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The middle-aged doctor sat behind a desk in the austere hospital office and gazed over his reading glasses at Alan. "Are you managing the crutches, Mr Sloane?" he asked in a thick Dutch accent.

Alan sat semi-sideways on the chair with his broken leg stretched out in a plaster cast. "I'm okay, Doctor Van der Werff," he said in a worried voice. "But how is my wife, Hazel? The nurse said she would be out of surgery an hour ago,"

"The only problem was that the start of your wife's operation had to be put back until eleven because of another emergency. The operation to remove her ruptured spleen was successful and Mrs Sloane is in the post operation recovery room at this very moment."

"Can I see her?"

"Yes but she still has not come out of the anaesthetic so there is little advantage in visiting her for at least half an hour."

Alan gulped. Even though Doctor Williams had assured him that Hazel would recover, the vision of her gasping breath and sweaty skin still haunted him. She awoke during the flight from Taihape, vomited in a paper bag and complained of abdominal pain, tenderness down her left side and an aching shoulder. Her rapid breathing and somewhat disorientated speech didn't help. At the Wanganui Hospital they were separated while he had his own injuries attended to. Except for the broken leg he had had been fortunate escaped with scratches and bruising.

"The other organs in Mrs Sloane's abdomen, that is her liver, intestines, kidney, bladder, and pancreas largely escaped injury. She is a physically fit young woman..."

Alan almost grinned. He was over forty and Hazel was only three years younger but when one is close to sixty he guessed she was young.

"Mrs Sloane does not smoke and the latest research suggests that this helps," the doctor continued. "It was, however, quite a serious operation so she will need to be kept in hospital for at least a week. Even after release it will take another four weeks before she can expect to be able to drive or do any normal housework such as lifting the washing." Doctor Van der Werff glanced up. "She will not be able to do even light farm jobs. There should be no stretching or lifting at all."

"But she will recover?"

"You can expect a complete recovery if no complications occur. All the removed tissue will be examined and she will require more blood tests. Don't be distressed by her pale appearance and the intravenous drip. It contains nutrients, painkillers and stool softeners to prevent constipation."

"Thank you," Alan said. "When we arrived I thought the worst."

"That's understandable. You were under considerable shock yourself. It was indeed fortunate that there was a helicopter available to bring you here." The doctor gazed out the window as if deep in thought. "One day, perhaps we will have emergency helicopters available that are attached to hospitals." He stood up and held out his hand. "The nurse will take you to her now, my friend. Look after yourself."

"I shall, thank you." Alan shook the doctor's hand.

"There's one more thing. Patients who have been through an operation such as your wife's often recover physically but have bouts of depression about seemly unimportant things. This is to be expected and may require patience on your behalf. Except for the heavy physical exercise I mentioned, it will help if she returns to normal activity as soon as possible after she goes home." The doctor grinned. "Give her the farm's books to balance out."

"You said she shouldn't be depressed." Alan smiled as he followed the nurse out.

*

"I'll get you a wheelchair if you wish, Mr Sloane," the nurse said as he swung his crutches and manipulated his plaster cast leg out ahead.

"No thanks. I have to get used to using the crutches, Nurse."

The nurse smiled. "So you're going home today?" she asked.

Alan shrugged. "Well, out of the hospital. I'll stay at a motel for a night or two so I can visit Hazel."

"Mrs Sloane will awaken shortly."

She led him through several swing doors and into a small room where Hazel lay on a hospital bed. There was a needle in her arm, the inevitable plastic bag suspended above her head and one other monitoring device by the bed. Her face though, had more colour than Alan expected and her breathing appeared normal.

"I'll leave you," the nurse said. "Press the red button if you need assistance." She nodded at a cone shaped instrument attached to a cord and walked out.

Alan used his crutches to help move a chair in beside the bed, sat down and reached for Hazel's hand. It felt cold, a little like the very first time he had touched her. That was a handshake that for some reason he had always remembered. It was 1949 at Victoria University in Wellington and she was one of just three women doing the Far Eastern History Paper. It was really one of the minor papers he had selected out of curiosity to complete his degree. He had mainly missed the war, having spent a few months in the Pacific before taking part in the J-Force in Japan in 1946. After being demobbed he had taken one of the places allocated to Returned Service Men at the university and when he met Hazel he was beginning his third year and was well on his way to a BA degree. While he found the paper somewhat boring, Hazel shone in the subject and before long helped him while, he in return helped her in an English paper that he had completed the year before.

He graduated in 1950 and Hazel a year later. Their city life came to an end when Hazel's mother died and her father had a stoke soon afterwards. Their shift to Knotted Pine Farm sort of stretched out into a permanent arrangement after a row between Hazel's Dad and her brother, Stephen, who had refused to come back to work the farm. He had since gone to Australia. So they had stayed on the farm and found they both loved the life.

