A Surgical Affair by Shirley Summerskill

growing country.”
    “Even so, l ots of us come over here, to learn from you,” Mark reminded him, scraping his, plate clean.
    “But out there you’ve got an incentive to work hard, to build and create something. That’s so important ... Have some more wine?”
    Lemon soufflé and cheese and biscuits followed; then Mrs. Cole led Sister and Diana back to the drawing room, leaving the men to smoke cigars over their brandy. She went out to see to the coffee, and Diana, feeling full of the contentment that comes after an excellent meal in pleasant company, relaxed in the armchair.
    “You’re quiet tonight, Sister. Not your usual bright self.”
    There was a moment’s silence; then Sister heaved a deep sigh. “Perhaps I am,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. I suppose I’d better tell you why.” Diana waited, wondering. “You—you know that pain I sometimes have—?”
    “Yes?”
    “The results of Mr. Cole’s investigations came back today.”
    “Well?” Diana was leaning forward expectantly.
    Sister looked at her calmly, blinking through her spectacles. The room suddenly seemed very quiet. “He says there’s a swelling in the aorta. He’ll have to operate.”
    Diana gazed thoughtfully into the fire. So that was it. An aortic aneurysm. For a moment she forgot Sister, her friend, was sitting opposite her, and automatically started to recall all the symptoms, and match them with the final diagnosis. Of course, everything fitted perfectly. And the treatment? Diana knew that without an operation, the abnormal part of the aorta could break open at any time, and the main artery supplying the lower part of the body would be out of action. It would be like the bursting of a dam, fatal within minutes.
    Before Diana had fully realized the significance of Sister’s words, Mrs. Cole came in with the coffee tray, and the conversation turned to the proposed building of a swimming pool at the hospital.
    The rest of the evening passed quickly. Mark looked more relaxed and seemed to enjoy talking with Mr. Cole about their surgical experiences, in America. Diana was happy to be away from the hospital, to see Mark in a different setting; not always in his white coat, or rubber gloves and mask. It was, she thought, an unnatural existence. No dances or tennis-club parties or outings to the theater for them, as other couples enjoy, as she and Richard had known.
    When they left the house, it was dark and raining hard. The three of them waved to Mr. Cole as the car went down the drive.
    “That was a lovely evening,” said Sister, settling back in her seat beside Mark. “And isn’t it a glorious house?”
    “You can say that again. There aren’t any old houses like that at home,” Mark replied.
    “And the meal was delicious,” added Diana contentedly, from the back seat.
    They were driving along one of the narrow, twisting country lanes that led toward the hospital. Although the car had powerful headlights, the rain beating on the road and onto the windows gave a dazzling effect. It was Sister who first saw the man step into the lane from the left.
    “Good heavens! He’s going to cross!” she shouted.
    And at that second Mark saw the man and, with all his strength, swung the steering wheel to the right and jammed his foot on the brake.
    The car skidded helplessly across to the other side of the lane. “Crazy fool!” yelled Mark.
    There was a loud crash and the sound of splintering glass as the car ran into the hedge. Diana was flung across the back seat, but she noticed Sister had braced herself in time for the impact. Mark was slouched in his seat, his head on the steering wheel. There was blood on his face.
    “Mark!” screamed Diana, in a strangled voice. She had recovered from the shock and realized what had happened.
    It was dark and raining hard; the car had crashed and Mark was unconscious.
    Diana never forgot that night.
    Leaving Sister in the car, and with her jacket over her head, she walked a mile along