I said, ‘I’ll think about it.’
She didn’t press. ‘I’ll tell you something else. You must have fantastic self-control. I’d never have guessed.’
Suddenly I wanted the evening to end and was glad when the barman rang the bell.
I looked down to drink my untouched beer, then saw that the glass was empty.
We didn’t say much on the way back, I just gazed at the patterns made by the pool of the headlamps, not knowing whether I was glad or sorry.
Outside the hotel entrance, I found myself saying, ‘Holly, I’d like to see you again. Not to off-load my problems, just to go out with you.’
‘I’d like that,’ she said, ‘but you’re leaving at the end of the week, aren’t you?’
‘There’s tomorrow, or Friday?’
‘Tomorrow I can’t, Friday’s the hospital summer disco, you can be my escort if you like. It’s that or nothing, I’m afraid, because I’m on call. I can use the bleep up there.’
‘Madam,’ I said solemnly, ‘you’d do me great honour allowing me to escort you.’
‘Thank you, kind sir.’ She tried to drop a curtsey, difficult while sitting in a car.
As we laughed, I leaned over to kiss her. I felt her respond just as I drew away.
‘Thanks, Holly,’ I said, searching for the door handle, ‘for everything.’ I wasn’t being fair to her.
‘That’s all right,’ I heard her say as I shut the door.
I watched the tail-lamps merge with the traffic.
Chapter Eight
‘That’s blood.’ Pete placed a pack in front of me and I didn’t flinch, not even inside.
‘It’s about sixty per cent liquid, mostly water, and forty per cent solid, mostly cells. Ninety-nine per cent of the cells are red cells, which give it its colour. They also carry oxygen around the body. The other one per cent are white cells, which go round gobbling up bacteria and making antibodies against them. Clear so far?’
‘Fine.’ I’d been in his laboratory perhaps fifteen minutes, waiting while he showed his assistant how to put up some tests. He was different here, not so many wisecracks.
‘Now, when an ambulance brings in someone from a road traffic accident who’s bleeding to death, what we really mean is that he’s losing oxygen-carrying capacity in the form of red cells — are you all right?’
‘I’m a bit queasy about blood, that’s all.’
‘Why didn’t you say? I could have put it differently.’
It was as easy as that.
‘Do you want me to go on?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
He thought for a moment. ‘The main purpose of transfusion is to transfer this oxygen-carrying capacity. Think of it like that, the transfer of a function. OK?’
I nodded.
‘So, I hear you asking, why all this?’ He waved a hand round the laboratory. ‘Why me? Why not just transfer this function from anybody to anybody? Well, the answer is… antibodies.
‘The original workers, back at the turn of the century, couldn’t understand why only half the transfusion cases they tried, lived — the Jehovah’s Witnesses would have loved it, Judgment of the Lord and all that. Anyway, enter the father of blood transfusion, one Karl Landsteiner, who found the answer.’
‘Which was antibodies?’
‘Right. Now, I expect you had measles as a child.’
‘I can still remember it.’
‘So can I, it’s a rotten illness. But the point is, you won’t have it again. You know why?’
‘Antibodies?’
‘Very good. Because your white cells made antibodies to it, your body is now the proverbial stony ground so far as the measles virus is concerned. In fact, you make antibodies to any foreign protein that gets into your bloodstream, which is terrific, except for one thing.’ He paused for dramatic effect. ‘You also make them against other people’s blood cells.’
I digested this for a moment. ‘What about the fifty per cent of transfusions that did work?’
Aha! You’ve got it, that’s where blood groups come in. Come over here.’
He left his seat and crossed to a poster on the opposite wall. ‘That’s a red cell.’ he pointed to a disc-shaped object. ‘They look like that in all of us, but the proteins on the surface are different. Do you know what your blood group is?’
I shook my head.
OK. Mine’s A, which means that I have a particular protein, A, on the surface of my red cells. Donna over there—’ the pretty girl with the dark curls turned at the sound of her name — ‘she’s group B, and ne’er the twain shall mix.’
