Marion Lennox: The Surgeon’s Family Miracle

Lily was reversing the anaesthetic. Henri coughed and gagged his way into consciousness and as soon as he did so she stepped away from the table.

‘I need to go.’

‘Stay,’ Ben said urgently. ‘I need to talk to you.’

‘There’s no outstanding surgery?’

‘Not as far as I know, but-’

‘I’m sorry Ben,’ she faltered, looking down at Henri. Maybe she was thinking she should stay. But her gaze moved to Ben and her shoulders straightened. ‘I have to go. Now. Please, look after him. Pieter, will you talk to his father?’

‘Of course we will,’ Pieter said, and he put his hands on Lily’s shoulders and propelled her out of the room. ‘You go,’ he said. ‘And find him safe.’

Who was she worried about?

He couldn’t follow. It was a complex wound and dressing it took time. Then he worked out antibiotic doses and started them running through the drip. Then the moment he walked out the door he was clutched by a man who turned out to be Henri’s father.

‘Is he…?’

‘He’ll be fine,’ Ben said gently. ‘As I’m sure Lily told you. You can see him in a minute. Just take that shirt off first, will you?’ He grimaced at the gore over the man’s clothes. He’d carried his desperately injured son to the hospital and it showed. ‘You’ll scare Henri into a relapse if he sees you like that.’ Then, as the man’s terror didn’t fade, he took him by the arm and led him into the theatre. Henri was still coming round. There were tubes going everywhere, but his breathing was strong and steady and colour was seeping back into his face.

‘He’s not quite awake,’ Ben said. ‘Change your shirt and you can sit with him while he wakes.’

‘His mother,’ the man muttered.

Ben thought, Uh-oh, and braced himself for another tragedy. But it seemed none was coming.

‘His mother’s in Sydney,’ he whispered. ‘My daughter’s won a scholarship to boarding school there. Our daughter’s very clever, you know. She’s fourteen and she’s…’ He broke off and buried his face in his hands.

‘Let me give you something to help the trembling,’ Ben said, even though all he wanted to do right now was find Lily.

‘I want…’

‘We all want, mate,’ Ben said softly. ‘Let’s just do what comes next.’

What came next-treating him for shock and dressing a jagged cut across his elbow that the man hadn’t noticed until Ben helped him off with his shirt-took time. Then, just as he’d settled Henri’s dad into a chair by Henri’s bedside and wondered who’d sleep the deepest, a private came to find him.

‘One of our men’s got a flash burn to the arm,’ he told him. ‘They’re chucking out Molotov cocktails and he got hit.’

‘From where?’

‘From that place they call the council compound.’ He shrugged. ‘We’re mopping up now-there doesn’t seem to be any aggressive fire from anywhere else on the island except from there. Paul was just real unlucky to be hit.’

‘So what’s happening?’ Ben asked. ‘Did our guys storm the place?’

‘Dunno about that,’ the private told him, leading the way back to his friend with the burns. ‘They’re saying there are hostages. The sergeant reckons when they saw how many of us had arrived they took fright, grabbed as many people as they could and barricaded themselves in. The powers that be have had us fall back out of range. My mate here’s the last one injured. We sit and wait, Sarge reckons.’

They’d reached his mate now, a lanky corporal with an arm that was blistered and raw. ‘Ouch,’ Ben said. ‘You’ve been playing with matches?’

The corporal gave him a sickly grin and Ben looked round to find Pieter, anyone, to prepare him a syringe of morphine.

Pieter appeared as if he’d known he was being looked for. His face, though, was more grim than the last time Ben had seen it.

‘What’s up?’ he asked.

‘I hope not much,’ Pieter said. ‘My wife and daughters are OK. Word is that order’s being restored, except at the council compound.’

‘Do we know how many people are in there?’

‘I have no idea,’ Pieter said brusquely. ‘Lily’s gone to find out.’

‘Lily…’ Ben frowned. ‘She might be needed here. If she’s anywhere else, she ought to be asleep.’

‘You can’t expect that of her,’ Pieter said. ‘Her son’s missing and her fiancé. They’ve been missing for twenty-four hours now and Lily’s going out of her mind.’

HE WAS caught for the next few hours. At mid morning the roads were declared open. A no go area was declared around the complex of buildings called the Council Compound-a series of bungalows surrounding a palm filled conclave used for island gatherings. Here the insurgents had holed up. There was no clear idea how many were there, or who was insurgent and who was hostage, but a cursory sweep had now been made of the entire island. The insurgents were either laying down their arms and declaring this had been a mistake, or they were with their comrades in the compound.

It had surely been a mistake, Ben thought grimly as more injured made their way to the hospital.

Where was Lily? He couldn’t leave the hospital.

At midday a plane landed on the island’s small airstrip, bringing Ben’s colleagues-people like Sam, who relished trauma surgery. Ben’s role was hands on if necessary but it was mostly organisational, getting on the ground first, assessing what was needed, doing hands-on treatment in the first few hours but then handing over to those more qualified in various specialties. These guys were good and their arrival meant he could often stand aside.

Not today. There was too much to be done. There was a sports oval beside the island’s hospital. The hospital was tiny, totally inadequate to cope with the influx of wounded. Four hours after the arrival of his team and equipment Ben had a massive field hospital erected as an annexe. Operating theatres, a triage centre, ward beds… They’d erected this hospital before and his team knew their stuff.

As well as the hospital itself there was the need to organise supplies. Was there enough plasma? Were there enough body bags?

Would he ever get used to this? Ben wondered, as he worked on into the afternoon.

These were Lily’s people.

Where was she? Every time anyone approached he looked up, hoping it was her.

She’d be aware that she was no longer desperately needed. She’d be searching for her son and for her fiancé.

Her son and her fiancé.

Well, he’d expected her to be married with babies. Why did those two words have the capacity to make him feel as if he’d been kicked?

It was only because he didn’t know where she was, he told himself as the day progressed. It was only because he couldn’t help her.

He was helping her now, doing her work for her.

He wanted, quite desperately, to find her.

Finally, as dusk was falling, the bulk of the organisational work had been done and the urgent cases had been treated. It was time to hand over. Sam was available to take charge.

‘I’m taking some sleep,’ he told Sam, and Sam looked down to where Ben was changing his theatre slippers for military boots.

‘Sleeping quarters for med staff are right through the canvas,’ Sam said cautiously. ‘You’re expecting to die with your boots on?’

‘There’s no threat.’

‘So you’re putting your boots on, why?’

‘I’m taking a walk.’

‘To take in the sights,’ Sam said, smiling. They’d worked together for a long time now, and Sam knew him well. ‘You’ve been on your feet since last night. You’re dropping where you stand. But you’re going for a walk.’

‘No one knows where Lily is.’