The Surgeon Was a Lady Read online

Well, Ted nobody seemed to know anything about Sylvana De Marco after that. She just seemed to have slipped into oblivion after her death and of course nothing was ever mentioned about this to me until Daddy had died and... my other mother... had lost her temper. I don’t suppose now I shall ever know anything about that actress, but I just wish she had been a little bit more discreet and careful about her paramours... and taken more precautions in her sex life and then I wouldn’t have all these problems or the bloody weird nature that she has passed on to me, would I now ?... But then... you wouldn’t have had such a perverse client, Ted... would you?” she concluded and then as an afterthought she changed the subject... “Incidentally, I haven’t had your bill yet. Send it to me when you can and I will settle it immediately. Do you know how long this ‘treatment’ is going to take? It’s like performing a brain operation on me... without an anaesthetic.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Whatever is that revolting stuff you’re making, Fred?” Clemmie sniffed the air as she passed her fellow nurse, preparing his concoction in the kitchen. She was tired... She’d had a busy day and was glad to hand over her responsibilities to Fred.

  “Haven’t you ever heard of gruel, Clementina?” he asked with wide eyes and Clemmie laughed. Fred always did have a new name for her whenever their paths crossed more often than not as she was finishing and he was starting the duties of looking after Paul.

  “Yes, of course I’ve heard of gruel. It’s that Dickensian stuff they fed to Oliver Twist, isn’t it?” she said and he smiled broadly as he continued to stir. “What on earth are you going to do with it?” she asked, trying to be polite.

  “You can have some if you like... Very taste stuff, you know,” he said as he licked his spoon and offered it to Clemmie

  “Ugh!” She spluttered, “I couldn’t eat that. What’s in it?”

  Fred touched his nostril with his forefinger.

  “Ah now... Dat would be tellin’... an’ if you knew dat, you’d be as clever as I is, now wouldn’t you just?”

  “But you haven’t told me what it’s for, yet?”

  He stared at her in utter surprise and his large, dark ebony eyes made her blush.

  “Why it’s for Paul of course... Who else?”

  Clemmie looked alarmed as she had another good look at the pot with the stuff in it that Fred was stirrring.

  “You can’t let him actually eat that, Fred. You’ll kill him... and anyway, I don’t think Willie will approve.”

  “It is too late even for Missy Willie to approve or not. He’s had it all this week an’ he loves it. His muscles is gettin’ stronger an’ have you had a good look at his hair? Why, it’s positively gleamin’ man.”

  Clemmie scratched her head in confusion. She had noticed that Paul’s hair was in better condition than it had been for a long time... She remembered how she became concerned when she washed it and handfuls would come away in her fingers as she rubbed the shampoo into his scalp... but she hadn’t attributed that healthy appearance to anything in particular... and certainly not to this gooey stuff that Fred was mixing so happily.

  “All witch doctor stuff,” she giggled and blushed again. “I guess all these old fashioned recipes have their good qualities, otherwise people would never have found them in the first place,” she added condescendingly as she took another good sniff.

  “What are you sayin’ woman? Old fashioned recipes? Why the modern woman today rubs horse-shit into her scalp and then pours beer over it to rinse it out,” Fred said as he raised his eyebrows waiting for a response from Clemmie... “

  She sighed and yawned.

  “Well I don’t put... manure... of any kind on my head and besides, I’m off to bed now. I’ll say good night and good nursing, Fred.”

  Fred looked at her as she was going and twisted his mouth in a funny way.

  “You need some of my gruel, you know... Dat’s what you need, Missy Chrissie.”

  He called after her and she nodded, accepting the new name he had found for her, but made no attempt to sample his cure for baldness... or whatever it was, but hardly had she reached the fourth step on the stairway when she heard singing that sounded to her like a gentle lullaby... well, that’s what she thought it was... until she listened carefully to the words.

