Mike Shevdon: The Road to Bedlam

He paused, letting the words sink in. I nodded, accepting his case.

"If you would sign this general release here and here and initial it there," he marked the points with an X, "and these specific releases here and here." He offered me his ballpoint.

I took the pen and signed the forms. Katherine waited until I had signed all of them and then took the ballpoint from me and signed them too.

"Can we see her now?"

Mr Phillips looked surprised. "I'm afraid that's completely out of the question. She's in total isolation."

"Dammit!" My fist smashed on to the table. Katherine started at the noise. The sound reverberated in the small room. "We need to see her! We're her parents! We have rights!" It was only then I realised I was shouting.

The consultant raised his hands, half defensively, half placatingly. "Not until the all-clear is given, I'm afraid. This is a very serious matter."

"Steady, old chap," said Barry. "The man's only doing his job."

"You don't…" I ran out of steam as I caught Katherine's eye and she shook her head minutely. "Sorry, Barry. Sorry. I just wanted…"

Mr Phillips stood up, relieved to be rescued and too obviously wanting to be gone before I started shouting again.

Katherine stood and held out her hand to the consultant. "Please do everything you can," she told him. "Bring me back my girl."

He shook her hand and then offered his hand to me and then also to Barry. "We will do everything in our power," he said, his words ringing with certainty for once, and then turned and walked out. I listened to his footsteps fade down the corridor.

I sighed and collapsed back into the chair. I felt so helpless. I had consigned my daughter into the hands of the professionals in the blind hope that they knew what they were doing. My fears were reflected in Katherine's eyes as she hugged Barry's chest close to her, all the while watching me over his shoulder. We had both made our decision but neither of us was sure we had done the right thing.

The next few hours were torture. Initially I went to the nurses' station and asked for news every ten minutes. It was a discipline for me to wait the full ten minutes before I went to ask her again. Eventually the nurse asked me as gently as she could to stop pestering her. She promised to come and find us all as soon as there was any news.

I drank coffee. I tried to focus on the ancient newspapers and tatty magazines that were spread around the waiting room but I found myself reading the same sentence again and again without comprehension.

"I'm going outside to phone Blackbird," I told Katherine. "She'll be worried too."

"If anything happens, Barry will come and get you straightaway, won't you, Barry?" Barry nodded his agreement.

I stopped at the nurses' station and told her where I was going. She promised to send someone for me if anything changed.

I went back to the lift, descended to the ground floor and walked through reception out into the heavy night air. It was cooler, the sort of night when the light haloed around the street lamps. I used the speed dial on my mobile to call Blackbird. She picked up on the first ring.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded thin and reedy.

"It's me. Were you asleep?"

"No. What's happening?"

"I don't know. They're treating her now. The waiting is driving me crazy."

"It was on the six o'clock news. They're saying that it was a sewer gas explosion."

"It's more complicated than that. They say there's been some sort of contamination. They're being very closed-mouthed about it. They're trying to keep it from the press. Whatever it is, it sounds serious."

"Did they say she was going to be OK?"

"No, just that they would do their best."

"That's all you can ask for, Niall."

"I know."

"How's Katherine holding up?"

"She's OK. Same as me really. She has Barry with her."

There was a pause.

"I'll come if you want me to, Niall."

"No, it's OK. You'll never get a train at this time and a taxi would cost the earth."

One of the things I had discovered about Blackbird was that she had never learned to drive. With her magic she had never needed to, but now that she was pregnant and her magic had failed her, she found herself marooned by lack of transport.

"I'll call you as soon as we have news," I assured her.

"Do, please." She sounded small, but the depth of feeling came through, despite the tinny line.

"I'd better get back in case there's news."

"OK, give Katherine a hug for me."

"I will. Take care."

"You too. Bye."

I clicked the phone off and took a deep breath and walked back into the fluorescent brightness, making my way back up to the isolation unit.

As soon as I appeared, the nurse said, "No news."

I smiled weakly and went back to join Katherine and Barry.

They roused themselves as soon as I appeared, then fell back into their chairs as they realised that it was only me. I returned to the armchair, the vinyl cushions wheezing as I sank into it. We sat apart, each with our private thoughts. I suspected that, like me, they were each thinking of the things they would have done differently had they known it would come to this.

When the man appeared in the doorway we all started. None of us had heard him approach. It wasn't Mr Philips, the consultant, but another man, grey-bearded and wearing a shabby jacket over a grey sweater.

"Mr and Mrs Dobson?" He glanced at the three of us.

"Yes?" Katherine answered.

I stood up. "I'm Niall Petersen. I'm Alex's father."

"And you are?" he said gently to Barry.

"I'm her stepfather. They're divorced." He nodded to Katherine and me. It sounded vaguely like an accusation.

"Have you heard?"

"Did it work?"

"Is she OK?"

Our three questions clashed as we searched his face for answers.

He came in and sat down between us.

"My name is David Beetham. I'm not a doctor. I'm a grief counsellor."

He watched us process that information.

"There's no easy way to say this, but I'm afraid I have to tell you that your daughter died a short time ago."

The worst thing was that they wouldn't let us see the body. Both Katherine and I wanted to see her, just to say goodbye and to be able to believe what had happened. Barry was mute, unable to find anything to say that would touch the grief in Katherine and me. He had been fond of Alex, perhaps he had even loved her, but she wasn't his daughter.

The grief counsellor was kind but firm. "It's out of the question, I'm afraid," he said. "The protocols that come into force in these circumstances are very strict. There is to be no risk of contamination."

He paused, seeing that there was no recognition of his protocols from either me or Katherine.

He tried again. "It is a terrible tragedy that your daughter is dead. It would be a much greater tragedy and a gross neglect of responsibility if anyone else died because we had not been as careful and as cautious as we possibly could be."

"We just want to see our girl," Katherine wailed, and then dissolved into another bout of helpless sobbing into Barry's chest.

I stood alone, my fists clenched into tight wads of flesh, the tendons on my wrists standing out like wires as I tried to contain the anger that welled up within me. The need to see her, one last time, was raw in me. I knew that I could reach her despite anything they could do to stop me, but also that if I even so much as acknowledged the dark hot core that dwelt within me, it would feed on my anger and release a power that would be beyond my ability to control. No one would be safe, not the counsellor, not Barry and not Katherine.

"Is it such a lot to ask?" I ground my teeth, biting down on the anger that wanted release.