The Secret Anatomy of Candles

by Quentin Smith

  “It’s too late now, Jasper, you had your opportunity when you were married to her. Just let her rest in peace.”

  Jasper watched as she walked away. Seeing Jennifer’s unsettling likeness in Charlotte had reopened the wounds and he tried in vain to remember when last he had seen Jennifer’s warm, smiling face in front of his eyes, so close that he could have kissed it.

  A violent spasm twisted his left arm and his neck, rhythmically, agonisingly. He noticed a small boy staring at him wide eyed, mesmerised, as though he had encountered a ghoulish apparition. Eventually, the boy’s father tugged his arm to move him along.

  Jasper suppressed an overwhelming urge to scream from within his tormented body, but as on so many occasions before he pushed it deep down, stifling the frustration.

  THIRTY SIX

  “Do you want to see what I’ve found, guv?” Lazlo said with a triumphant grin on his face, as he slumped his globular frame into the red leather chair in Jasper’s office.

  Jasper was sitting behind his desk, bright green and yellow striped braces cutting into a billowing white shirt, staring pensively into the glass tumbler of whisky that he was holding, tilting it this way and that to keep the ice cubes moving.

  “Dr Giordano says I have to quit,” Jasper said in a monotone whisper from behind the cut glass tumbler.

  Lazlo nodded. “Good.” Then he paused, his eyes tracking between Jasper’s face and the whisky tumbler being fondled in his trembling left hand. “Are you going to?”

  Jasper lifted the glass to his face and took a deep sniff.

  “What do you want to show me, Lazlo?”

  Lazlo pushed a newspaper onto the desk, twirling it around with his fingers so that it faced Jasper.

  “Have you read today’s Guardian?”

  Jasper shook his head, took a quick gulp of whisky and then pushed the tumbler away in disgust.

  “Page six, article on the winter vomiting bug, the norovirus,” Lazlo said as his eyes danced energetically. He shuffled his copious buttocks forward to the edge of the creaking red leather chair in eager anticipation.

  “What’s the Frankie Dettori, Lazlo?”

  Lazlo inhaled sharply and twiddled his pewter earring between his meaty thumb and index fingers.

  “The story, guv, is about the impending winter outbreaks of gastroenteritis in hospitals.”

  “Ah, back to ol’ tommy guns again.”

  “Precisely. The article describes how contagious the norovirus is, how it spreads easily in contained environments like hospitals, nursing homes, and schools, how to prevent spreading the infection, et cetera.”

  Lazlo sat back and rubbed his stubbly chin with satisfaction as he watched Jasper find the article and begin to scan it.

  “Infection occurs primarily through person to person transmission,” Jasper read from the paper, “and hand washing is an effective method of reducing spread.”

  Jasper smacked the paper with his hand and sat back with a smug grin on his face.

  “No, guv, read on, the bit I want you to read is further down.” Lazlo said as a look of concern creased his face.

  Jasper’s eyes returned to the paper and began to track the print.

  “What am I looking for here, Lazlo? Give me a Scooby Doo.”

  “It says that sick patients must be segregated from other patients, especially those at risk, and that infected wards should be closed. Have you found it?”

  Jasper read on in silence, then suddenly straightened and lifted the newspaper slightly off the desk.

  “Interesting, very interesting.”

  “High risk patients should never come into contact with infected cases,” Lazlo said.

  “So, this is Department of Health policy?”

  “It looks that way – I checked the website.”

  Jasper reached across to his phone and pressed the intercom button.

  “Stacey, get Mr Ferret an appointment as soon as please.”

  “Yes, Mr C.”

  Jasper’s attention returned to the article and he continued to read.

  “Good work, Lazlo, reading the dailies while working,” he said sarcastically without looking up.

  Jasper reached for his whisky tumbler as he read and Lazlo cleared his throat loudly, even raising a hand to cover his great, big mouth. Jasper looked up at him and retracted his arm.

  “I think we’ve got them, Lazlo, on all counts. It says here that a study in New York found that seven out of eleven norovirus outbreaks were by person to person transmission. They’re… chicken plucked.”