‘I’ve always thought we could mix quite well,’ she said coquettishly.
Pete coughed self-consciously. ‘Maybe, but not as blood brother and sister.’
She grinned and turned back to her work.
‘Where was I? Oh, yes, A and B, the two groups that Landsteiner discovered that are still the basis of present-day transfusion.’
‘A and B?’
‘That’s right.’
‘My brother is group O.’ I said it without a tremor.
Really? How come you don’t know your own group?’
‘Just one of those things.’
‘I see’ His deep-set eyes held mine for a moment. ‘Well, O just means nought, nothing. Neither A nor B. Now, because I’m group A. I carry anti-B antibody in my plasma—’
‘Why?’
‘Don’t complicate matters, just accept that I do, all A people do.’
‘Do B people have anti-A?’
‘Very good, so what does that tell you?’
‘They don’t get on?’
‘Excellent! In fact, they have an almighty punch-up, or at least their blood does. Which is why you don’t transfuse A blood into a B person.’
‘So where does O come in?’
‘Hold on, you keep jumping ahead. Or perhaps you don’t. You can transfuse O blood into anyone. Follow?’
I concentrated for a moment. ‘Because O people don’t have A or B protein, the anti-A or anti-B can’t hurt them.’
‘The boy’s a genius!’ he declared to a spot over my left shoulder. He’s in the wrong job.’
‘He’ll be after yours if you’re not careful,’ said a familiar voice. Holly! I looked around and grinned at her.
‘I think we’ve found a strong anti-Kell,’ she said to Pete. ‘Interested?’
They conversed in gibberish for a few minutes while cheeky Donna gave me the sort of smile that makes you feel older and younger at the same time, if you see what I mean.
Then there was silence, and Donna’s smile vanished like a flower closing.
I turned just in time to intercept a mean gleam from Holly before she turned quickly and walked to the door, I’d never seen her face like that before.
‘Now where were we?’ said Pete, unaware of all this. Oh yes, the ABO system, comprising three blood groups, A, and B, and O, and a fourth, the joker in the pack, that fooled old Landsteiner for a while — AB.’
I dragged my mind back. ‘That would be someone with A and B proteins on their cells?’
‘I only wish these two were as bright as you.’
‘That’s not fair,’ protested Donna, who’d been listening in.
‘And why not, my pretty?’
‘Well, he’s older than me. Anyway, everyone knows that women are cleverer than men.’
‘More cunning and artful perhaps, but cleverer, no.’
Something in his tone made her know when to stop. She contented herself with a ‘Huh!’ and returned to her work.
‘Can I have a pencil?’ I said.
He handed me one and I wrote:
Group A B AB O
Antibody anti-B anti-A Neither
He looked at the paper, took the pencil from my hand and wrote ‘Both’ under O. ‘Think of it like this,’ he said. ‘O is the universal donor, you can put it into anyone. AB is the universal recipient, you can put anything into it.’
I studied th
e piece of paper and worked it out. ‘I can see why some of the early random transfusions worked,’ I said, ‘but you can’t tell how many unless you know the frequencies of these groups.’
‘The computer man speaks.’ he handed me the pencil. ‘Write them down. In this country, about 47% of people are group O, 43% and A, 7% are B and the lucky 3%, AB.’
‘Why lucky?’
‘Because you can put any of the other groups into them and not do any harm.’
I looked back down at the paper. ‘About half of the random transfusions worked, I think you said.’
‘That’s right.’
I scribbled down some figures. ‘I’d have thought more like sixty per cent.’
A flicker of respect crossed his face. ‘That’s right, about sixty per cent.’
‘Where does the positive and negative come in?’
‘I thought you said you didn’t know anything about blood.’
I shrugged. ‘One hears these terms.’ And sees them on forensic reports.
‘Well, it stands for Rhesus positive and negative, after a protein in the monkey of the same name. About 80% of people have this protein on their cells and are positive, the rest are negative. The system’s superimposed on the ABO system.’
