Donor

EIGHT

Clive Turner was looking forward to coming off duty after a ten-hour shift at the Children’s Hospital when he was called to the phone. It was Leo Giordano at Medic Ecosse.

‘Dr Turner? I have some good news for you. Dr Kinscherf and Dr Ross have agreed to take on the Chapman girl as a patient.’

‘That’s not good news; that’s wonderful news,’ exclaimed Turner. ‘I had to tell her parents earlier that neither of them would be suitable as a donor. They were pre-warned, of course, but it’s never easy to hear things you don’t want to. I honestly didn’t think there was much chance of you taking Amanda on.’

‘Frankly, I didn’t hold out much hope either but your eloquence won the day. I told Ross and Kinscherf what you said about these folks deserving some kind of a break and I guess they agreed with you!’

‘I’m absolutely delighted,’ said Turner. ‘I’m sure her parents will be too. Where do we go from here?’

‘Well, there is one obstacle left to clear, I’m afraid.’

‘What’s that?’

‘You may have heard that we were recently subject to a review by government officials.’

‘I remember.’

‘We got agreement over finances but part of the agreement was that we should have one of their people on site to see that we weren’t wasting public money on champagne and caviar as we private hospitals are prone to do.’

Turner chuckled.

‘I think we’re going to have to clear it with this guy first, or maybe you’d like to approach him yourself to plead your case? Like we said, transplants are expensive so we’re talking serious altruism here. This guy’s name is Dr Steven Dunbar. I can give you the number of his office here at the hospital if you like. What do you think?’

‘I’ll do it,’ said Turner. He wrote down the number and asked, ‘Do you think this will be a real problem?’

‘Frankly, I’ve no idea but you can tell him we’ve all agreed to it. Maybe that’ll help to put some pressure on him.’

‘Good idea,’ said Turner. ‘And if he says yes?’

‘We can admit her on Friday. That gives us both time to get the paperwork in order.’

‘Sounds good to me.’

‘There is one thing,’ said Giordano with a note of caution in his voice.

‘Yes?’

‘We’d be happy if there wasn’t any publicity over this one.’

Turner was slightly taken aback. ‘But this is a wonderfully generous gesture on your part,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d be only too happy to get some good press out of it. You deserve it!’

‘Thanks, but the truth is this kid is pretty sick by all accounts and it’s always in the lap of the gods whether a suitable organ will come along in time. The public like instant success or they get bored, so we’d appreciate it if this particular freebie could be kept among ourselves.’

‘Of course, if that’s what you’d prefer,’ said Turner.

‘Good,’ said Giordano. ‘Don’t get me wrong. If a kidney becomes available, then the kid’s chances will be as good as any other patient’s. It’s just that if there should be a long delay and she’s stuck with the tissue-degradation problem, then we’d hate to have a really public failure on our hands. That’s not going to do any of us any good.’

‘Understood,’ said Turner.

‘I take it she’s already on the transplant register?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then it’ll just be a case of changing patient location details. If you can give me her registration number I’ll get one of the secretaries to post the update.’

‘I can give you that right now,’ said Turner, opening the folder that sat by the computer terminal on his desk.

‘Shoot.’

Turner read out the number and Giordano read it back to him.

‘Good. So it’s all down to Dr Dunbar. If he plays ball we’ll expect her on Friday, barring any unforeseen complications.’

‘On Friday, and thanks again. I’m sure I speak for everyone concerned when I say we’re all very grateful.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Turner put the phone down and looked at the number on the paper in front of him. One more hurdle, just one more. A bloody government official! But at least he was a doctor. He couldn’t decide whether that was good or bad. He picked up the phone and dialled the number.

‘I’d like to speak to Dr Steven Dunbar, please.’

The call was answered at the first ring.

‘Dr Dunbar? My name is Clive Turner. I’m a doctor in the renal unit at Glasgow’s Children’s Hospital.’

‘What can I do for you, Doctor?’

Turner went through Amanda Chapman’s case history and how her chances of survival were slim, if she didn’t at least become stable on dialysis soon, and perhaps negligible in the long run, if she didn’t receive a transplant.

‘I see.’

‘Dr Ross has agreed to take Amanda on in his unit as a free NHS referral and Dr Kinscherf and Mr Giordano have also agreed, but they referred me to you as the final arbiter.’

