They were making too much noise.
‘Mr Speaker—’
A disgusting feeling of nausea, a kind of vapourish tightness behind his nose.
‘Mr Speaker—’
He looked up again. A mistake. The sea of faces jerked up and revolved very quickly. A tiny voice, somewhere up in the attic, was calling: ‘He’s fainted.’
He did not feel himself pitch forward across the desk. Nor did he hear a voice from the back benches that called out: ‘You’ll be worse than that before you’ve finished with your bloody Bill.’
‘Who’s his doctor—anyone know?’
‘Yes—I do. It’s bound to be Sir John Phillips—they’re old friends.’
‘Phillips? He runs that nursing-home in Brook Street, doesn’t he?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘Somebody must ring Lady O’Callaghan.’
‘I will if you like. I know her.’
‘Is he coming round?’
‘Doesn’t look like it. Tillotley went to see about the ambulance.’
‘Here he is. Did you fix up for an ambulance, Tillotley?’
‘It’s coming. Where are you sending him?’
‘Cuthbert’s gone to ring up his wife.’
‘God, he looks bad!’
‘Did you hear that fellow yell out from the back benches?’
‘Yes. Who was it?’
‘I don’t know. I say, do you think there’s anything fishy about this?’
‘Oh, rot!’
‘Here’s Dr Wendover—I didn’t know he was in the House.’
They stood back from O’Callaghan. A little tubby man, Communist member for a North Country constituency, came through the group of men and knelt down.
‘Open those windows, will you?’ he said.
He loosened O’Callaghan’s clothes. The others eyed him respectfully. After a minute or two he looked round.
‘Who’s his medical man?’ he asked.
‘Cuthbert thinks it’s Sir John Phillips. He’s ringing his wife now.’
‘Phillips is a surgeon. It’s a surgical case.’
‘What’s the trouble, Dr Wendover?’
‘Looks like an acute appendix. There’s no time to be lost. You’d better ring the Brook Street Private Hospital. Is the ambulance there? Can’t wait for his wife.’
From the doorway somebody said: ‘The men from the ambulance.’
‘Good. Here’s your patient.’
Two men came in carrying a stretcher. O’Callaghan was got on to it, covered up, and carried out. Cuthbert hurried in.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it’s Phillips. She wants him taken to Phillips’s nursing-home.’
‘He’s going there,’ said little Dr Wendover, and walked out after the ambulance men.
O’Callaghan climbed up, sickeningly, from nowhere into semiconsciousness. Grandiloquent images slid rapidly downwards. His wife’s face came near and then receded. Somebody groaned close to him. Somebody was in bed beside him, groaning.
‘Is the pain very bad?’ said a voice.
He himself was in pain.
‘Bad,’ he said solemnly.
‘The doctor will be here soon. He’ll give you something to take it away.’
He now knew it was he who had groaned.
Cicely’s face came close.
‘The doctor’s coming, Derek.’
He closed his eyes to show he had understood.
‘Poor old Derry, poor old boy.’
‘I’ll just leave you with him for a minute, Lady O’Callaghan. If you want me, will you ring? I think I hear Sir John.’ A door closed.
‘This pain’s very bad,’ said O’Callaghan clearly.
The two women exchanged glances. Lady O’Callaghan drew up a chair to the bed and sat down.
‘It won’t be for long, Derek,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s your appendix, you know.’
‘Oh.’
Ruth had begun to whisper.
‘What’s Ruth say?’
‘Never mind me, Derry-boy. It’s just silly old Ruthie.’ He muttered something, shut his eyes, and seemed to fall asleep.
‘Cicely darling, I know you laugh at my ideas, but listen. As soon as I heard about Derry I went and saw Harold Sage. He’s the brilliant young chemist I told you about. I explained exactly what was the matter and he gave me something that he says will relieve the pain at once and can do no harm at all. It’s an invention of his own. In a few months all the hospitals will use it.’
She began a search in her handbag.
‘Suggest it to Sir John if you like, Ruth. Of course nothing can be done without his knowledge.’
‘Doctors are so bigoted. I know, my dear. The things Harold has told me—!’
‘You seem to be very friendly with this young man.’
‘He interests me enormously, Cicely.’
‘Really?’
The nurse came back.
‘Sir John would like to see you for a moment, Lady O’Callaghan.’
‘Thank you. I’ll come.’
Left alone with her brother, Ruth dabbed at his hand. He opened his eyes.
‘Oh, God, Ruth,’ he said, ‘I’m in such pain.’
‘Just hold on for one moment, Derry. I’ll make it better.’
She had found the little package. There was a tumbler of water by the bedside.
In
