The Way We Were Page 9

  Ben turned away from him. He picked up a pair of scissors and went to cut away the boy’s shirt. The teenager had been hit twice in the right shoulder, an exit wound below the right nipple showing the path of one bullet.

  Ben washed his hands carefully, scrubbed them and put on surgical gloves from the suture kit. Declan did the same and came over to look. The boy was gasping for breath. Ben tapped his chest with his fingers. On the right side, below the clavicle, it sounded normal, but when Ben tapped lower down he could hear a dull sound. Thunk.

  ‘I suppose an X-ray is out of the question.’ Declan half smiled, but Ben could see his hands were shaking.

  ‘I’m pretty sure it didn’t come with the suture kits. But I’m confident it’s a left haemopneumothorax.’

  Declan nodded. He’d heard it too.

  Ben, now fully concentrated, felt with his fingers for the dip between the boy’s fifth and sixth ribs. Declan, anticipating his needs, handed Ben a syringe of local anaesthetic, which Ben injected between the boy’s ribs.

  The boy’s eyes snapped open and he cried out in pain. The leader came rushing in as the guards raised their Kalashnikovs. Ben raised his hand. ‘Stop. Your son felt pain when the needle passed through the pleura – the membrane that lines the chest here.’ Ben pointed to the exact spot. ‘Now look.’ Ben pointed to the dark blood that was being sucked back into the syringe. ‘Everything is under control. I need peace in my theatre, please.’

  The leader spoke to his son, and left.

  ‘Good thing he’s not here for this bit,’ Declan said, handing Ben a scalpel.

  Ben cut through skin and muscle and the wound bubbled air. Declan handed him a tube, which Ben carefully inserted into the hole, then stitched it to the skin to prevent it being dislodged.

  ‘Here it comes!’ Declan said, as blood gushed out. The boy cried out in pain and coughed.

  Again, his father came charging in and stared at the blood. His face fearful, he glared at Ben.

  ‘STOP!’ Ben shouted. Then he guided the man to his son’s side and indicated that he should lean towards his son’s chest. ‘Listen to your son’s breathing.’

  The leader did so. With every gasp the boy was breathing more easily as the pressure left his chest. Declan connected the chest drain to a tube and then, using the bowl half filled with water, he placed the end of the tube in it to act as a simple one-way valve. With each exhalation, air and blood bubbled out of the submerged end of the tube and the lung started, little by little, to expand.

  Ben peeled off his gloves and set them aside so they could be washed and reused.

  ‘Your son will be fine. He needs antibiotics and painkillers. The lung will reinflate, then the drain can be removed. I’ll show you how to do it. Then I want to leave.’

  The leader smiled. ‘Thank you for helping my son, but you will not be leaving until I am sure he is well. I also have more injured soldiers I need you to treat, Doctor. You’re not going anywhere.’

  ‘We had a deal. I save your son and you let me go,’ Ben said, trying to stop his fear showing in his voice.

  The leader laughed. ‘I made no deal with you. You will stay here until I say you can go. You will stay here until I don’t need you.’

  Rage ripped through him. ‘Fine. I have no intention of operating on anyone else. I helped your son and now I’m leaving.’

  The leader put his big hand on Ben’s chest, preventing him from moving past. He shouted some words to the two soldiers. One grabbed Declan and put his gun to Declan’s head.

  ‘If you refuse to help me, Doctor, I’m afraid your friend will have to die.’

  ‘You bastard,’ Ben cursed. ‘Let him go.’

  The leader ordered his man to stand down. Declan moved aside, white and shaking.

  ‘War is hard. We do what we have to do to survive,’ the leader said.

  ‘What war?’ Ben asked. ‘Eritrea is independent. Who are you fighting?’

  The leader’s eyes narrowed. ‘The Ethiopian scum who killed my parents and my brother. They say the land is on their side of the border, but it’s my land and I won’t stop until I get it back.’

  ‘Once we’ve helped those soldiers out there, I want your word that you’ll return us to Asmara.’ Ben was desperate to get reassurances.

