The Surgeon Was a Lady Read online

  “That’s OK.. I understand.”

  “Good... Now let’s hope that damn music don’t start again, before we get to know what we’re talking about, eh?”

  “Well. Mr. Walker... I...”

  “Oh call me Alf... Everybody does.”

  “Er... yes, thanks... Alf... I have a client who needs some help from someone like yourself... a Theatrical Agent.”

  “Sure... Fire away Edward... Our commission is only 12%. Is it a chick? Can she warble. What’s her trick?”

  Ted stared at the telephone as if it was doing the talking...

  “No... No, it’s not like that... Alf... You see, I’m a psychiatrist and I’m trying to trace an actress, who once worked in Austria... In Innsbruck actually... I think.”

  “Hey Eddy... I can call ya Eddy, O.K? We’re a Theatrical Agent... We don’t do no travel. Why don’t you try Thomas Cook?”

  “No... No, you don’t understand... Alf. Please hear me out? I’m very serious and this could be a matter of some considerable consequence. Can you give me any idea... from your vast experience... how I could trace such a person... if she acted under an Agent whilst she was working in Innsbruck?”

  Ted could almost smell the chewing gum down the phone as he waited.

  “Hold on, Eddy...”

  There was another long session of the Sugar Plum as he waited. Then there was a loud click.

  “Are you still there Eddy... Can you hear me?” the voice with the American accent shouted and Ted jumped as he held the phone away from his ear for a second.

  “Yes. I can hear you Alf.”

  “That’s fine... I got another blast of that bloody Sugar Plum thing an’ I didn’t know how to stop ‘er. OKnow..?”

  “Yes... You’re very clear. I can hear you perfectly.”

  “Right, give me the name of this chick an’ I’ll see what I can do. Can’t promise nothing, mind?”

  Ted gathered his notes in front of him.

  “Her name is De Marco. Sylvana De Marco... he emphasized and repeated it... spelling it like a five year old.”

  “Can’t do nothin’ immediately... You knows that don’t ya?”

  “Of course, I understand. But it is rather important and I would be most grateful if you could do your best for me.”

  “Do that Eddy... What’s your number?” he asked and Ted gave him the information. “Well now Eddy you don’t have none of this bloody Fairy stuff on your line, have you?” he asked and Ted laughed.

  “No... nothing like that Alf. You’ll come through to my secretary,” he said, knowing that Monica would be pleased when she knew he had addressed her in that way, with an upgraded title.

  She came through the door as he put the phone down.

  “Ted... Secretary’s earn a lot more than Receptionists, you know,” she said with a smile.

  “I thought you might be listening... “ he said, “Can you bring me in the Fehrenbach file please,” he asked and as she was about to leave the room again, he called her name.

  “Monica?”

  “Yes Ted,” she replied with a smile, not knowing what increase in her salary he was going to give her, but he looked at her and put his five fingers to his nose.

  “Close the door quietly when you leave, will yuh?” he asked, but she only raised two fingers as she left.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Well, if it isn’t the gorgeous Wilhelmina Fehrenbach... well, I never... How are you Willie?” She looked up to see Bret Ashford from the first year intake, staring down at her where she sat at the desk in the Receiving room studying some notes for a patient who was due for operation the following day. She raised a cynical eyebrow without saying a word. “It seems ages since I last saw you, Willie... You’re lookin’ great,” he added and she looked at him sourly

  “I’m not too bad,” she answered with an air of indifference and returned to her notes for a few seconds before she addressed the nurse who stood by her side.

  “Yes, these will do nurse. Can you make sure they come to the Theatre with the patient and don’t forget the X-Rays, OK?”

  “Yes, doctor.

  Bret stood back in admiration as Willie stood up dressed in her Theatre gown and holding her mask in her hand.

  “Still chopping people up, I see,” he remarked with a sneer. “Seen any lovely bodies recently, have you?”

  Willie stood still for a few moments, playing with her mask.

  “None that you would appreciate, I’m sure,” she answered and he grinned lasciviously.