  ‘Now the good Lord, He just ain’t no fool,

  An’ we all knows, He does most things right,

  But how come ah’m as black as hell,

  When de soles of ma feet is white?”

  Clemmie laughed all the way up to her bedroom, but that night she didn’t sleep too well as she thought of Paul and what would become of him... eventually... and of Willie and her treatment of such a gentle man, but her sleep became more tense as she dreamed of Seyone Vijayananda and how he made her laugh when her mind was so troubled. What sort of a man was this Fred? She was anxious to know.

  ***

  “Hello Fred... Any tea in the pot?” Willie asked as she threw her coat over an armchair near where Paul was resting. “I’m just dying of thirst.” Her day had been very busy in the Theatre and her list was full; fuller than it had been for quite some time.

  It was early evening and the dark would settle soon, as Fred poured the tea and handed her a mug, before reaching towards the light switch on the wall, but she stayed his hand with her own.

  “Leave it... I’ve had a busy day and I’ve got a headache... The light only makes it worse,” she said before she raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh! I see you don’t use cups here any more,” she joked, “Never mind... I don’t mind roughing it... Aren’t you having one with me?”

  He shrugged his shoulders as she raised the mug to her lips.

  “Just had one... Yours was the last in the pot.” he said, but omitted to say that he had added some water to the teapot that wasn’t quite boiling... when she wasn’t quite looking...

  “How do you like living with us, Fred?” she asked as she stretched out and touched Paul’s hand. “I suppose you’ve settled in by this time, but I don’t see too much of you, do I?”

  She played with her husband’s fingers as she spoke and he dribbled...

  “I’m fine... and I hope I’m doing alright... with Mr. Paul, I mean?” Fred asked and Willie nodded as she swept her hair back from her forehead, having dropped Paul’s hand as quickly as she had taken it.

  “I know I’m being a lazy cow, Fred, but you could you be a darling and get me a biscuit or something... I don’t know where Clemmie keeps anything in the kitchen,” she lied and he went to the biscuit tin and placed it down firmly on the table near her.

  “Thanks, Fred. You are a dear. I just don’t fancy anything heavy... this is fine,” she said sweetly as she bit into a ginger snap. “Come and sit down,” she remarked as she observed that Fred was still standing by the fireside, where the flames threw a shadow across the room and caught his giant silhouette on the wall. “I won’t bite you... standing there as though you were lost somewhere. Relax... Feel at home. What’s the matter with you, Fred? Why are you so nervous?” she said, but Fred did not move.

  “Paul’s asleep,” she went on,” and besides he doesn’t hear too well. Turn his face to the wall and come and sit beside me,” she purred, but again he did not move as she studied him with alert, eager eyes that belied the tiring activities of her day... and her headache story went for a walk... She patted the chair and put her mug on the coffee table. “I like this time of day, Fred... when all the work is finished and you just have to lay back and... relax, don’t you?”

  “Well, my day is just beginning, Miss Lilly, “ he said, knowing that he had purposely called her by another name. He thought this might annoy her... just a little and he watched her reaction, as she smiled cynically before her face took on a hardened expression and her mouth tightened.

  “That’s sounds typically native... Miss Lilly..
.” she snapped, “you’re not talking to one of your own kind now, you know... I’ll have you...” But he wouldn’t allow her to finish her sentence, as he interrupted and excused her coarseness with an explanation... or rather an interpretation of his own.

  “Willie... That’s a man’s name, isn’t it?” he said slowly and she glared at him angrily, but only for a few seconds before a wicked smile played around her scarlet lips.

  “I’m no man, Fred,” she whispered, “Come nearer and you’ll see. This could never be a man... Come.”

  At that moment Paul coughed and the exaggerated noise in the still, dark, silent room startled her. She replaced her skirt and took her mug from the table as Fred looked down towards Paul.

  “I’ll just go now and get supper for your husband,” he announced as he left the kitchen, without thinking... for Paul’s supper was already in the ‘fridge, waiting to be heated in the microwave, but he could hardly turn back then... and she got up from where she was sitting and followed him.

