Ken McClure - Donor

Dunbar took the film from him and saw an almost perfectly edged circle where the film had been exposed to the radiation. The area around it was totally unexposed. ‘Remarkable,’ he said, handing the film back. ‘I’m most impressed.’

Svensen held the film up again and marvelled at it. ‘Hot damn, this is a good machine,’ he enthused. ‘Here! Keep it as a souvenir.’

Dunbar accepted the film and smiled at the man’s total immersion in his job. He thanked him for showing him around.

‘Any time,’ smiled Svensen.

‘A good morning?’ asked Ingrid when Dunbar returned to his office.

‘Dr Svensen’s certainly very knowledgeable,’ he replied.

She signified her understanding with her superior little smile. ‘He’s certainly that,’ she agreed. ‘I’ve got the figures you asked for.’

‘Good.’

‘And an invitation too.’

Dunbar raised his eyebrows.

‘There’s going to be a press conference and photo opportunity followed by a reception for the NHS patient who had the jaw-realignment surgery with us.’

‘Before and after pictures,’ said Dunbar.

‘They’re quite dramatic, I believe,’ said Ingrid. ‘All good publicity for the hospital I think you’ll agree.’

‘It’s certainly that. I only hope she doesn’t mind being a circus animal for the afternoon.’

‘A small price to pay,’ said Ingrid. ‘Her whole life will be changed by the work of the surgeons here.’

‘You’re right,’ smiled Dunbar. But he suspected that the patient had been selected because she would provide dramatic publicity in return for some relatively simple surgery, and that she’d taken precedence over more difficult patients who wouldn’t have provided the same photo opportunity. He wondered just how much the scheme was going to benefit patients chosen for free referral and had the depressing thought that it might all be just window-dressing. There was no doubt that the specialist skills and equipment of Medic Ecosse could be used on occasion to great effect in the treatment of difficult NHS cases, but would that be how it worked? Or would Medic Ecosse go for the safe option every time? He wondered if there might be a way of investigating precedent and getting an indication from that.

‘Who has the final say in selecting patients for the free treatment scheme?’ he asked.

‘A committee of three. Dr Kinscherf, Mr Giordano and the head of the department concerned,’ replied Ingrid. ‘Why d’you ask?’

‘Just interested. As I understand it, the hospital has taken on a few NHS patients for free in the past. Do you think you could get me a list and information about what treatment they had?’

Ingrid obviously wondered how this could possibly interest someone employed to monitor financial dealings, but she merely said, ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Dunbar knew well that he had no business asking for this information. It was plain curiosity on his part and perhaps the thought that even if his other inquiries came to nought he could at least bring the failings of the free referral scheme — if that’s what they turned out to be — to someone’s attention at the Scottish Office.

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?’