Anna kept quiet.
Sam brought his attention back to the road as the traffic thinned slightly. He followed the signs for Terminal 3, edging around coaches and cars that were busy unloading luggage irrespective of traffic laws. One car was parked across half a lane, the boot jammed full of cases. Heathrow was always a nightmare to negotiate. Finally parked in a drop-off zone, Sam looked across at Anna, whose eyes were now glistening with tears. She very rarely cried.
Sam placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘What’s the matter, A?’
Anna surprised him by smiling as she pinched the tears away. ‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ she began, surprising Sam with a smile. ‘I was going to tell you last night, but it didn’t seem like the right time. And I wanted to be sure, so I did another test just before we left the house.’
Suddenly Sam knew, breaking out into a smile of his own. ‘You’re…?’
Anna took his hand in hers and smiled broadly. ‘We’re having a baby.’
4
Sam Becker watched little Sophie Jackson. She looked so fragile while asleep, like a doll, eyes closed with alabaster skin. Born with a congenital heart defect, Sophie, now two years old, was clinging onto life as her heart failed. But now she had a chance, thanks to the Berlin Heart, a miniature heart pump that acted as a bridge between her own failing heart and a donor one. Five days ago Sam had led the procedure to fit the device. It had all gone to plan, yet it would all come to nothing unless she could get that transplant.
‘Your mum and dad love you very much, Sophie. Keep fighting.’
Sam had known Sophie and her parents Tom and Sarah since her birth, and they had been in contact ever since. The adorable little girl had been a fighter since her first breath, and she was still fighting, but time was running out. The pump would buy her time, maybe up to twelve months, but in truth there was no telling and the risk of death was always there. She was however in the best place. The Cardiothoracic Centre at St. Thomas’s Hospital, on the banks of the Thames in Central London, was one of the most advanced treatment centres in the world. With state of the art equipment, a suite of private high dependency rooms, and some of the best trained staff in the world, the centre was barely five years old. It led the world in paediatric cardiac surgery, and for Sam, working under one of the world’s foremost surgeons, Professor Adil Khan, it was a dream job.
‘Thought I’d find you here.’
Sam looked up as Louisa approached and pulled up a chair. Louisa, with her hippish, flowing dress sense, corkscrew curly red hair and face of freckles, cut a distinctive figure in the otherwise uniformed, groomed hospital environment. Far from unattractive, she turned heads among both staff and patients. Always jovial, Louisa was a popular clinical psychologist who did a lot of good work with patients and family on the wards. She was a master listener and, where necessary, imparter of advice.
‘Hello there,’ Sam said.
‘I had a few minutes between consultations,’ she explained, ‘so I thought I’d come up and congratulate the main man in person.’
‘Thanks,’ Sam said, receiving a hug and peck on the cheek.
Although it would be some weeks before they would make an announcement about Anna’s pregnancy to family and friends, Anna had told Sam he could tell Louisa straight away. She thought he might need someone else to talk to about it while she was away. And Louisa wasn’t just any friend. Following Cathy’s murder, Sam had cut ties with his childhood friends, moving to London to study medicine. But he had remained in contact with Louisa, who in many ways took on the role of his surrogate little sister. She didn’t have any brothers or sisters, and like Sam, was left alone by the tragedy. She was also good friends with Marcus before that fateful trip – they had been next door neighbours – so felt the same sense of betrayal. Having trained as a clinical psychologist, she worked for a time in Liverpool, before a job came up at St. Thomas’s. Sam was surprised but delighted when she went for it, explaining that she needed a change of scene and new challenge. And although a constant reminder of Cathy, her presence and friendship was a great comfort.
‘I bet you’re higher than a kite,’ she added.
‘I am,’ Sam replied. ‘I’m not sure it’s sunk in yet, but it’s going to be fantastic.’
Louisa squeezed his arm. ‘I was so excited when you told me. You’ll make great parents, I just know you will. And I can’t believe I’ll be an aunty.’