  “Surely you’ve seen a white woman before, Fred... I would have thought you were a man of the world... you know, being a nurse and that... “ she confronted him in the hall and he gazed steadily into her eyes, before he turned sharply and went into the kitchen again, where she trailed in behind him.

  “My mother was a white woman... a white lady,” he said, emphasizing his last word and she scowled.

  “I don’t suppose you’d recognise a lady from the types you’re used to, unless your sexual preferences are... a little different?” she sneered and he resented her inference, but there was no way he was going to prove that she was wrong as he looked into her face and smiled calmly as he put on his voice...

  “Am gonna get the master his gruel now, Missy Milly... so if you don’ mind... ken you just step outa mah way?” he said with a smirk on his face and Willie smashed her mug into the kitchen sink where it broke into small pieces.

  “Ah wouldn’ do dat too often Missy... ‘cos you don’ have dat many more mugs in yo kitchen...”

  She glowered at him and screamed as he opened the ‘fridge door and took out the gruel.

  “Get out of here. Get out of here. Do you hear me? You’re fired.”

  He handed her the cup of gruel and grinned,

  “Den ah’ll jest go upstairs and git ma coat. Maam. ‘Scuse me, if you please?”

  He was about to leave the kitchen when she ran ahead of him and stood in the doorway with her arms outstretched.

  “Fred... Fred... I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was uncalled for. We’re being silly about this... It’s just... it’s just that, you must realize how it is with me and my life here with... “ she wouldn’t say her husband’s name as she looked at him scornfully, “There’s nothing left in him. Surely you can see that,” she complained and Fred stood silently for a few seconds before he took the gruel back from her and went towards Paul.

  “He’s got a really nice smile, you know... and a great big heart,” he said in clear English as he proceeded to feed Paul with his specially made concoction that was such a wonderful hair restorer and he began to sing softly.

  ‘Now He don’ do things by halves, dat’s sure.

  But, if’n He do everythin’ right,

  Den how comes all mah tongue am pink

  When mah teeth is so pearly white?’

  Willie ran upstairs crying and slammed the door as she went into her bedroom and the noise woke Clemmie, who sat up startled in her bed. She listened carefully in the dark, but all she could hear was someone crying and the deep sonorous voice that sang so plaintively.

  ‘How comes den all mah tongue am pink

  When mah teeth is so pearly white?’

  She rolled over peacefully and went back to sleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ted Sutherland bustled into his reception room, letting his umbrella fold down of its own accord and pushing it into the china stand that stood by the front door of the office. Monica was busy arranging her filing for that day.

  “Hey Taurus... Can you come in here for a minute,” he called out as he went into the consulting room, “Old Scorpio is in need of a helping hand...”

  Monica arranged her paper in three piles neatly on her desk.

  “My help,” she repeated, “Sure what can I do for you?”

  “Well to start with I think you’ve been with me long enough to call me, Ted, don’t you... an’ I’ve got a pile of work here that needs careful and detailed attention and as we’ll have to work, head to head... so to speak, I think we should drop the formalities, eh?”

  Monica knew it wasn’t some advice on the latest perfume for his wife, or something quite trivial like that by the look on his face... and besides, she remembered that he didn’t have a wife... he was a confirmed bachelor. He could dole out advice and corrections on what to do in order to get out of a marriage... and the same to stay in it, but he himself would never contemplate the Holy and Sacred State... no matter what... Not for all the tea in China... she was sure of that.

  “Yes, Ted... What is it you want,” she asked as she closed the door behind her and followed him into the consulting room, “and remember... you said all that filing was urgent and would have to be done this morning.” Ted plunked into his chair, all eighteen stone of manhood and checked the answering machine for any calls of the previous evening, aware that Monica should have already done that chore, but he was anxious to clear everything from his mind, so that he could settle into the main purpose of his morning... The answering machine spun back making a whirring sound, but there were no messages.

