SURGEON AT ARMS

'I don't think we need go into that now,' said Haileybury amiably.

He's mellowing pleasantly with the years, Graham thought. In those days of far-off passion, he tried to lose me my first chance of a decent job over it. He isn't a bad fellow, really. At least he isn't a hypocrite. As most doctors are obliged to be-half the time for the good of their patients, and the other half for the good of themselves.

'What can I do for you, Eric?' he asked.

They were sitting in Haileybury's club, in the same corner of the morning-room as at the beginning of the war. Haileybury was wearing his usual plain blue suit. Graham could never remember him in anything else. It was early evening, and Haileybury signalled the club waiter to buy Graham a drink for the second time in his life.

'I gather you met Butcher the other evening?' Haileybury asked.

'I bumped into him at a party.'

'I also gather he said something to you about my scheme for a national burns unit?' Graham nodded. 'Would you like to hear more about it? If you don't, if you think it might bore you, if it's a notion you couldn't feel interested in, do please say so. We'll just drop the subject, have a gossip instead. I shan't be in the slightest offended. I've talked about it to so many people, I can't expect all of them to share my enthusiasm.'

'I should be very interested indeed. I suppose I must by now have handled more burns than most people.'

Haileybury nodded slowly. To Graham's surprise he produced a briefcase and laid it on the table. A man like Haileybury would not encumber himself with a showy accessory unless he felt most strongly about its contents. Haileybury extracted some papers.

'These are my ideas reduced to writing. You may like to take them and study them at leisure.' Graham found himself with a thick bundle of closely typed foolscap. 'Since I first talked to Butcher I have raised my sights somewhat. With the Government, the more you ask for the more you get. I see it as a centre devoted to the surgery of accidents in its widest sense. Motor accidents, accidents in the home, industrial accidents. This last, I think, gives me the most confidence of success. It strongly appeals to the trade-union element in the Government. Nobody's really bothered to specialize in the surgery of industry before. To my mind, the need is just as pressing as specializing in the surgery of war.'

'I'm sure you're right.'

'I understand that Bevan himself is very keen on the idea.'

'But when's it all going to materialize?' Graham asked. 'After all, the Government's already committed to taking the profession by the ears and shaking it out of all recognition in the next few months. It's supposed to be building health centres everywhere like luxury cinemas. It's got half the hospitals in the country damaged by air-raids, and the other half falling to bits anyway. When are they going to create your shining new palace? I'm sure the idea will come to something one fine day, Eric, but I'm afraid you and Nye Bevan and I shan't be here to attend the opening ceremony.'

'It already exists,' said Haileybury quietly.

The waiter brought their drinks. As he retired, Haileybury added, 'It exists less than twenty miles from where we are sitting. To be precise, near Iver, in Buckinghamshire. Extremely convenient for London.'

Graham frowned. He couldn't recall such a place. 'Has some genie waved the magic wand?'

'No, but the Americans have. They built a hospital there during the war. It took them, I believe, a matter of some weeks. They are not a people for procrastination. Now the Americans are going home, the building stands there stripped and empty. There seems no obstacle to our taking it over. It is a perfectly adequate structure, single-storey wards, room for five hundred beds. The design of the operating theatres is quite remarkable. There are one or two peculiar features-a soda-fountain, for instance-which can easily be removed. I gather the price will be nominal, particularly if we call it the "Franklin D. Roosevelt Hospital", something of that nature.'

'That sounds a pleasant windfall,' said Graham thoughtfully. 'What would you want me to do? Serve on some committee to raise funds for the equipment?'

'I would want you to head the staff.'

Graham looked up. He had imagined that Haileybury's interest in the hospital came at least partly from the glory of running it himself. 'But what about you?'

Haileybury shrugged his shoulders. 'You would be the better man.'

'Aren't you rather carrying modesty to extremes?' Graham found himself faintly irritated by Haileybury's honesty. It was something of an affront. 'You're the one who's preached for years that plastic surgery was essentially the surgery of repair. As for me, I'm a beauty-doctor, a face-faker.'

'And that, if I may say so, is a rather over-modest view of your work during the war.'

'I thought you imagined my work during the war was grabbing publicity?'