Do you understand? She’ll shoot you.”
“Muck you and your little
French whore, Fuck you both.
I bet that’s what you two have been doing all evening in that car - playing “hide the sausage” down by the riverside.” Anger flashed through Bruce so violently that it startled him. He twisted Hendry’s hair until he could feel it coming away in his hand. Hendry squirmed with pain.
“Shut that foul mouth - or I’ll kill you.”
He meant it, and suddenly Hendry knew he meant it.
“Okay, for Chrissake, okay. just leave me.” Bruce loosened his grip and straightened up.
“I’m sorry, Charmaine,” he said.
“That’s all right - go to the other one.” Bruce went to the bar counter, and Haig watched him come.
“What do you want, Bruce? Have a drink.” He was nervous. “Have a
drink, we are all having a little drink. All good clean fun, Bruce.
Don’t get excited.”
“You’re not having any more; in fact, just the opposite,” Bruce told him as he came round the counter. Haig backed away in front of him.
“What are you going to do?” I’ll show you, said Bruce and caught him by the wrist, turning him quickly and lifting his arm up between
his shoulder-blades.
“Hey, Bruce. Cut it out, you’ve made me spill my drink.” “Good,” said Bruce and slapped the empty glass out of his hand. Haig started to struggle. He was still a powerful man but the liquor had weakened him and Bruce lifted his wrist higher, forcing him on to his toes.
“Come along, buddy boy,” instructed Bruce and marched him towards the back door of the bar-room. He reached round Haig with his free hand, turned the key in the lock and opened the door.
“Through here, he said and pushed Mike into the kitchens. He kicked the door shut behind him and went to the sink, dragging Haig with him.
“All right, Haig, let’s have it up,” he said and changed his grip quickly, thrusting Haig’s head down over the sink.
There was a dishtowel hanging beside it which Bruce screwed into a ball; then he used his thumbs to open Haig’s jaws and wedged the towel between his back teeth.
“Let’s have all of it.” He probed his finger down into Haig’s throat, it came up hot and gushing over his hand, and he fought down his own nausea as he worked. When he had finished he turned on the
cold tap and held Haig’s head under it, washing his face and his own hand.
“Now, I’ve got a little job for you, Haig.”
“Leave me alone, damn you,” groaned Haig, his voice indistinct beneath the rushing tap.
Bruce pulled him up and held him against the wall.
“There’s a woman in childbirth at the mission. She’s going to die, Haig. She’s going to die if you don’t do something about it.”
“No,” whispered Haig. “No, not that. Not that again.”
“I’m taking you there.”
“No, please not that. I can’t - don’t you see that I can’t.”
The little red and purple veins in his nose and cheeks stood out in vivid contrast to his pallor. Bruce hit him openhanded across the face
and the water flew in drops from his hair at the shock.
“No,” he mumbled, “please Bruce, please.” Bruce hit him twice more, hard. Watching him carefully, and at last he saw the first
flickering of anger.
Damn you, Bruce Curry, damn you to hell.”
“You’ll do,” rejoiced
Bruce. “Thank God for that.” He hustled Haig back through the bar-room. Shermaine still stood over Hendry, holding the pistol.
“Come on, Shermaine. You can leave that thing now. I’ll attend to him when we get back.” As they crossed the lobby Bruce asked
Shermaine. “Can you drive the Ford?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” said Bruce. “Here are the keys. I’ll sit with Haig in the back. Take us out to the mission.” Haig lost his balance on the front steps of the hotel and
nearly fell, but Bruce caught him and half carried him to the car. He pushed him into the back seat and climbed in beside him. Shermaine slid in behind the wheel, started the engine and U-turned neatly across the street.
“You can’t force me to do this, Bruce. I can’t, I just can’t,” Haig pleaded.
“We’ll see,” said Bruce.
“You don’t know what it’s like. You can’t know. She’ll die on the table.” He held out his hands palms down. “Look at that, look at them. How can I do it with these?” His hands were trembling violently.
“She’s going to die anyway,” said Bruce, his voice hard.
“So you might as well do it for her quickly and get it over with.
Haig brought his hands up to his mouth and wiped his lips.
“Can I have a drink, Bruce? That’ll help. I’ll try then, if you give me a drink.” “No,” said Bruce, and Haig began to swear. The filth poured from his lips and his face twisted with the effort. He cursed
Bruce, he cursed himself, and God in a torrent of the most obscene language that Bruce had ever heard. Then suddenly he snatched at the door handle and tried to twist it open. Bruce had been waiting for this and he caught the back of Haig’s collar, pulled him backwards across the seat and held him there. Haig’s struggles ceased abruptly and he began to sob softly.
Sharmaine drove fast; across the causeway, up the slope and into the side road. The headlights cut into the darkness and the wind drummed softly round the car. Haig was still sobbing on the back seat.
Then the lights of the mission were ahead of them through the trees and Shermaine slowed the car, turned in past the church and pulled up next to the hospital block.
Bruce helped Haig out of the car, and while he was doing so the side door of the building opened and Father Ignatius came out with a petromax lantern in his hand. The harsh white glare of the lantern lit them all and threw grotesque shadows behind them. It fell with special cruelty on Haig’s face.
“Here’s your doctor, Father,” Bruce announced.
Ignatius lifted the lantern and peered through his spectacles at
Haig.
Is he sick?” No, Father,” said Bruce. “He’s drunk.”
“Drunk? Then he can’t operate?”
“Yes, he damn well can!” Bruce took Haig through the door and along the passage to the little theatre. Ignatius and
Sharmaine followed them.
“Sharmaine, go with luther and help him bring the woman,” Bruce ordered, and they went; then he turned his attention back to Haig.
“Are you so far down there in the slime that you can’t understand me!”
“I can’t do it, Bruce. It’s no good.”
“Then she’ll die. But this much is certain: you are going to make the attempt.”
“I’ve got to have a drink, Bruce.” Haig licked his lips. “It’s burning me up inside, you’ve got to give me one.”
“Finish the job and I’ll give you a whole case.”
“I’ve got to have one now.”
“No.” Bruce spoke with finality.
“Have a look at what they’ve got here in the way of instruments. Can
you do it with these?” Bruce crossed to the sterilizer and lifted the lid, the steam came up out of it in a cloud. Haig looked in also.
“That’s all I need, but there’s not enough light in here, and I
need a drink.”
“I’ll get you more light. Start cleaning up.”
“Bruce, please let me-“
“Shut up,” snarled Bruce. “There’s the basin. Start getting ready.” Haig crossed to the handbasin; he was more steady on his feet and his features had firmed a little. You poor old bastard, thought Bruce, I hope you can do it. My God, how much I hope you can.
“Get a move on, Haig, we haven’t got all night.”
Bruce left the room and went quickly down the passage to the ward.