  “I’ve just come from Canada... If you should want to ask me...” he said, still grinning.

  “I don’t,” she replied coldly, “And now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get on with what I was doing before you so rudely interrupted me.”

  She meant to walk away but he blocked her path.

  “Oh Willie... That’s no way to treat an old friend. Surely you don’t feel that way about me... Wasn’t always like that, was it? Why, I can remember the time... and not so far off when you’d have gone through a thicket hedge backwards to have been with me.”

  She sighed and looked him straight in the face.

  “If you don’t want my knee in your tender parts I’d move if I were you,” she snarled, but as he stood aside, he reached out to touch her arm.

  “Quite a fiery little thing, aren’t you... But then you always were, if I remember rightly... By the way, I’m here for an interview this afternoon.”

  Willie stopped suddenly

  “And you’ve come all the way from Canada to tell me that, have you?” she said and he smiled... For a moment he looked quite shy.

  “I’m... I’m getting a divorce, Willie. I should never have got married in the first place. I should have known it never would have worked out.”

  Willie was puzzled. No mention of WHY he had married this nurse whatsername in the first place... or of the baby that had caused the rift between Bret and herself.

  ‘What about the Baby, you bastard... What about that?’ she screamed in her mind and her eyes filled with tears. ‘Not whatsername’s baby... but ours... The one I lost... ’

  “Oh I do feel sorry for you Bret. What about the baby... her baby?” she asked as she resumed her calmness after a few moments... and he looked at her in surprise.

  “Oh that... That’s all history... Just something she thought up to get me to marry her... She never did have a kid... Never wanted one actually...”

  “Well, if you go sleeping around, that’s the consequence you have to take, isn’t it?... Willie replied curtly. “Now if you will excuse me.” She glared at his hand on her arm and he moved it slowly.

  “Can I see you later?” he asked and she looked at the notes she was carrying in her hand... She knew she should have told him to get the hell out of it, but she didn’t as she brushed past him and disappeared into the Theatre corridor.

  ***

  Two days later... Bret turned up at her flat in the hospital and they had coffee together. Everything seemed to be natural, if a little restrained and she could sense the old fire that was still smouldering slowly somewhere between them. She hated him for what he had done to her and yet, as he sat there beside her, tanned and handsome in his own peculiar way, she wanted him again... Not this time as a potential father for her child, but as a toy boy. Just a sex thing that she could discard whenever she got tired of it... This time she would play with him... lead him on until she felt she had enough and then tell him to go to hell... He drew closer to her and she did not stop him. He played with her hair and she did not move.

  “You’re gorgeous, Willie. I always said that, didn’t I?”

  She remained silent and ignored the fact that she knew he was getting excited.

  “Have you ever been to Sri-Lanka, Bret?” she
asked casually as he began to fumble clumsily with her blouse.

  “Nope... But don’t let’s talk about that now, eh?” he murmured as he continued to fumble nervously.

  “How did your interview go, Bret?” she asked but he apparently did not hear her.

  “You could always get me going, Willie... You know that don’t you?”

  “It’s rather hot in here... Humid wouldn’t you say?” she went on and he looked around.

  “What? Where? What are you talking about, honey... Why don’t you just lie back and let me get on with the action... Think of England or whatever else they do these days, eh?”

  “I hope your interview was a success, Bret,” she responded coldly and rose up from where she had been sitting. “Now don’t slam the door as you leave, will you. There’s a good boy...”

  He stood up and adjusted his shirt.

  “But Willie...”

  “See you around, maybe,” she whispered in his ear and her perfume lingered in his nostrils as he left, wondering what had happened to make Willie change her mind about him. He could have made her very happy he thought... What the hell was all that about Sri-Lanka... the humidity... close the door quietly?... Bret was confused, but when he had left the flat, Willie made up her face and headed for home... and to another attempt to seduce Fred.

  ***

  “Hello Eddy... Alf here. Alf Walker, remember?”

