The Way We Were (11 page)

Alice nodded and tried to keep a straight face. ‘Well, Larry, the best thing for you to do is to make an appointment with the sexual-health clinic. I can give you their number.’

Larry shook his head. ‘Are you having a laugh? I’m not going to the clap clinic. I Googled it and all I need is some azithromycin. It says on the Internet that one tablet will sort me out.’

‘You need to be tested, Larry. Have you had any symptoms? Are you experiencing a burning sensation when you pass urine? Is there any milky discharge from your penis?’

Larry shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. ‘Well, it does burn a bit when I pee. But I read about the tests they do on the Internet. I’m not having anyone – not even you, Alice – sticking anything up my dick to get samples. Just give me the tablets and give me one for my wife and all.’

‘I’m sorry, Larry, but I can’t prescribe anything for your wife. I’d need to see her first.’

‘Are you mental? Do you think I’m bringing my wife in here? I told you, Doc, she’d cut it off if she found out. I’ve figured it all out. I’m going to crush the pill up and stick it in her coffee. Do you think the hot water would damage it?’

Was he clinically insane? Did he honestly think she was going to allow him to drug his wife secretly with pills she’d prescribed? Alice needed to nip this in the bud.

‘Larry, drugging your wife without her permission is both unethical and illegal.’

‘Come on, Alice, do you want to cause my marriage to break up and my dick to be cut off?’

I wouldn’t mind cutting it off myself, thought Alice. ‘I think the cheating might be the cause of your problems, not me.’ Alice was actually enjoying watching Larry sweat it out. She felt almost human today. Maybe getting back to work had been a good idea. She needed this – it was a good distraction.

Larry threw his hands into the air. ‘I knew you’d be like that. You women are all the same. Maybe you’re not ready to be back at work. You’re not on top of your game. I bet a male doctor would give me the pills.’

Alice chose to ignore the comment about her readiness to work. ‘No doctor is going to allow you to drug your wife, Larry.’

‘All right, then. How about you call her in for a smear? While you’re rooting about down there, you could check for chlamydia.’

‘I have no intention of calling your wife in or “rooting about” for anything.’

‘Why are you being such a cow? I need those tablets and I need them now.’

Alice stood up. ‘Well, then, you’re going to have to look for them elsewhere.’

‘Fine. I’ll get them on the Internet.’

‘Just remember that drugging someone without their consent is a crime.’

‘You know what you need, you uptight bitch – a good shag.’

Larry stormed out and Kevin came rushing in. ‘What happened?’

‘Your plan to ease me back into it has failed. I’ve just been called an uptight bitch by my first patient.’

‘Oh, God, I’m sorry, Alice.’

Alice smiled. ‘Don’t worry, it was extremely distracting. But do me a favour, put his name on your blacklist and don’t ever let him through the door again. Right, who’s next?’

Declan whistled under his breath. ‘Christ, he’s a mess.’

Ben rubbed his hand wearily across his face. ‘We have to try to save him.’

‘Let the bastard die.’

In front of them lay Eyob. He had been hit by a grenade. His right leg was barely recognizable as a human limb – a bloodied mash of bone and sinew.

‘What about the Hippocratic oath?’ Ben reminded Declan.

‘To hell with it. The guy’s a low-life scumbag and he deserves to die.’

‘We’re doctors. We have a duty to try to save him.’

‘Don’t start with your bullshit English duty. You know as well as I do that we should let him bleed out.’

Declan’s face was flushed and his fists were clenched tightly. Ben needed to calm him down. He understood why Declan hated Eyob, but letting him die was not the answer. Yonas would be back soon to stand guard and Awate would be checking on them too.

Declan’s breath was ragged as he clasped his left shoulder. It was the one that Eyob had dislocated. Ben knew that he was close to the edge. He had to stop his friend doing something stupid. Declan glared down at Eyob, hate radiating from his body.

The fight had happened on New Year’s Eve. As Ben and Declan prepared to ring in the new year sitting in their tent, chained to each other and the tree, Awate had come in and barked at Eyob to unchain them. He had insisted that the two doctors join the rest of the men for a drink. Devastated still to be prisoners as the new year dawned, they had been sitting in silence, lost in their thoughts, distraught to be away from loved ones with no end in sight to their captivity. So when Awate had offered them a drink, Declan had jumped up and proceeded to gulp down glass after glass of the local home-made brew, called
suwa
. Ben couldn’t stomach the stuff – it was utterly foul and, besides, he was too depressed to drink. He wanted to weep every time he thought about Alice and the girls celebrating the new year without him. He ached to put his arms around his wife and daughters and hold them close. Once again he berated himself for leaving them – I’m a stupid, selfish, self-centred bastard, he thought, for the millionth time.

Declan, on the other hand, embraced the oblivion offered by the alcohol. He threw it back, claiming that it tasted like the
poitín
his granddad used to distil from potatoes. He drank like a man possessed, drowning out the darkness of his situation, pushing back the fear and rage that threatened to bring him down. When Ben tried to stop him, Declan brushed him off and drank with even more determination.