  The leader laughed again. ‘I spent a year in London studying English before I was called home when my village was attacked. You English are obsessed with your “word”. Words mean nothing. Promises mean nothing. The only thing that matters is family and pride.’

  ‘Exactly, and that’s why we want to get back to our own families. So when we’ve helped the remaining wounded, I want you to let us go.’

  ‘Save my men and then we will talk.’

  ‘This is bullshit.’ Declan found his voice. ‘We need some kind of guarantee. Otherwise what’s to say you won’t shoot us when we’ve finished operating?’

  The leader grinned at him. ‘Nothing. As you say in England, “You’re snookered.” But if you do a good job, you will live. If not, you will die. That should be a good incentive.’

  ‘Wanker,’ Declan muttered.

  The leader ordered his men to bring in the next patient, then left the room. The soldiers carried their friend in on a blood-soaked mattress.

  As the two doctors bent over to examine the man, Declan whispered, ‘Jesus, Ben, what are we going to do? These guys are total bandits.’

  Ben shook his head. ‘The important thing is to stay alive and try to figure it out as we go along.’

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s your solution?’

  ‘Well, what’s yours?’ Ben snapped. ‘Curse your way out of here?’

  ‘We could use the scalpels.’

  ‘A scalpel against a Kalashnikov? Seriously?’

  ‘Okay, okay, it’s not brilliant, but at least I’m thinking of ways to escape.’

  ‘I’ve got two daughters and a wife. I’m not getting shot in some stupid escape attempt. Do you understand?’

  The two men stared at each other, almost nose to nose, breathing hard. It was Declan who stepped back first. ‘Okay, no need to rip my head off.’

  Ben wanted to rip the head off every man in the room with his bare hands. He felt desperation and terror creeping in. What was going to happen to them? Would they be shot? Could he persuade the leader to let them go after they’d helped these wounded men?

  Although Ben was usually an optimist, he had a sinking feeling that this situation was not going to end well. He had to stay strong, get out of there alive and back to his three girls. He had to. He’d do anything it took. Anything.

  Holly

  I’m hiding in my wardrobe in the horrible black dress Kevin bought me. I hate it. Everything is ruined. Everything is just awful. My daddy is dead and we have his funeral today and I don’t want to go.

  I can hear Mummy crying every night through the wall. She never seems to sleep. Whenever I wake up – which is a lot because I keep having nightmares – she’s crying. I go in to her most nights and sleep with her in her and Daddy’s bed.

  She looks so sad all the time. When she sees me or Jools, she puts on this fake smile and tries to be cheerful, but it’s silly and she’s really bad at it. We know her heart is broken. Our hearts are broken too.

  I woke up at forty-three minutes past two last night and I heard Mummy crying. So I went in to her. Jools was already in the bed, asleep beside her. I cuddled into Mummy and she held me tight. We didn’t say anything, just snuggled. There’s nothing to say anyway. Daddy’s dead and, as Jools says, ‘Life sucks.’

  It was nice all of us being together in the bed. It was less scary and lonely. I think I’ll sleep with Mummy again tonight.

  Granddad is here. He arrived this morning with Helen. They’re all dressed in black too. Granddad looks really old now. It’s as if someone smacked him over the head and squashed him. He keeps having to leave the room to ‘blow his nose’. It’s kind of silly beca
use we all know he’s crying. Mummy said Granddad is a very private person and doesn’t want to cry in front of anyone. We’re all sad and we all miss Daddy, so he should just cry with us.

  He’s been up and down all week, helping Mummy organize the funeral. Well, he was supposed to be helping but he kind of took over and was very bossy.

  Mummy’s voice goes all stiff and sharp when Granddad’s here. She’s not like her normal self. She’s sort of colder and more correct. Her voice sounds different. They had a fight about the readings at the funeral. Mummy wanted to have a poem read. It’s beautiful – it’s called ‘Don’t Cry For Me’. But Granddad said no poems, only proper readings from the Bible. Mummy said she’d really like the poem to be in the funeral mass but Granddad shouted, ‘This is a solemn memorial service and we’ll not have any of your Irish melodrama.’

