To Die but Once (Maisie Dobbs #14)(80)
And as Maisie knelt alongside Tim, she pulled back the dressing on his arm and saw the extent of his wounds.
“He was hit, miss,” said one of the soldiers. “The same one that got his mate. They came out of the sky right at us, and them two couldn’t get down in time because they were trying to get us home. Pair of bloody heroes, them boys. I don’t know how that one got us so far, but he kept saying he had to get Gordon home, that it was his job.”
Chapter 16
As soon as Tim had been placed on a stretcher and lifted on board the ambulance, Maisie gave instructions for him to be taken to the Royal East Sussex Hospital in Hastings, then she ran to the telephone kiosk once again. George, the Comptons’ chauffeur, pulled out to follow the ambulance, and as the two vehicles drew onto the main road, a cheer went up from the soldiers for the two boys who had fought to bring them home to England.
Once again Maisie piled her coins onto the telephone kiosk and began to dial a number she knew by heart.
“Andrew Dene.” The greeting was short, with no reference to the number called.
“Andrew! I am so glad you’re home.”
“Maisie, hello! And I’m only just home—I almost remained in London. Had soldiers with some terrible wounds being brought in. We’ve been operating around the clock since the evacuation began.”
Maisie had once walked out with Andrew Dene, but friendship had replaced courtship, with cards exchanged at Christmas and Easter, and birthdays remembered. Andrew was now married with two children, and had risen to become not only a renowned orthopedic surgeon, but also a professor of orthopedic medicine in London.
“Andrew, I know you’re exhausted, but this is terribly urgent. It’s Tim—Priscilla’s son.” She explained what had happened, and gave Dene her assessment of Tim’s wounds.
“Right. Consider me on the way. I’ll telephone the hospital now and have a theater prepared and Tim made ready as soon as he’s brought in. I know the best vascular man to assist, and I’ll get him over there. I’ll be at the hospital by the time you arrive, Maisie.”
In the hospital waiting room Maisie, Priscilla and Douglas spoke little, each immersed in their own thoughts. As she sat, and stood, and paced, Maisie remembered Billy, and his prescient words. “That’s the worst thing about being in a war—it’s not the fighting, or the tunneling, or any of the blimmin’ terrible jobs you have to do. No, it’s the waiting.” Soon enough, though, the door opened and Andrew Dene beckoned them into a private office. Once they were seated, he ran his hand through hair slicked back with perspiration.
“First of all, I have no idea how Tim managed to garner enough strength to bring a boat back from France—his resolve was a miracle in itself, as is the fact that he is alive.”
“But how is he, Andrew? And when can we see our son?” Priscilla’s hands were balled into fists.
Douglas reached out to cover one hand with his own. “Go on, Andrew—please tell us how Tim is faring.”
“I will tell you now that, having examined him when I arrived, I took Tim into that theater not knowing if I would be able to bring him out alive. The operation was a long one—you know, you’ve been waiting—but he endured the anesthetic and the procedure.” He cleared his throat. “The fact is that the humerus bone in the left arm was shattered. He had sustained vascular damage and various connective tissue was all but lost. I am afraid devastation to the limb, together with the huge risk of spreading infection, meant that the arm could not be saved—I had to amputate just here.” With his finger he drew a line across his arm just below the shoulder.
Maisie heard both Priscilla and Douglas gasp.
Andrew Dene sighed. “I’m so very sorry—if I could have saved the arm, I would have. In the meantime, infection remains a great risk, but I have used something very new—a purified type of fungus known as Penicillium, though it’s now known as penicillin.”
“Fungus? You’ve put a fungus into my son?” said Priscilla.
“It’s terribly new, as I said—well, it’s new for use in the medical field—and I was fortunate to have been asked to contribute to research regarding its application in hospitals, as a tool to use against possible sepsis. It’s not available to most doctors yet, but I have great faith in it—and in my work so far it seems to far exceed the results we’ve had with the usual sulphur-based compounds.”
“When my arm was amputated, it was in France, at a casualty clearing station,” said Douglas. “I remember that terrible smell of sulphur.”
“But better than gangrene,” said Maisie.
“And I’ll never forget that smell,” added Priscilla. “It was the odor of death in the back of my ambulance.”
“If there is a saving grace, it is this,” said Dene, looking at Douglas. “Tim has a strong family, and a father who knows exactly how he is going to feel. He will require all your support and guidance as he emerges from this trauma.” He paused, drawing his attention to Maisie, then to Tim’s parents. “What Tim witnessed during the evacuation will remain with him forever—it’s something we cannot imagine, and those memories cannot be taken away. This is all more in Maisie’s line of work than mine—but he will have many mountains to climb, especially the weight of survival because his friend was killed. He will regain dexterity—as you know, Douglas, the other arm becomes stronger—but he will be forever changed.” Dene stood up, his shoulders rounded with fatigue. “I am a surgeon, and when operating I have to be dispassionate, seeing the body as a machine. It is my task to give the machine every chance of working properly again, though the cogs might look a little different. But I also know the difficulties involved in true recovery—and it can take a long time. Tim has an advantage I cannot prescribe—his spirit.”