It ended up turning into a drinking competition between Declan and Eyob. They had never liked each other. Ever since Eyob had caught Declan winking at Feven, who, it turned out, was his cousin, he’d had it in for the Irishman. Any excuse he got, he’d shout at Declan, push him around and regularly shoved his gun in Declan’s face.

Ben knew that the drinking game would end badly. Eyob
was young, nervy and unpredictable. After the seventh glass, Eyob said something to Awate.

‘Eyob wants to fight you – like WWF, you know?’ Awate translated.

Declan threw his head back and laughed. ‘You mean this skinny prick wants to wrestle me? Bring it on.’

Ben stepped in and placed a warning hand on Declan’s arm. ‘Don’t do it,’ he urged. ‘If you beat him, he’ll make your life miserable. If you lose, you could get hurt.’

Declan pushed Ben aside. ‘I grew up fighting on the streets. I’m going to nail this toe-rag.’ He walked over and stood in front of Eyob. ‘Come on, then! Show me what you’ve got.’

The two men faced each other, walking slowly in circles. Eyob was thin, but he was wiry and muscly. Declan was taller and very fit. All the water-carrying in recent weeks had made his arms taut and strong.

Word got out that there was a fight on and the women and children came over to watch.

Eyob threw the first punch, and Declan ducked. ‘Ha, is that the best you can do?’

Declan swung at him, but missed. Ben held his breath. He prayed silently, ‘Please, God, don’t let him win, but don’t let him get hurt either.’

Ben knew if Declan knocked Eyob down he would either get shot or badly beaten up afterwards. There was no way Eyob would allow the Irishman to embarrass him in front of his people.

Declan was too drunk: he was stumbling. So was Eyob, but less so. Eyob punched Declan right in the nose, and a cheer went up. Blood ran down Declan’s face, but he just wiped it away and laughed in Eyob’s face. Then he threw a
dummy punch, which Eyob ducked to avoid, and when he came back up, Declan smashed him on the left cheek with a strong right-hander.

The crowd gasped as Eyob spun around and landed face down. Declan stood over him, gloating. ‘That’ll teach you, you son-of-a-bitch. Next time you point your fucking gun in my face, remember that you’re just a pussy.’

‘Declan!’ Ben shouted, rushing over to drag him away. Was he mad? Did he have a death wish? It was bad enough that he’d knocked Eyob down – he didn’t need to make him even angrier.

Ben tugged Declan’s arm and pulled him in the direction of their tent, but Declan was yanked back. Ben spun around to see Fikru, Eyob’s friend, holding Declan, while Eyob attacked him with the butt of his rifle.

‘STOP!’ Ben shouted. He looked for Awate, but the leader was watching the spectacle along with everyone else. Apparently they thought this was okay.

Ben grabbed Eyob from behind and pulled him away. Fikru let go of Declan to help his friend. Declan crumpled to the floor, clutching his stomach.

Ben screamed at Awate, ‘You can’t let him do this! It’s obscene.’

Awate shrugged. ‘Eyob needed to reaffirm his authority. It’s over now.’

Ben was shaking. ‘How the hell do you expect Declan to operate if he’s injured? You promised that if we did what you asked there would be no violence.’

Awate put out his cigarette. ‘Declan wanted to fight. Fighting is violent.’

‘You have to let us go – we can’t go on like this. I need to see my family. It’s been nearly three months.’

Awate shook his head. ‘Always so impatient. There is more
work for you to do here. We still have injured soldiers, pregnant women and sick children. You will stay.’

‘When can we go?’ Ben was on the verge of tears. ‘When can I hold my children again? I can’t do this, Awate, I can’t do this any more. You have to let me go. I won’t operate again. I won’t help you. Keeping us here is inhumane.’

‘You don’t operate, I shoot Declan. He doesn’t operate, I shoot you. You will stay until I say so, and you will work.’

‘When? When will you say so? It’s like torture not seeing my girls.’

Awate put his face close to Ben’s and hissed, ‘My daughter was killed by a landmine when she was eight years old. Don’t talk to me about pain.’

‘I’m sorry about that, but it’s not my fault. Let us go. Please.’

‘Enough!’

Awate barked an order to Yonas, who took Ben firmly by the arm and dragged him back to his tent. Declan was helped in by another soldier. Yonas chained them together in silence, then left.

Ben put his head into his hands and began to cry. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

‘Hey, buddy, take it easy now,’ Declan said gently. ‘Anyway, I’m the one who should be crying. I think that bastard broke my collarbone, as well as a couple of ribs.’

Ben looked up at Declan’s bloodied face. ‘Sorry, bad day.’

‘Every day here is a bad day. Come on, we’ll get through this. We just have to stay strong.’

