Jane Gardam - The Man in the Wooden Hat

“No, I’m not a relation, just a close friend. I’m sorry. I’m a bit squeamish. I can’t look. The father will soon be here. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be squeamish. By tomorrow this X-ray will be far out of date.”

He flung down into a pedestal chair that began to revolve, this way and that. The music goes around and around, she thought. But no, it does not. The end is silence.

The surgeon stretched out his legs and rested his heels on a window ledge, the back of his head towards her. They both stared at the sun setting over Barnes Common.

“Mrs. Veneering”—she thought: Oh, let it go—“Mrs. Veneering, we shan’t know that this is cancer until I have seen it with my eyes, but when I do, I shall know at once. The cyst seems to have sharp sides to it. Cancer usually has a woolly edge. A turbulent look. I believe that there is just a hope that this is not cancer and if not I shall go on at once to fill the cavity with bone chips which we’ll take from another part of Harry’s body where we hope they will coagulate. The cavity is very big. The operation to fill it will take most of the night. The longer you wait the more hopeful you can be. If I come to see you quickly it will mean that it is bad news and we shall be stitching him up at once. Then you and I and Mr. Veneering will talk together about the next step.”

“You mean there might be an amputation?”

“Oh, we won’t talk about that now.”

“If it is cancer, how long will Harry live?”

“About eighteen months.”

“Does Mr. Veneering know?”

“Yes. We spoke. But you will know the diagnosis before he does, as we are not able to reach him during the flight from Hong Kong. I want you, please, to stay here until he comes.”

“Well, yes. Of course.”

“You’ll be in Harry’s room and we’ll see that you have supper. Don’t drink any alcohol. It does not help.”

“Thank you.”

They shook hands and she said to him, “How do you manage?” and his glance moved away from her and he began to straighten the pages on his desk.

“How do you manage?” he said. “As a parent?”

When she got back to the room with the two beds there was Harry sitting waiting with his Housemaster from school. He was bright-eyed and making jokes, and when she came in he leapt to his feet and flung his arms round her neck.

“If it isn’t Mrs. Raincoat! Why ever are you here?”

“Your father sent me my orders.”

“He does have a cheek, my dad. I’m glad you’re here, though. There’s a great do on about my leg.”

“He’s worried.”

“He’s crazy. I’m fine. I mean, they’re not going to cut it off . Goodbye, sir. Thank you for bringing me in. Sorry. I’m fine with Mrs. Raincoat.”

“Your old nanny?”

“No,” said Elisabeth. “But don’t be embarrassed. It’s been said before.”

“The school will be in touch all the time. You have the number?”

“I’ll stay until Harry’s father arrives.”

“Goodbye then, Veneering. Good luck. We’ll be saying our prayers for you in Assembly.”

“It must be bad, then,” said Harry. “That’ll make them sit up. I’ll be playing cricket again next season, sir. That’ll disappoint them.”

“He got out pretty quick, didn’t he? Was he glad to see you! Hey, Raincoat, what’s it all about?”

“We’ll know in the morning. Your father will be here. He’s flying over now and I’ll be standing by till he arrives.”

“Staying here ? In the hospital? You must all be nuts.”

“Yes. I am, anyway. Now, be quiet and say your prayers. Here are a lot of people and a trolley, and they’ll take you down to start things off any minute.”

“They’re coming to take me away, tra-la,” said Harry. “Goodbye. See you tomorrow, Raincoat.”

She left him being told to take off his shoes and she walked down the long green corridor towards the glass doors and the canteen and the trivial world. She took some food and coffee and sat down with it and looked at it. Then she got up and walked out of the hospital into the Upper Richmond Road where the people were tramping or driving or walking or biking about, and the grit was blowing in their faces. When she got back to the room it was empty and Harry’s bed had only a sheet on it. Hers was turned down neatly for the night. The hospital was quiet and she felt light, without sensation or presence, and sat down on the basket chair that faced the door.

A nurse put her head round it, her face trying to disguise her pity with a smile that showed huge teeth. There was a row of the ugly new biro pens along her starched top pocket.

“There you are, Mrs. Veneering. All right? Harry is in theatre now and I expect you’d like a cup of tea.”

“No, thank you,” and she sat staring at the closed door asking God for the operation to be the long one. The long, exhausting, difficult, delicate one that would ensure that he would live for more than eighteen months.

“If I come to speak to you within the first hour,” he had said, “that will be bad news.”

Dear God. Please do not let me hear him coming within the first hour. Please let me wait all night long before I hear the sound of his feet. Tell me then how to bear the waiting. She listened and in minutes heard the sound of his feet.

It was at that moment, very early morning in Kai Tak, that Amy woke up and began thinking about Elisabeth. She should now be safely in London, resting from the journey before going into the hospital on Wednesday.

Should she ring? All of three pounds? And it might upset Bets if she thought that Amy was nervous about her. Amy the strong? Or it might wake her up just as she’d got to sleep after a long flight.

But yes. Amy would ring.

In Ebury Street, opposite Mozart Electrics, the phone rang and rang and was not answered. Well, then, Amy would ring Edward before he left the Peninsular Hotel for the Arbitration and send love, and hope that all was well. Edward said: Yes, all was perfectly well. He had spoken to Betty just after she arrived home and she was going to be resting all day and tomorrow. Perhaps it would be best not to bother her, for she had sounded perfectly normal. Yes — a very good journey. Thank you, Amy!

Hmmh!

Then Isobel Ingoldby rang Amy in Kai Tak. Isobel was in Singapore but she knew all about Elisabeth. She’d been trying to telephone her in London, but no reply. Had Amy any news?

“No. And it’s odd she doesn’t answer,” said Amy who had tried again. “What about the neighbour? Shall I ring her? She’s called Da-lilah Dexter, if you can believe. I could get her through International Enquiries.”

“I have her number,” said Isobel. “If I don’t ring you back it means that all’s well.”

In half an hour Isobel rang Amy back. “The Dexter saw her leaving the house just after she arrived home. She had an overnight bag with her and got into a taxi. She didn’t say goodbye to anyone and she left the front door wide open. No, she isn’t at the Westminster Hospital. I rang it. She’s expected there tomorrow. Look, I shouldn’t worry. She’ll be staying with a friend or something.”

“I might just ring Edward again. I could go round to the Arbitration,” said Amy. “Or I could try to speak to the solicitor, the demon dwarf. He knows everything. Albert Ross. He’s probably sitting in the Arbitration rooms.”

Isobel said, “Well, be careful. He doesn’t like Betty. He’s bonded to Teddy with hoops of steel. He’s frightening.”

“To hell with that,” said Amy and left a message at the Arbitration for Albert Ross to ring her at lunchtime. Ross did not ring.

She rang again and said that she was unhappy about her friend — her schoo l-friend — Mrs. Feathers — who seemed to have disappeared from her London address. Ross did not call back.