âMy dear Amelia, what are you waffling on about? This is just silly girlâs talk. I thought better of you. You are a sensible young woman.â
She whispered, âIâm not, Iâm not, and soon I wonât be young anymore. Oh, Tom, what about children and making a home together and having a dog and a cat and going out for picnics on Sundaysâ¦?â He was silent.
She tried just once more. âTom, wonât you look for a job in England? For my sake?â
He smiled kindly. âAmelia, you know how important my work is to me.â
âMore important than I am?â
He considered that carefully. âThatâs hard to answer, but if I must be honestâyes, it is.â
THE OPERATING THEATRE was quiet; not a peaceful quiet, though. Mr Thomley-Jones was in a bad temper and although he was working with his usual meticulous care and skill, he was making life hard for those in attendance upon him, snapping and snarling his way through a cholescystectomy, two nasty appendicesâboth pushed in between the other cases because they could have perforated at any momentâand now with a still nastier splenectomy almost completed, he was venting his wrath on the hapless house surgeon who was assisting himself and his registrar. The unfortunate young man, clumsy in any case, became even more so, dropping things, tightening retractors when they should have been loosened, using the wrong scissors and generally making a fine muddle. His chief waited in mounting impatience and a silence which spoke for itself while his assistant cut the ends of gut with which Mr Thomley-Jones was reassembling his patientâs inside and then let out a great roar as the unfortunate young man cut too close so that the stitch was no longer a stitch. The registrar sighed soundlessly and took over, the thunder of his chiefâs rage leaving him unmoved.
Just as unmoved was Mr Thomley-Jonesâ theatre Sister, who in one swift movement removed the scissors from the hapless surgeonâs hand, gave him a swab to hold, handed more gut to Mr Thomley-Jones, threaded another needle ready for the mattress stitches and swept her gaze round the theatre. The theatre mechanic was standing stolidly by the anaesthetist, her staff nurse was checking swabs, the more senior of the student nurses was looking frightened but doing just as she should, and her companion, fresh in the theatre that very morning, was in tears.
She put the needle and gut into Mr Thomley-Jonesâ impatient hand and said in a quelling voice: âSir, youâve made one of my nurses cry.â
âBah!â exclaimed Mr Thomley-Jones, âshe shouldnât be in theatre if sheâs got no guts for it.â
Theatre Sister looked at him from a pair of fine dark eyes, heavily lashed. âUnlike many of the people who come here, she has got guts, but when you get annoyed youâre rather awesome, sir.â
He glanced at her and although she couldnât see his face she knew that he was pleased at being called awesomeâit sounded godlike.
âImpertinent young woman, arenât you, Sister?â
âIâm sorry if you think so, sir, but I try to look after my nurses.â
He held out a hand for more gut and she inserted it into the needle-holder with great neatness.
âOh, you do that all right, teach âem well, too. Youâre a good one at your job, Amelia.â
When he called her by her name she knew that she had been forgiven. They had worked together now for four years and had a proper respect for each otherâs job; as the operation drew to its close he mellowed visibly so that the houseman was emboldened to take up the scissors again and the registrar winked at Amelia.
The surgeons went away presently to drink their coffee in her little office down the corridor, and, the patient safely despatched to his ward, the anaesthetist wandered away to join his colleagues, leaving the mechanic to tidy up after him while Amelia collected her nurses and set about the task of clearing away and setting up for the afternoon list. But presently she left Sybil, her staff nurse, and the student nurse and guided her new member of the team into the anaesthetic room where she was at pains to explain to the still tearful girl that Mr Thomley-Jonesâ bark was a great deal worse than his bite, that in time she would find that she could continue with her tasks in theatre whatever happened and that she had done very well for her first morning. âAnd just you remember,â said Amelia soothingly, jumping down from the trolley where she had perched herself, âone day youâll probably be a theatre Sister yourself. Itâs a splendid job, you know.â