Green for Danger by Christianna Brand Page B

to wait a little while, Higgins,” said Esther, wheeling him into the anæsthetic-room, and putting up the catch inside the door to keep him safe from interruption. “Just lie here and keep quite quiet. Do you feel all right?”
    â€œI feel a bit thirsty, miss,” said Higgins, licking his dry lips.
    â€œI’m afraid you will; that’s the atropine. Now, will you be all right for a minute or two, while I go and get a gown?”
    â€œYes, I’ll be all right, miss,” said Higgins indifferently.
    Woods was the theatre V.A.D. She and Sister Bates were both in the washroom in long green gowns, tied at the back of the neck and waist with tapes. Woods had a small oblong of green gauze hanging by its strings round her neck, ready to be pulled up over her mouth and nose when she went into the theatre; but Sister Bates wore a more elaborate mask, a sort of yashmak that covered her whole head, and tucked in under the neck of the gown; her eyes, acknowledging Esther through the slit, looked very big and blue against the green. “Get yourself a gown, nurse, if you’re going to stay.” The mask was sucked in and blown out over her mouth as she spoke.
    Major Moon turned away from the washbasins, holding out dripping hands. He was dressed in a white cotton singlet and wore a pair of shrunken white duck trousers and huge ankle-high rubber boots. Woods handed sterile towels and a green gown for him to shuffle his way into, his own hands held stiffly away from his body; she fitted a little round green cap on to his head, and fixed a small head-lamp on a band round his forehead. Woods chucked Esther a gown and an oblong mask like her own, and hurried to pick up the battery attached to the head-lamp; she followed Major Moon into the theatre, carrying the battery at the end of its long flex like a page with a bride’s train. Major Moon wriggled his plump little hands into thin brown rubber gloves.
    The patient was breathing quietly, his eyes closed, his head lolling a little to one side. Gervase Eden, already masked and gowned, stood at his side, waiting with curbed impatience to get on. Major Moon went over to the sister’s trolley and stood looking down at the instruments there. As Esther pushed open the door into the anæsthetic-room to make sure that Higgins was all right, she heard the old surgeon say, in his mumbling voice: “What a rotten collection of stuff we’ve got in this place; we could do such a lot more if we only had better equipment.”
    Woody adored Major Moon. He reminded her of Mr. Churchill, and Mr. Churchill was the idol of all Great Britain. She quoted, looking back over her shoulder as she stood at the door of the anæsthetic-room with Esther: “Give us the tools and we will get on with the job!”
    Sister Bates bridled. Honestly, these V.A.D.s! Who did they think they were, joking with the officers? After all, V.A.D.s were only ‘other ranks’. She said indignantly: “Be quiet, please, nurse! You’re not here to …”
    But she never finished her sentence, for there was a wild cry from the anæsthetic-room, and Higgins was struggling up to a sitting position on his stretcher, clinging to Esther, staring at the doorway into the theatre, and mumbling over and over and over again: “Where have I heard that voice? Oh, my God, I can’t remember! I must remember! Where have I heard that voice …?”
    3
    Major Moon looked up astonished. He said sharply: “Who’s that?”
    Woods let the door swing to behind her and leaned back against the wall of the theatre; she said hurriedly: “It’s only that man Higgins, sir; the fractured pelvis, your next case. He’s—I expect he’s excited by the morphia, or something.” They could hear Esther’s voice in the other room, calming the old man down.
    Moon and Eden shrugged their shoulders and went to the patient, now well under the