The Time is Now

by Gill Sanderson

  ‘The patient is Lucy Todd,’ he told her as they walked along to the ward. ‘She's a woman of sixty-nine with a history of reasonable good health until she developed herpes some weeks ago. She had the rash, and then the vesicles appeared in a complete half-girdle round the chest. She knew it was shingles, and was treated with the usual painkillers — atropine ointment was used on the eruptions. Now all signs of shingles have gone — but the pain persists and is as bad as ever.’

  ‘Post-herpetic neuralgia,’ she said. ‘I've heard of it.’

  He nodded. ‘I'm going to try drugs to start with — sodium valproate might work. She's been in pain for over eight weeks now and if pain persists over six weeks it's considered chronic. We'll have to try this, but something tells me it won't be too successful. Then we'll use some other form of intervention. I thought perhaps acupuncture.’

  She stopped and looked at him in amazement. ‘Acupuncture? And you a clinical anaesthetist?’

  He smiled briefly. ‘Sometimes it works, Jane. And there are never any side effects. It's important not to have a closed mind.’

  Mrs Todd was in pain, but she came from a generation that accepted it stoically. Jane liked the way David sat by the bed and talked to her. He explained what he was going to do and said that perhaps the drugs might not work.

  ‘We'll try it for a bit, Doctor,’ she said. ‘We've got to try everything, haven't we? I'm sure you'll get there in the end.’

  ‘Keep smiling, Mrs Todd,’ he said, patting her arm.

  On the way back to the Theatre suite he gave her that special smile and said, ‘I very much enjoyed our evening and I hope your time at the Samaritans was useful to someone.’

  ‘You never know,’ she told him. ‘All we're supposed to do is listen. But I like to think it helps.’

  He paused, obviously considering what she'd just said. ‘I hadn't realised that was what you did. I thought it was some kind of — well, I suppose a social services helpline. I'd like to hear more about it when you've got time to tell me.’

  She thought he meant it. He was genuinely curious, and she liked him for it. ‘I'll tell you when we have time. And I enjoyed our trip out, too, by the way.’

  ‘So what was this about a drink on Saturday night? More to the point, what are you doing on Sunday?’

  ‘I'll answer the second half first. Sunday is housekeeping day. I do all my washing, ironing, cleaning, letter-writing, bill-paying, polish the car, finish all the little jobs that mount up. It's a date I have with myself once a month. Oh, and I'm going to choir practice.’

  ‘It sounds a full day. And Saturday? What's this about playing hockey and a drink at the clubhouse afterwards?’

  Carefully she explained to him where the sports ground and clubhouse were situated. ‘You're welcome to come and watch the match,’ she said, ‘or just for a drink in the clubhouse afterwards.’

  ‘Could I take you to dinner later?’

  ‘Well, there are hot dogs and pies at the clubhouse. I always stay for a while with my team-mates afterwards — it's expected. But I guess that's not your kind of thing.’

  ‘But I —’

  ‘David, there you are.’ Edmund came into the room, wanting to discuss a problem with David. As the two men talked, Jane slipped away.

  It was a dank, nasty Saturday afternoon, spitting rain and with a chill wind. Winter seemed to be here already. Some of the players wore tracksuit bottoms to keep warm. Not Jane. Shorts did for her.

  She had a good hard game, their opponents coming from a physical training college. After ten minutes of the first half she saw her chance. A badly sliced ball came her way. She dashed down the wing, deftly evading two defenders, and smacked the ball into the net. It was a good goal and she was proud of it.

  There was a ripple of clapping from the handful of spectators on the touchline. Jane lifted her stick to acknowledge the applause – and there was David. He was dressed in a long black mac with a slouch hat, but she thought she would know those shoulders anywhere. She felt a warm glow and waved specially to him. Not many girls had people coming to watch them in this weather.

  It continued to be a hard game, though a fair one. Then came a tackle, the crack of sticks meeting and one girl walked away bent over, clutching her hands together. The referee blew the whistle to halt play and the teams gathered round the injured girl.

  ‘We need a doctor,’ muttered the referee.