"Better than that civil service office in Wellington," he said aloud and squeezed Hazel's hand.

"The farm, you mean," Hazel whispered

Alan turned and saw her looking at him. "How long have you been awake?" he said.

"A while. You seemed to be deep in thought and I didn't want to interrupt."

"Oh Hazel," Alan bent over, kissed her and nodded. "I was just thinking back to when we met," he said.

"The tall skinny kid who never combed his hair and danced with two left feet."

Alan laughed. "Remember those evenings when you helped me get through that history paper? It was all rote learning to me but you made it come alive."

"And you made me come alive," Hazel whispered in an almost sombre tone. She switched her eyes down to his plaster cast. "I doubt if you'll be doing much more than me on the farm for a while. What's happening at home?"

Alan frowned. "I don't really know," he said. "Doctor Williams said he'd contact the Federated Farmers support group in Taihape. Apparently there is some fund we can draw on to help employ workers."

"But the animals need feeding. The dogs..."

"It's okay," Alan said and tried to hide his own concern. "Your Dad went out there."

"Dad but can he manage on his own?"

"To tell you the truth, I don't know. There's heavy snow and our phone is out. I rang Dad in Taihape but he's wasn't at home."

"And Claire. What's happened to her?"  When Hazel grabbed his hands, her own were trembling.

"I rang Dad's next door neighbour?"

Hazel nodded.

"She said Dad told her he was going out to the farm. She hasn't seen him the last two nights and with the telephone lines out she couldn't contact him. She did ring Miss Penrose, though."

"Who's she?"

"One of the ladies in the Country Women's Institute who offered to take Claire."

"And did she?"

Alan shook his head. "No. She told Kath that Claire had made other arrangements."

"She hasn't gone home?"

"Possibly. I don't know."

"Oh Alan, I hope not." Hazel looked so depressed Alan wondered what was wrong. Sure, Claire was a nice girl but there were other things they needed to sort out that were far more important. If she left and Hazel wanted to help in that direction there would most certainly be more pregnant girls who wanted to home stay in Taihape. It would be better for her to get over the operation first, though.

He grimaced. The doctor did say Hazel might get depressed about little things.

"Can you find out about Claire, Dear?" Hazel asked.

"Well, if you really want me to. I'm sure she'll be okay..."

"Please, Alan."

Alan nodded. "I'll tell you what. I could ring Doctor Williams in Taihape. If anyone knows what happened to her, he will."

"Now?"

"If you really want me to. There's a pay phone on the other side of the car park."

Hazel nodded and seemed to cheer up a little.

Alan placed the paging instrument in Hazel's hand. "Press the red button if you need a nurse. I'll be back soon."

*

The walk across the wet road to the telephone booth took longer than he expected, as the crutches seemed to have a mind of their own. He arrived and had to wait while a lady used the phone. Finally, he rang the operator, deposited enough coins to cover three minutes and got through. After almost an argument with the receptionist it was only after he told her that he was making a toll call that she agreed to interrupt the doctor and put him through. In contrast, Doctor Williams couldn't have been friendlier.

"Claire, Alan? Why she stayed on the farm. I didn't want her to be alone so I contacted Hazel's father. Robert was worried about you two of course but when I told him about Claire he said he'd go straight out there. They're both there now as far as I know. The lines are down until tomorrow. Would you like me to get someone to check the farm out?"

"No, that'll be fine. Hazel was worried about Claire, that's all."

"And how is Hazel?"

Alan spent a couple of moments telling the of her progress, thanked the doctor, hung up and made his way back to the hospital to find Hazel being wheeled back to the ward. She smiled when she heard the news.

"Claire and Dad," she said in a relieved voice. "I wonder who is organising whom?"

"She's got to you, hasn't she?" Alan asked.

Hazel glanced up with tears in her eyes, reached out, squeezed his hand and just nodded.

*

The River View Motel was one of the new type of accommodation places springing up in most New Zealand cities and had a couple of advantages that made Alan choose it. It had ground floor rooms that he could walk into easily with his crutches and was only a couple of blocks away from the hospital. Also his unit had a telephone that by pressing one could reach an outside line. These city phones were a far cry from the ones he was used to back home.

He slept reasonably well that night but was already awake when the telephone rang. .

"Hello Unit Six," he said.

"Mr Alan Sloane," a terse female voice asked.

"Yes."

"This is Susan Haynes, Sister in charge of night staff at the Wanganui Public Hospital speaking..."

Alan's heart raced. He glanced at his watch and saw it was not yet six o'clock "It's about my wife, Hazel isn't it?"

"There is no need to be alarmed but Mrs Sloane has been taken back into surgery for a corrective procedure."

"Corrective procedure? At this time of the night!" Thoughts, all of them bad, rushed through his mind. "What's really wrong?" he snapped.

