Tamar (35 page)

Tamar had no idea what to say, although it was clear something was very wrong.

‘I felt a little like that after I had Kahurangi. I know it helped me to talk about it with Riria. And Myrna. Perhaps you should
talk about it, too. What’s bothering you, I mean.’

‘But that’s the problem,’ Polly replied in a flat voice. ‘I don’t
know
what’s bothering me.’

Tamar thought back to something Myrna had said. ‘Was it something that happened when you were working on the streets? Before Myrna found you?’

Polly averted her eyes from Tamar’s gaze, shrugged again and said, ‘I don’t know. Let’s go home now, shall we?’

But not before Tamar had seen the burst of panic and fear on her friend’s pale face. She opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it; now was not the time or the place. ‘Come on then,’ she said, and held out her elbow. Polly took it and they walked arm in arm back towards Dilworth Terrace.

Tamar knocked quietly on Myrna’s bedroom door.

Eliza was worried. She said Myrna had not been down yet today, which was unusual, so she’d taken up a breakfast tray, knocked and left it outside the door several hours ago, thinking that perhaps Myrna was catching up on her sleep. She was normally in her office by nine o’clock and it was now almost twelve. Tamar knocked again, louder this time. ‘Myrna? Are you awake?’

Silence. The breakfast had not been touched, the porridge congealed and the pot of tea stone cold.

‘
Myrna
! Are you in there?’

Still no response. Tamar gently opened the door and looked inside. The drapes were drawn and she could see very little.

‘Myrna?’ she asked again as she went in. ‘Are you awake?’ There was a strange, coppery smell in the room.

‘Tamar? Is that you, lassie?’

Myrna’s voice was completely bereft of its normal volume and enthusiasm. Tamar approached the bed, a knot of unease forming
in her stomach. In the gloom she could vaguely see Myrna lying on her back with the covers pulled up to her chin. ‘Open the drapes, will ye? I’m no’ feeling ma best.’

Tamar opened two sets of the heavy curtains, inviting the bright Auckland sunlight to flood the room. She had turned and was halfway back to the bed when she suddenly stopped. ‘What’s that on the floor?’ she asked, shocked motionless.

Myrna turned her head laboriously and looked over the side of the bed. The oriental rug on the floor was stained with splatters of something red, spreading from under the bedclothes and dripping slowly down the mahogany of the bed base.

‘Oh Christ,’ said Myrna wearily and lay her head back on the pillows. ‘Ye’d best get John.’

Tamar stepped over the mess on the carpet and carefully peeled back Myrna’s blankets. The older woman lay in a soggy pool of dark blood, her sheets and nightdress saturated. ‘My God, Myrna, what’s happened? Have you cut yourself?’ said Tamar, horrified.

‘No, I think it’s coming from ma insides. I cannae move. I’m in too much pain.’

Tamar ran to the door and screamed down the narrow stairs, ‘
Eliza
! Come quickly!
Anyone
!’

There was the sound of running feet and Letitia and Bronwyn appeared at the foot of the stairs. ‘What? What?’ cried Letitia, her eyes round.

‘Myrna’s bleeding! Get John!
Now
! Tell Sven to take you in the cart. Go on,
now
!’

Letitia disappeared and Tamar heard her running down the grand staircase, yelling for Sven at the top of her voice. Bronwyn came slowly into the room. When she saw Myrna she gasped and covered her eyes.

‘Don’t be pathetic, Bronwyn,’ snapped Tamar. ‘
Help
me.’

Bronwyn reluctantly approached the bed, stepping gingerly
around the blood on the floor. ‘What’s happened? What’s wrong with her?’

‘Ye can speak to me, lassie. I’m no’ dead,’ said Myrna weakly, although she was deathly pale and her eyelids were fluttering.

‘I think she’s bleeding internally,’ said Tamar over her shoulder. ‘Help me get some cushions under her bottom.’ She slid the pillows from under Myrna’s head while Bronwyn snatched several cushions from the sofa. ‘Now, when I lift her hips, get the pillows under her so her bottom half is higher than her top half. It might slow the bleeding.’

As Bronwyn did as she was told, they could hear a commotion outside. She ran to the window. ‘Sven. He’s not got the cart, he’s riding bareback.’

‘Is she all right?’

Tamar looked up to see Letitia, Eliza and the other girls crowded into the doorway of Myrna’s room. ‘No, I don’t think so, but John will be here soon. Has anyone got smelling salts? I think she’s fainting.’

As Eliza went for the salts, the girls moved hesitantly forward.