  Jane looked at the now tearful girl's hand. Two fingers were bent backwards at a ludicrous angle, obviously dislocated. From behind her a calm voice said, ‘I'm a doctor. May I be of assistance?’

  David took the girl's hand in his and gently ran his own fingertips over the backward tilted fingers. ‘I'm Dr David Kershaw,’ he said to the girl. ‘Don't worry, this isn't half as bad as it looks. Now, what's your name?’

  ‘I'm Barbara — Ow!’

  ‘That didn't really hurt, did it, Barbara?’

  Barbara considered. ‘Well, I suppose not, really,’ she said doubtfully. She looked at the injured digits, now in line with their fellows. Without having told her what he was going to do, David had quickly pulled the fingers back into their sockets.

  ‘I don't think you should play any longer. You might like to go to hospital at some stage to make sure nothing is broken but I'd be surprised if it was. You're going to need physiotherapy too.’

  ‘Great,’ said Barbara. ‘They teach physios at our college. They can practise on me.’

  ‘Very handy. Now, you might be suffering from shock so go back to the clubhouse, keep warm, and drink sweet tea. Any problem, send for me. I'll be here for quite a while yet.’

  The coach escorted Barbara off the pitch and the two captains looked at each other. ‘Play on?’ asked one.

  ‘That's what we're here for.’

  They played on, and ultimately Jane's team lost. She didn't mind. She ran over to speak to David. ‘David, you came! I'm so glad. Give me twenty minutes to get changed and I'll see you in the clubhouse. Did you enjoy the game?’

  ‘Indeed I did. You looked like a Valkyrie, rushing down the wing. I'm sorry you lost.’

  ‘You don't just play to win, you play to enjoy. And they were good opponents — they deserved the win.’

  ‘Not everyone gets what they deserve,’ he said. ‘What can I get you to drink?’

  ‘Lager, please. My one indulgence after the match. See you in a few minutes.’

  Usually she had a shower and then pulled on a tracksuit after the game. After all, she was just going to sit with her friends. This time she wished she had something a bit more, well, attractive to wear. Then she remembered. David was only going to be a friend. Still, she brushed her hair with more than usual vigour.

  Jo Gale, a team-mate, scurried back into the changing room out of the bar. ‘Jane — that wonderful man out there says he's waiting for you. Is he your boyfriend?’

  ‘David? Just a man I work with,’ Jane said casually. ‘I invited him here for a drink.’

  Jo groaned. ‘I thought it was too good to be true, someone like that on his own. I thought I'd be a bit hospitable and asked him if there was anything I could do for him. And he wants you. I hate you, Jane! Have you got any more men like that at work? Can you bring a selection next week?’

  ‘I'll see what I can do.’ Tongue in cheek, she added, ‘And thanks for looking after him.’

  It took some time for her to get out into the clubroom as her hair took longer to dry than all the others, but she might have guessed. When she finally walked into the bar, there was David, sitting at the end table, with Jo eagerly chatting to him and two more girls with her. David seemed to have the gift of making himself instantly popular.

  She walked over and David rose to his feet. She wondered if that was relief she detected in that apparently calm face. ‘I got you a drink,’ he said, ‘and these ladies have been making me very welcome.’

  Reluctantly the three stood, said goodbye and left. There were well-understood rules – you didn't i
nterfere with a boyfriend and girlfriend when they first met. Jane grinned and sat at the table, reaching for her drink. ‘Did you enjoy the game?’ she asked.

  As ever, he paused before speaking. ‘I don't usually like watching sport,’ he said. ‘I'm not one of those men who are obsessed by football or cricket. I'd rather play than watch. But I enjoyed watching you. You put a lot into the game, don't you?’

  ‘If it's not worth playing well, it's not worth playing at all,’ she told him. ‘Do you ever play any team sports?’

  He shook his head. ‘At school I was a cross-country runner in winter, middle-distance runner in summer. I don't like being part of a team.’

  ‘But we're very much a team at the hospital,’ she pointed out. ‘You said that yourself. We're all equal.’

  ‘Except for Edmund. He's got a high opinion of himself — and I must say I think it's deserved. Did you see that —?’