Ben stood up. ‘Staying strong does not include challenging soldiers to fights. To use one of your own expressions, you’re a gobshite. You could have been killed in there and I don’t much like the idea of being stuck here alone. Next time, keep your big fat Irish mouth shut.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Declan tried to raise his arm in mock-salute, but winced in pain.

‘Come on, let’s have a look at you.’

Ben laid Declan back and unbuttoned his shirt. Declan’s chest was a mass of red marks, bruises and cuts. Ben gently felt around for broken ribs.

‘Right, three broken ribs and your left shoulder is out. I’ll need to pop it back in.’

‘Any chance of a drink first?’ Declan asked.

‘None, but on the positive side, you’ve had a lot already so the pain should be numbed a little. One … two … three.’ Ben slammed his hand into Declan’s shoulder, popping the socket back into place.

‘
Chriiist
on a bike!’ Declan howled. ‘Whatever happened to a delicate touch?’

Ben smiled tiredly. ‘Happy New Year. Now shut up and try to rest. It’s going to hurt like hell in the morning, when the alcohol has worn off.’ Ben cleaned Declan’s bloody face and insisted that he sleep on both thin mattresses for comfort.

‘I’m not taking yours.’

‘Yes, you are. You’ll need it tonight. You need as much padding as you can get.’

‘There is no way I’m letting you sleep on the ground. I’m the idiot who got myself beaten up, I’ll be fine.’

‘Declan,’ Ben snapped, ‘this is a one-night-only offer. Now, shut up and take it.’ Ben helped him to get settled on the two thin mattresses and covered him with a sheet. He lay down beside his friend on the straw mat and wrapped himself in a blanket, then tried to sleep, but Jools’s face kept appearing before him – ‘Where are you, Daddy? Please come home.’

Beside him, in the dark, Ben could hear Declan quietly crying.

Happy New Year.

Declan folded his arms and moved away from the operating table, where Eyob lay motionless. ‘He bloody deserved it.’

‘Declan, you have to assist me or you’ll be shot,’ Ben hissed.

As if on cue, Awate marched into the tent, looking tense. ‘You have to save him. He is my wife’s godson. He must be saved.’

Ben pulled on his surgical gloves. ‘We will do everything we can, but he’s very badly injured. Look – his lower leg has turned blue. I think he’ll lose it.’

‘Do your best or there will be consequences,’ Awate threatened.

As he left, Yonas came in to stand guard. Ben bent down to have a closer look at the damage. Eyob’s heel leg had been blown off and the tibia was splintered. ‘Damn it, we’ll have to amputate.’

Suddenly Declan was paying attention to the patient and his leg. ‘Amputate? I’ve never done that. Maybe I will assist after all.’

‘Be my guest.’ Ben handed him the blade.

Ben administered ketamine anaesthesia. It was good for blocking pain, but Eyob would be confused and semi-wakeful throughout.

‘Easy now, we don’t want him to feel no pain,’ Declan said.

Declan lifted the leg so Ben could fix the tourniquet at the top of the thigh. They then had to take flaps of skin and muscle long enough to cover the bone and form a stump. Declan made the front incision across the shin about eight
inches below the kneecap, then drew the blade around the back of the calf in a downward curve through the skin and muscle. He was concentrating now and Ben needed his help. ‘Right, we need to divide the nerves, cut them and dissect the arteries and veins.’ Ben held up a blunt chisel. ‘I’ll scrape the periosteal membrane up so you can get a clean cut.’

Soon the only thing joining Eyob’s leg to his body was the bare bone. Declan vigorously sawed through the fibia and then the much thicker tibia. ‘This saw is blunt from overuse,’ he complained.

‘Keep going, you’re nearly there,’ Ben encouraged him.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Declan went back to it with renewed energy. The last bit of bone was finally separated and the leg fell into Ben’s waiting hands.

Declan grinned. ‘Hopalong won’t be giving me trouble anytime soon.’

Eyob looked dazed and confused as he gazed at his leg on the floor. ‘Don’t worry, pal.’ Declan patted him on the shoulder. ‘It’s only a leg. It could have been worse. Look on the bright side. You’ll get more wear out of your socks.’

Ben stifled a laugh. ‘You could take up karate for amputees – it’s called partial arts.’

Declan snorted. ‘You might need to change your name. You could be called Lee Ning.’

‘Or Rocky,’ Ben added.

‘Balan Singh.’ Declan had to pretend to cough he was laughing so much.

Eyob closed his eyes.

‘Hey, Declan, what do you call a man with no arms and no legs sitting on your front porch?’ Ben whispered.

‘Matt. Hey, Ben, what do you call a man with no arms and no legs in a pool?’

‘Bob.’

‘What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in a pile of leaves?’

‘I don’t know that one,’ Ben said.

‘Russell!’ Declan howled with laughter.

Both men cracked up, and once they’d started, they couldn’t stop. Yonas came over and shouted at them, but it only made them laugh harder. Tears streamed down their faces as Yonas shouted at them to ‘work’.

It was only when he cocked his rifle that they got back to their patient.