  Lazlo sat back and lowered his gaze slightly, thoughtfully.

  “Can I come to that meeting too, guv? I have new and more detailed information from… the matron.”

  Jasper looked up and stared at Lazlo, the tic around his left eye twisting and tugging almost relentlessly now, making him look angry, defensive and unapproachable.

  Lazlo felt himself shift uncomfortably in the cramped chair.

  “Yeah, sure.” Jasper smiled.

  Lazlo sighed in relief.

  “Do you have anything for me on Jennifer?” Jasper said.

  “Er,” Lazlo mumbled, looking flustered and scratching in the pockets of his leather jacket. He extracted a crumpled piece of paper, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, and held it aloft.

  “The unknown contact in Harley Street we found in her phonebook,” Jasper prompted. “Who is he?”

  “I’m still on it, guv. A foreigner.”

  “Is he an infertility specialist?” Jasper asked with raised eyebrows as he eyed his whisky tumbler.

  Lazlo’s saggy features betrayed his disapproval as he watched Jasper lift the tumbler to his mouth with a trembling hand.

  “I’ll find out, guv.”

  Jasper swallowed the soothing mellow malt.

  “I’ll bet he’s our mystery man.”

  THIRTY SEVEN

  Dr SP Whitehouse MB, PhD, FRCPath, LLM

  Home Office Pathologist

  Drury Lane

  Durham

  Dear Mr Candle,

  Case 1167/53: Jennifer Mary Candle

  I am now able to confirm the post mortem examination findings that will be forwarded to HM Coroner regarding the death of Jennifer Mary Candle. The decision to hold an inquest is then at the coroner’s discretion. In the interim, however, we are able to formally release the body of Jennifer Mary Candle to enable funeral arrangements to be made.

  DNA tests performed at your request and with your written consent have been completed. Please find attached the report from the Human Tissues Laboratory that undertook these tests. In essence I can summarise the results that confirm a match between the DNA sample supplied by you and that taken from the unborn foetus found at autopsy in the uterus of Jennifer Mary Candle. With greater than 98% certainty you are the biological father of the unborn foetus.

  Please contact my office as soon as possible to arrange for transfer of the body of Jennifer Mary Candle to an undertaker of your choice. If you wish to discuss any of the above please make an appointment through my secretary.

  Yours sincerely,

  SP Whitehouse

  Jasper let the letter slip from his fingers and it floated down to the desk with a levity that disguised the severity of its contents. He stared ahead through glazed eyes, for a few moments completely oblivious to the tics and contortions that racked his face and left arm, the tremble of his hands and the new onset of flickering in his thigh muscles. His thigh looked as though eels were writhing beneath the skin.

  He could make no sense of this at all. Why would Jennifer withhold a pregnancy from him, especially when they had struggled for so many years to reach this seemingly unattainable point? Did she suspect the baby might be somebody else’s? Was it simply a moment of blind panic that drove her to such despair? If only she had felt able to speak to him, to take him into her confidence. But perhaps she didn’t know how he would react to such unwelcome confessions. He wasn’t even sure now how he mi
ght have responded to such a disclosure.

  Jasper’s stomach churned and the smell of old whisky on his breath made him nauseous, to the point that he rose quickly and disappeared into the bathroom, retching loudly in between howls of anguish.

  THIRTY EIGHT

  Julian Ferret – oily hair, garlic breath, sloping shoulders reminiscent of the weak hind quarters of a hyena – sat on Lazlo’s left in front of Jasper’s desk. He was one of those unfortunate men whom Jasper had come to dislike without even getting to know him, not just because they were fierce legal adversaries. A black suit hung on his frame like a large coat draped over a coat stand.

  Lazlo had removed his leather jacket and folded it over his chair, revealing a red, black and white checked shirt that was stretched across his belly, revealing patches of pale hairy skin at intervals between straining buttons.

  “You intend to pursue this case?” Ferret asked, running his fingers through the shiny hair above his left ear.

