Bloodstains

by Andrew Puckett

  Clattered down the hollow concrete stairs to the next landing and pulled at the door. It was locked, and I couldn’t remember the way round to the other staircase. Anyway, that was probably locked as well.

  The tiny notice above the key in its glass-fronted case read: ‘Break only in Emergency’.

  Not really an emergency, wanting to find Holly. Important, though.

  I found an old shilling, which fitted quite nicely under the head of the plastic rivet holding the glass. A twist, and it was in my hand.

  The door opened easily, and I held it with a toe while replacing key and glass. They’d have to wonder about the rivet.

  It was deathly quiet and the shadows in the corridor became the images of my last nocturnal visit, then I heard the whine of a centrifuge and saw the light coming from Pete’s laboratory.

  She was just as I remembered first seeing her, a white coat brought to life by the body inside.

  She turned suddenly as she sensed me.

  ‘Tom! What are you doing here?’

  ‘I came to find you.’

  ‘You came… Oh Tom, not now,’ she wailed, ‘a man’s bleeding to death and I’m trying to find the right blood for him.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said humbly. ‘If you want me to go, I’ll find a taxi…’

  ‘Surely you don’t want to stay!’

  ‘I do, actually.’

  She was still staring at me when a timer went off, making us both jump.

  ‘Oh, all right.’ She pointed a long-suffering finger. ‘But you sit down there, and don’t say a word unless I speak first.’

  I thought I could detect a softening of tone and wondered about making a mock salute but thought better of it.

  She twisted a knob and gazed thoughtfully for a moment at the top of the centrifuge as the note of its whine fell, then turned and grinned at me.

  ‘Actually, I wouldn’t mind some company tonight, so long as you promise not to interrupt while I’m in the middle of something.’

  ‘Scout’s Honour. Am I allowed to speak now?’

  ‘Yes, for about half a minute.’

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Finding the patient’s blood group.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I cross-match blood of the right group with his blood.’ The whine died away. ‘No more talking while I do this group.’

  She opened the lid of the centrifuge and carefully took out several tiny glass tubes that sparkled like jewels beneath the Anglepoise lamp. Then she extracted some of the contents of each on to glass slides, which she examined one by one under a microscope.

  ‘A-Positive,’ she declared at last, making a note on a pad, ‘Good.’ She hurried out of the room.

  My eyes wandered over the laboratory — how it reflects Pete’s mind, I thought, neat and efficient.

  Holly’s rapid footsteps approached, then she was back with a crate of blood packs which she lined up on the bench like soldiers. She sat down and started to work, her hands moving like birds among the equipment as ranks of tubes fell into racks, beads of serum glistened like oil as they dropped into them, to be joined by falling rubies of blood as the whine of the centrifuge rose and fell.

  Then with a plop she submerged one of the racks in a water bath, reset the timer and turned to me, leaning back against the bench with an exhilarated smile.

  ‘Can I speak now?’ I asked.

  ‘If you like.’

  ‘What were you doing?’

  Her smile widened, she was enjoying herself.

  ‘I’ve set up a cross-match between the patient’s blood and these donations. Finding the right group is just the beginning, you have to make sure they won’t react because of some peculiar antibody or other.’

  She launched into a highly technical explanation that I couldn’t follow despite Pete’s lecture, but enjoyed through the vitality of her movements and expressions.

  ‘Come over here, I’ll show you.’

  She thrust a slide under the microscope, pulled the seat under her and leaned forward to peer down the eyepiece. The fine hair fell away either side of her neck and my eyes were drawn to the tiny duck’s tail of shorter hairs at the margin. I drew close and the smell of her made me want to touch it.

  ‘Now look.’ Her head turned, and our noses missed by a thread. ‘Look down there,’ she said uncertainly, leaning back to give me more room.

  Dutifully I applied an eye to the lens, but her nearness made it impossible to take anything in.

  ‘The focus might not be right,’ she murmured, and our fingers touched as she showed me the adjuster.

