Read Online The Jeweller's Skin by Ruth Valentine - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ruth Valentine
Ads: Link
and stretched it out.
The little fat nurse called Wendle came hurrying in. ‘Come on, Humphreys,’ she said, and more that Narcisa didn’t understand. She took the knitting out of her hands. ‘Doctor coming,’ she said impatiently. She pushed her forward and straightened up the pillows, then yanked her back by the shoulder to sit against them. The movement pulled at the torn place between her legs, and she cried out.
‘Big doctor,’ she said, pulling the sheet flat. ‘Oh, can’t you understand? Medical Superintendent. Dr Gross.’
They came down the ward: Dr Gross with his light-coloured beard; the Matron; and Madame Taté, the interpreter. They had brought her in only once before.
They stood round the bed, these three important people and the nurse. Narcisa thought they must be talking about her, but couldn’t make out what it was they were saying. She felt blood seeping heavily out of her, onto the pad of rags under her nightgown.
She crossed her arms to cover her swollen breasts. Dr Gross smiled and spoke to Madame Taté.
‘Monsieur the Medical Superintendent says there is no need for you to be embarrassed.’ She spoke flatly.
‘I am cold,’ she said to defend herself.
The nurse found a shawl and put it round her shoulders. She drew the corners down over her chest.
They pulled up chairs, the Medical Superintendent and Madame Taté on one side, the Matron and Nurse Wendle on the other. Dr Gross cleared his throat and began to speak. His cheeks in the gap of the beard were smooth and rounded; his lips seemed too red under the fair moustache. Madame Taté stroked her gloves and listened.
‘Monsieur the Medical Superintendent says that now your child is born the asylum has to consider arrangements for its welfare. In order for the legal position to be established you will have to provide full information as to the circumstances of its conception.’
She said nothing. Dr Gross sat straighter in his chair.
‘He remembers that you refused to speak at the time you were first questioned, but he thought that now your child has been born you would be concerned for her welfare.’
‘What has this got to do with her welfare?’ She heard her own tone, sullen. She was frightened.
Further down the ward a woman cried out twice, as if in pain. Narcisa turned and saw her try to sit up in bed, her long hair hanging lank over her face. Nurse Wendle murmured something and went to her.
‘Her father should be obliged to contribute to her upkeep.’ Madame Taté turned back to listen to Dr Gross. ‘Also you will be able to retrieve your reputation, if a man has taken advantage of your situation here.’
She watched Nurse Wendle take a brown bottle from the cupboard, and pour from it into a spoon, which she held out. The sick woman took it and lay down again. Nurse Wendle pulled up the covers, and patted the woman’s shoulder.
Dr Gross was looking at her almost kindly.
‘I was not raped.’ For a moment she remembered lying in the grass, and holding the boy’s head against her shoulder.
‘You must not be ashamed to tell Monsieur the Medical Superintendent if you were forced in any way to consent. He understands that you were in a vulnerable position.’ Madame Taté said all this completely without expression, looking down all the time at her blue gloves.
‘I was not forced.’
Dr Gross’ voice rose a little louder. Madame Taté said in the same neutral tone, ‘Then you must give us the name of the man concerned.’
She said nothing.
Dr Gross and the Matron stood up and moved away. She was a bony, grey-haired woman who rarely spoke. Now she stood with her head slightly bowed in the white cap. Every so often she said something that sounded cautious. Dr Gross shook his head.
Nurse Wendle went back to the sick woman along the ward. Madame Taté turned to Narcisa. ‘Listen,’ she said quietly, ‘you are making it worse. Can’t
The little fat nurse called Wendle came hurrying in. ‘Come on, Humphreys,’ she said, and more that Narcisa didn’t understand. She took the knitting out of her hands. ‘Doctor coming,’ she said impatiently. She pushed her forward and straightened up the pillows, then yanked her back by the shoulder to sit against them. The movement pulled at the torn place between her legs, and she cried out.
‘Big doctor,’ she said, pulling the sheet flat. ‘Oh, can’t you understand? Medical Superintendent. Dr Gross.’
They came down the ward: Dr Gross with his light-coloured beard; the Matron; and Madame Taté, the interpreter. They had brought her in only once before.
They stood round the bed, these three important people and the nurse. Narcisa thought they must be talking about her, but couldn’t make out what it was they were saying. She felt blood seeping heavily out of her, onto the pad of rags under her nightgown.
She crossed her arms to cover her swollen breasts. Dr Gross smiled and spoke to Madame Taté.
‘Monsieur the Medical Superintendent says there is no need for you to be embarrassed.’ She spoke flatly.
‘I am cold,’ she said to defend herself.
The nurse found a shawl and put it round her shoulders. She drew the corners down over her chest.
They pulled up chairs, the Medical Superintendent and Madame Taté on one side, the Matron and Nurse Wendle on the other. Dr Gross cleared his throat and began to speak. His cheeks in the gap of the beard were smooth and rounded; his lips seemed too red under the fair moustache. Madame Taté stroked her gloves and listened.
‘Monsieur the Medical Superintendent says that now your child is born the asylum has to consider arrangements for its welfare. In order for the legal position to be established you will have to provide full information as to the circumstances of its conception.’
She said nothing. Dr Gross sat straighter in his chair.
‘He remembers that you refused to speak at the time you were first questioned, but he thought that now your child has been born you would be concerned for her welfare.’
‘What has this got to do with her welfare?’ She heard her own tone, sullen. She was frightened.
Further down the ward a woman cried out twice, as if in pain. Narcisa turned and saw her try to sit up in bed, her long hair hanging lank over her face. Nurse Wendle murmured something and went to her.
‘Her father should be obliged to contribute to her upkeep.’ Madame Taté turned back to listen to Dr Gross. ‘Also you will be able to retrieve your reputation, if a man has taken advantage of your situation here.’
She watched Nurse Wendle take a brown bottle from the cupboard, and pour from it into a spoon, which she held out. The sick woman took it and lay down again. Nurse Wendle pulled up the covers, and patted the woman’s shoulder.
Dr Gross was looking at her almost kindly.
‘I was not raped.’ For a moment she remembered lying in the grass, and holding the boy’s head against her shoulder.
‘You must not be ashamed to tell Monsieur the Medical Superintendent if you were forced in any way to consent. He understands that you were in a vulnerable position.’ Madame Taté said all this completely without expression, looking down all the time at her blue gloves.
‘I was not forced.’
Dr Gross’ voice rose a little louder. Madame Taté said in the same neutral tone, ‘Then you must give us the name of the man concerned.’
She said nothing.
Dr Gross and the Matron stood up and moved away. She was a bony, grey-haired woman who rarely spoke. Now she stood with her head slightly bowed in the white cap. Every so often she said something that sounded cautious. Dr Gross shook his head.
Nurse Wendle went back to the sick woman along the ward. Madame Taté turned to Narcisa. ‘Listen,’ she said quietly, ‘you are making it worse. Can’t
Similar Books
