The Sweetest Dream

Sylvia told Clever to hold the cloth she had soaked in chloroform (saved for an emergency) as far as possible from his own face, which he must turn aside. She told Zebedee to lift the basin with the instruments as high as he could from the floor, and began as soon as the girl's groans stopped. She was not attempting keyhole surgery, which she had described to the boys, but said, ‘I am doing an old-fashioned cut. But when you do your training I think you'll find this kind of big cut will be obsolete – no one will be doing it. As soon as she cut, she knew she was too late. The appendix had burst and pus and foul matter were everywhere. She had no penicillin. Nevertheless she swabbed and mopped and then sewed the long cut shut. Then she said in a whisper to the boys, 'I think she will die.' They wept loudly, Clever with his head on his knees, Zebedee with his head on Clever's back.

She said, ‘I am going to have to report what I have done. '

Clever whispered, ‘We won't tell on you. We won't tell anyone.'

Zebedee grabbed her hands, which were bloody, and said, ‘Oh, Sylvia, oh, Doctor Sylvia, will you get into trouble?'

'If I don't report it and they find out that you knew you will get into trouble too. I have to report it. '

She pulled up the little girl's skirt, and pulled down her blouse. She was dead. She was twelve years old. She said, ' Tell the carpenter we must have a coffin soon-soon.'

She went up to the house, found Father McGuire there, just back, and told him what had happened. ‘I must tell Mr Mandizi.'

‘Yes, I think you must. Don't I remember telling you that this might happen?'

‘Yes, you did. '

‘I will ring Mr Mandizi and ask him to come himself. '

' The telephone's not working.'

‘I’ll send Aaron on his bicycle. '

Sylvia went back to the hospital, helped to get the girl into her coffin, found Joshua where he was asleep under his tree, told him the girl was dead. The old man took time these days to absorb information: she did not want to wait to hear him curse her, which he was going to do – he always did, no necromancy was needed to foretell this – told the boys to say in the village she would not come that afternoon, but that they, Clever and Zeb-edee, would hear the people read, and correct their writing exercises.

At the house the priest was drinking tea. 'Sylvia, my dear, I think you should take a little holiday.'

'And what would that do?'

' Give it time to blow over. '

‘Do you think it will blow over?'

He was silent.

‘Where shall I go, Father? I feel now that this is my home. Until the other hospital is built these people need me here. '

'Let us see what Mr Mandizi says when he comes. '

These days Mr Mandizi was a friend, and it was a long time since he had been rude and suspicious, but what was coming was an official doing his duty.

When he came, there was nothing to know him by but his name. This was Mr Mandizi, he said he was, but really he was dreadfully ill.

' Mr Mandizi, should you not be in bed?'

‘No, doctor. I can do my job. In my bed, there is my wife. She is very sick. Two of us, side by side – no, I do not think I would like that. '

‘Did you have the tests done?'

He was silent, then sighed, then said, ‘Yes, Doctor Sylvia, we had the tests. '

Rebecca brought in the meat, the tomatoes, the bread for lunch, saw the official and said, shocked, 'Shame, oh shame, Mr Mandizi.'

Since Rebecca was always thin and small and her face bony under her kerchief, he could not see she was ill, and so he sat there like the doomed man at the feast, surrounded by the healthy.

‘I am so sorry, Mr Mandizi,’ said Rebecca and went out to her kitchen, crying.

‘And so now you must tell me everything, Doctor Sylvia.'

She told him.

‘Would she have died if you didn't operate?'

'Yes.'

'Was there a chance of saving her?'

'A bit of a chance. Not much. You see, I don't have penicillin, it ran out and...'

He made the movement of his hand she knew so welclass="underline" don't criticise me for things I can't help. ‘I shall have to tell the big hospital.'

‘Of course. '

' They will probably want a post mortem.'

'They will have to be quick. She is in her coffin. Why don't you just say it was my fault. Because I am not a surgeon. '

'Is it a difficult operation?'

‘No, one of the easy ones. '

‘Would a real surgeon have done anything different?'

‘Not much, no, not really. '

‘I don't know what to say, Doctor Sylvia. '

It was clear he wanted to say more. He sat with his eyes lowered, glanced up at her, doubtfully, then looked at the priest. Sylvia could see they knew something she didn't.

‘What is it?’ she said.

'Who is this friend of yours, Matabele Bosman Smith?'

'Who?'

Mr Mandizi sighed. He sat with his untouched food in front of him. So did Sylvia. The priest ate steadily, frowning. Mr Mandizi rested his head on his hand, and said, ' Doctor Sylvia, I know there is no muti for what I have, but I am getting these headaches, headaches, I didn't know there could be headaches like these. '

‘I have something for your headaches. I'll give you the pills before you go. '

' Thank you, Doctor Sylvia. But I have to say something... there is something...’ Again, he glanced at the priest, who nodded reassurance. ' They are going to close down your hospital. '

‘But these people need this hospital. '

' There will be our new hospital soon...’ Sylvia brightened, saw that the official was only cheering himself up, and she nodded.

'Yes, there will be one I am sure of it,' said Mr Mandizi. 'Yes, that is the situation.'

'Okay,' said Sylvia.

' Okay,’ said Mr Mandizi.

A week later arrived a short typewritten letter addressed to Father McGuire, instructing him to close down the hospital ' as from this date' . On the same morning a policeman arrived on a motorbike. He was a young black man, perhaps twenty, or twenty-one, and he was ill at ease in his authority. Father McGuire asked him to sit down, and Rebecca made them tea.

‘And now, my son, what can I do for you?'

‘I am looking for stolen property. '

'Now I understand. Well, you won't find any in this house.' Rebecca stood by the sideboard. She said nothing. The policeman said to her, ' Perhaps I will come with you to your house and look around for myself. '

Rebecca said, ‘We have seen the new hospital. There are bush pig living in it. '

‘I too have visited the new hospital. Yes, bush pig, and I think baboons too. ' He laughed, stopped himself, and sighed. ‘But there is a hospital here, I think, and my orders are that I must see it.'

'The hospital is closed.' The priest pushed over the official letter, the policeman read it, and said, ' If it is closed, then I do not see any problem. '

' That is my opinion too. '

‘I think I must discuss this situation with Mr Mandizi. '

' That is a good idea. '

‘But he is not well. Mr Mandizi is not well and I think we shall soon have a replacement.' He got up, not looking at Rebecca, whose house he knew he ought to be investigating. Off he went, his bike roaring and coughing through the peaceful bush.

Meanwhile Sylvia was supposed to be closing down her hospital.

There were patients in the beds, and Clever and Zebedee were doling out medicines.

She said to the priest, 'I am going in to Senga to see Comrade Minister Franklin. He was a friend. He came to us for holidays. He was Colin's friend.'

‘Ah. Nothing more annoying than the people who knew you before you were Comrade Minister.'

‘But I'm going to try. '

‘Wouldn't you perhaps think to put on a nice clean dress?'