Sam smiled. ‘Aunty Louisa has a certain ring to it.’
‘And how is the mum to be?’
‘Emotional. I’m not used to Anna breaking down in tears, but she couldn’t stop crying when I said goodbye.’
‘Understandable,’ Louisa noted. ‘It’s a massive life changing moment. Not that I’d know, of course.’
‘You will,’ Sam said. ‘Maybe this new boyfriend of yours will turn out to be The One.’
‘Maybe,’ Louisa agreed. ‘Early days yet though – it’s only been a few weeks.’
‘Well I’ve never seen you as happy as you’ve been since you met him, so whoever he is, he must be pretty special.’
‘He is, but enough about my love life. How is the little golden girl?’
‘She’s still doing okay,’ Sam replied, watching Sophie still sleeping, her small body rising and falling with each breath. ‘She’s very tired, sleeping lots, but that’s to be expected.’
‘You still hopeful?’
‘We have to be,’ Sam said. ‘But it just depends on whether she can hold on until we find a suitable donor.’
‘Any news?’
‘No,’ Sam revealed. ‘She’s top of the list, but hearts suitable for two year olds aren’t easy to come by.’
It was a sad truth that more than twenty-per cent of paediatric heart transplant candidates died whilst waiting for an organ to become available.
‘I guess not,’ Louisa said. ‘It’s sad that we’re here, hoping that a heart becomes available, yet for that to happen another child will have to die. It’s really horrible when you think about it, isn’t it?’
‘Some good comes from tragedy, I suppose.’
Louisa nodded. ‘I can’t really imagine what it must be like to see your own child like this. I mean, I’ve spoken to parents who have had sick children, counselled them, but until it’s your child, I don’t think you can ever really understand.’
‘No,’ Sam agreed. ‘The expression in Tom and Sarah’s faces over the past few days, you can see how much it’s hurting.’
‘Are they around now?’
‘They’re taking a rest,’ Sam explained. ‘It’s pretty much the first time they’ve left her side since she came in here. They’re exhausted, mentally and physically.’
For a minute or so they both sat there, watching the fragile looking little girl.
‘And how are you?’ Louisa said finally. ‘I thought you were going to take some time out to recover from your near death experience.’
‘I was going to,’ Sam replied. ‘But I wanted to see Sophie and check the latest on the donor situation.’
‘I hope you’re not working today. You should be taking it easy.’
‘Mr Khan gave Miles my list.’
‘Bet Miles is happy about that,’ Louisa joked. ‘I can just imagine his reaction. That guy is a total idiot.’
Miles Churchill and Sam were colleagues, or more accurately rivals. Both thirty four years old, both senior registrars in the speciality of paediatric surgery, and both in competition for a consultant post at the hospital that had just been advertised. The atmosphere between the two had never been great, in their four years of working together – Miles had already been working at the hospital for two years when Sam arrived, and Sam sensed that Miles saw him as an invader on his patch. But last year things had cooled to glacial proportions, when one of the junior doctors working under Miles had confided in Sam that she felt bullied by him. Wanting to nip things in the bud, Sam had delicately raised the issue with Miles. But his intervention provoked a furious respon
se, with Miles accusing Sam of trying to undermine him. The junior doctor moved on, but the incident dealt a fatal blow to what was left of their working relationship.
‘He probably sees it as a promotion opportunity,’ Sam commented, prompting a laugh from Louisa.
‘Seriously though, Sam,’ Louisa added, ‘why don’t you get away from this place for a few days? Take a total break. You need time for everything to sink in – the crash, Cathy’s commemoration, the baby news.’
‘Is that what you’d tell one of your clients?’
‘It’s something that I’d tell anyone.’
‘I’d rather be here, trying to be useful.’
Louisa put up her hands to signal surrender. ‘Fair enough. Who I am to argue with my adopted big brother, eh?’
‘Now you’re talking. And as your big brother, I want to vet this new boyfriend of yours – make sure he’s good enough for you.’