‘I see,’ replied Dunbar. He was totally unprepared for something like this. He’d received no warning but could understand why not. It would be much easier for him to turn down a request from the hospital authorities. Hearing it from Turner was almost as effective as hearing it from the child’s parents. He now had a dilemma. If he was who he was supposed to be, he should certainly be objecting on the grounds of cost, but he wasn’t. He, as a person, thought the kid should have every chance that was open to her. ‘It’s all right by me, Dr Turner,’ he said.

‘You’re serious?’ Turner spluttered, taken off guard. He had been preparing himself for a long desperate argument.

‘I wish her well,’ said Dunbar.

‘I can’t thank you enough. I’ll never hear another word against civil servants.’

‘Then it’s all been worth while,’ said Dunbar with a smile and put down the phone.

Turner was delighted. This was wonderful news and couldn’t have come at a better time. Amanda Chapman was not doing well. Continual dialysis was taking its toll on her youthful resilience and she was beginning to weaken mentally. Once that started, there was a real chance that she would go into a downward spiral and the end would come quickly.

The patient’s mental state was often underrated in serious illness. A strong, positive attitude — the will to live — was often the difference between life and death in Turner’s experience. He’d seen kids put up such a fight that it brought tears to his eyes when they eventually lost. He’d also seen children drift away seemingly without so much as a backward glance. Amanda was coming to crisis point. It could go either way.

Her illness had taken its toll on her parents too. He had seen stress and tiredness affect them both more and more over the past few weeks. They had aged visibly. He found their phone number from Amanda’s admission card and called it.

A woman’s voice said, ‘Yes?’

‘Kate? It’s Clive Turner at Amanda’s hospital in Glasgow.’

‘Has something happened? What’s wrong? It’s Amanda, she’s-’

‘It’s nothing awful, Kate, I assure you,’ Turner interrupted. ‘Far from it. I’ve just had a call from the Medic Ecosse Hospital. They’ve agreed to take Amanda on as a patient.’

‘They have? Oh my God, that’s wonderful! We’ve been so worried about her. I was just saying to Sandy last night that she’s been getting weaker over the past few days.’

‘I think that might well change when Medic Ecosse put her on their dialysis machinery,’ said Turner. ‘No one can promise anything but it’s my guess she’s going to do a whole lot better. If they do manage to stabilize her, it will be back to waiting and hoping for a kidney to become available, but at least she’ll have more time.’

Turner heard Kate start to sob at the other end of the line. ‘I know,’ he soothed. ‘This kind of worry eats away at you until you are under so much tension that it takes over your entire life and you don’t even realize it until you suddenly burst into tears.’

‘That’s it exactly,’ said Kate, regaining her composure. ‘I can’t thank you enough, Clive. You were the one who thought of this in the first place.’

‘It was just by chance I’d seen the circular from the Scottish Office that morning.’

‘When will she be moved?’

‘Friday, if everyone’s agreeable.’

‘The sooner the better,’ said Kate. ‘I can’t wait to tell Sandy. He’s on duty tonight.’

‘I’ll let you do just that then,’ said Turner. ‘Give me a call tomorrow and we can finalize the arrangements.’

Kate put the phone down and sank into a chair. It was as if all strength had left her. She cradled her head in her hands for a few moments, staring down at the floor. Please God, this would be the turning-point in their nightmare. From now on things would start to get better. They’d get back to being the happy family they’d been before all this happened. Laughter would return to their lives. Feeling suddenly more resolute, she picked up the phone again and called Sandy.

The rain on Friday morning could do nothing to dampen the optimism that filled the Chapman home in the wake of Clive Turner’s phone call. The silent and preoccupied looking out of the window at breakfast time, which had been the norm for the past few weeks, was now a thing of the past. Smiles and animated conversation were the order of the day. This was the lucky break they had both been praying for. They would still have to wait for a suitable organ to become available for Amanda but for some reason they now both felt sure it would. They had come to a turning-point in the nightmare.

‘What time did you say we’re supposed to be there?’ asked Sandy as he got up from the table to fetch the coffee pot from the hob.

‘Clive said if we’re there about two we can take her over ourselves. That would be nicer than travelling in an ambulance, don’t you think?’

‘Absolutely,’ agreed Sandy. ‘The three of us together again.’ He gave Kate’s shoulder a squeeze as he returned to his seat and re-filled their cups.

