Dead Tomorrow

81

Dr Ross Hunter sat on the edge of Caitlin’s bed, while Lynn was downstairs, fussing up a cup of tea for him.

The chaotic room was stuffy and airless, and thick with the rancid smell of Caitlin’s perspiration. He could feel the clammy heat coming off her as he stared through his half-moon tortoiseshell glasses at her deeply jaundiced face and the heavy dark rings around her eyes. Her hair was matted. She lay under the bedclothes, propped up against the pillows, wearing a pink dressing gown over her nightdress, with her headphones hanging around her neck, and the small white iPod lying on top of her duvet, alongside a paperback about Jordan’s life and several fluffy bears.

‘How are you feeling, Caitlin?’ he asked.

‘I’ve been sent glitter,’ she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

‘Glitter?’ He frowned.

‘Someone sent me glitter, on Facebook,’ she mumbled, only semi-coherently.

‘What exactly do you mean by glitter?’

‘It’s like, you know, a Facebook thing. My friend Gemma sent it. And I’ve been poked by Mitzi.’

‘OK.’ He looked bemused.

‘I got sent wheels by Mitch Symons – you know – so I can get around more easily.’

The doctor peered around the room, looking for wheels. He stared at the dartboard on the wall, with a purple boa hanging from it. At a saxophone case propped up against a wall. Then at a tiny toy horse on wheels, standing amid the shoes scattered all over the carpet.

‘Those wheels?’ he said.

She shook her head. ‘No,’ she mumbled, and windmilled her right hand, as if trying to tease a thought out from inside her head. ‘It’s a sort of Facebook thing. To get around. They’re sort of virtual.’

Her eyes closed, as if she was exhausted from the effort of speaking.

He bent down and opened his medical bag. At that moment Lynn came back in with the tea and a digestive biscuit lying in the saucer.

He thanked her, then turned his attention to Caitlin.

‘I just want to take your temperature and blood pressure, is that OK?’

Still with her eyes shut she nodded, then whispered, ‘Whatever.’

Ten minutes later he walked back downstairs, followed by Lynn. They went into the kitchen and sat down at the table. She knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth, just from the worried set of his face.

‘Lynn, I’m very worried about her. She’s extremely ill.’

Feeling her eyes watering, Lynn was tempted, desperately tempted, to open up and confide in him about what she was doing. But she could not predict how he would react. She knew he was a man of the deepest integrity and that, whether or not he believed in the course she was taking, he could never condone it. So she just nodded, silently and bleakly.

‘Yes,’ she gulped, her heart heaving. ‘I know.’

‘She needs to be back in hospital. Shall I phone for an ambulance?’

‘Ross,’ she blurted. ‘Look – I…’ Then she shook her head and sank her face into her hands, trying desperately to think clearly. ‘Oh, God, Ross, I’m at my wits’ end.’

‘Lynn,’ he said gently. ‘I know you think you can look after her here, but the poor girl is in a lot of discomfort, quite apart from danger. She’s raw all over her body from scratching. She has a high temperature She’s going downhill very quickly. I’m shocked how she’s deteriorated since I last saw her. If you want the brutal truth, she’s not going to survive here, like this. I spoke to Dr Granger about her earlier. A transplant is her only option and she needs one very urgently, before she gets too weak.’

‘You want her back in the Royal?’

‘Yes. Right away. Tonight, really.’

‘Have you ever been there, Ross?’

‘Not for some years, no.’

‘The place is a nightmare. It’s not their fault. There are some good people there. It’s the system. The National Health management. The government. I don’t know where the blame lies – but it’s a living hell to be there. It’s easy for you to say she should be in hospital, but just what does that mean? Sticking her in a mixed ward, with confused old people who try to climb into bed with her in the middle of the night? Where you have to fight to find a wheelchair to move her around? Where I’m not supposed to be with her, to comfort her, after eight-thirty at night?’

‘Lynn, they don’t put children into adult wards.’

‘They have done it. When they were overcrowded.’

‘I’m sure we can see that it doesn’t happen again.’

‘I’m so damn scared for her, Ross.’

‘She’ll get a transplant quickly now.’

‘Are you sure? Are you really sure, Ross? Do you know how the system works?’

‘Dr Granger will make sure of it.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m sure Dr Granger means well, but he doesn’t know his way around their bloody system any more than you do. They meet once a week, on Wednesdays, to decide who gets a transplant that week – assuming a matching liver becomes available. Well, it’s now Thursday night, so the earliest we’d get a green light would be next Wednesday. Almost a whole week. Is she going to survive another week?’

‘She won’t survive here,’ he said bluntly.

She reached out and gripped his hand, and through a flood of tears she said, ‘She has a better chance here, Ross, believe me. She does. Just don’t ask. Please just don’t sodding ask.’

‘What do you mean by that, Lynn?’

She was silent for a moment. Then she said, ‘I’ll get her back to the Royal the instant you have a liver for her. Until then, she stays here. That’s what I mean. OK?’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ he said. ‘That’s a promise.’

‘I know you will. Just so long as you understand, I’m her mother, and I will do what I can.’