to make do with tea for now,' she said with mock seriousness. He dropped his head slightly and pouted with feigned sadness, and looked so ridiculous that she couldn't help but gently laugh.

‘You are a cruel woman, to torment an Austrian about his lack of coffee,' he said. ‘I can stand the lice, the dirt, the cold. But the lack of coffee is almost unbearable.'

She laughed once more and he grinned back at her; for a moment they held each other's gaze. Then she looked down at the teapot and swirled the contents again. After a while she placed it on the table and looked up at him.

‘Is there anything else from Austria you miss?'

He furrowed his brow. ‘I was born and brought up in Klagenfurt.' He looked at her, but she shook her head. ‘It's a small town in the Austrian Tyrol,' he explained, ‘in the mountainous region between Austria and Italy. It's a beautiful place, surrounded by lakes and mountains. My mother – she was a nurse – died a few years ago, but my father still lives there.' She saw a wistful expression appear on his face. ‘He is a retired pastry chef, but still makes wonderful strudels and tortes.'

‘I've eaten apple strudel before,' she said.

‘That's the most well known, although my favourite is cherry strudel. And he makes the most fabulous Sachertorte,' he said, and she frowned; ‘It's a very rich and moist chocolate cake,' he explained.

‘Like a chocolate gateau?'

‘Yes, but less cream, more chocolate.'

‘Sounds delicious.'

‘It is.' He paused before continuing. ‘And what do you miss most about Scotland?' he asked her.

‘Well…' She lifted the teapot lid for one final inspection. ‘You might expect I'd be missing the Scottish countryside. But the rolling hills and trees of Serbia – especially the pines – remind me so much of the Isle of Skye that I don't miss it at all. And we are very lucky to find so many of our home comforts here: tea, of course, Colman's mustard, Peak Frean biscuits, Dundee marmalade – I have most of the things I'm used to at home.' She began to pour tea into one of the cups. ‘I'm really content helping our Serbian allies, using my training as a surgeon to serve my king and my country.'

He smiled and nodded, and a comfortable silence developed as she filled the second cup. ‘I've not asked you before, but is there a Mrs Bayer?' she suddenly found herself asking as she pushed the cup towards him.

The question seemed to take him – as well as her – by surprise. ‘Oh…' He paused.

She could feel herself beginning to blush. ‘I'm sorry Captain…it was impertinent of me—'

‘No no, it's quite alright,' he said, already waving a hand dismissively. ‘I'm happy to answer.' He paused and took a deep breath. ‘My career has always been the most important thing in my life. I never really had the time…surgery is hard. It can be a very…'

‘Demanding vocation?' Elspeth said, finishing his sentence for him. He nodded. ‘I know that well,' she continued. ‘Sometimes think I'm married to my career as a surgeon.'

He picked up the cup, and holding it in both hands took a drink of tea. ‘And do you have a…' –He hesitated before he found the right word , ‘a “sweetheart”, I think you say?'

She felt flustered at the question, disconcerted that it made her face feel hot. And then she felt foolish because – after all – she had asked him almost the same thing.

‘No,' she said, avoiding his gaze. ‘Like you, I've been too busy to look for romance. Besides, most women doctors I know are unmarried, for much the same reason.' She felt him looking at her, but picked her cup up and kept her eyes on the rim as took a sip of the brew.