‘Shall I make more toast?’

Sandy shook his head. ‘Let’s stop off on the way up to Glasgow for a pub lunch somewhere. What d’you say?’

‘Sounds good,’ agreed Kate. ‘It’s ages since we did anything like that.’

The good mood persisted throughout the journey. The lunch they had at a roadhouse just off the main dual carriageway wasn’t wonderful but it was adequate, and the fact that they were doing something socially together seemed more important than the ordinariness of the fare. Apart from that, it gave them the chance to joke about Scottish culinary skills.

They had the usual problem in finding somewhere to park when they reached the hospital, but today it didn’t seem important. Sandy didn’t seize on it, as he usually did, as an excuse to vent pent-up emotion as anger.

Clive Turner saw them as they entered the ward and gestured to them to come into the office first.

‘How is she?’ asked Sandy.

‘She’s fine,’ replied Turner. ‘She came off dialysis an hour ago so she’ll be okay for a wee while yet.’

‘Plenty of time to get over to Medic Ecosse?’ said Kate.

‘Oh, more than that,’ replied Turner. ‘She’ll be stable for several hours. You can take her for a drive around if you like. Spend some time together. Be a family again.’

‘Do you think she’s up to it?’ asked Kate.

‘She’s tired of course, but I think she’d like to see something other than hospital walls for a while. She’s not up to doing anything strenuous but a bit of visual stimulation will do her nothing but good.’

‘Won’t Medic Ecosse be expecting us?’ asked Sandy.

‘I spoke to them earlier. They’re aware of the situation. Any time before six suits them.’

‘That was very kind,’ said Kate. ‘We owe you a lot.’

‘Not at all,’ said Turner. ‘I only hope it works out well for you. You deserve a bit of luck.’

‘Thanks,’ said Sandy, shaking Turner’s hand. They went through to the ward and found Amanda being dressed by one of the nurses.

‘I’ll do that,’ said Kate, taking over with a smile. ‘It’s not often I get the chance these days.’

Sandy went off to get the car while Kate finished dressing Amanda. He was parked in one of the ambulance bays when Kate emerged, holding the door open for Clive Turner, who was carrying Amanda. Kate and Amanda got into the back of Esmeralda and they left the hospital with much hand-waving from the back window.

‘Dr Turner says you can have an ice cream this afternoon,’ said Kate to Amanda as she cuddled her. ‘Will that be nice?’

Sandy positioned the rear-view mirror so he could watch Amanda’s response. She gave a slight nod and managed a frail smile. Sandy swallowed. She was very weak. ‘I know where we can get the best ice cream in the city,’ he said.

‘Let me guess,’ said Kate. ‘Danielli’s?’

‘Give that woman a coconut,’ said Sandy. ‘We’re going to get the biggest cones Mr Danielli can manage.’

Amanda made a brave attempt at eating hers but quickly lost interest, preferring instead to cuddle against her mother on the back seat. Sandy’s eyes asked the question, what next? Kate shrugged and stroked Amanda’s hair. ‘We could go and see the ducks in the park?’

This idea appealed to Amanda, who nodded with something approaching enthusiasm.

‘Right,’ said Sandy. ‘First we’ll buy some bread.’

They stopped at a bakery on the way to the park and Sandy bought half a dozen bread rolls. Amanda and Kate were given the task of tearing them up into beak-sized pieces while Sandy drove them round to the park and parked Esmeralda by the edge of the pond.

Kate and Amanda stayed in the car — they didn’t want Amanda to catch a chill — while Sandy got out and drew an audience of ducks with the bread. He started edging backwards, laying a trail that brought the ducks towards the car, Pied Piper-fashion. When they were close enough, Kate opened the window and she and Amanda fed them from the window. Sandy watched from the side. More than anything he wanted to hear Amanda laugh; it had been so long since he’d heard the sound. But it wasn’t to be. Amanda dropped breadcrumbs slowly and deliberately and watched the ducks squabble briefly over each offering, but the look in her eyes suggested she was far away.

By four o’clock Amanda was showing signs of sleepiness and Kate said quietly, ‘Maybe we should think about taking her over?’

Sandy nodded and started the car. They were at Medic Ecosse within fifteen minutes.

‘Did Clive Turner give us any paperwork?’ asked Sandy as he parked in the visitors’ bay at the hospital.

