She stood with it while Haig sewed up.
Watching her face and the way she stood, Bruce suddenly and
unaccountably felt the laughter snag his throat, and he wanted to cry.
Haig closed the womb, stitching the complicated pattern of knots like a
skilled seamstress, then the external sutures laid neatly across
the fat lips of the wound, and at last the immunity white tape hiding it
all. He covered the woman, jerked the mask from his face and looked up
at Shermaine.
'you can help me clean it up,' he said, and his voice was strong again
and proud. The two of them crossed to the basin.
Bruce threw off his gown and left the room, went down the passage and
out into the night. He leaned against the bonnet of the Ford and
[lit a cigarette.
Tonight I laughed again, he told himself with wonder, and then I
nearly cried. And all because of a woman and a child. It is finished
now, the pretence. The withdrawal. The big act. There was more than one
birth in there tonight. I laughed again, I had the need to laugh again,
and the desire to cry. A woman and a child, the whole meaning of life.
The abscess had burst, the poison drained, and he was ready to heal.
'Bruce, Bruce, where are you?' She came out through the door; he did not
answer her for she had seen the glow of his cigarette and she came to
him. Standing close in the darkness.
'Shermaine-' Bruce said, then he stopped himself. He wanted to
hold her, just hold her tightly.
'Yes, Bruce.' Her face was a pale round in the darkness, very close to
him.
'Shermaine, I want-' said Bruce and stopped again.
'Yes, me too,' she whispered and then, drawing away, 'come, let's go and
see what your doctor is doing now.' She took his hand and lea him back
into the building. Her hand was cool and dry with long tapered fingers
in his.
Mike Haig and Father Ignatius were leaning over the cradle that now
stood next to the table on which lay the blanket-covered body of the
Baluba woman. The woman was breathing softly, and the expression on her
face was of deep peace.
'Bruce, come and have a look. It's a beauty,' called Haig.
Still holding hands Bruce and Shermaine crossed to the cradle.
'He'll go all of eight pounds,' announced Haig proudly.
Bruce looked at the infant; newborn black babies are more handsome than
ours - they have not got that half-boiled look.
'Pity he's not a trout,' murmured Bruce. 'That would be a
national record.' Haig stared blankly at him for a second, then he threw
back his head and laughed; it was a good sound. There was a different
quality in Haig now, a new confidence in the way he held his head, a
feeling of completeness about him.
'How about that drink I promised you, Mike?' Bruce tested him.
'You have it for me, Bruce, I'll duck this one.' He isn't just saying it
either, thought Bruce, as he looked at his face; he really doesn't need
it now.
'I'll make it a double as soon as we get back to town.' Bruce glanced at
