Second Opinion (15 page)

‘Want to try again? I mean, I can imagine her never wanting even to think about pregnancy and childbirth ever again. I think I’d feel that way.’

Julia stared at her with real surprise. ‘Why should she react like that? We’ve always explained to all our patients the long odds. They know there can be no promises of success — and do remember she succeeded superbly once. She should be pleased with herself. I’m sure she is. I’ve only agreed to take her back right away because it seemed so unfortunate to have lost the child. But you really mustn’t underestimate my patients, you know. They truly are so sensible and strong and brave and uncomplaining…’

George was startled. That some of her colleagues were obsessive about their chosen speciality, she knew, but she’d never realized that Julia Arundel was one of them. Julia didn’t involve herself much in hospital affairs outside her own department, it was true, but had always seemed easygoing enough when George met her in the staff canteen or at the occasional three-line-whip events set up by Professor Hunnisett; yet here she was now, looking like a different kind of animal to a bloodhound entirely. She was positively tigerish in her defence of her patients.

George smiled peaceably. ‘Well, fair enough, Julia. Anyway, I was just wondering whether there was anything
in her history that you thought might have contributed to this infant’s death.’

Julia shook her head. ‘Once they get pregnant it’s Matty’s turn because usually they’re perfectly normal. I keep in touch, of course, out of general interest and to get my picture.’ She looked fondly up at her wall. ‘They nearly always drop in to see me when they come for the antenatal appointments anyway, and of course bring me their babies to say hello afterwards. But the actual maternity care isn’t my bag. I never heard there was anything wrong with the Chowdary child. Have you checked the Maternity Unit?’

‘Oh, yes. Of course.’

Julia shrugged. ‘Then it’s just one of those things, I suppose. It happens, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes, it happens. If it hadn’t been for that strange little note pointing out that there’ve been three here — I hadn’t realized because I’d been off sick, of course — I might never have given it a second thought.’

‘Yes, the note … Well, I can see how you’re thinking, but I can’t help. As I’ve said, once they conceive, I’m out of it Let me know though what you do find out. I’ll be most concerned to hear. Poor Angela Chowdary, she was unlucky. But we know we worked the miracle for her once and there’s every reason to assume we can do it again. Do you want me to let you know when we do?’

‘Er — yes. Yes, please,’ George said, well aware of the fact that she wasn’t nearly as interested in Angela Chowdary’s next baby as she was in her last, and Julia got to her feet briskly and went to the door.

‘I will, then. Right now I have to go and check some of the ova we took yesterday. We might be using them for a surrogate mother, you know. We’ve got a most interesting case: a secretary prepared to donate ova for a boss she enjoys working with. Very generous. If you’re interested I could show you what we’re doing… ?’

‘Thanks,’ George said, ‘some other time,’ and escaped,
wondering at the back of her mind whether she could ever have been the sort of clinician Julia was. To be that involved with your speciality, she thought a little wistfully, must be very nice. And then had the good sense to laugh at herself, for wasn’t she as absorbed in her own cases as Julia was in hers? Why else was she traipsing about the hospital trying to find out why a baby had died? She shook her head at herself and set out to return to her Pathology Department.

She stopped as she reached the ground floor of Red Block and set her foot on the walkway that would take her to the far side of the courtyard and her own unit Behind her, an equal distance away, was the new Paediatric Unit, Barrie Ward, and on an impulse she turned and headed that way. What else there might be to find out about the baby called Oberlander (what a ridiculous choice for a pseudonym, she thought again) she wasn’t sure, but it might be useful to have another word with Prudence Jennings. All that faced her on her own desk was a pile of budget pages that had to be pored over to see where she could save a few more pennies out of her outgoings, and that was not a prospect that held out any temptations. The fact that she’d have Dora Hebden breathing down her neck for them at any moment now mattered not a whit She’d deal with that problem when it arose. Right now, she was busy. Busy doing Gus’s job, but who was to know that, after all?