‘I’m lost,’ I said.
‘That’s nothing, there are literally dozens of other blood systems, although not so critically important as ABO and Rhesus. My job is sorting them all out.’
We spent the next half-hour talking about whether the computer could help him, then he stood up and suggested coffee.
‘Thanks for telling me about blood groups,’ I said. ‘You should have been a teacher.’
He gave a wry chuckle. ‘Funny you should say that, I’ve wanted to lecture full time at a college for ages.’
‘You should. You’d be good at it.’
He shrugged. ‘I’ve left it too late, you need a Ph.D. These days.’
‘Couldn’t you get one?’
He smiled mirthlessly. ‘I’ve been working on one for — oh, forget it, let’s get some coffee.’ He made for the door as though he regretted saying even this much.
In the tea-room I smiled at Adrian to see whether it would disconcert him. It didn’t. Muddy brown eyes touched mine for an instant, then he looked expressionlessly away.
Later, I walked slowly up to the canteen, glad to be alone, glad of the time to think. The only other point of interest I gleaned from Pete was that the qualified staff in the Centre were interchangeable and could all do each other’s job on-call, so I couldn’t eliminate anyone that way. Pity.
My eyes fell on Steve and David at a table, and on impulse I joined them.
David, who had been talking animatedly, fell silent as I approached. Steve gave his usual grin.
‘Enjoy yourself in Pete’s lab this morning?’ he asked as I sat down.
‘More than I thought I would.’
‘Learn much?’
‘More than I thought I would.’
He laughed. ‘Pete talks well about his subject. I can’t promise you such an interesting time this afternoon.’
David said, ‘Steve, I have to get back now.’
‘Fine. See you later.’
‘Aren’t you coming?’
‘Not yet. See you later.’
David gave him a reproachful look before walking disconsolately away.
I said, ‘I didn’t know you two were buddies.’
‘We’re not. David’s one of those people who has to have a shoulder to cry on. I’m this week’s choice.’
‘Sort of male Auntie Holly?’
‘Who told you about that?’
‘She did.’
He looked faintly surprised, then said, ‘I don’t have her patience, except where David’s concerned. She can’t bear him.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Why d’you think? He’s such a toss-pot.’
‘And yet she puts up with Adrian.’
His teeth gleamed wolfishly. ‘Jealous?’
‘Of Adrian? That’s a contradiction in terms, surely?’
He chuckled briefly, then looked sober. ‘It’s not funny actually, those two give the rest of us a bad name. Oh well!’ He made as if to leave, so I said quickly, ‘I didn’t know Pete was doing a Ph.D.’
Steve sat down again. ‘Did he tell you that?’
‘Yes. Why?’
He shrugged. ‘He doesn’t usually talk about it.’
‘Why not? It’s something to be proud of, surely?’
‘Perhaps.’ He looked down for a moment. ‘He’s had a very difficult time with it. People are jealous.’
‘Are you?’
‘Not of all the hassle. I probably will be when he gets it.’
I grinned at his disarming frankness. ‘Is that why he’s had trouble, because people are jealous?’
‘Sort of.’ He gave a twisted smile. ‘It’s another Falkenham story, I’m afraid. You see—’ he leaned forward — ‘when you do a doctorate, you have to have an external assessor. Pete managed to clear it with the local polytechnic, no mean feat in itself, but when he approached the Director to be external assessor, Falkenham not only refused, but wouldn’t allow him any financial support or time off. Pete’s had to do it all on his own. D’you know how much it costs to do a Ph.D. These days?’
I shook my head.
‘You’re talking about five grand. I’ve nothing but admiration for him.’
There was a short silence, then I said, ‘Why should Falkenham be so against it?’
He shrugged again. ‘Didn’t like the idea of calling Pete “doctor”, perhaps.’
‘So, who is the external — er…?’
‘Assessor. Don Chalgrove, who else?’
I smiled slowly. ‘Those two really are diametrically opposed, aren’t they? How did Trefor react to all this?’