"The operation is to stop internal bleeding. This can sometimes happen after the type of operation your wife had. If you can come to the hospital I'll arrange for a staff member to meet you at the emergency door entrance. It is well signposted."

"I'll be there!"

Alan disconnected the call and reached for the telephone book, found a number he required and dialled. Five minutes later a taxi pulled into the motel and Alan hobbled over to it. Soon he was being pushed in a wheelchair along silent corridors at the hospital by an orderly who had insisted that was the quickest way to reach the operating theatre. Sister Haynes met him and guided his wheelchair in beside a row of chairs.

"How is Hazel?" Alan gasped.

"Internal bleeding has been stopped but Mrs Sloane lost a lot of blood. The surgeon believes we got to her in time."

"Believes?" Alan gasped.

"She suffered a great shock, Mr Sloane and with the earlier operation, tremendous pressure has been placed on her body. We have done what we can and can only hope..."

"She's not going to die?"

"The next few hours are critical. If she can survive them there is every chance she will make a full recovery."

Alan nodded and wiped his tear-filled eyes. "Can I see her?"

Sister Hayes nodded. "She will be out of the theatre in twenty minutes or so. I'll take you to the recovery room."

Alan was wheeled into a similar room to the one he'd been in with Hazel earlier. He was helped into a chair and offered a cup of tea. He felt numb inside. Why did this have to happen to Hazel? She had never hurt a soul in her life and now... He accepted the tea handed to him and sipped it. Tears slid down his face. This time he never even bothered to wipe them away.

*

Alan took no notice of the time as he sat holding Hazel's hand. A different nurse arrived with another cup of tea and two pieces of toast on a small tray.

"These are for you, Mr Sloane," she said and placed them on a small table beside the bed.

There was another wait before a doctor in green fatigues walked in, nodded at him and examined Hazel. Afterwards he gazed up at Alan.

"She is stable, Mr Sloane," he said. "I believe the worst is over. Your wife will be awake within a few moments. She may be disorientated at first but this is to be expected. The nurse will come back to help."

Cold fish, Alan thought and was pleased when the nurse returned. "You never had your toast, Alan," she said. "You won't help your wife by neglecting yourself, you know."

He nibbled on the piece of toast but never took his eyes away from Hazel. Her eyes flickered and he was sure she'd be awake soon.

When she squeezed his hand he jerked and realised he must have fallen asleep. Hazel's eyes seemed to look beyond him.

"I know how Vanessa felt," she said in a clear voice. "If she hadn't gone in first it would have been me. Perhaps it should have been me."

She licked her lips and her eyes closed.

"Hazel!" Alan almost shouted.

"She's fine," the nurse said after she felt Hazel's pulse. "This often happens when someone comes out of anaesthetic. Who is Vanessa, anyway?"

"I don't know. I have never heard Hazel mention the name before."

"Possibly some school friend from way back. Memories buried for years but important to her as a child may have been recalled. Probably when Hazel awakens next she will be her usual self." The nurse smiled. "Her pulse is regular and there is colour returning to her face. That is a good sign."

*

Hazel woke again a few moments later and smiled at Alan. "Hello Dear," she said. "My you do look a mess."

Alan grinned and ran a hand over his stubble. In his haste, he hadn't even shaved. He swung himself forward, sized her in his arms and kissed her.

"Oh Alan, I'm okay. Really I am." She frowned. "I feel a little light-headed, though."

"I'll get the nurse," Alan said.

"No." Hazel grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. "There's something I need to tell you." 

"About Vanessa?" Alan whispered.

"What do know about her?"

"Nothing, but your were talking before you woke up properly. You mentioned the name and said you knew how she felt and that it could have been you. The nurse said patients are often disorientated when they come out of anaesthetic. Is she an old school friend?"

Hazel bit on her bottom lip. "She was one of my two best friends from high school and afterwards too. The other was Patricia. In 1944 we were inseparable."

"Patricia Braithwaite, the headmistress who sent Claire to us?"

Hazel nodded.

"So why haven't you ever mentioned this Vanessa?"

"I wanted to tell you, Alan. For years I wanted to tell you. After my miscarriage and when we were told I'd never be able to have another baby, I wanted to tell you. However you were so sad I put it off." She spluttered and reached for a tumbler of water to sip.

"It's okay, Dear. Just relax. It doesn't matter about this Vanessa. The only important thing is that you are here with me right now." He reached over and again hugged her close.

Hazel clung to him for an eternity before she pushed him gently away and lay back on her pillow.

"I need to tell you about myself in 1944, Alan. It was before I met you, the war was on and … Oh Alan if I knew you then I guess it would never have happened. But it did and I can't just pretend it didn't any more."

She reached for his hands and continued to talk in a soft voice that was little above a whisper.

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