  “Unless you wish to settle? There is negligence in abundance,” Jasper said with hands clasped together beneath his chin.

  “You’re fishing, counsel.”

  Jasper took a breath and leafed through some of the papers on his desk.

  “There are DoH directives to keep patients infected with norovirus, or gastroenteritis, separate from convalescing and vulnerable patients. These were not followed.”

  Even Ferret’s shiny skin seemed to exude garlic and Lazlo, who himself emitted odours of his liver and onion lunch, found himself moving away from the man’s unpleasant aura.

  “Firstly, when the elderly woman, Mrs X, was admitted from the nursing home, it was not known that she was infected with norovirus,” Ferret said, with his head buried in the case notes on his lap.

  “She had the tommy guns,” Jasper said, raising one eyebrow, which immediately began to twitch and burn.

  “Secondly,” Ferret continued, ignoring this remark, “it was a bank holiday weekend and the hospital was extremely full, therefore Mrs X was placed in an isolation bay some distance from the other patients.”

  “DoH policy was not followed.”

  “The NHS is an over burdened organisation with a moral obligation to treat all comers, Mr Candle. As strange as this may seem to your dubious profiteering ethics, it has to be adaptable and improvise from time to time, in the interests of society.”

  Jasper ran a finger beneath the tight-fitting peacock-blue braces that clamped over his white shirt.

  “At what point do the interests of society take precedence over those of the individual?” Jasper said.

  “I think you know what I mean, Mr Candle,” Ferret said, without looking up.

  “Perhaps you’d care to explain that to Edward Burns’ grieving family.”

  Ferret shook his head and emitted a sigh of disapproval.

  “No one intended any harm to come to Edward Burns. He was an unfortunate victim of unavoidable circumstances.”

  Jasper straightened and flipped over a page on the desk in front of him, before looking up at Ferret again.

  “Unavoidable? NHS hand hygiene policy is clear and unambiguous, Mr Ferret, I quote: ‘Hand washing is an effective method of preventing the spread of norovirus. Sanitising all surfaces is highly recommended. Such appropriate measures can reduce the transmission ratio seven fold’. ”

  “Reduce, yes, not eliminate. What is your point, Mr Candle?”

  “Half a dozen people, staff and patients, contracted the virus from the infectious patient in the isolation bay, one of whom died. This demonstrates a clear failure to comply with the recommended hygiene policies.”

  Lazlo shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he sensed the heat coming closer to the nursing staff, and to Billie.

  Ferret stared at Jasper quietly with a wry smile on his face. His dark eyes danced eagerly in his head as he relished the challenge of outwitting his arch nemesis.

  “I will read out some medical facts that would be related in court.” Ferret leafed through several sheets of paper in his lap. “As few as one or two norovirus particles are able to cause infection. No hand hygiene procedure in the world is able to guarantee one hundred percent eradication, meaning that even after a surgical scrub it might be possible for one or two virus particles to remain. Furthermore, patients are contagious even before the onset of symptoms and for up to a week or more after they appear to have recovered.”

  Ferret sat back with a satisfied look on his face. Jasper stared at him, his face writhing beneath a shower of tics.

  “Why was Mrs X not moved out of the ward when it became evident that she posed a risk to other ward patients?” Jasper asked.

  “Where would they move her, counsel, to another ward and risk an epidemic throughout the hospital? Procedure is to lock down the ward, close it to both in and out going traffic to minimise the risk of a widespread outbreak.”

  Ferret leaned to one side and rested his chin on a balled hand. Jasper began to shift about in his seat, feeling his left shoulder writhing and twisting its familiar demonic dance. He desperately wanted a whisky, but he dared not, and Lazlo had made him promise.

  “I would be prepared to take my chances with a jury and let them decide whether infecting half a dozen persons on an isolation ward during lockdown protocol is evidence enough of negligence on the part of the trained staff,” Jasper said, twiddling an index finger across his lips.

  Ferret remained silent, but Lazlo adjusted his great frame in the cramped chair. He looked uncomfortable, his face taut and his brow furrowed.