‘I don’t think so,’ replied Kate. ‘I thought all that had been dealt with.’

‘Hope you’re right,’ said Sandy. He was anticipating having to explain to a succession of staff members just who they were and why they were there. He was proved wrong almost as soon as they’d entered.

‘Mr and Mrs Chapman?’ said the receptionist with a smile. ‘And Amanda. We’ve been expecting you. I’ll just call Dr Ross. He’ll be down directly. Why don’t you make yourselves comfortable over there.’

She indicated a comfortably furnished waiting area.

Kate sat down with Amanda on her knee; Sandy sat opposite. Amanda was sucking her thumb as she always did when she was tired. She looked at the box of toys put there to keep waiting children amused, but displayed no real interest. Her eyes still had the distant look that brought a lump to his throat. Amanda turned to look at her father and he smiled quickly to hide his sadness. ‘Dr Ross will be here soon, Princess,’ he said. ‘He’s going to make you all better. I promise.’

Amanda continued sucking her thumb.

James Ross appeared, accompanied by Thomas Kinscherf and two nurses. He came over to the Chapmans and introduced himself. His outgoing friendliness immediately put Sandy and Kate at their ease.

‘And this is the little lady who’s not been well,’ said Ross, going down on one knee to take Amanda’s hand and give it a little squeeze. ‘Well, we’ll see about that, won’t we? We’ve got a surprise for you. Do you like surprises?’

Amanda, thumb still in mouth, nodded.

‘Good,’ said Ross. He turned to one of the nurses, who handed him a gift-wrapped parcel which he in turn handed to Amanda. ‘This is for you. Shall I help you open it?’

Amanda nodded again and Ross tore away the paper to reveal a fluffy toy rabbit. ‘This is Albert. What d’you think?’ he asked.

Amanda took her thumb from her mouth and smiled broadly as she took the toy. It was infectious. They all smiled.

‘That was very kind,’ said Kate. Sandy nodded his agreement.

‘Not at all,’ said Ross. ‘We do this for all our young patients.’

Sandy started to remind him that they were not paying customers but Kinscherf stopped him almost immediately. He held up his hand and said, ‘As far as we are concerned, Amanda is our patient and will be treated exactly as any other of our patients. All our people deserve and get the best.’

‘Thank you,’ said Sandy.

‘I think we should see about getting this young lady admitted, don’t you, Nurse?’ said Ross.

One of the nurses stepped forward and took Amanda gently from her mother. There was a moment when it looked as if Amanda was going to protest loudly but Ross said quickly, ‘Don’t worry. Mummy is coming along too. Shall we move?’

Everyone walked over to the lift, which took them up to the transplant unit. There, Kate and Sandy were ushered out last by the nurse who had been detailed to look after them while her colleague took care of Amanda. She made small-talk about the weather as they followed Ross and Kinscherf along the corridor.

‘Here we are,’ said Ross. ‘This is Amanda’s room.’

Kate and Sandy broke into smiles as they entered. The room looked as if it had been specially designed for a little girl of Amanda’s age. Characters from Alice in Wonderland and Winnie the Pooh lined the walls in friendly profusion. A number of dolls and cuddly toys were arranged around the room, making a link between reality and the characters on the walls. A giant doll’s house stood in the corner beside the bed.

Ross turned to Amanda and said, ‘Mummy and Daddy and I are going to have a little chat next door while Nurse gets you ready for bed. We’ll come back in a few minutes, I promise. Will that be all right?’

Amanda nodded and Kate and Sandy smiled at how quickly she had succumbed to Ross’s obvious way with children. They followed Ross along to his office and sat on two leather chairs in front of his desk while he opened Amanda’s case notes.

‘We’ll get her on to dialysis this evening and then see how she does before we go any further,’ said Ross. ‘The important thing will be to try to get her into a stable condition so we can establish a routine for her instead of constantly altering dialysis times and schedules. If we can do that, she’ll settle down and her general level of fitness will improve. There’s also the problem of tissue degradation to deal with, but first things first, eh?’

‘Absolutely,’ said Kate.

‘But a word of caution. Our colleagues at the Children’s Hospital didn’t manage to succeed and I can’t promise anything either,’ said Ross. ‘We’ll do our best, but a transplant is still Amanda’s best option. It may be her only one but that, as you know, is outside our control.’

