Gallery Whispers

11

The television was still on when Olive Mcllhenney showed Sarah into her living room. But this time Neil was watching, shirt-sleeved and alone, as the opening titles of The Bill showed on the screen.

'Looking for tips on policing?' Sarah ventured, with an awkward smile.

The big sergeant turned to look at her. He began to heave himself out of his chair, until she waved him to stay seated. 'I was mocking the afflicted, actually,' he answered. 'None of those buggers would last five minutes with the boss. That CID room of theirs is a joke; most of them seem to be sat on their backsides all day.'

'Kids upstairs?' Olive asked. He nodded in reply. 'I'll just go and see what they're up to. You have a chat with Sarah.' A quick look passed between husband and wife. Sarah saw it and thought that she had never seen so much said without words, in only a moment in time.

'You've got something to tell me,' he said quietly, as the door closed.

As she looked at him, she felt fear's cold hand clutch her stomach.

This was not something she had ever done before; not to a friend at least. None of her training had covered this moment. 'Yes, Neil, I have. Olive asked me to explain things to you alone, while she's with Lauren and Spencer.

'She and I have just been to the Chest Clinic at the Western. We saw Dr Miller, one of the registrars there. She's a very fine doctor; we couldn't have seen anyone better. She sent Olive for an X-ray: when the print came back it showed a big patch covering most of the lower part of her right lung. The left one is clear.' She paused.

'What does that mean?' Neil asked, speaking slowly as if to keep his voice steady.

'It could have meant pneumonia, with other symptoms, or pleurisy.

In the present circumstances the next stage of investigation would normally have been a bronchoscopy. That's a procedure in which an instrument is passed into the lung, and a piece of tissue is snipped out, for biopsy.

'However Dr Miller found a lump in one of the lymphatic glands at the base of the neck. She took tissue from that with a needle and sent that for analysis. I persuaded her to call in a favour from someone in the lab, and have it rushed through while we were there.'

She stopped, to gather herself and to fight back the tears which she knew were not far away. 'A biopsy tests for malignancy, Neil. I am afraid that Olive's was positive. She has what is known as a non-small cell carcinoma of the right lung. It's at a fairly advanced stage, since it has metastasised into the lymphatic system.'

She looked at the big detective, and he stared back at her. 'Are you telling me that Olive has lung cancer, Sarah? Is that what all that stuff means?'

'Yes.' Her answer was a whisper, yet it seemed to fill the room.

Neil sagged back into his chair, feeling the cold sweep through his body, feeling his heart hammering in his chest, feeling a panic akin to nausea rising in his throat. 'What are our chances?' he asked, his voice as quiet as hers.

'All the better with you at her side,' Sarah replied. 'This disease can't be cured, but there are treatments which can drive it into remission. Dr Miller has arranged an appointment with one of the consultants in the Department of Clinical Oncology at the Western General. His name's Derek Simmers: he's fitting Olive in at his Friday Clinic, tomorrow afternoon at two fifteen.'

'Would it help if we went private?'

She shook her head, brushing her auburn hair against her shoulders.

'Not at all. There is no finer centre for the treatment of cancer anywhere in the country than the Western General. It's a major research hub, and it exchanges information with other centres around the world, so whatever treatment is offered to Olive will be state-ofthe-art.'

'He's good then, this Simmers?' asked Neil, struggling to control the shivers which were coursing through his body.

'The best.'

'Will he operate? Can he cut the thing out?'

'I can't say for sure, but as I understand it, surgical intervention at this stage of Olive's disease would be unlikely. Because of the metastasis it would have to be radical, and there would always be a danger that it would actually make the cancer spread faster.'

'Does Olive know all this?'

'I think she knew it before we went to the Clinic.'

Sudden fierce anger shone in his eyes. 'And that GP of hers told her she had asthma!' he snapped. 'I'll have the woman struck off.'

'Neil,' said Sarah, urgently. 'We all make clinical judgements based on what we see, and on what our patients tell us. Anyhow, you can't let yourself be side-tracked by anything right now. Dr Miller has written to Dr Jones telling her what's happened, and I'll speak to her myself tomorrow.

'You have to be completely focused on helping Olive fight this thing. Don't think about anything else. I'll speak to Bob, and I'm sure he'll give you compassionate leave as and when you need it.'

'I don't want that,' the detective replied, at once. 'I'll go with her to see Simmers tomorrow, of course, but we have to hold on to our normal life, as far as we can.'

'I understand that, and it's good.' She bit her bottom lip, an unconscious gesture. 'God, Neil, I can't advise you on this, because I can't really imagine being in your shoes.'

'Oh no?' he countered, quietly. 'What about that time the boss was stabbed?'

She smiled, sadly. 'No, that was different; that was only a fortyeight hour crisis. You and Olive have a longer fight on your hands to beat this thing.'

'But beat it we will,' Neil Mcllhenney said, determinedly, as the door opened and Olive came into the room. She was smiling. Sarah thought it was the bravest thing she had ever seen.

She turned, patted her on the shoulder and, without a word, left them together. She was in her car, shoulders wet from the rain which was still falling heavily before, finally, the tears caught up with her.