Page 133 of The Sisters of Sea View
“See here, Davis? When this girl first came to me, she had a gaping cleft in her mouth. I repaired it.”
Viola wanted to refute his claim, furious at him for taking the credit, for causing her so much needless pain, but her throat closed and her mouth felt as though stuffed with cotton wool, rendering her mute.
Apparently taking her silence as permission to expand, to point her out as evidence of his skill, Cleeves went on. “After scarifying the margins of the cleft with scissors, I applied a pinching clamp, and then sutured the margins together with waxed stitches....”
An image flashed in her mind. A surgical tray laid with gleaming instruments: a curled needle, scissors, knife, pincers...
Someone held her head from behind, keeping her from moving, while this man grasped a portion of her upper lip, his other hand holding the gleaming scissors, their blades open like bared teeth. Then the cut-cut-cutting, the blood, the pain, the stifled screams.
Viola broke into a cold sweat and began to tremble.
“As a child she cried incessantly,” Mr. Cleeves was saying. “Therefore the wound refused to heal and the sutures tore. After a second attempt with similar results, we waited until she was an adolescent and had developed more self-control. Then I pressed pins through the lip to reinforce the closure. Those we left in place for about eight or nine days—by then, the two sides are usually united. Then I drew out the pins, applying a piece of plaster anddry lint. And ... voila.” He gestured to her mouth, and Viola thought she might be sick.
The second man nodded. “Most impressive.”
Viola shook her head. She longed to correct him. To tell him that his final procedure had not worked either. To describe the tearing and infection that left the cleft larger than before, due to all his cutting andscarifying.
Glancing at her uncertainly, the second man asked, “Was she rendered speechless?”
“No. Just modest. Right, Miss Summers?”
Viola opened her mouth, but still the words would not come.
“Many struck with harelip struggle to speak, or at least clearly,” Cleeves explained in an aside to his companion, as though she were some exhibit on display. “The procedure repairs a patient’s ability to communicate as well. If the palate is only partially cleft, it can be plugged with cotton, otherwise a plate of silver, gold, or lead can be inserted as a palatal obturator, which can be kept in place with a sponge. Either will restore speech.”
“Astounding. Quite astounding.”
“Thank you. I pride myself in pioneering new methods.”
She wanted to shout at him. To call him a liar. A charlatan. A fraudulent pretender to medical skill. Her hands tightened into claws, and her brain pounded in silent rage.
How the French surgeons had exclaimed over the condition of her mouth, using words likesauvageandbarbare. They had told her parents that whoever had done this had utilized techniques two hundred years out of date.
“Perhaps she might appear before our next society meeting,” Dr. Davis said. “Our members would be most impressed.” He turned to Viola and said slowly and loudly as though she were hard of hearing, “You would not mind, I trust?”
And all Viola could do was stand there and shake her head.
26
Blest with soft airs from health restoring skies,
Sidmouth! to thee, the drooping patient flies;
Ah! not unfailing is thy port to save
To her thou gav’st no refuge but a grave...
—Memorial, Church of St. Giles and St. Nicholas
On the first Sunday in June, a group from Sea View again set out for church together. They walked along the footpath in pairs: Sarah and Emily, Georgiana and Mr. Hornbeam, Mr. Henshall and Effie. They had asked Mamma to join them, but she decided she was not equal to it, which seemed a setback after recent improvements to her strength and stamina.
Viola had left earlier to fetch Mrs. Denby, and there the two came, Viola pushing the Bath chair from behind, the elderly woman sitting inside with her knobby hands on the steering handle. Her back might be hunched, yet her face was wreathed in smiles.
Sarah had not yet met the woman but felt as though she knew her, both from her sister’s descriptions and from the friendly letter Viola had helped her write.
Converging on the churchyard path, Viola made the introductions.
Mrs. Denby nodded to each in turn, her eyes sparkling. “I am delighted to meet all of you.” Then she held out her hand to Sarah, who stepped forward to take it. “And, Miss Sarah, how I have appreciated the delicious gifts you’ve sent along with Viola.”