‘As always, he supported the Director. Look, Tom,’ he stood up. ‘I’m sorry, but I must go. See you later.’
* * *
I sat back and thought about what Steve had said. Was he a reliable witness, or was his evidence tainted by his dislike of Falkenham? Curious how Steve seemed to dislike him more than Pete did, who had greater cause.
I thought about the web of relationships throughout the Centre, were they the threads that held the mystery together?
Holly, who liked everyone except David — why David?
Adrian, who disliked everyone except Holly. And possibly Trefor.
Trefor, the compleat establishment man, who carried his support for the underdog to a ridiculous degree — it was no good, I’d have to draw a map of everyone’s loves and hates.
I wandered back down to the Centre, wondering what to do, then it occurred to me that there’d never be a better chance of examining the Blood Bank unsupervised.
I glanced quickly into Blood Issue, just a filing clerk busy filing her nails.
Trefor’s office — empty. I slipped through the narrow corridor and pulled open the heavy door.
Everything seems to lead back here, I thought, as my eyes instinctively sought the chalk mark on the floor. It was still there.
Whatever had been going on, and I thought I knew now, revolved around this room. My eyes ranged the blood-filled shelves — strange, only four days and its power over me was so diminished; on Monday it had taken all my will-power just to walk in.
Time-expired blood, where would I find it? Perhaps in that crate over there marked ‘Time-expired blood.’ Genius!
I walked over. The crate was overflowing, it must have held nearly fifty packs. Well, Trefor had said that there was still plenty of it, but I hadn’t expected this much.
I had an idea, and quickly crossed the corridor into Plasma.
Looked around at the clipboards hung at intervals around the wall. Which would it be?
Found the one marked ‘Expired plasma and flipped back through the worksheets — a month, two, three. Hardly any Time-expired plasma was being separated, perhaps half a dozen a week. U
ntil a week ago, when there were nearly forty.
Why the sudden increase?
There was an obvious answer — whoever had been nicking it had stopped after Mike Leigh had been killed.
So who was it? I still wasn’t quite sure.
I replaced the clipboard and walked thoughtfully back into the cool of the Bank. Expired blood came back daily; had it been stolen daily?
Nightly probably, and Hill was still the most likely candidate for that.
Standing next to the ‘Time-expired’ crate was another, marked ‘Returned Blood’. I walked over. Two packs nestled upside down in the bottom. Why returned?
Without thinking, I knelt and stretched out a hand to pick one up, then recoiled.
Go on, I said to myself, you nearly did it.
My heartbeat burned my throat. I swallowed, reached out my hand… no, it was no good…
The room around me shadowed imperceptibly. I looked round as a voice demanded, ‘What the bloody hell are you doing in here?’ His bulk filled the door. Adrian.
I slowly stood up. ‘Seeing where things are kept. Why?’
‘Because the Blood Bank’s a restricted area, that’s why.’ He approached me. ‘Because you’re supposed to ask before you come in here.’ He was no taller than me, but his mass seemed to hold me in the corner. ‘But mostly because I say so, because I don’t like you being in here.’
‘Then I’d better find someone to ask, hadn’t I?’
He didn’t move. ‘It’s me you have to ask.’
‘Oh no. I’m going over your head, to your boss, so if you’ll excuse me…’
Still he wouldn’t move. ‘I haven’t finished yet. You can keep away from Miss Jordan, she’s not interested in you.’
‘That’s for her—’
‘She’s not interested in you—’ he stepped forward, placed a foot over mine — ‘because I say so—’
‘Get off my—’
‘Because I say so, see?’ He turned, twisting his shoe heavily, then walked quickly away.
I stared after him, trembling, wanting to run and kick him, pull him round and sink a fist in his gut, knowing that if I did, Trefor would have me thrown out of the Centre.
Impotently, I limped back to the Plasma Lab and forced myself to relax; it was one of the few times since giving up smoking that I really wanted a cigarette.
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