  I stopped breathing for six seconds. I didn’t know what melodrama meant, but I knew it was bad. I looked it up later. It said ‘overdramatic emotion or behaviour’. I think it was mean of Granddad to say that.

  Mummy went very quiet and then she said, ‘Fine, Harold, do what you want. We’ll attend, of course, but the girls and I will have our own farewell.’

  Granddad made a tutting sound, then Mummy left the room and I followed her. I saw her kick the wall and heard her say a really bad word. Mummy and Granddad haven’t really spoken since.

  Mummy told me and Jools that we’ll have our own service, just us together, with lots of poems and music. And then we’ll plant a beautiful tree and make it special.

  Even though this has been the worst week of my life, one kind of amazing thing happened. It made me really happy but also really sad. It happened when Daddy’s suitcase came home. A man from the Foreign and Commonwealth Office brought it to the door. Mummy opened it, and when she saw Daddy’s clothes, she began to cry really hard.

  Kevin had to hold her tight to calm her down. I opened the little pocket at the back of the suitcase and felt inside. I thought I might find Daddy’s aftershave – I wanted to smell it, to remind me of him – but instead I found a little velvet bag. I opened it, and inside were three beautiful gold necklaces! One with an H, one with a J and one with an A.

  When I held them up, everybody stopped talking. Mummy put her hand over her mouth and Jools just kept staring at them.

  ‘Now you know how much he was thinking of you all,’ Kevin said, in a wobbly voice, and we all began to cry again.

  I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever take my necklace off. I feel as if Daddy is beside me now. I love this necklace so much. I’m so glad Daddy was thinking of us before … before the accident.

  It’s been one hundred and thirty-five hours, sixteen minutes and eight seconds since the phone call.

  Mummy told us last night that Kevin’s going to move in with us for a while. I’m glad because he is my favourite person after Mummy and Daddy. He always seems to know when I need a hug or when I need to be left alone.

  I think it’s good for Mummy too, because Kevin can help us to look after her. Even though Mummy is a doctor and looks after other people, she needs to be looked after now.

  Every day I wake up and I forget, and then I remember and I feel sick. I keep thinking about Jo from Little Women and how she was so sad when Beth died, but then she started writing, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to write more and try to get all the sadness out.

  I printed out the poem that Mummy wanted to read today at the funeral. I’m sticking it in here so I can read it when I feel sad. It’s beautiful and it makes me cry, but it also makes me feel a tiny bit better. Daddy, I miss you so much.

  Don’t Cry For Me

  Don’t cry for me now I have died, for I’m still here I’m by your side,

  My body’s gone but my soul is here, please don’t shed another tear,

  I am still here I’m all around, only my body lies in the ground.

  I am the snowflake that kisses your nose,

  I am the frost that nips your toes.

  I am the sun, bringing you light,

  I am the star, shining so bright.

  I am the rain, refreshing the earth,

  I am the laughter, I am the mirth.

  I am the bird, up in the sky,

  I am the cloud that’s drifting by.

  I am the thoughts inside your head,

  While I’m still there, I can’t be dead.

  Alice

  Harold was a nightmare about the memorial service. He refused all of Alice’s suggestions. She knew that if she didn’t step back, they’d have a huge row and never speak again. In a way she would have welcomed that, but out of respect for Ben she bit her tongue and let her father-in-law walk all over her.

  What really bothered Alice was the empty coffin: they had no body. When she had called Jonathan Londis at the Foreign and Commonwealth Office about Ben’s remains, he had put her in touch with some senior person, who had told her that the local police in Eritrea had said that the force of the explosion had left no bodies ‘as such’ and that, unfortunately, there was nothing to return to them except Ben’s personal items from the hotel, a charred passport and his wallet.

  When she’d spoken to Harold about it, he was appalled that she would question the information she had received from the officials. He’d barked that ‘The chaps in the FO know exactly what they’re doing and you can’t go about badgering them. Of course there are no remains. It was a great big bloody explosion.’

  Alice shuddered every time she heard the word ‘explosion’. She tried not to think about that part. The violence of Ben’s last seconds on earth haunted her. She hated Harold for being so cold and formal. Why couldn’t he just admit his heart was broken? Ben’s death should have united them, but instead it was driving them even further apart.