‘I don’t think we should crowd her,’ said Tamar. ‘Can everyone wait downstairs for a minute?’

‘I want to see her,’ said Jessica, big tears swimming in her eyes.

Tamar hesitated for a brief second then said, ‘All right then, but only for a minute.’ What if Myrna were to die and she’d stopped them all from saying goodbye? She pushed away the impossible thought of losing Myrna and bent down to the bed. ‘Myrna? Can you hear me?’

‘O’ course I can hear ye. It’s no’ ma ears bleeding.’

Tamar smiled. The girls all filed past and touched Myrna’s hand. Vivienne, realising she’d stepped in the blood on the floor, burst into anguished tears. ‘Don’t go, Myrna,’ she sobbed. ‘Please.’

‘Come on, out now. We can’t be upsetting her,’ said Tamar,
shooing the shocked and distressed girls out of the room. ‘Send John straight up.’

Tamar dragged up a chair and held Myrna’s hand while they waited, smoothing strands of errant henna-dyed hair from her clammy brow. Tamar felt frightened and sick, and kept her mouth closed until she could trust her own voice. When she could, she bent closer to Myrna and asked gently, ‘How do you feel?’

‘Weak,’ replied Myrna, addressing the ceiling. ‘Verra tired. And ma innards feel like I’ve just produced a bairn. I havnae, though, have I?’ Tamar shook her head. ‘I didnae think so,’ continued Myrna, a hint of a smile on her bleached lips. ‘I’ve no’ been wi’ a man for years.’ She grimaced in pain, swore and closed her eyes.

They sat in silence until they heard the clatter of horses outside. Tamar went to the window. ‘John’s here.’ Seconds later she heard him running up the stairs, and went to the bedroom door to meet him.

He hurried in but stopped in his tracks when he saw Tamar. ‘Bloody hell,’ he exclaimed, staring at the front of her dress.

Tamar glanced down at herself; her skirt was smeared with Myrna’s blood and her arms were streaked with it up to her elbows. ‘It’s Myrna,’ she said, stepping out of his way. ‘She’s had a massive bleed.’

John dropped his bag, crossed to the bed and drew the covers back. ‘Christ. Get me some warm water and some clean towels. And a new set of sheets,’ he added without turning around.

When Tamar had gone he asked, ‘Myrna? Can you hear me? When did the bleeding start?’

‘This morning some time. I woke wi’ a bad pain in ma belly and decided to stay in bed for a while. When I woke again I was bleeding everywhere. I couldnae get up and I couldnae yell out.’ She grasped John’s hand and looked him in the eye. Her own eyes, now that her girls were out of the room, were wide with fear. ‘I
thought I was going to die here, John. By maself.’

He nodded, the distress in her voice telling clearly of her fright. ‘Have you had heavy bleeding before?’

Myrna nodded. ‘Ma courses have been getting worse and worse. I’ve been expecting them to stop, but they havnae.’

‘Are they still regular?’

‘Och, no. They arrive whenever they feel like it.’

‘How old are you, Myrna?’

‘Fifty-five this year.’

John nodded and rubbed his hand over his high, shiny forehead. ‘Well, we’ll clean you up and have a look then, shall we? If you don’t mind.’

Myrna smiled. ‘Why should I? Ye’d hardly be the first to look up there.’

John laughed out loud. Then, more serious, he asked, ‘Are you still in pain?’

‘A little.’

‘Well, that probably means a lot, knowing you. I’ll give you some laudanum to take the edge off it.’

As he poured a draught of the opiate and held it to Myrna’s lips, Tamar returned with two large bowls of water, followed by Eliza carrying a stack of fresh, white cloths and towels with a pair of snowy sheets folded on top of them.

‘Och, no, Tamar! No’ the
good
linen,’ said Myrna crossly. ‘It’ll be ruined.’

No one took any notice. John set to work dipping the cloths into the warm water while Tamar peeled Myrna’s nightdress off her thighs and stomach.

As John gently sponged Myrna’s legs and lower abdomen he motioned to Eliza to unfold a clean sheet. ‘When I roll her over I want you to pull the stained sheet from underneath her, then spread out the clean one.’

Myrna groaned as John helped her to roll to one side. Tamar bit her lip. She was finding it almost unbearable to see her friend in such pain.

‘Right,’ said John. ‘It looks as if most of the bleeding has stopped. I’m going to examine you now, Myrna. Do you want Tamar and Eliza to leave or do you want to be chaperoned?’

