The Surgeon Was a Lady Read online

  ***

  Willie was surprised at how much she had written when she read it back, but the essence of her story nauseated her and she closed the notebook and put it away... for another day, wondering if, like a diary, she should date the entries...

  ***

  Why am I being so precise about this exercise? Willie asked herself the following morning after breakfast... It was a load of crap and she most probably would never let Ted Sutherland see it anyway... She probably wouldn’t even go back to see him...

  ***

  Day two... she wrote reluctantly and with her tongue in her cheek.

  ‘He was always attentive as a child... well, I say a child, but thirteen is going into manhood, isn’t it. Those were happy days and the times could have been better if only I hadn’t been so selfish. I couldn’t be like Paul... I had to have my hair well brushed and never out of place. My hands and nails had to be just perfect and my riding clothes could never be worn two days running. They had to be changed. I was a proper little Madame... a right pain in the rectum... and I think my trouble stemmed from the fact that although I was thoroughly spoiled by Mummy and Daddy, although mostly by Daddy, I never ever felt like a child. Daddy was kindness personified and would give me anything I wanted. I adored him with a sort of hero-worship and I saw him as the man of my dreams, wanting to be just like him when I grew up. I knew I could never be a man, but I could be what he was... and I strove to be that person from a very early age, which gave ‘growing up’ as other children know it to be a very secondary option. Daddy was a surgeon; a very eminent one and very clever too. Everybody knew that and I was so proud of him, so for me therefore, there were no dolls; no prams; no ice cream and no such thing as parties, where other children would be invited to smother me in presents. I had all the presents I needed in my Daddy. No, as I have said, there were never any dolls in the house... but I did have patients... with stuffed arms and legs, with large glass eyes and plastic feet and hands... I could operate on them at any time I decided that they needed an amputation or that they required to be stitched up. This was my world as I lived it in the shadow of my famous father... and my mother stood back in full appraisal. I loved Daddy so much that I would imitate everything he did or said, sometimes listening to him talking in Theatre jargon... with some of his cronies that he had invited home for drinks and I learned to use such phrases as a buggered spleen, or a dishy appendix... without realizing what I was saying. It sounded very intelligent anyway to me at that time. Now that I am a neuro-surgeon, I never have need for such expressions... and I hope I never ever find a buggered oncocyte... or a dishy neoplasm... Indeed in those wonderful days, the child surgeon walked in the footsteps of her adoring Daddy. The responsibility that he held for life and death was mine... and I would only have been seven or eight at that time. Even as a child so young, unnatural though it may seem to many who might read this, I would read books on medicine and surgery, where other little girls would be reading Goldilocks and the Three bears... and I couldn’t wait to grow up and be what he was. Yes, I ignored my childhood. The riding school was the only recreation that meant anything to me and that was because Daddy would ride with me. He was a splendid horseman.

  ***’

  Very gradually, Willie was getting used to writing her diary... She had realized that by doing so, she could talk endlessly about the father who had meant so much to her and she wanted the world to know... but she said very little about her mother.

  ***

  Day three... As I have said earlier, I was a selfish child... I was a leader and I would not follow. I had to have the best horse in the stable... no mere pony or passive creature for me. The fiercest stallion was my choice and I had dreams of taming him to be subservient to all my needs. My dream was of a rodeo and I was in charge. I wanted to do everything well and in the fullest measure, but exactly in my way... Didn’t I tell you I was a pain in the rectum? I wanted to live with the nature that was mine and with what I could see daily in my father. There would be nothing fickle or childish for Wilhelmina Reinhardt. I remember one day when I had been some time at the practice of horse-riding and could choose a horse for the riding session, I chose Horatio... Paul came over to me... a handsome young figure he was with his dark hair peeping out above his white cravat and those deep olive eyes pleading with me not to ride Horatio, but to take Mirabelle instead.

  “He is too powerful for you, Willie. Much too powerful, look! Take Mirabelle or Daisy, but not him,” he would say and I would laugh.

  “Do you think you can ride a horse better than I?” I asked haughtily, annoyed at his arrogance but flattered by his concern.

  “No... It is not that at all. You ride very well, but Horatio is a very special animal and he does not take kindly to strangers.”