  Fair was fair. David and Jane had been allowed some time together, but usually on a Saturday night Jane was to be found in one large group or another, having a loud and cheerful conversation about the game. Just because she'd brought the most wonderful man, there was no reason why they should be left alone.

  The team captain and coach sat down at their table.

  ‘Hi, I'm Margaret, and this is Louise,’ the captain said. ‘Thanks for what you did for Barbara, by the way. I'll get you a drink later. Any chance of you turning up regularly? We could do with a doctor on the pitch.’

  ‘Sorry,’ David said gently, ‘but a hospital doctor can never tell when he's going to be needed.’

  ‘Well, you'll always be welcome. Now, I need to borrow your girlfriend for a minute. Jane, they ran rings round our defence this afternoon. We need more strength to get the ball up to you forwards. Who could we move back?’

  There followed an intense talk on strategy. Jane had her own definite ideas, and they weren't the same as either Margaret's or Louise's but she had to make her case. After a while she saw a small smile on David's face, but there was nothing she could do about it. This was important. He went to fetch them all a drink.

  Slowly the bar began to empty as girls left for dates with boyfriends. Margaret and Louise went to talk to other team members while the older club members began to appear.

  ‘We could go now if you wanted,’ Jane said, ‘or stay for a few minutes longer. It was nice of you to come and see me. What do you think of the club?’

  ‘The club is fine, and I did take to your team-mates, but I actually came to see you. I came by taxi because I thought I might be able to take you to dinner somewhere. We could have a real drink.’

  Jane's face fell – she hadn't thought of that. ‘I'm sorry, I really am, but I had an urgent call asking if I could go and do a shift at Samaritans tonight. I can't get out of it, David, though I really would like to.’

  For an instant she saw that he wasn't happy, but he hid it well. ‘It can't be helped,’ he said calmly. ‘Can you drop me off somewhere in your Fiesta?’

  Usually a nurse from the ward assisted the surgeon and anaesthetist when they visited their patients, before seeing them in Theatre. But Ward 7 was short staffed and Jane wasn't needed in Theatre until the afternoon so she accompanied David on his visit.

  No one, of course, was anaesthetised before they'd had a very careful examination. Occasionally an anaesthetist would refuse to accept a patient even if the surgeon was willing to operate. Often this was because the patient was obese and the risk of heart failure was too great.

  Mostly it was paperwork and very simple investigations. Jane smiled at her first patient, Mandy Wrapp, aged nineteen, who was about to have a lumpectomy. The tumour in the breast was known to be benign. Mandy was already undressed, and Jane fetched the GP's letter with the case history. She had to ask Mandy her name – it was no good just taking it from the notes – and also her date of birth. This information, together with Mandy's hospital number and the name of the consultant, all went onto the plastic band round Mandy's wrist.

  Then there were pulse, blood pressure, temperature, and a urine sample to take. No allergies, no real previous illnesses, no diabetes, asthma, no regularly taken drugs. Didn't smoke. Nothing to eat or drink since midnight.

  Most of this information was already available, but it all had to be checked again. At the same time Jane had to remember not that she had another three patients to see but that this one was a living, worried, human being. She wasn't merely a case. She was a person. And, in this case, one with an unusual worry.

  ‘This anaesthetic I'm having,’ she said uneasily. ‘Will it make me talk?’

  ‘Talk? You can't talk, Mandy. You have a sort of gas mask over your face.’

  ‘Well, when I'm coming out of it. I've seen films where people sort of gabble — they say things they don't know they're saying. They ask for people, shout out names. Perhaps they say things. Have you heard them, Nurse?’

  ‘It's just nonsense, usually,’ Jane said carefully. She now had some idea where this conversation was going. ‘Who's going to be with you from your family, Mandy?’

  ‘My mam. I live with my mam. She's pretty strict, she doesn't know …’

  ‘You don't want her to hear you shouting your boyfriend's name?’

  ‘No. She made me promise never to see him again. Can you keep that mask on me till I'm fully awake?’

  ‘Hardly. But we do try to keep medical confidentiality here, Mandy. I'll pass on your concern to the anaesthetist. We'll do what we can.’

