Read Online The Surgeon's Lady by Carla Kelly - Free Book Online

urinal and smoothed the blankets around the amputee.
    “Well done, Lady T,” Lt. Brittle said. He nodded toward the door. “There’s a sluice hole in the washroom next door. While you’re in there, wash your hands and face.”
    He spoke to the amputee in the next bed. “Tommy, what happened?”
    The man thought a moment. “I was dozing, sir. I heard Davey start to gargle, like he did that time before. As soon as he started to spout, t’old bitch leaped up like a flea on a hot griddle and did a runner.”
    “She better just keep running,” someone else said, the others murmuring their agreement.
    Laura let her breath out slowly, and left the room. In the hall, she backed out of the way as two men in uniform ran up the stairs. They stopped in their tracks at the sight of her, so bloody. One of them tried to take her by the arm, but she shook her head.
    “There is nothing wrong with me. It’s the patient in B Ward. Lt. Brittle is with him now.”
    “Someone yelled ‘Fire,’” he said.
    “We were trying to get your attention. Excuse me now.”
    She went into the washroom, relieved to be alone for a moment. She found the sluice hole and poured out the urinal’s contents, then poured water into it from the bucket nearby, swished it around and poured that out, too.
    She turned to the row of basins and pitchers and rolled up her sleeves. She wouldn’t have noticed the crouchingwoman, if she hadn’t heard her try to smother a sob sound in her apron. Laura whirled around, her heart in her throat.
    It was the woman who had sat at the desk, who stared at her with terrified eyes. Laura balled her slimy hands into fists, wanting to smack her. Instead, she turned back to the washbasin, where she took her time washing her hands and face, trying to decide what to do.
    She dried her hands and face. She couldn’t leave the woman there, not after what she had done. At least there was no one in the other room with the strength to tear her apart and Lt. Brittle was too busy. Suddenly, she felt more sympathy than disgust.
    “Do you have any children?”
    Wary, the woman nodded, tucking herself into a tighter ball.
    “Where’s your man?”
    “Dead these three months at Basque Roads,” the woman whispered.
    “If you lose your job, you will all starve,” Laura said. “Or end up in a workhouse, at the very least. I’m not certain that would be a blessing.”
    The woman nodded, tears in her eyes again. She leaned her forehead into her knees and sobbed.
    I’m a curious contradiction, Laura thought, as she went to the woman and tugged her to her feet. A few minutes ago I wanted to stuff her head down the sluice hole. Now I don’t. She grasped her by the back of her dress and gave her a shake, then pushed her into the hall and the ward next door, as the woman shrieked and tried to dig her heels into the floor.
    Lt. Brittle was on his feet. “Good God, Laura!” he exclaimed, then was silent, disgust on his face, as he saw whoit was making the noise. A low sound like a growl from several of the men made Laura’s blood run in chunks, and terrified the woman, who tried to make herself small under Laura’s armpit.
    At a nod from the surgeon, one of the orderlies grabbed her. She stood there, head bowed, shoulders slumped, her hair in strings around her face.
    “What can you possibly have to say for yourself?” Lt. Brittle asked, after a long silence.
    “I was afraid,” she said at last.
    “So was this lady,” the surgeon replied, his voice as quiet as hers. “She didn’t run, though. Maude, you’re sacked. Get out of here before the Marines come running and clap you in irons.”
    The woman wrenched herself free of the orderly and dropped to her knees. “My children will starve!” she cried.
    Laura took a deep breath and stepped deliberately in front of the bedraggled woman. “Don’t sack her.”
    “You can’t possibly think she should stay on here,” Lt. Brittle said, looking more puzzled than irritated, which