  I ignored his advice and mounted the stallion, determined that he would do as I bid... The animal snorted and his nostrils were red and wide. I knew he was angry, but I would not give in and besides, I had a hefty crop in my hand... and I knew how to use it. I mounted with no difficulty and sat for a few seconds in the saddle before I decided to give my command, but Horatio, with his hind legs firmly on the ground and his front legs high in the air, within seconds he almost threw me, before I could jab my heels into making him gallop, but Paul grabbed my reins and tried to control the beast. The stallion whipped his head into the air and pulled Paul to the ground from where he was standing, dragging him along with him as he darted off into the wind. Paul was knocked headlong against a tree before he could let go of the reins and pull me to safety from the animal’s back. I was cruel... I know that now, but with my nature, I couldn’t help it. I saw Paul lying on the ground covered in blood and looking thoroughly stunned and I stood by... crop in hand... and I laughed. It didn’t matter to me that he was thirteen then... he could have been one hundred and thirteen for all I cared... He had scorned my attempts to ride Horatio and although he probably had saved my life, I could not see that at the time... and I watched Horatio gallop off wildly, throwing his head about as if to laugh at both of us, with only his large square teeth showing as he turned his majestic head to let us see what a triumph he had received.

  Paul picked himself up and wiped the blood from his face with his handkerchief... as I strolled back to the paddocks... preening.

  ***

  After a busy day in the Theatre with a surgical list as long as your arm, Willie returned home to continue her scribbling... She was tired and weary and writing was the last thing on her mind, but as she thought of Paul... of his nature and of her own, she decided to start again. She poured herself a nightcap... stiffer than her usual... and sat down at the bureau.

  Day four... Having read all that I have written so far, I wonder if it is worth carrying on doing this nonsense. I am full of introspection and that is what is expected of me to be able to write all this bloody crap. If tomorrow, when I read again what I have written and I feel the same, I’m gonna give it up... To hell with it... well... here goes for another try anyway...

  I met Paul fairly regularly after that, mainly at any social functions that were held at Sunacres, but I had no idea that he had aspirations to become a doctor... not then anyway. I was rather surprised when I did find out, since Paul’s father was only a tradesman of some kind... either an electrician or a plumber... I’m not sure which, but it was something of that nature anyway and I often wondered why he wanted to follow the medical profession since there was no others of his family with those aspirations. Knowing myself and what Daddy was, I could understand that persuasion in myself, but some years later, I saw a very different picture in what we both felt was our vocation. My thoughts were to follow a very famous father, but Paul was his own man. He wanted to be a doctor because he felt he had to do it in his heart. His felt a true calling to help others... whereas mine was vanity and a mirror reflection of the wealth and prestige that such a life would give me. I have never felt that I was
personally called in this way. I mean, there was no ‘divine light’ No VOCATION... as I am sure now there was with Paul, but like most things in the vain and self-seeking mind... you learn these things when it is too late.

  At medical school, where I was surprised to see Paul there in the first year intake, in which I was included, I was lazy. I borrowed my father’s ambition. I stole his learning and I imitated his style, but there was nothing of ‘me’ in anything I did... There was only Daddy, but Paul stood alone in what he pursued. He wanted to become a doctor and he did... in great strides and with lots of hard work. Sometimes I would copy his notes when he didn’t actually help me to write mine up. But why the hell am I making all this confession here? I am what I am, regardless of how I got here. I have arrived and two fingers to anyone who would deny that.

  ***

  Willie decided that enough was enough. She was sick of her own thoughts on the matter and fed up with being so bloody humble... as she described herself, but she decided she would go back to Ted Sutherland and let him see what a fool she had made of herself.

  Chapter Three

  “Good afternoon Mrs. Fehrenbach.”

  Willie stood with her notes safely tucked in her brief case, in the reception room.

  “Oh, good morning, Miss...”

  “Monica... My name is Monica, Mrs. Fehrenbach and I am pleased to see you again.” The receptionist wanted to add that she had the name Monica for the past twenty-five years, but she felt that any further explanation or even conversation on her part, would fall on deaf ears and she announced the arrival of the client to her boss through the telephone. “If you would care to go in now, Mrs. Fehrenbach, Mr. Sutherland will see you. You know the way, yes?”

  Willie smiled weakly and nodded as if by duty... as she made her way across the hall to the door of the doctor’s surgery. She had hoped the door would have been opened for her, but Monica pretended she was studying some papers on her desk and didn’t move. The door opened and Ted Sutherland stood there.

  “Good morning, Willie... Nice to see you again. Was this appointment suitable for you, after all?”

  Ted was thinking of the dispute he had with Willie the evening before when she was unable to decide if the 10.30 a.m. appointment for that day would have been satisfactory. It was Willie’s practice never to agree to anything that anyone suggested to her, without hesitation... in nearly all instances, but of course, as with any lady, there are always exceptional circumstances.

