Ken McClure - Pandora's Helix

“I agree,” said Neef. “It is but I don’t think the papers will be too interested to hear that it was a Menogen virus that cured him. That would be a bit embarrassing, would it not?”

“I’ll have another go at the editor if you like,” said Eve.

Neef smiled and suggested she leave it for a bit. “There is something you could help me with though,” said Neef. “How do I go about finding Susan Little’s family?”

“Susan? Then you managed to find out something today?”

Neef told her how he’d come by the information.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” exclaimed Eve.

Neef smiled.

“You say she was a cystic fibrosis patient?”

Neef nodded and said, “I’m sure that must be some kind of link to David Farro-Jones. That’s his special interest.”

“Any ideas?” asked Eve.

Neef shook his head but said, “I think Max may be on to something. He asked for pathology specimens from the cancer patients. I managed to get him a lung biopsy from Douglas Cooper, the electrician who got infected at the same time as Charlie Morse. He’s taken it away somewhere to work on. In the meantime it might be helpful if I could speak to Susan Little’s family.”

“Cystic fibrosis is a high profile disease,” said Eve. “It’s popular in terms of fund raising.”

“What are you getting at?” asked Neef.

“It’s possible that the Citizen or one of the local freebies covered Susan’s death at the time. I’ll check in the morning if you like?”

“Good idea.”

At two in the morning Eve and Neef were woken by the phone ringing. It was John Duncan at the unit.

“Dr Neef? I understand you asked to be informed if Neil Benson’s condition worsened”

“Yes.”

“It has, sir. I don’t think he’ll see morning.”

Eve was already out of bed getting dressed. Neef followed and they were at the hospital within fifteen minutes of Duncan’s call.

Neef let Eve be alone with Neil while he spoke to Duncan. There was nothing medical to be done and Eve had the best chance of reaching him.

“I’m very sorry, sir,” said Duncan. “I understand the boy’s a particular favourite of yours?”

“I don’t have favourites,” replied Neef without looking at Duncan. He was watching Eve whisper to Neil.

“No sir, of course not,” replied Duncan.

Neef stood in the doorway of Neil’s room and listened. “Maxwell is depending on you, Neil,” he heard Eve say. “He keeps asking me when you’ll be well enough to help him out. There’s just so much work for him to do at the fire station. He needs all the help he can get. He told me he’ll try to come round tomorrow to show you the new fire engine. Won’t that be good? Promise me you’ll try to be well enough to see him?”

Neef watched as Neil’s head made a tiny nodding gesture on the pillow. Eve was trying desperately to keep the sob out of her voice.

“I think you’ve reached him again,” said Neef.

“I’m going to stay here,” said Eve. “If that’s all right?”

“Of course,” said Neef. “I’ll stay too.”

Eve put a hand on his chest and said, “Go home. You can’t stay for them all.”

Neef knew that she was right. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said. He kissed Eve lightly on the cheek and held her close for a long moment before walking away.

Neef didn’t sleep; he was back in the unit shortly before seven. He found Eve still beside Neil. She was kneeling on the floor beside his bed and her head was resting on the pillow although her eyes were open and she was whispering to Neil. Neef smiled at her before checking with John Duncan about the other patients. He told Duncan he could go off early.

“He’s still hanging on,” said Duncan. “It’s amazing. Miss Sayers talked him through the night.”

“It is,” agreed Neef.

Neef made some coffee using the equipment in Ann Miles’ office and then said to Eve. “Breakfast. Neil’s sleeping.”

Eve got up stiffly and watched as Neef knelt to examine Neil. “How is he?” she asked.

“Holding his own,” replied Neef, “Well done.”

Eve took coffee with Neef in his office and then said she was going to go back to her flat to shower and change. “I’ll have to go in to the office,” she said, “but I’ll keep checking with you.”

“Of course,” said Neef. “If anything should change, I’ll get word to you.”

Neef gave instructions that Neil was not to be left alone. It was worth trying to capitalise on the time Eve had gained for them by continuing to stimulate his interest in what was going on around him as she had done. The nurses took turns, reading to him, telling his stories, showing him pictures and talking about his fire engines. Every hour that passed was more time for the Menogen virus to work on his tumour. Just before noon, Neef looked in on Neil. Despite the best efforts of the nurses, he still felt they were fighting a losing battle. Eve phoned to ask how things were going.

“Touch and go,” admitted Neef.

“I’ll be in soon,” said Eve. “But first I’m going along to the local fire station. I’ve half persuaded them to do some kind of visit for Neil this afternoon. At least, the Station Officer has agreed to talk to me.”

“That’s a good thought,” said Neef. “That might be just what we need.”

“I also checked up on Susan Little for you. One of the freebies did cover her death. She lived with her parents in the Combe Tower flats, not the most salubrious part of town. Do you have a pen?”

“Ready.”

She gave him the address. “When she died, the neighbours started up a fund to commemorate Susan. They raised two hundred and fifty pounds which they donated to research into cystic fibrosis at University College Hospital.”

“I see,” said Neef.

“See you soon.”

Hunger pangs reminded Neef that he hadn’t had anything to eat since early the previous evening. Breakfast that morning had been a cup of black coffee. He went along to the staff restaurant and, after a quick look at the board, opted for smoked haddock. There was nothing wrong with it but his appetite seemed to disappear after a couple of mouthfuls. He was joined at the table by Tim Heaton.

“Heard anything from Public Health?” Heaton asked.

“Not officially. I think we’re included in their publicity ban.”

“Rumour has it they’re on to something.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Up until now, the public health people have been seeking voluntary cooperation from contacts of patients affected by the cancer. Now it’s mandatory. All contacts have been confined to their homes until further notice. Fumigation squads have been sent in, certain personal effects confiscated. Medical and nursing staff who are currently treating the surviving patients are subject to the same restrictions. What do you think?

“They think it’s a virus,” replied Neef.

“Only think?”

“Maybe they know,” conceded Neef. “Do any of the new sanctions affect us?”

“Any member of staff reporting sick with a cold or flu-like illness has to be notified to Public Health. They’ll take appropriate action to isolate and investigate.”

Neef nodded thoughtfully.

“I’m surprised they aren’t doing more,” said Heaton. “If they think it’s a virus why isn’t the entire staff being vetted?”

“I think it’s a question of time,” said Neef. “If any of us were going to get it it would have showed up by now.”

“Lucky,” said Heaton.

“And strange,” said Neef.

“Why strange?”

“You’d think if it was a new virus no one would have immunity to it but it seems that some of us if not most of us have.”

“Thank God for that,” said Heaton. “That’s all I can say.”