  “I can show that procedure was not followed on the night of admission, and that there were alternative locations available to house… er… Mrs X,” Lazlo said in a voice a little tighter and thinner than his usual relaxed self.

  Ferret shot an icy look towards Lazlo and began to play with the shiny skin on his neck.

  “How so?” Ferret said.

  “Testimony of staff.”

  Ferret snorted dismissively.

  “They’d be playing a dangerous game with their employer. I doubt they’d willingly do that when they fully understand the possible consequences.”

  Lazlo winced uncomfortably, feeling the pressure of the brinkmanship he was trying to pursue in deflecting culpability away from individuals on the ward. He sensed that he too was playing a dangerous game of poker, perhaps out of his league.

  “We have two powerful allegations of negligence against the hospital. One, the decision to place Mrs X on that ward and expose vulnerable patients like Edward Burns to potential serious harm. Two, that better standards of hygiene on the ward by staff would have prevented the spread of the norovirus to others, like Edward Burns,” Jasper said.

  “We will contest both allegations,” Ferret said, pursing his lips and closing the papers in a document wallet in his lap, before standing up and walking to the door.

  “I have great faith in the common sense of our jury system, Mr Ferret.”

  Ferret paused and turned to face both Jasper and Lazlo.

  “So do I, counsel. Good day to you both.”

  THIRTY NINE

  “Thank you for stopping by,” Debra said. “Shall we walk?”

  She was wearing faded, loose denim jeans and a padded white ski jacket, her hair was neatly combed and her face tidily arranged.

  Jasper walked silently beside her as they picked their way across the uneven cobbles of Bow Lane, heading past Hatfield College down to Kingsgate Bridge.

  “You are a Durham alumnus, aren’t you?” she said as they passed the imposing wrought iron gate with its freshly painted forged crest of Hatfield College.

  “Yes, University College.”

  “But you wouldn’t have encountered my Harry.”

  “Not unless he was a lecturer in criminal law.”

  Debra chuckled. The uplifting sound of the cathedral bells ringing in cyclical descending cadences echoed across Durham’s mediaeval skyline.

  “English classics, they were Harry’s passion �
� Brontë, Lawrence, Eliot.” She paused and Jasper found himself staring at her fragile features, fine cheek bones and delicately sculpted lips, through which the warmth of her breath steamed in the cold air. “He was quite a bit older than me, but he knew how to sweep a woman off her feet.”

  Jasper pushed his hands deeper into his black coat pockets, defying the biting chill while simultaneously hiding the trembling and twisting.

  “Did you meet your wife at Durham University?” she asked, turning and looking at him with her blazing emerald eyes.

  Suddenly, she stopped and placed an arm on his.

  “I’m sorry, do you mind me asking about her?”

  “Yes, I mean no,” Jasper fumbled. “I met Jennifer in York when I was completing my articles. We literally bumped into each other one day… over… some rope.” His voice trailed off.

  “Rope?”

  Jasper tried to banish the immediate memories from his mind.

  “The Yorkshire Show – a tug of war contest.”

  Once they had descended the steps beside the elevated and contemporary architecture of Kingsgate pedestrian bridge, Jasper and Debra turned to walk downstream along the river bank. Through a camouflage of autumn shades they watched rowers in white vests glide by with powerful elegance as they walked, their footsteps crunching on the fresh, white powder of an early frost.

  At the top of the steep, ivy clad riverbank and just discernible through the ebbing foliage stood the aged and imposing university buildings of St Chad’s and St John’s Colleges.

  “Are we any closer to legal proceedings, Jasper?”

  “I have taken advice on the strength of our case, which would be one of manslaughter by gross negligence. It’s ambitious but there is a lot going for it.” Jasper said as they resumed their walk beneath the canopy of golden chestnut leaves.

  “Gross negligence?”

  “Yes, the assertion that every member of society has a duty of care not to jeopardize the safety of others by reckless or careless behaviour, like not drinking and driving for example. Vaccinations such as MMR are in place to protect society as a whole, just as much as the individual.”