Sam was only half-joking. Louisa’s track record in relationships wasn’t the best, and she’d dated some strange men in recent years, most of whom she’d met via internet dating websites. While some had obviously been unsuitable, a bad match, others had been plain weird, like the guy who created scrapbooks with newspaper cuttings from high-profile murder trials (he’d claimed he was just interested in the law). And playing the big brother role, Sam truly did want to see her with someone who was right for her.
‘All in good time,’ Louisa replied, patting him on the knee. ‘So, how are you really coping with yesterday’s events? Have you booked that appointment with the counsellor?’
‘You’re as bad as Anna.’
‘You need to talk to someone about what happened,’ she insisted. ‘We should talk about Cathy too. I’m really sorry I couldn’t be there, Sam. I was thinking about you all Saturday, wondering how it went.’
‘It was okay. And don’t worry; it just wasn’t possible for you to be there. Everyone understood.’
‘So you’ll talk about things?’
‘I’m not convinced I need it,’ he replied.
‘It will help. Talk to me about it. Not as a psychologist, as a friend.’
Sam met her hopeful smile and nodded. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘but not here. Let’s go grab some coffee.’
Just as they stood up his phone started to vibrate. He pulled a guilty face. ‘Shouldn’t really have this on in here,’ he said, retrieving the mobile from his pocket. It was a text message, from an unknown number, and contained just one word.
Hero?
‘You okay?’ Louisa asked, leaning in to look at the screen.
‘Spam message,’ Sam dismissed, snapping the phone shut. ‘Come on, coffee time.’
They got as far as the main doors.
‘Damn,’ Sam said, glaring at the pager.
‘What is it?’ Louisa said.
‘The Board want to see me.’
‘Now?’
Sam nodded. ‘Right now. Said it’s urgent.’
He picked up the note and stared at the scrawled writing and accompanying telephone number. Since receiving it the previous night his heart hadn’t stopped racing. Had he been stupid to believe that everything would work out? Walking over to the telephone he grabbed the receiver and dialled the number, his hands shaking as sweat coated the handset. As it started to ring at the other end, he thought his heart was about to burst out of his chest. And then the call went through to the answering service and he relaxed slightly. It would make it easier.
‘I just called to say, the answer’s no.’
He put the phone down, and moved into the bathroom to wash his face. His skin was ashen, his eyes red and swollen from lack of quality sleep. He couldn’t take much more of this.
But maybe that last call would be enough.
He spent the next two long hours trying to pass time, watching crap daytime TV, on pins that they would call back or worse, arrive in person. When they didn’t, he dared to believe that maybe it was all over. But then, before hope could really take hold, the phone rang, breaking through the silence of the flat with a shrill cry for attention.
He moved slowly over to the phone, just watching it for twenty or more seconds, hoping that it would stop ringing. But it continued, so he brought the receiver to his ear.
An hour later, as the clock turned eleven, he sat staring into space, now knowing that he would never be allowed to move on.
5
Sam stepped into the waiting lift, but just as the doors were closing, Miles Churchill darted between the shrinking gap.
‘Miles,’ Sam nodded. The stench of over-liberally applied aftershave filled the space, and for a moment Sam wondered mischievously whether Miles was trying to hide something. Was the alcoholic waft coming only from the cologne?
‘Sam,’ Miles responded, rearranging his pale pink shirt and tie in the mirrored wall as the lift started its ascent. ‘I hear that you were involved in a spot of bother last night.’
‘News travels fast,’ Sam noted.
‘Khan told me,’ he explained, catching Sam’s eye via the reflection. ‘Just before he gave me an extra four patients this afternoon.’
‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ Sam said, for the first time pleased at the Professor’s decision to relieve him of his afternoon list. Although Sam knew it was for the best, he had still found it difficult to relinquish the patients, and especially to Miles – not that Professor Khan, or Anna for that matter, had given him any choice. ‘I’m sure you’ll manage though.’
