Barbara Cleverly - The Damascened Blade

‘Oh, hullo, Lily,’ said Grace, ridding herself of her veil. ‘There you are! Talk to you in a minute. I think I’d better find out what’s happening here first. Just for the moment – be a good girl and get out of my way!’

She turned to address the assembled women crisply, firmly, unsentimentally. They all reacted in their different ways to welcome her. She went into Halima’s room where she remained for about ten minutes before emerging to say briefly to Lily, ‘Pencil and paper!’ before hurrying back inside.

This was Lily’s chance. She took a sheet of paper and a pencil from the table and at last was admitted to the sick room. The wax-like figure on the bed was hardly recognizable as Halima. Lily just managed to stifle a cry of alarm as she came to the awful conclusion that Halima was dead. But she must be mistaken – two women were gently smoothing her forehead and holding her by the hand. Lily tried to avert her eyes from the slopes of the enormous abdomen over which Grace was now working and wondered what to do next. Grace snatched the paper from her hand and started to scribble a message, talking to Lily in English as she wrote.

‘Lily, you’re to get this to the Malik right away! We’ve got a potentially lethal situation here. One more hour and we’d have lost them both. I have to operate.’

‘Do you mean… ’ Lily began, searching for the right word, ‘do you mean a caesarean? Is this a case for a caesarean operation?’ Such procedures were rarely talked of in Lily’s world and always in tones of horror.

‘Yes,’ said Grace, ‘it certainly is. But more than that – it’s serious enough for me to need the Malik to tell me whether, if it comes to the point, he wants the child or his wife to survive. In a few more minutes it may be too late to choose.’

Lily took the paper from her hand and, in what she could only imagine to be an acute breach of protocol, ran down the stairs in a swirl of drapery pulling on her veil as she ran, rounding the corners, racing down the second flight and out into the sunshine to the surprise of the watchman at the door, looking neither to left nor right, to the waiting Malik who turned on her with a searching look of blazing enquiry. Lily remembered at the last minute to look down and fold her hands in a gesture of humility while he read the note. The Malik held it and read. He read it again. He turned and gazed up at the sky. He looked up at the fretted window and sighed. For a moment he put a hand over his eyes and then turned to Lily and spoke almost apologetically.

‘Halima,’ he said.

Lily ran, taking the stairs two at a time and back into the room where Grace was working and the women were waiting. Grace looked at her steadily.

‘“Halima”. He said, “Halima.” ’

‘Hmm,’ said Grace. ‘These blasted people! I’ll never understand them! Now buzz off, Lily! This is where it all starts to get very messy and I can’t be doing with… ’

But Lily had already disappeared.

Half an hour after she had fled from the room, Lily, back at her station by the window, was electrified to hear a sharp squawking. She had never heard a newborn baby yelling but the sound, as old as time itself, was unmistakable. She leapt to her feet and ran, afraid to enter, to hover by the door of Halima’s room. Minutes later the senior Afridi woman emerged and for the first time Lily saw her smile. She beckoned her to come and inspect the bundle she held in her arms. In awe Lily approached and stared and stared at the little round head with its thatch of black hair. Proudly, the Afridi twitched back the wrappings and presented the rest of the baby to Lily, inviting her to share in the pleasure and relief that another boy had been born to the tribe. All Lily could think of to do was plant a kiss in the middle of the smooth brown forehead and wonder.

‘Halima?’ she asked.

Smiles, nods and a torrent of Pushtu conveyed a joyful message before she slipped back into the room. But it was another hour before Grace Holbrook appeared, looking white, exhausted and ten years older. Her white blouse was spattered with blood and her arms were stained to the elbows.

‘Halima?’ Lily asked again.

‘Yes! Come and see her now,’ she said. ‘She’s asleep. Still under anaesthetic and quite worn out of course but I think she’ll be all right. Strong girl and very young. Very resilient. Most would not have come through but she’s as tough as whipcord! And her baby just the same no doubt. But it wasn’t easy.’ She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead and looked round, groping for support, and took Lily’s steadying hand.

‘It was the fall that did it,’ she said, suddenly garrulous. ‘The baby must have been turning itself round, taking up its head-first diving position for birth… ’ Lily realized that Grace was taking the trouble to choose terms she would understand. She’d probably said exactly the same to the assembled Afridi women in Pushtu. ‘… when it was interrupted by Halima crashing to the ground. So we got not just a breech presentation which the women had no doubt seen before and could just about have coped with but a lateral, sideways presentation which was quite outside their experience. One shoulderblade was completely blocking the exit. All that pushing getting nowhere I’m afraid. Total impasse. Lucky we got here when we did. Now. I’ll take a few minutes to smarten myself up… I’m determined to break the news to Ramazad Khan myself. That can be my reward. Even at my age you can enjoy a bit of a flourish! Besides,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘Ramazad and I have some unfinished business to conclude.’

Behind Grace’s usual calm detachment, there seemed a resolution and a grim intent which Lily had not heard before and which seemed out of key with the news she had to impart. ‘It’s time,’ she said, more to herself than to Lily. ‘It’s high time to close the circle.’

Holding the baby to her breast, Grace went to the head of the stairs. Alone, she made her way carefully down and out into the courtyard. The space was deserted, people having been kept well away from the harem, but watchful faces followed her from every doorway. Only the three Scouts remained at the far end cross-legged and silent. They looked up sharply as Grace appeared. Grace caught sight of the Malik seated under the tree. He rose to his feet and went slowly forward to meet her, his eyes on the bundle in her arms. Lily watched as Grace spoke to him quietly. With the gesture the Afridi woman had used, she presented his son to him. More exchanges followed and the Malik raised his eyes to heaven and appeared to be giving thanks for his good fortune. But Grace had not finished. Indicating the seat in the shade of the tree, she led the Malik over to it and sat down. He sat down next to her, his eyes following his child. Lily reckoned that if Grace had chosen at that moment to lead him over the edge of the world he would have followed.

A long conversation ensued in which Grace played the major part. Incredibly, it looked to Lily as though Grace was telling him a story, a long, complicated and dramatic story. When she finished she put her head on one side and waited for his reply. He thought for a long time and then asked a question. Grace answered and he made an impatient and violent gesture. Grace spoke again calmly and again he listened intently. Finally, he spoke again, at first hesitantly then more firmly. Grace nodded her head. They were both silent for long moments and then began to talk more easily. They talked for a very long time and as the sun began to decline the shadow of the tower crept across the square. None too soon for Lily, the baby began to squeak and fret and Grace drew the conversation to a close.

She left the Malik and turned to retrace her steps to the harem and as she came on, she looked up at Lily’s window and Lily could have sworn, just for a moment, that Grace winked.