  She turned, to find David behind her. ‘Dr Kershaw, this is Mandy Wrapp. She has a bit of a problem …’

  ‘That was a hard day but a good one,’ David said at the end of the afternoon, stretching to try and ease the tension in his spine. ‘Jane, I know you've got an incredibly full social life but could you spare me, say, a couple of hours straight after we finish work?’

  ‘Are you making fun of me — about my social life?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘Actually, I'm not. Well, not this time.’

  ‘Then yes I'm free until half past eight, then I've got choir practice. Why, what have you got in mind?’

  ‘I'm not going to tell you. The occasional surprise is good for you. Do you have your car today?’

  She did in fact, for the day had started out raining and it had continued ever since. ‘I'm in the Fiesta.’

  ‘Well, you drive home and I'll follow you. You don't need to change, we're not going anywhere tremendously posh. Well, it's not posh yet.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘You'll just have to come and find out.’

  She couldn't help noticing the difference between her rackety old Fiesta and the smooth ride of the Porsche. ‘This is a totally different kind of motoring,’ she told him.

  He knew what she meant at once. ‘I had a Fiesta as my first car when I was a medical student, and I won't hear a word against them. It lasted six years, and only let me down when I neglected it.’

  ‘You don't talk much about your early career, do you?’ she said. ‘D'you want to tell me about it?’

  ‘Medical student, passed exams, straight into hospital work. Nothing to tell, really.’

  But he had left her with the impression that there was something he didn't want to discuss.

  They drove for twenty-five minutes after leaving Challis, moving in and out of industrial areas, dodging great lorries. The rain still beat on the windscreen, making the scene even more desolate. Occasionally they caught a glimpse of the river, now jet black and oily looking, and once they saw the Christmas tree light effect of a tanker moving slowly upstream.

  Then they swung between two massive stone pillars and into a well-lit forecourt. The bulk of a massive building loomed in front of them. 'Ransome's Wharf,' she said with interest. ‘This is where you're buying your flat.’

  ‘I've just got the keys. I thought you might like to look round. And I need some advice.’

  As they drove nearer she saw the red brick building with great
er clarity. Once it had been a warehouse, but now it had been converted into flats, some already occupied, some not. They drove through a portered front gate and parked the car in the underground garage, before taking a fast lift to the top floor. They walked along a red-carpeted corridor and David unlocked the door of his new flat.

  ‘It's not furnished yet,’ he said, ‘except for the kitchen, of course. That's got everything. But I've got to buy everything else new. If you don't mind, I'd like a bit of advice on what to buy. I've got nothing of my own.’

  Jane's first reaction was one of delight. It would be fun, furnishing a place from scratch. No old pieces too good to throw out but not fitting into the new plan. But then she wondered – why ask her?

  ‘I don't mind helping,’ she said suspiciously, ‘but your ideas might be different from mine. After all, we're not setting up home together, are we?’

  His answer was as calm as ever. ‘No, we're not. But I hope you'll be a guest sometimes.’

  He pushed opened the door and switched on the fights. Jane stepped inside, walked across a small hall – and gasped. This was luxury and beauty combined.

  The room ran from the front to the back of the building with windows at each end. One window looked out at the town, the other over the river to the Welsh hills beyond. The curved brick walls had been left as they were, and the floor laid with polished wood.

  ‘Come out onto the balcony,’ he said. He opened the double-glazed door and they stepped into the cold.

  She could smell the salt of the river and perhaps the country smell of the distant hills. And she could feel the warmth of his hand on her shoulder. ‘This is lovely,’ she said. ‘You'll be able to sit here and watch the sun go down.’

  ‘If I ever get time to sit. Any ideas about furnishing?’ They walked back into the living room.

  She had lots of ideas and she'd have loved to furnish this place, but he wasn't to see her enthusiasm. Somehow she felt it would make her vulnerable.

  ‘The proportions of this room are so right,’ she said. ‘I think you need minimal furniture. Perhaps a set of low bookshelves against that wall. You don't want to spoil the curved line of the ceiling.’