  “Good... “ he rubbed his hands, “Now... we can get on,” he muttered, Let the filing wait... But you could put the coffee on before we start... there’s a good girl.”

  She did just that and brought the tray with the cups in before they settled down to the work together and Ted pointed his thick, stubby finger towards the visitor’s chair.

  “Sit down there,” he barked... “ Now then, Monica... if you were an actress, looking for work, how would you go about it?”

  She poured the coffee and stared at him in amazement.

  “An actress?” she asked and her eyes went wide. “Wow! I’ve never ever thought along those lines before... though I nearly joined a rock group a couple of years back...”

  “No... No, be serious, Monica. If you were...”

  “Yes, yes, I heard you the first time and I’m still thinking.”

  “But if you were... for gawd’s sake use your imagination.”

  She looked down at the carpet and smiled.

  “Will I get a raise in my salary, if I do,” she asked and Sutherland gave her what she called one of his ‘old fashioned looks... ‘ “No,” she answered her own question, “Didn’t think so somehow,” but she got up from her chair and strolled across the room, pushing her hair up from her neck and over her head and giving him one of her old fashioned looks... Her knees met and she slapped her palm to her forehead, pursing her lips.

  “I’d get me an Agent... that’s what I’d do,” she answered spontaneously and Sutherland clapped his hand to his brow.

  “Of course... Of bloody course... Why didn’t I think of that?” he shouted as he jumped up from his chair and it vibrated. “Monica, just forget all about that filing and get me that thing we had on whatsername... will you?”

  She looked at him blankly.

  “Oh that...” she said and he realized how his enthusiasm had run away with him.

  “You know... the file on that woman who had the problem child... last week. No two weeks ago... You know the kid who wanted to be an elephant or something... or was it Bugs Bunny?”

  Monica scratched her head and searched her memory.

  “Problem child... Bugs Bunny... Oh, you mean Mrs. Shapiro... She was a...”

  “Yeah
... yeah, that’s the woman... “ he said and looked at Monica as they both shouted together.

  “She was a theatrical agent...”

  “That’s the one, Monica. Can you get her on the phone for me please?”

  “Sure. I can do that, but what will I say to her... That you want to put me on the stage?”

  Ted started to bite his nails.

  “Just say that I want to speak to her... that’s all?” he cried in excitement as Monica saluted and rolled her eyes. “And I’ll have another coffee whilst you’re at it... and you might as well keep the percolator going. I think we’re in for a busy day.”

  ***

  “Hello, Is that the Shapiro-Walker Agency?” Monica enquired and a voice came back with a strong American accent.

  “Sure is honey... What can I do for you?”

  Monica felt rather in awe. She had never actually spoken to a Theatrical Agency before and when she had spoken to Mrs. Shapiro previously, she had thought her to be just another client.

  “Will you hold the line for a moment, please? I have a call for you.” she said and stared at the mouthpiece as if it had horns.

  “Oh Hello... my name is Sutherland. Edward Sutherland and I’d like to speak to Mrs. Shapiro, please.”

  “So would I,” the American accent came through again, “But she’s in the States for the next ten days, can I help you?... I’m her number one man an’ fan...”

  Ted could imagine some smart ass, chewing gum addict on the other end of his line, but he was polite.

  “Well... I’m not sure, but perhaps you can.”

  “Fire away then... this is Alf Walker here at your service, Sir.”

  “Oh! Good morning, Mr. Walker.” Ted said, but he had only spoken a few words when he heard the first few bars of the Sugar Plum Fairy on his line. “Hello... Hello, Mr. Walker... Are you there?” he called out but the music continued without respite. “Hello... Hello...”

  “Hello... Is that. Edward Sutherland? Yeah, we got cut off there old son. It’s this damn phone. Only had it installed a few days ago an’ I don’t know how to use the bloody thing. The old one never gave us no trouble, No Sir... Oh sorry about that...”