Voices of the Dead by Ambrose Parry

Author:Ambrose Parry [Parry, Ambrose]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781838855499
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

THIRTY

he young woman’s face was puffy, her hands and feet also markedly swollen.

‘When was she admitted?’ Raven asked.

Matron stood beside him at the edge of the bed, having directed him to the patients she wished him to prioritise at the beginning of his Minto House ward round.

‘This morning.’

‘Have the true pains commenced?’ he asked.

‘Only within the last hour or so.’

‘Protein in the urine?’

‘Lots of protein, not much urine.’

‘Bloodletting, antiphlogistics and diuretics,’ Raven ordered. ‘The Simpson recipe against the supervention of convulsions.’

Matron handed him the ward book for him to write his instructions in.

The next patient was one he had delivered himself the previous afternoon. There had been considerable haemorrhage immediately after the placenta was extracted, requiring a large dose of ergot and manual compression of the uterus. Raven flexed the fingers of his right hand at the memory of it. It had been quite the struggle to get things under control.

‘And how are we today?’ he asked the woman while looking at the chart clipped to the bottom of the bed.

‘Tired. Thirsty.’

‘Are you keeping to your bed as instructed? It is important to refrain from all movement.’

The patient scoffed. ‘I hardly have the energy to sit myself up.’

‘She was a bit restless last night,’ Matron said, ‘but a dose of laudanum settled that.’

‘Any further bleeding?’ Raven asked.

‘Only what would normally be expected.’

Raven allowed himself a smile at Matron’s matter-of-fact response. It was like an unspoken conspiracy to conceal from the patient just how close she had come to death.

His ward round was followed by a breech delivery. Progress was slow and the after-coming head required a bit of manipulation, but once delivered, both mother and baby were doing well.

After that, he made his way to Matron’s office, glancing at the clock as he sat down to write in the ward register. It was almost six. He had arrived at the Maternity Hospital several hours before, hoping for a brief ward round followed by a swift retreat. He should have known better, but as long as he got his notes down without delay or distraction, he would be on time for Sarah’s demonstration at the Mesmeric Association.

Not that he had any true desire to be there, but it was reciprocity for her mission to the theatre. Were it not for that, he would have found a reason, any reason, not to go. If Sarah wanted to spend her time waving her hands in front of people’s faces, that was up to her, but Raven wanted no part of it. And now he was going to be dragged into bearing witness to this flummery. And suppose she did manage to put some poor dupe into a trance, what was Raven supposed to say to that? Did she really imagine that he would change his mind on the strength of that alone?

He could not disappoint her, though, and not just because he had given his word. For all that he thought it was humbug, he also knew that it meant a lot to

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