  Ted was delighted with the return call... and so soon. It was only two days since he had phoned the Shapiro Walker Agency.

  “Nice to hear from you Alf... Any news on what we were talking about?”

  Walker delayed his answer...

  “Well... yes an’ no... really,” he said and Ted held his telephone at arms length and stared at it.

  “Well... what is it Alf? Is it yes or is it no? It can’t be both.”

  “Eddy... I can’t do nothin’ from here... well not direct like... an’ the Agency branch in Berlin didn’t give me much joy neither... ‘cept to say that there was a guy here in London who might be able to help.”

  “Why, that’s marvellous Alf... Who is it?”

  “You won’t believe it none Eddy. I didn’t when I first heard it. His name is Solomon... Jacobi Solomon... but he’s been retired for years. He was a great old chap in his day. Could tell you all about the old school, from Florrie Ford to Marie Lloyd... but I doubt if he’d know anything about that chick of yours.”

  Ted lingered for a while before he spoke again.

  “Retired, you say... well, let’s hope he’s still alive and if he is, he has a good memory... Does he live locally,” he asked and he stuck a pencil between his teeth.

  “A place called Shoring Ditch, I think it is... but Eddy, I don’t know London that well. I’m only here for a coupla weeks in the year, ya know.”

  “Shoring ditch... Shoring ditch... Oh you must mean shoreditch... don’t you?”

  “Could be that, I s’pose... I don’t speak no German and the guy from Berlin wasn’t too good at English neither... especially American- English... Got me?”

  “I’ve got you, Alf... Can you give me all the details you’ve got and I’ll do the rest.”

  “Well... I think the old guy’s come down a bit in the world since his hey day and did he have a hey day... why do you know Eddy he was one of the...” but Ted interrupted the conversation at this point...

  “Alf, If you don’t mind. Just the relevant details, please.”

  “Sure mate... the relevant ones... yeah, sure... I like that word, relevant... sure do... Well ole Jacobi lives in what’s known as a councelled flat... does that make any sense to you?”

  “Yes, go on, Alf.”

  “He lives in one of them places I just mentioned... with his lady... I don’t think she’s his wife, but we won’t go into all that... will we?”

  “No, another time maybe, Alf... Now does Jacobi have an address? A phone number, perhaps?”

  Alf rattled some papers and Ted could hear him mumbling something to himself on the other end of the line.

  “Her name is Mo... s’pose that’s short for Maureen... well, she answers to Mo an’ she does most of the talkin’ these days.They’ve been together for donkey’s...”

  “Alf... The telephone number please...”

  ***

  “Good morning... Am I speaking to Mrs. Solomon?” Ted was hesitant as he spoke and wanted to err on the right side if he was to err at all.

  “Yeah... that’ll do, I s’pose,” a lady’s gruff voice came through on the other end of the phone. “what d’ya want... what yer arter?”

  Sutherland raised his eyebrows in concern and peered at the mouthpiece.

  “Good morning. Mrs. Solomon... I was wondering if I might speak to your husband please? My name is...”

  Before he could say anything more, the lady shouted out to someone in the background and after a few seconds a deep, throaty voice answered his enquiry.

  “Yeah... ‘oo is it?”

  “Good afternoon... Is that Mr. Solomon? Mr. Jacobi Solomon?”

  “S’right... what d’ya want?”

  Ted knew that he was talking to a real Agent, if nothing else...

  “I have been asked to speak to you, Mr. Solomon, since I understand you are an authority in the Theatrical business,” Ted sucked his pencil and looked to the ceiling as he spoke. His ruse had the desired effect as Jacobi Solomon coughed and cleared his throat.

  “Why... yeah... that’s right... an’ oo may you be, may I arsk?”

  “My name is Sutherland... Edward Sutherland. I am a psychiatrist and I require some information whereby I might be able to assist one of my clients.”

  He could hear a scuffle at the other end of the line and a lot of whispering, but he was unable to decipher anything that was said, until Jacobi Solomon came back to the phone.

  “An’ ‘ow can I ‘elp, Sir?”