‘Of course I will,’ he retorted. ‘But it doesn’t mean that I’m happy about it.’ He started on his hair now, brushing thick, floppy dark strands away from his eyes. He was like a preening bird. ‘So,’ he said, finishing the makeover by brushing his lapels, and addressing Sam to his face, ‘if you’re not up to operating, what are you doing around here?’
‘Couldn’t keep away from the place,’ Sam replied.
Miles nodded as if that was the answer he expected. ‘Afraid that people will forget you.’
Sam kept quiet, not dignifying Miles’s jibe with a response. The lift pinged and the doors slid open at the fourth floor – the level for the cardiothoracic centre. Miles stepped out then turned around, surprised, as Sam stayed in the lift. Sam suppressed a smile as the doors closed between them. That would get him wondering.
He now took the chance to examine himself. Thankfully he didn’t look as bad as he felt, although the reddish tinge smudging the blue of his eyes betrayed the lack of sleep. Then of course there was the angry bruise that circled around his left eye. His blonde stubble, now flecked with white, was deliberately thicker than usual - he’d recently cut his fair hair shorter and Anna had said it made him look five years younger, so this was a way to counter-act that effect. For a doctor to look young wasn’t particularly desirable, especially when aiming for a consultant position. He straightened himself to his full six foot three inches, brushed his tie, collar and suit jacket - and looked himself in the eyes. It would have to do.
Glancing at his watch, Sam thought of Anna. She would be just over two hours into the flight now, somewhere over Southern Europe. He knew exactly what she would be doing. She would be trying to lose herself in one of the in-flight movies. Ironically for someone who had visited all but one of the planet’s continents, Anna was a reluctant flyer. While Sam would gaze down at the landscapes below, revelling in the bird’s eye vantage point, Anna would use any method possible to try and forget that there was thirty thousand feet of fresh air between their seat and the ground. He thought of his wife on her important mission, and the unborn baby developing inside, hitching along for the ride. He still couldn’t quite get his head around the news that he was going to be a father, although it felt just as wonderful, exciting and daunting as it did at the moment of Anna’s announcement.
The lift pinged again as it reached the top floor. Sam turned around and stepped out onto the plush royal blue carpet. This was the world of senior management. Perched at the highest level of the hospital it seemed far rem
oved from the activities below – the smells, the shouts of patients, the non-stop activity. Here, money ruled, or at least that’s how it felt. It wasn’t an environment in which Sam was at all comfortable. Sam strode down the corridor, wondering whether his summoning really was about last night, as he’d assumed. He reached his destination, knocking firmly on the oak door and taking a step back.
‘Come in,’ Carla Conway, the Chief Executive of St. Thomas’s requested from inside.
Sam counted out three seconds before pushing at the door. To his surprise, the board table was empty. Carla stood at the window on the opposite side of the room, looking out across the London skyline towards Westminster. She turned around and smiled. Dressed in a figure-hugging black suit, with her jet black hair pulled tight back in a bun, Carla Conway cut an impressive and imposing figure. She had a reputation for being a tough operator, but Sam knew from first-hand experience that she was also a fair person. Fifty years old, Carla had been at the hospital for three years, following a career in the financial sector, including most recently an executive director of the London offices of UGT, the American investment bank. The appointment of someone from the City had caused a stir, especially among the senior clinicians, who feared that a CEO without any public sector background would think only of money and nothing of patient care. But their fears had been largely unfounded. Carla had in fact been a champion of patients’ rights, a legacy of her own family experience in which two of her three sisters had died from a genetic form of breast cancer. As she had said in her opening statement, she wanted to make a difference after years of just making money.
‘Nice to see you, Sam.’
‘Carla,’ Sam replied. ‘You sent for me?’
She nodded, beckoning him over with her eyes. Sam moved up towards the window and looked out at the Thames. A tourist cruiser passed by, sharing the water with several other boats, including a small coastguard dingy. The blue light on the back flashed as it skimmed across the tops of the waves like a polished stone.
Someone To Save you Page 3
