Dr Cooper turned red and glared at him. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘You can wait until Dr Booth is ready. Make yourself comfortable; he could be a long time. Meanwhile, I’ll attend to Carly’s hand.’
Dr Cooper turned and marched down the corridor. Carly scrambled after her. They went into a small, neat room where an open window cast sunshine onto a desk and pair of chairs, a bed, and a cabinet of instruments.
‘Let me look at that hand,’ Dr Cooper snapped, flopping onto her chair. Carly sat in the other chair and held out her hand. It was covered in blood and dirt.
‘Hmm,’ said Dr Cooper.
‘Why was that man so rude?’ Carly asked. ‘What’s wrong with a lady doctor?’
Carly’s mum went to a lady doctor. So did Carly and her sister and father. In fact, most of the doctors Carly knew were women.
‘Some men think it’s unnatural,’ Dr Cooper said, rolling her eyes. ‘Some men think that women aren’t smart enough — or some nonsense like that.’
‘What rubbish!’
‘Of course it’s rubbish,’ said Dr Cooper. ‘But try telling them that.’
Dr Cooper put Carly’s hand in a big bowl and poured water from a jug over it. Then she cleaned the wound with a ball of cotton. She was so gentle that Carly hardly felt a thing.
‘He’s not the first man to speak to me like that,’ Dr Cooper said with a sigh. ‘Nor the rudest. It’s not nice, but it doesn’t surprise me. Even now - in 1891 - lots of people hate the idea of a woman being a doctor. There are even plenty of male doctors who don’t like it. After all, women weren’t even allowed to study medicine in England until a few years ago. I had to go to Scotland to do my final exams.
Carly was so shocked she didn’t know what to say. Dr Cooper put a small dressing on her hand and wrapped a bandage around it.
‘There. You don’t need stitches. Keep it clean and dry for a few days and you’ll be right as rain.’
‘Thanks,’ said Carly.
‘It’s the least I can do,’ the doctor replied with a smile, ‘since I caused the injury in the first place.’
When Carly got back to the waiting room, she saw that it had filled up with even more patients. The rude old man with the sore belly was still there. He was looking even sicker and grumpier.
Carly held up her bandaged hand. ‘Well, I’m all fixed up,’ she said. ‘Dr Cooper was the best doctor I’ve ever been to. I guess you’ll be waiting for hours!’
She was just heading to the door when it burst open and an old woman charged in.
‘Help!’ she shouted. ‘My daughter is dying!’
Dr Cooper sprang from her room, clutching a brown leather bag. ‘Where is she?’
‘In my home, just down the road. She’s in so much pain, I couldn’t bring her. Please, hurry!’
Dr Booth came out from his surgery and looked at the waiting room full of patients. He clutched his hair in despair.
‘Don’t worry - I’ll go,’ said Dr Cooper. ‘Carly, come with me. I might need help to move the patient.’
‘What, me?’ Carly asked, but Dr Cooper ignored her and ran to the door. Nervously, Carly followed her and the frantic old lady out of the surgery and down the street. She had to sprint to keep up. It was hard to run with a petticoat and skirt flapping about her ankles.
‘Darn skirts!’ she thought she heard Dr Cooper mutter.
They came to the woman’s cottage and she let them in. Dr Cooper hurried after the old woman into a bedroom. Carly followed.
A young woman lay on a bed in a pool of sweat. Her face was white with a tinge of green. She was grabbing her stomach and moaning.
‘Let me look at you,’ the doctor said.
Carly looked away while Dr Cooper examined the woman. How on earth did I get myself into this situation?
‘Appendicitis,’ Dr Cooper said. ‘I’ll have to operate right now.’
Operate!
‘Shouldn’t we get her to a hospital?’ Carly asked, startled.
‘We can’t move her. She’s in too much pain. She could die!’ Dr Cooper turned to the girl’s mother and said, ‘I need some large saucepans. Boil some water in them to sterilise my instruments. And clear the dining table for her.’
‘You’re going to operate on the dining table?’
‘You’ve got a better idea?’
Carly gaped. She could think of loads of better ideas - modern ambulances, painkillers, operating theatres, intensive care units - but none of them belonged to the nineteenth century.
‘No? Well, let’s not waste any time then.’
The woman boiled Dr Cooper’s instruments as she was told to do, and Carly helped her clear the table. Then the three of them helped move the sick, moaning girl onto the table. Dr Cooper washed her hands. Carly’s stomach started to churn.
Then Dr Cooper held up a short, sharp, shiny knife. And Carly went cold and dizzy and fell to the floor.
When she awoke, Carly was confused.
Where am I? When am I?
The stiffness of her middle told her that she was still wearing a corset. I must still be in the olden days, she thought. Then she realised that she was bouncing about in an open carriage - and that horses were pulling it along. Dr Cooper was sitting beside her, holding the reins. Definitely not back in the twenty-first century, then!
But why? When she took the shawl off, she usually blacked out and then found herself back in modern times. Why not this time? Why was she still in the past?
Carly looked down and saw her shawl loosely draped around her waist. Then the memory came rushing back. It wasn’t the shawl coming off that had made her black out. She’d fainted because she was just about to see Dr Cooper do an operation! But something didn’t seem right. Before she had blacked out, it had been a clear, mild day. Now it felt as if