‘We understand,’ said Sandy.

‘Good.’

‘About visiting, Doctor,’ began Kate.

‘Any time you like,’ said Ross. ‘And any time you feel like staying over, that’s quite all right too. You may stay as our guests.’

‘That’s good to know,’ said Kate.

‘I suggest that you don’t stay tonight, however. We’d like Amanda to get used to us. It’s important that we gain her trust. Don’t worry, we’ll look after her.’

‘I’m sure you will,’ said Kate. ‘Thank you, Doctor. We’re most grateful.’

Kate and Sandy returned to Amanda’s room to find her in her pyjamas, listening to the nurse, who was explaining the ins and outs of the doll’s house to her.

‘There’s a little switch at the back here that makes the lights go on. See?’

The windows of the doll’s house lit up and Amanda grinned. She looked up at her mother and father and then back at the doll’s house, as if a little embarrassed at being so outwardly pleased.

Sandy and Kate exchanged glances and smiled.

‘Would you like Daddy to build you one of these for when you come home?’ asked Sandy, although there was little doubt about the answer. Amanda nodded and cuddled down into her pillow. Sandy knelt down beside her. ‘It’s a deal then,’ he said. ‘You be a good girl and do what the doctors and nurses tell you and I’ll build you the best doll’s house you ever saw.’

‘Will it have lights?’ asked Amanda.

‘In every room,’ said Sandy and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Amanda put her thumb in her mouth.

‘She’s tired,’ said Kate, taking Sandy’s place beside her and stroking her hair back from her forehead. ‘Mummy and Daddy are going to go now, but we’ll see you tomorrow. Be good.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said the nurse, seeing the vulnerable look that appeared in Kate’s eyes as she got up, ‘we’ll look after her.’

Outside the door Sandy put his arm round Kate’s shoulders. ‘Hey, come on,’ he said. ‘This is the start of better things, remember?’

Kate squeezed his hand. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘It’s just that sometimes she looks so small. She’s really just a baby and she’s had such a lot to put up with.’

‘She’ll come through,’ said Sandy. ‘You’ll see.’

‘God, I hope so,’ said Kate dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue she’d extracted from her handbag. She sniffed deeply, then straightened her shoulders and said, ‘Come on, let’s go.’

Outside in the car park Sandy stopped abruptly as they neared Esmeralda.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Kate.

‘Do you get the impression that we may be ever so slightly… out of place?’

Kate looked puzzled; then she saw what he meant. Esmeralda was flanked by a Mercedes saloon on one side and a BMW coupe on the other. ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘I fear you may be right.’ A quick glance around showed few of the cars were over two years old and most were top marques.

Sandy held the door open for her and put on his butler’s voice. ‘If Modom would care to enter?’

‘Idiot,’ smiled Kate and got in.

Sandy turned the ignition key, but nothing happened save for a clicking sound. ‘Shit,’ he said.

‘You’re kidding,’ said Kate.

‘’Fraid not,’ said Sandy with a grimace. ‘Esy’s doing the dirty on us.’

‘She knows how to pick her moments,’ said Kate glancing over her shoulder. ‘Any idea what the problem is?’

‘The solenoid’s engaging but the starter motor isn’t turning. Maybe it’s jammed.’

‘Can you fix it?’

‘Can a bird fly?’ Sandy opened his door and got out. Kate waited patiently while he disappeared under the open bonnet. Various swear words told her that work was in progress. The car rocked a little.

‘Give it a try, Kate.’

She moved into the driving seat and turned the key. There was a solitary click, followed by a curse from under the bonnet.

‘No luck?’ asked Kate with slight trepidation.

‘The battery’s flat. We’ll have to bump-start her.’

Kate let off the handbrake and took hold of the steering wheel, while Sandy pushed the car backwards out of its slot. ‘Ready?’ he asked, going round to the back of the car to begin pushing.

‘Ready.’

The car park was flat, so there was no convenient gradient to make use of. Sandy found it hard work getting some momentum into Esmeralda. ‘Right!’ he said lifting his hands off the boot and straightening up. Kate let up the clutch and the car jerked to a halt, showing no interest in starting.

‘Right, we’ll try again,’ said Sandy.

‘Can I help?’ said a male voice at Sandy’s shoulder.

Sandy turned to find a tall, dark-haired man standing there.