  “Well, Mr. Solomon... I’m trying to trace the whereabouts of a young actress who used to perform in Austria and I understand you were the English agent for such artists... since I believe she was an English girl herself...”

  “S’right,” Jacobi answered swiftly, confident that he had been the only Theatrical Agent in London... worth his salt... that is... and called for someone in the background. “Giss that diary, Mo... that one there, wiff the red levver cover... Yeah, that’s the one, Ta gel.” Ted waited as he could hear the pages being turned. “A gel, you say... what’s ‘er name?”

  “Well, I only know her as Sylvana DeMarco... but she probably...”

  Suddenly there was a complete change in tone as Solomon dropped his book with a clatter and the woman in the background complained that he had dropped it on her ‘ruddy foot’...

  “You mean Sylvie, ole darlin’ that’s oo you mean, in’it?” Ted was taken aback and didn’t know what to say for a moment as Jacobi Solomon found his voice again. “Young Sylvie Marks... that’s oo ya mean, ole darlin’.”

  “I don’t understand... You say Sylvia Marks? Would that be the same girl as I am looking for... Sylvana DeMarco?”

  “Yeah... that’s ‘er real name, that’ is. Sylvana whatever ya calls ‘er... that’s only ‘er stage name, that’ is... Used a load of them uvver names, she did.”

  “You know her then?”

  “Course, I knows ‘er. Evrybuddy knows Sylvie. But she’s dead now... ya know... Kicked the bucket years ago, did Sylvie... A real hum-dinger she was... an’ no mistake, was Sylvie... Cor... never fought I’d ‘ear ‘er name agin... not never, not no’ow... “ Ted could hear. Mrs. Solomon shouting something in the back ground and Jacobi waited for a little while to listen before he spoke again. “That’s right, Mo... You’se right there, gel... Sylvie... she wasn’t no actress ole darlin’ Oh no... She was a stripper... that’s wot she was.
A real live flea-jumpin’ stripper...”

  “Do you know what happened to her, Mr. Solomon?”

  “She died... that’s wot ‘appened to Sylvie... Fought evrybuddy knew that.”

  “Well, I had a suspicion that she was dead, Jacobi... I may call you Jacobi, may I..?”

  “Wot?”

  “I’d rather call you Jacobi, if you don’t mind, Mr. Solomon...”

  “As awright... evrybuddy calls me Jacobi... or worse sometimes... Leave orf Mo... I’m tryin’ to talk to this gen’lman on this ‘ere phone... so shut your row, will ya... Sorry ‘bout that me ole darlin,” he said and then whispered into the phone.. “Women, you know... pain in the bleedin’ arse is wot I says.”

  Ted held his council on that one as he enquired if Jacobi knew how Sylvie had died.

  “Avin’ a dustbin... that’s wot ‘appened to Sylvie... She was ‘avin a dustbin an’ she died wiff ‘avin’ it,” he replied and Ted raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  “A dustbin, Alf... I’m sorry... I don’t quite follow you.”

  “A dustbin, my ole darlin’... a dustbin lid...”

  “Oh! A kid... a kid you mean... Yeah I see now... Yeah a dustbin. I understand. Do you know where she passed away, Jacobi? Ted enquired as he furtively scratched his head and screwed his face up...

  “Wazzat yu said?”

  “Do you know where Sylvie died?”

  Jacobi was some time before he spoke again and Ted could hear some more pages being turned, presuming it to be the diary.

  “”I’m just ‘avin a butchers at summink ‘ere. Just wait a minute, will ya? Ah yeah... yeah, I fink I’ve got it. No... get yer bleedin’ ‘ands orf that book. It’s mine, I tell ya. Give it ‘ere. Bleedin’ woman, Gits on my tits, she do.”

  Ted waited for the apparent struggle to cease before Jacobi came back to the phone again and made some sense over what he’d seen in the diary.

  “Place called... Hinnisbruck... that’s where she snuffed it... in ‘orspital there, it was.”