A Dead Man in Malta by Michael Pearce Page B

attributed to the superior organization of St John’s and also to the fact that women played a significant part in it.
    ‘If you want a job done, give me a woman every time,’ she said. ‘Especially one who has had the experience of running a family. Don’t you agree, Mrs Ferreira?’
    Mrs Ferreira said she did.
    ‘Especially a large family,’ she added.
    ‘One is enough for me!’ said Mrs Wynne-Gurr.
    Sophia rose in Felix’s defence.
    ‘Boys are more manageable than girls,’ she said. ‘At least, that’s what my mother always says.’
    ‘I was thinking of you, dear,’ said Mrs Ferreira.
    They all left together. Seymour and Chantale, the Wynne-Gurrs, and a substantial part of the Ferreira family. As they were leaving they ran into music. One of the bands was leaving, too, not quietly, as the Three Cities band had done, but in a blare of triumph.
    Sophia knew the members of that band, too, and waved to them as they went past.
    ‘That’s our band!’ she said proudly.
    The band recognized the Ferreiras and gave an extra puff. Mrs Ferreira ran along beside them excitedly like a small girl.
    ‘If this is your band,’ Felix said to Sophia, ‘why doesn’t Uncle Paolo play for it?’
    ‘He lives in Birgu,’ said Sophia.
    ‘Birgu?’
    ‘That’s what it used to be called. It’s called Vittoriosa now.’
    ‘It’s not just that,’ said Mrs Ferreira’s father. ‘That’s where his heart is. Not with Valletta.’
    ‘When you said “heart”,’ said Dr Wynne-Gurr, ‘do you mean he has a wife there? Or, perhaps, a girlfriend?’
    ‘If only,’ said Mrs Ferreira.
    ‘I mean, he likes them not us,’ said Mrs Ferreira’s father. ‘Now, Father. That is too hard! You know it is. Why, he’s only just been eating with us.’
    ‘And then he went away.’
    ‘To see how Luigi was.’
    ‘And that’s another waster,’ said her father.

Chapter Six
    The next morning the West Surrey St John Ambulance were at the hospital in force, including a less than happy Chantale. Mrs Wynne-Gurr lined them up and then posted them around the places she had assigned them. Chantale went dutifully to Ward J; although what she was supposed to do there, and why Seymour had asked for her to go there, she did not know. She had seen him in the distance but he had not spoken to her. The only person who had spoken to her was the ward sister, who indicated a place for her to sit down and said, not exactly welcomingly:
    ‘You’re here to observe, I gather. Well, at the moment we’re doing the bed pans so observe away as much as you like.’
    The nurses were cool and Chantale had the impression that she was being deliberately made to feel uncomfortable. She guessed that she was catching some of the resentment they felt for Mrs Wynne-Gurr. She settled down in her corner and wished she had brought a book.
    Mrs Wynne-Gurr appeared after about half an hour to see that things were proceeding according to plan and handed her a printed sheet of instructions.
    ‘Just put a tick every ten minutes,’ she said. ‘Apart from that, ask them where you can be of most use.’
    Chantale did and got the feeling that the place where she could be of more use was somewhere else. She shrugged and thought of returning to her corner, but then one of the nurses said she could clear away the breakfast things when the patients had finished. There was a sort of scullery to which the dishes were being taken and in it two elderly Maltese ladies were doing the washing up. Chantale wondered whether she should offer to assist but they plainly did not need assistance.
    Someone asked her to put the trays away. She looked around for a place to put them. At the end of the ward was a door. A cupboard, perhaps? She opened the door and went in.
    Inside, on the floor, was a mattress; and on the mattress a woman was lying. She was young and not over-dressed. In fact, she was not dressed at all.
    She opened one eye and looked at Chantale.
    ‘Oh!’ she said.
    Then she