‘She seems a bit reluctant,’ the stranger went on.

‘I don’t understand it,’ said Sandy. ‘She can’t be that cold. She’s only been parked for half an hour and the battery goes flat.’

The two men gave Esmeralda a good shove and built up more momentum than the time before. ‘Right!’ yelled Sandy.

Once again Esmeralda jerked, then lurched to a halt in mechanical silence.

‘Third time lucky,’ said the stranger, resting his hands on the boot again.

Sandy nodded, then suddenly looked up as if he’d had an idea and said, ‘Kate?’

‘Yes?’ came the reply.

‘You have got the ignition on, haven’t you?’

There was a long pause before a small voice said, ‘Sorry.’

Sandy and the stranger smiled at each other and gave Esmeralda another shove. This time her engine came to life when Kate let up the clutch, and Kate drove her round the square while Sandy thanked the stranger for his help.

‘Not at all. Been visiting one of the patients?’

‘Our daughter’s just been admitted to the transplant unit.’

‘That’ll be Dr Ross’s unit.’

‘Then you work here?’ said Sandy. ‘A doctor?’

‘Sort of.’ The man held out his hand and said, ‘Steven Dunbar.’

‘Sandy Chapman. That’s my wife, Kate, just starting lap two in the green Williams Renault, known to us as Esmeralda.’

Dunbar at once recognized the name ‘Chapman’ from his conversation with Clive Turner, and smiled.

Esmeralda came slowly past with Kate looking anxiously out of the window. ‘When can I stop?’ she asked.

Both men laughed at the look of mock anguish on her face.

‘Any time,’ replied Sandy. ‘Just don’t stall the engine.’

She brought Esmeralda to a halt and listened to the idle speed for a moment. Satisfied that it was steady enough, she got out and joined Sandy.

‘Kate, this is Dr Dunbar.’

‘Hello,’ said Dunbar. ‘I’m not really a doctor here — more of a civil servant. I look after the government’s financial involvement in the hospital.’

‘Sounds interesting,’ said Kate politely.

‘Then you wouldn’t have been too keen on taking our Amanda on for free?’ suggested Sandy.

‘On the contrary, I’m delighted we have,’ said Dunbar.

‘Thanks for the push,’ said Sandy.

‘Don’t mention it,’ said Dunbar.

He watched as Kate and Sandy got into Esmeralda and drove off, waving to them as they disappeared out of the gate. He was glad he had okayed their daughter’s admission. He must have misjudged Medic Ecosse’s referral policy when he suspected that they were taking only straightforward ‘show-business’ cases to use for self-promotion.

There was one strange thing though. He’d just come from the press reception for the jaw-operation patient, and at it there had been no mention of the hospital taking on a free NHS transplant case. Why not? Why miss the opportunity to gain some good publicity?

The reception hadn’t been as bad as he’d feared. The patient was an ordinary girl from the local area, who hadn’t suspected for a moment that she was being exploited. She seemed to enjoy being the centre of attention, turning this way and that at the request of the photographers, posing with the staff and with the local councillor for the area, who had seized on the occasion to make political capital. Dunbar remembered him. He was the Labour councillor who had taken every opportunity to express his opposition to private medicine at the meeting between the Scottish Office and the hospital. Now here he was, smiling into the cameras with his arm round the star patient, doing his best to create the impression that he had been the prime mover in the whole affair.

None of this made Dunbar angry because, as Ingrid had said, the bottom line was sound enough and the bottom line was that the girl had been given a new and better life because of the operation. The hospital was going to get some positive publicity that would do no one any harm and if a local politician grabbed the chance to promote his own interests, what the hell? That’s what politicians did. That was the way the world worked. Nature abhorred a missed opportunity in the world of self-interest.

That was why it was so surprising that there had been no mention of the Chapman girl. A transplant was a much bigger deal than the relatively minor jaw surgery they had just been celebrating. He’d ask Ingrid about it after the weekend. In the meantime, he was going to drive over to Bearsden to return Sheila Barnes’s journal.

He was almost halfway there when he started to have doubts. Was there any point in returning the journal to the house, when it seemed certain that neither Sheila nor her husband would ever return there? On the other hand, he would feel guilty about hanging on to it. It was far more than just a diary of events; it said so much about the woman herself. He decided that he’d return it to Sheila in person. He’d take it down to Helensburgh at the weekend and tell her how useful it had been.