  Alice was devastated to be burying an empty coffin. It felt so soulless. She suggested putting some of Ben’s favourite things inside it. Things to comfort him. The girls wanted to put in his favourite book, his favourite scarf, his spare stethoscope, a teddy bear and some photos. Harold told them it was absolutely out of the question. He said it wasn’t the ‘done thing’. Alice had wanted to punch him in the face.

  She knew the memorial service would be stiff, cold and impersonal, just like Harold, so she decided to have her own ceremony at home where she and the girls could do whatever they wanted without Harold’s disapproval.

  Alice didn’t remember much about the service. She’d let her mind wander off as the dark and depressing hymns and readings that Harold had chosen went on around her. This wasn’t her farewell: she would do that with the girls, Kevin, Nora, David and Pippa on Sunday. Father Brendan, the local Catholic priest, had agreed to come to the house and say some prayers and they would read poems, and Jools wanted to play Ben’s favourite song, Queen’s ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’, and everyone could say a few words and just remember.

  Alice wanted the girls to be able to say what they wished, to say goodbye to Ben in their own way. This formal ceremony meant nothing to her.

  Beside her, Jools fidgeted and Holly counted the words on the missal. Kevin sat stony-faced and rolled his eyes every time a new, even more depressing dirge was played on the ancient organ.

  Ben wasn’t in the coffin. Ben was in Eritrea, his ashes strewn around some dirt-track. When the girls were older, if Eritrea was safe, Alice would take them there. She’d find the place where it had happened and they’d lay flowers. But for now she was going to keep Ben in her heart and mind. She fiddled with her gold necklace, twisting the A as she let her thoughts drift.

  No one spoke about Ben. The priest droned on and on about his distinguished career as a surgeon and mentioned that he had a wife and two daughters. But he never spoke about the man Ben was – the wonderful, warm, funny, kind man he was. Alice dug her nails into her palms to stop herself standing up and screaming ‘He wasn’t just a bloody surgeon!’

  After the ceremony Ben’s uncles and aunts shook her hand, some kissed her, one
or two hugged her. She felt numb. It was as if she was looking down on herself from the highest branch of a tree. She felt as if she was playing a part – the grieving widow. She couldn’t allow herself to feel. Not now, not here.

  The only time she got emotional was when David and Pippa came up to her. She hadn’t seen them since the news had broken. They’d left messages for her, but she hadn’t been able to face talking to anyone. She didn’t want to hear the words ‘I’m so sorry’ – they would make it all too real.

  Like Holly, she didn’t want anyone to talk about Ben in the past tense. She couldn’t stand to hear ‘He was a lovely man.’ She wanted to keep him alive and in the present tense and somehow near her.

  ‘Darling!’ Pippa said, throwing her arms around Alice and clasping her tightly. ‘We just can’t believe it. We’re so sorry.’

  As Pippa turned to the girls, David came up and pulled Alice into a big bear hug. He was six foot six and as broad as he was tall. Alice felt safe and protected in his arms. ‘Christ, Alice,’ he said, his voice breaking. ‘Why Ben? Why did it have to be Ben?’

  Alice began to cry: David got it. He understood how she felt. He was as confused and upset as she was. She knew how much David loved Ben. They’d been best friends since they’d met on their first day in medical school.

  ‘Bloody Eritrea! I told him not to go. I told him John Lester was a maverick. It’s all right for John to go off to Eritrea – he doesn’t have kids and he’s not married. I said it to Ben, “Don’t go. If you want adventure, take up sky-diving.” But he wouldn’t listen. He was absolutely determined.’

  ‘I begged him too,’ Alice cried. ‘Why did he have to be so stupid?’

  David handed Alice a tissue. ‘Ben always wanted to do more. He pushed himself harder than any of the rest of us, even when we were medical students. He was always striving for more. I was glad when he settled down and had kids – he seemed to mellow a bit – but in the last year I did notice that he seemed restless and keen to do something else. He was looking to challenge himself again.’