Tamar by Deborah Challinor

Author:Deborah Challinor [Challinor, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2012-10-24T11:00:00+00:00

Friday was a bitterly cold August day. Nervous and unable to sleep, Tamar rose early and busied herself lighting fires and opening doors to allow the heat to disperse throughout the rooms. Myrna had offered Tamar her private quarters at the top of the house for the surgery and her recuperation. Her own small room was at the back of the house on the ground floor, where she would be disturbed by Eliza and Sven as they worked.

John and Basil Stokes arrived at the appointed time and went upstairs to lay out their surgical equipment, while Tamar sat nervously in the kitchen. The girls sat with her, hushed and serious-looking. Polly, in a voice that was almost a whisper, said, ‘We’ll be praying for you, Tamar.’

Myrna bustled in, took one look at the long faces and clapped her hands loudly, giving everyone a fright. ‘Right!’ she said. ‘Enough o’ this doom and gloom. She’s having her scar repaired, no’ her head removed. Bronwyn, ye and Letitia have customers at two o’clock. Had ye no’ better start getting ready for them? Come on, the rest o’ ye, out o’ here.’

‘But we’re worried about Tamar,’ complained Jessica.

‘Och, but sitting around behaving like she’s already died isnae going to help her! John assures me there’s nothing to worry about, so out ye go.’

When the girls had left, Myrna sat next to Tamar and took her hand. ‘Are ye a wee bit frightened, lassie?’ she asked kindly.

Tamar shook her head. ‘I trust John implicitly. I’m a bit nervous about the ether, but no, I feel quite calm. If God intended me to die young I’m sure that would have happened back at Huia.’

‘Oh, we’re talking to God again now, are we?’

‘Let’s just say I’m considering a penny each way.’

Myrna laughed. ‘I dinnae blame ye, lassie.’

They heard a polite cough and turned to see Basil Stokes standing at the kitchen door. He was tall and thin with a long face, slightly protruding teeth and fine, pale hands. ‘We’re ready for you now, Miss Deane,’ he said hesitantly.

He led the way upstairs to Myrna’s room and ushered them both in. John, standing next to an array of surgical instruments laid out on a cloth-covered nightstand, turned and smiled. ‘Ah, Tamar, could you change into your nightdress now, please? Will you be staying, Myrna?’

‘Aye, just until she’s asleep.’

‘Righto,’ said John cheerfully. ‘We’ll let Tamar get ready.’

He and Basil left the bedroom while Tamar undressed. Myrna’s bed had been moved to one side and a narrow table set up in the middle of the room and covered with several plain white sheets. The carpets had been rolled back and a strong smell of cleaning fluid permeated the air.

‘Eliza’s done a good job,’ prattled Tamar nervously as she slipped her nightdress over her head. ‘We could eat off that floor.’

‘I’m no’ that hungry, maself,’ replied Myrna.

John knocked discreetly and called out, ‘Ready?’

‘Aye,’ Myrna called, and John and Basil came back in. They helped Tamar onto the table and covered

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