As he headed back to town, he found himself thinking about Lisa Fairfax. He really should have told her about Sheila Barnes — who she was and what she’d claimed. But he was so used to telling people nothing more than they needed to know that he’d kept quiet. But the knowledge that someone else had made the same allegation as she had about Medic Ecosse would have been a comfort, and if anyone deserved to feel better Lisa did. She didn’t have much of a life with no job and being at the constant beck and call of a deranged mother. On impulse, he drove over to her flat and pushed the entryphone button.

‘Yes?’

‘It’s Steven Dunbar. Can I come up?’

‘I suppose so,’ answered Lisa a little uncertainly.

The door lock was released and Dunbar climbed quickly to the third floor.

‘I didn’t expect to see you again,’ said Lisa, ushering him inside.

Dunbar looked to right and left as he entered the hall.

‘She’s asleep,’ said Lisa.

‘I was passing,’ he lied. ‘There’s something I didn’t tell you the other day that I think I should have. Something about Sheila Barnes.’

‘Sheila Barnes?’ repeated Lisa. ‘She’s the nursing sister you asked me about. You wondered if I knew her.’

‘That’s right. She left well before you started at Medic Ecosse, but what I didn’t tell you was that she had a very similar experience to yours. She said much the same thing about a patient who died in the transplant unit in her time.’

Lisa looked at him as if trying to decide whether or not she should be annoyed at not having heard this before. ‘You mean I wasn’t the only one?’

‘No, you weren’t,’ confessed Dunbar. ‘That’s really why I was sent up here to Scotland. There were two of you who maintained that patients had been given the wrong organ in transplant operations.’

‘Did they treat her like an idiot too?’

‘No one took her seriously either,’ agreed Dunbar. ‘Unfortunately, both she and her husband are suffering from cancer. She’s dying. I went to see her in the hospice she’s in, down in Helensburgh.’ He explained about the journal. ‘She wanted me to see the entries she made at the time of the incident.’

‘Did you learn much?’

‘They were very detailed. In the end I was struck by how similar her version of events was to yours.’

‘So you might even believe us?’

‘I’m finding it difficult not to.’

‘Good. Did you say Sheila’s husband had cancer too?’

‘He’s in the same hospice.’

‘How strange, and what rotten luck. I hope they’re able to comfort each other.’

Dunbar silently acknowledged a nice thought.

Lisa got up and turned down the heat on the electric fire. ‘Don’t you ever miss being a practising doctor?’ she asked.

‘Not a bit. I didn’t really like it, I had no feel for it, I gave it up. Simple as that.’

She smiled. ‘What a remarkably honest thing to do. I’ve known lots of doctors who have no feel for it but giving it up is the last thing on their minds. They’ll be hanging in there till it’s carriage-clock time with a vote of thanks from the poor sods who managed to survive their ministrations.’

‘It’s hard to escape once you’ve started,’ said Dunbar.

‘Maybe,’ agreed Lisa. ‘Would you like a drink?’

He nodded. ‘I would. It’s been a long day.’

Lisa poured them both gin and tonic, handed one to Dunbar, then sat down again.

‘Why did you really come here?’ she asked with sudden directness.

The question took him aback. ‘To tell you about Sheila Barnes. I thought you had a right to know.’

‘But I don’t have a right,’ said Lisa. ‘You were under no obligation at all to tell me, so why did you?’

‘I thought you should know anyway,’ said Dunbar. It sounded weak, even to him.

‘Was it pity? Pity for my situation?’

‘I…’

‘I don’t like people visiting me out of pity. I don’t need it.’

‘It had absolutely nothing to do with pity, I promise,’ he said quietly. ‘I simply enjoyed your company last time and since I know no one else up here, I looked for an excuse to come back.’

‘That’s better,’ she said after a slight pause to consider.

‘Lisa!’ came a cry from the bedroom. ‘Where’s my breakfast? I want my breakfast!’

‘Coming, Mum,’ replied Lisa without taking her eyes off Dunbar.

Dunbar automatically looked at his watch. It was 10 p.m. He got up and said, ‘It’s time I was going anyway. Would it be all right if I popped back again? Sometime soon?

She looked at him doubtfully for a few moments before saying, ‘Providing you don’t bring pity with you.’

‘I’ll bring gin,’ said Dunbar.