Ken McClure - Donor

Dunbar turned round. Her eyes were still closed. He was about to announce himself when Sheila continued.

‘I knew you’d come. I’m so glad you did. I know we didn’t part on the best of terms last time, dear, but I knew you’d come to say good-bye to your poor old mother. Everything I said was for your own good you know. You do realize that, don’t you?’

Dunbar found himself saying, ‘Yes, of course.’

‘I was just thinking about that holiday we went on when you were about eight. D’you remember? You and your father went out in that small boat and caught three fish and I cooked them for tea. The look on your face… you were so proud…’

‘I remember,’ whispered Dunbar. He retreated into deep shadow in case she should open her eyes.

‘I’m so happy you came, my dear. I do love you, you know.’

‘I know, Mother, and I love you,’ murmured Dunbar. ‘Get some rest now. We can talk later.’

‘That would be nice, dear,’ said Sheila distantly, and she drifted back into sleep.

Dunbar tiptoed out of the room and decided to have a word with matron about the exchange before he left. He explained what had happened and how he’d played along. ‘I hope I did the right thing, Matron.’

‘I think that was exactly the right thing to do under the circumstances. Sheila’s very near to death.’

‘I take it her son hasn’t come to see her or his father?’ asked Dunbar.

Matron shook her head. ‘I understand Peter is a bit of a black sheep. There was a serious family falling-out over money. Peter wanted funding for some new business venture but it was something he’d done before. Sheila and Cyril said no. These things happen I’m afraid.’

‘Indeed,’ agreed Dunbar. He thanked the matron for her reassurance and left the hospice knowing that he would have no reason to return.

On the way back to Glasgow, he decided to fly down to London on the following day and report to Sci-Med. He’d go into the hospital this evening and leave a note for Ingrid. He’d leave it until late. He didn’t want to talk to anyone there.

All Sandy and Kate’s new-found optimism disappeared in one awful moment when a nurse showed them into Amanda’s room and they found her looking like a starving refugee from a Third World country. Her skin was deathly white and her eyes seemed huge. She was awake but she simply stared up at the ceiling. The white rabbit the hospital had given her lay beside her on the pillow, its colour not dissimilar to Amanda’s.

Sandy turned to the nurse, while Kate tried to make contact with Amanda. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked hoarsely.

‘It’s not as bad as it looks,’ replied the nurse. ‘Amanda was kept off dialysis yesterday while Dr Ross ran some tests on her.’

‘What tests?’ asked Sandy.

‘There were a number,’ replied the nurse vaguely. ‘Would you like me to find a member of the medical staff? They’re actually a bit busy at the moment but I’m sure I…’

Sandy shook his head. He felt confused. He didn’t want to make a fuss.

‘Dr Ross says she’ll feel much better tomorrow,’ said the nurse. ‘It’s mainly just a reaction to some of the procedures.’

Sandy again wanted to ask what procedures. He didn’t understand what tests were so vital that dialysis had to be suspended, but on the other hand he didn’t want to make trouble. The hospital had been good to them. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful. He knelt down at Amanda’s bedside, struggling to keep the tears from his eyes at his daughter’s pathetic appearance.

‘How’s my princess?’ he asked, gently taking her hand as if he were afraid it would break.

Amanda gave a wan smile. ‘It’s sore, Daddy,’ she said.

‘What’s sore, Princess?’ he asked. ‘Have you got a pain in your tummy?’

Amanda put her hand to her chest and Sandy ran his hand over it. Despite the gentleness of his touch, he saw her wince. He could feel a surgical dressing under her nightie and worried at its position over her breast bone. He frowned.

‘Nurse?’ he asked. ‘Did Amanda have a marrow puncture yesterday?’

‘I believe she did,’ replied the nurse.

This time Sandy couldn’t stop himself. ‘Why?’ he asked.

‘It’s not unusual for transplant patients to have a marrow puncture for immunology typing,’ said the nurse.

‘But Amanda’s already had these tests done,’ said Sandy. ‘She had them done ages ago at the Children’s Hospital. She’s already on the transplant register. It must be in her notes. Her immunology profile is known.’

‘I’m sure Dr Ross had his reasons,’ said the nurse.

Sandy bit his tongue. ‘Of course,’ he said and went back to trying for some response from Amanda.

‘Would you like me to see if I can find Dr Ross for you?’ asked the nurse. Her tone had changed slightly. It was more of a challenge than a question, the response of a professional to what she considered unwarranted lay questioning.

‘No, that won’t be necessary,’ he replied.

‘Oh God,’ sighed Sandy as he and Kate walked to the car. His limbs felt like lead. ‘Maybe we were expecting too much,’ he said. ‘We were looking for magic in a world that doesn’t have any. Like all desperate people, we’ve been fooling ourselves. We wanted to believe in fairies and Santa Claus.’

‘The nurse said Amanda will feel better tomorrow,’ said Kate. ‘It’s probably just the aftermath of the tests she’s been having. She’ll pick up. You’ll see.’

Sandy gave Kate a half-smile and put his arms round her, hugging her to him.

‘That’s better,’ she said.

‘Good on you, kid,’ he said softly. ‘God knows what will happen if we both hit a downer at the same time.’

Dunbar left it until after ten before going into Medic Ecosse and checking his desk. Ingrid had left him the information he’d asked for about patients treated free of charge since the hospital’s opening. It was not a detailed account but it gave him the basics he wanted: the number of patients taken on, the type of treatment or operation they’d received and the notional cost to the hospital to be set off against tax as charitable acts. While most of them were relatively low-risk, high-profile procedures that would have attracted a deal of good publicity, the hospital had in fact taken on three transplant patients. The list was not specific; there were no names, but he knew that Amanda Chapman was the third. Three? This was a big surprise. The hospital apparently had been more than generous with its resources. He stopped short of thinking they had perhaps been too generous, considering the state of their finances. People were more important than money. He put the list away in his desk drawer and penned a note to Ingrid saying that he would be going to London in the morning.

As Dunbar was about to start his car in the front car park, an unmarked black Bedford van came in through the gates and made its way slowly round to the car park at the rear. The driver was dressed in what looked like hospital whites, as was the man sitting beside him. Dunbar’s curiosity got the better of him. He got out of his car and walked quickly round to the back of the building, courting the shadow of the walls.

The van had stopped opposite the green doors that led to the hospital’s basement corridor. The two men had opened up the back doors of the van and were now joined by two other men who came out of the building. All four removed what appeared to be a very heavy patient on a stretcher. It required one man at each corner.

Despite the fact that he had moved closer, using the cover of what few parked cars there were at that time of night, Dunbar could not make out much more than that. The lighting was poor and the patient was draped with a dark top cover.