As she reached the Disney corridor she heard a sudden shout, followed by a great deal of confused noise coming from the ward at the far end and she quickened her step. Whatever was going on there was clearly not just the usual children’s play; there were adult voices raised in anger, and she frowned as someone came out of the big swing doors towards which she was heading, looking back over her shoulder as she came.

‘What’s going on in there?’ George asked. The woman
jumped at the sound of her voice and then shifted the big carrier bag she was holding to her other hand, clearly anxious.

‘Don’t ask me, doctor,’ she said, George’s white coat giving her an instant handle she could use. ‘I was just visitin’ my sister’s boy — ‘e broke his leg down the playground. I’m always on about that place, there’s never no supervision there like there should be, and then this man come in and started shouting at one of the doctors — that darkie one, you know? ‘Im with the teeth, very upset this bloke is, and calling ‘im every name ‘e can put his tongue to. For me, I speak as I find and I reckon ‘e’s all right, as Pakis go — nice fella, really. Our Wayne likes him, at any road’.

Beyond the double doors the noise increased and behind George there was a thud of feet as one of the uniformed security men came running. George nodded swiftly at the woman with the shopping bag and pushed past her to go into the ward just as the security man arrived.

Harry Rajabani was standing in the middle of the floor in a tangle of toys and picture books as a heavy-set man with a stubbled face and grubby clothes bawled at him at the top of his voice, while the young curly-headed male nurse George had talked to on her last visit to Barrie Ward (she reached into her memory for his name, Philip Goss) held on to him with a clearly iron grip. Harry’s face looked as though it had been carved out of polished wood; there was no sign that he was affected by the man’s shouting, George thought in some surprise, and then saw the muscles at the side of his face bunched and quivering and knew that he was controlling himself with enormous effort.

‘You lousy stinking black bastard, killing my boy, you and your nigger notions, get the fuck out of here and back into the trees you come down from, you bastard! If I’d have known you was putting your filthy black hands on my boy I’d have come down here and put a knife in you, do you
hear me? A knife’s too good for you, you should be strung up and made to suffer like my boy suffered, you stinking nigger —’

‘That’s enough,’ yelled Philip Goss, shaking him by the shoulders. ‘We know how you feel, Mr Ritchard, but that doesn’t mean you can abuse Dr Rajabani like that No one’s to blame for Kevin dying. We’re all so sorry. Please come and let me —’

But the man wasn’t to be reasoned with. He was dishevelled, and his eyes were bloodshot and bulging. He clearly hadn’t shaved for some time and he looked drawn and grey as well as stubbled. His mouth was open and still he shouted his obscenities into Harry’s rigid face. At the far side of the room a couple of the nurses, including Sister Collinson, stayed white faced and anxious behind the safe barrier of their desk while beyond the second set of glass-windowed double doors that led into the ward proper George could see other nurses peeping out and hear the voices of the children who were also shouting, some of them shrieking with fear.

The security man pushed past George now with scant ceremony and grabbed the screaming man by his shoulders and whirled him around so that he lost his balance and fell against the stocky uniformed body. He was grabbed then by both arms which were held behind him just as two more security men came thudding along the corridor to get involved too.

‘Come along, sir,’ panted the first of the men, who held on as his colleagues came up and joined in. ‘We’ll sort this out, come with us …’ And they had him out of the ward and into the corridor with its absurdly simpering Mickey Mouses and Donald Ducks with smooth professionalism, leaving Philip Goss behind calling after them, ‘He can’t help it — his son just died,’ and Harry Rajabani standing rock still in the middle of the play area.

A sort of silence descended, even the children beyond
seeming to quieten as the nurses who were with them stopped staring and at last shepherded them away, leaving George and Philip Goss to hurry to Harry’s side. Sister Collinson came over too, now it was safe to come out from behind her barricade, and sent the other nurses into the ward to help calm the children. George reached Harry’s side first She took his arm and, when she felt the rigid muscles there, said without stopping to think, ‘You’ll feel better if you shout.’