  “Yes,” she replied, “I didn’t think I would be free, Mr. Sutherland, but...”

  “Oh... Ted please, Willie.”

  She smiled and entered the room as he closed the door behind her and took her coat where he hung it on the coat-stand as usual. Willie sat down clutching her brief-case tightly in her hands.

  “I have... well, I have tried to write some thoughts down on paper as you suggested... Ted, but I don’t think I have been very successful.”

  He grinned as she opened her brief-case and handed him the scribbling.

  “Well now, I’m glad you were able to make a start, Willie. That is always the most difficult thing to do and once you’ve broken the ice... well you’ll be surprised how easy it can become.” He put her notes to one side and settled his elbows on his desk, locking his fingers together. “I’ll have a look at these later, but tell me... How are you feeling today? Any difference in your outlook, would you say?”

  She stared at the floor and dropped her brief-case to her side as she crossed her legs and looked again for the little stain that had intrigued her so much on her last visit, but she couldn’t see it.

  “It’s a little early to know that... Don’t you think Ted?”

  He raised his eyebrows and his mouth tightened as if he was about to grin.

  “But you have been able to put many of your thoughts on paper and surely that has opened your mind to some of the things you feel about yourself. Things you may want to discuss,” he said, ringing the bell for Monica to come in with the coffee.

  “My thoughts are all jangled as I write. I don’t seem to be able to make much sense and I jump around from one thing to another without much sequence.”

  Monica came in with the coffee and smiled as she poured.

  “Milk?” she asked as Willie began to uncross her legs, but she ignored the receptionist’s question. It was Ted Sutherland who answered, but as he did, he never took his eyes from his client.

  “Mrs. Fehrenbach takes only milk, Monica... No sugar thank you,” he said quietly.

  Monica did as he asked and left the room, making a face at Sutherland as she closed the door.

  “For what it’s worth, Ted... I am beginning to realize just what a hard-hearted creature I am,” she said, “But I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about it. The dye has been cast, so to speak.” She sipped her coffee.

  “Nor want to do, Willie?” Sutherland asked suddenly and she stared at him with wide eyes.

  “If you like to think that way,” she said calmly between sips.

  “Come... Come now, this is getting us nowhere. You must be absolutely honest with yourself if I am to help you... and I must be frank with you too... or we will get nowhere. Nobody likes to air their dirty washing... Nobody.”

  Willie raised her eyes and a viscous and vibrant thought went through her head. ‘I’ll tell you exactly what I want to tell you, Squire and no more... and you can decide what you want to do with that... That’s what I’m paying you for...’ She stared at him with her thoughts simmering, but she said nothing, as Ted Sutherland switched on his tape recorder and sat back with his hands folded across his ample belly.

  “Your marriage, Willie... Tell me more about that?” he asked and decided he would wait until later before he went into the Scorpio thought and the relationship with her mother.

  “It was like any other marriage,” she said haughtily, “Why should it be any different?”

  Sutherland looked at her blankly and felt he was getting nowhere fast. He suggested that she should take a few minutes, sitting quietly and recollecting her thoughts so that she could tell him what was uppermost in her mind and she did as he suggested.

  “You told me on your last visit that you were very much in love with your husband, Paul. Why did you say that, when you think now that your marriage was so ordinary?” Willie sat with her eyes closed. “He is my life... my very reason for living, you said, Willie... Don’t you remember?”

  She sat still and silent with her eyes closed but her fingers began to twitch after a few seconds of his questioning.

  “It was not until after the accident... Long after the accident, that I realized how I truly felt for Paul,” she said, “Most of what I relate to you now would seem to be my hatred... my intolerance.”

  “I want you to tell me everything... otherwise I am unable to help you. You must know that,” Sutherland said, but she only sighed and took a handkerchief from her sleeve cuff.

  “If only it were so easy,” she said, “If only the human mind could be so transparent.” Sutherland screwed up his face and wrote some notes on his pad as he checked his tape recorder. The green light was still on... everything there was OK The blockage was in Wilhelmina Fehrenbach’s mind. “He was always doing something to help me...”she continued, “Always there when it was necessary for him to be so... but with me, I was never there when he needed me... Never there until I realized how much... how very much we should have been together.”

  “Can you give me an example, Willie? Some instance where you feel you should have been more caring?”

  Willie looked around the room and wet her lips. She glanced down at the carpet to look again for the stain. Why was that so important to her, she thought?

  “What? What was that you said? Oh yes, I am sorry. You’ll read about the horse incident in my notes,” she said.

&nb
sp; “OK but there must have been others from what you are saying.”