‘I couldnae care less, laddie. Dinnae be silly.’

Tamar asked Eliza to take away the soiled sheets and cloths, sat next to the bed and took Myrna’s hand.

As John began his examination he said nothing, except to ask whether he was causing any pain. When he had finished some minutes later he rinsed his hands, dried them on a towel and perched himself on the end of the bed, a worried expression on his face.

‘I’m not sure what it is, Myrna. I’m sorry but I just can’t tell. This really isn’t my field. You’ve lost a lot of blood, however. Are you supposed to be menstruating now?’

‘I’m no’ really sure any more.’

‘I’ll talk to some of my colleagues. They might have a better idea.’ He coughed dryly into his hand. ‘Tamar, could you get me something to drink, please?’

‘Tea or brandy?’

‘Brandy, thanks. Downstairs. I’ll need to talk to you shortly.’

When Tamar had gone, John frowned. ‘I didn’t want to say this in front of her, but I think this is serious.’

Myrna sighed. ‘Aye, I ken that, laddie. I have the cancer, no?’

‘You might. This sort of extreme, irregular bleeding can be one of the symptoms.’ He paused for a second and chewed on his bottom lip. ‘And if you do, as far as I’m aware there is no cure.’

‘I ken that as well. I’ve suspected for some time, but it’s never been as bad as this. Ma mam died o’ it, ye see.’

John nodded but said nothing.

‘Well, laddie, if it is the cancer, how long will I have?’

John looked at Myrna. It saddened him beyond words to be discussing life expectancy with someone he had grown so fond of. ‘I really don’t know. Have you lost weight lately?’

‘Unfortunately, no. I’m as fat as ever.’

‘Is the pain constant?

‘No, usually only when I’m bleeding.’

‘Well, then, if it
is
cancer, it could be quite a while.’

‘A year?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Then bugger it, John. I’m no’ going to waste it lying around in ma bed!’

‘No, there’s no need to do that, but you will have to take it easy, whatever this turns out to be. Perhaps you could handsome of your work over to someone else.’

‘Aye, I’ve already started. I’m teaching Tamar to do the books, keep the place running, that sort o’ thing. She’s verra bright and capable, ye ken.’

‘Oh, I know that.’ He looked at her hard. ‘You
have
known for a while, haven’t you? Why didn’t you say something earlier?’

‘Would there have been much point?’

‘I suppose not, but I could have given you something to ease the pain.’

‘Aye, well, ye can give me that now. And I’d rather ye didnae tell Tamar.’

‘That’s your business. But I am going to talk to her about your care and how you need to cut down on your work. If you can make things easier by not driving yourself so hard, then I think it’s worth it, don’t you?’

‘I’m no’ sure if I agree with ye, laddie. I’d rather go doing something useful than finish ma life as an invalid.’

‘Somehow I don’t think you’d make a good invalid. Unlike some
of my patients, who seem to dedicate their life to it,’ said John. He began to pack his things into his doctor’s bag. ‘I’ve a colleague, a gynaecologist who’s had a lot of experience with these sorts of problems. Hugh Templeton, his name is. If I bring him around, will you talk to him?’

‘Cannae do any harm.’

‘I’ll arrange that as soon as I can.’ He straightened up. ‘There’s nothing I can say except stay in bed until your strength comes back. Use the chamber pot, don’t go downstairs. Eat lots of red meat and vegetables. Take the laudanum for pain. If you bleed like this again, send for me straightaway. I’ll drop in on you regularly anyway. I’ll send someone up to sit with you while I’m talking to Tamar.’

‘Aye, fine, although I’m so tired I could sleep for a week.’

‘It’s the loss of blood. That washed-out feeling will go away in a day or two.’

As he turned to go, Myrna said, ‘John? Thank ye. Again. I dinnae ken where we’d be wi’out ye sometimes.’

John smiled. ‘Just look after yourself, all right?’ He crossed the room and closed the bedroom door softly. In the dim light on the landing outside Myrna’s room, his normally cheerful face was grim and grey.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

J
ohn brought Hugh Templeton to visit Myrna several days later. Templeton, a distinguished and learned man in his late fifties experienced in treating medical problems peculiar to women, examined her extensively and detected what he thought was a moderately large tumour in her womb.

After the examination he sat with Myrna and John and discussed her prognosis.

‘I’m afraid, Miss McTaggart,’ he said solemnly, ‘I have to advise there is very little hope of recovery.’

Myrna nodded but said nothing. She looked resigned. Her face had regained some of its colour and character but she was still pale.