He shook his head, and slowly the muscles in his arm softened under George’s hand, his shoulders slumped, and Philip, moving with commendable speed, pushed a chair behind his knees so that he folded, half collapsing into it, as the power clearly left his legs, leaving them like a jelly.

‘That was dreadful,’ Philip said, crouching at Harry’s feet. ‘But you mustn’t take it personally, Harry. He’s been hell ever since his kid came in, you know that The man never came to terms with the leukaemia diagnosis or with the way he used to treat the child as he was growing up. Once he heard Kevin had told you he — well, that was all part of it. He meant no real harm. It was just the misery and the guilt and — and because you had looked after the boy, and knew his history, you got the brunt of it I’m so sorry. We should have realized he’d go like that…’

‘Not your fault, Philip,’ Harry said, his voice thick and shaky at the same time. ‘Not your fault, but Christ, it gets to you when they hate you that much!’ He rubbed a trembling hand over his face, which was now sweating profusely. ‘I get used to some of the sideways sort, but that direct hatred … Christ.’

‘You’d better go off to rest,’ George said. ‘You’re shocked. Sister Collinson, where is Dr Kydd? She’ll want him to go off, too, I imagine, and —’

Harry looked up at her. ‘Did you come to see me so soon? A phone call would have done perfectly well. I’m not even absolutely sure —’ And then, to his own obvious
amazement and discomfiture, his eyes filled with tears which thickened and increased at a great rate, streaking down his face to leave glistening snail tracks behind.

‘Come on,’ Philip said and helped him to his feet. I’ll take you to your room to lie down. Sister?’

Sister Collinson nodded. I’ll see to it that Dr Kydd knows. She’s down in the far cubicle with the Kennedy child, fixing the dressings on his thigh. There’s no way she’ll stop till that’s completely finished. Nurse Coulter?’ She turned to one of the nurses who were still hovering, ‘Go and tell her Dr Rajabani’s been taken ill and I’ll be along in a minute. And Harry —’ She turned back to him as Philip, with one arm round Harry protectively, led him to the double doors and the Disney corridor. I’ll talk to security about what happens next, don’t worry.’

And she went bustling back to her desk, leaving George with nothing to do but go back to her own department. Which she did, feeling a great deal worse over what she had seen than she would have thought possible.

11
  
  

There was an urgent PM waiting for her when George got back to her department and she realized with considerable guilt that she hadn’t switched on her bleep that morning. Sheila was in a scolding mood in consequence.

‘If I don’t know what you’re up to then I can’t tell any decent lies, can I?’ she said. ‘I’ve had Danny nagging from the mortuary, and the phone’s been blistering all morning and all I could say was I’d give you messages. It’s not right, Dr B., really it isn’t.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ George said and slid into her chair. ‘Who called?’

‘Oh, the cardiologists about that graph you did them for their prothrombins —’

‘But that’s perfect! They can’t have any complaints about that, for God’s sake!’

‘They haven’t. They wanted to thank you. He called himself, Mr Agnew Byford, it was.’ Sheila preened a little. ‘Talked to me for quite a while instead.’

‘Well, that was nice for you.’ George found it easier now she was sitting. The episode with Harry had left her shaky. ‘What else?’

‘Oh, someone from Fertility. It seems you left a notebook there. I said I’d tell you but then someone said to her — I
heard it down the phone — that you’d been seen going to Paediatrics and they’d catch up with you there. Did they?’

‘Did who?’

‘I don’t know — someone from Fertility it was. Didn’t say who.’

‘No.’ George looked puzzled. ‘No one from Fertility spoke to me when I got to Barrie Ward. Oh damn.’ She had reached into her pocket. ‘If it hadn’t been for all that fuss in Paediatrics I’d have realized I’d left it on the desk and gone back to get it on my way here. Will you send one of the juniors for it? I don’t like to leave it lying around. Very important stuff in it.’