  Then without warning she slid away from the seat. ‘You’d better sit down if you want to look at it properly.’ The slightly teacherish tone was back in her voice.

  I sat on the warm seat and looked again; this time a field of tumbling red discs like the one on Pete’s chart swam into view.

  That’s blood as you’d expect to see it.’ She swapped slides. ‘Now look again.’

  This time the discs were matted together in bizarre configurations.

  ‘That’s what happens if you put the wrong blood into the wrong patient.’

  ‘And you’re looking for this sort of reaction in these donations?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘What happens if they all react?’

  ‘Panic.’

  ‘No, really?’

  ‘Well, I’d find the antibody in the patient’s blood that causes the reaction, then use the computer to see what suitable blood we have, then re-cross-match.’

  ‘Computers do have their uses, then?’

  ‘Who said they didn’t?’

  ‘Plenty of people. Holly?’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘How long d’you think before you’ve finished?’

  ‘Oh, about half an hour. Why?’

  ‘Come and have a drink with me in the hotel.’

  Again, the characteristic hesitation. ‘Let’s see how we feel when we get there, shall we?’ A pause. ‘Tom?’

  I looked up.

  ‘Did you hurt Adrian on purpose?’

  To lie or not to lie? Compromise.

  ‘I didn’t come out this evening wanting to hurt him. Let’s say that when it happened, I did nothing to prevent it. He tripped me on purpose, you know.’

  ‘I know.’ The grey eyes wouldn’t let mine go. ‘But did you have to hurt him so much?’

  ‘He’s got a screw loose—’

  ‘He’s not that bad, you don’t understand him.’

  ‘Oh, but I do, he’s pathological—’

  ‘So, it was deliberate, which makes you just as bad.’

  ‘Rubbish. Steve told me there was still something between you—’

  ‘It’s none of his business,’ she flared. ‘Or yours.’

  The timer went off and she abruptly turned to her work.

  I could feel her resentment, her regret at letting me stay. So why had she let me stay… what was there between her and Adrian?

  One thing was certain: there would be no cosy drink at the hotel bar tonight, or even cosier nocturne.

  ‘Oh, damn you, Tom Jones!’

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘You’ve put a curse on this blood, every single one’s reacted.’

  ‘I’m sorry—’

  ‘Be quiet, I’m thinking.’

  She carefully examined the slides again, then picked up the tubes from which they had been prepared, holding each one up to the light. Then she jumped up and did the same with the tubes from the other rack.

  She stared at the inky window.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ I ventured.

  ‘I said be quiet.’ She nibbled a thumbnail for a moment, then crossed to the telephone, snatched up the receiver, and dialled.

  ‘Dr Petrie? Cross-matching Laboratory. I’m afraid we have a problem: your patient has an antibody.’

  The earpiece crackled.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Holly, ‘you’d better speak to the
MO on call, that’s Dr Chalgrove.’ She gave a number, said yes a few times and then replaced the receiver.

  She looked at me. ‘This could take hours; perhaps you had better find a taxi.’

  ‘D’you mind if I stay?’

  She shrugged impatiently. ‘It’s up to you.’

  She pulled open the door of the refrigerator and searched until she found a rack of small bottles. Then she started work again, her hands moving faster than ever.

  The telephone rang, she sprang up, submerging her latest rack of tubes in the water bath en route.

  ‘… Dr Chalgrove… yes, Ive just done it… Oh, ten or fifteen minutes, then perhaps half an hour for the cross-match… Yes, I thought you might… Yes, 111 let you know.’ She replaced the receiver with a sigh.

  After a moment I said, ‘am I allowed to speak now?’

  ‘Oh — yes.’

  ‘I take it Chalgrove’s been talking with the doctor in charge.’

  ‘Yes, he’s advised him to use haemocell, that’s a plasma expander.’

  ‘Sounds revolting.’

  She looked up at me. ‘It could save his life. By expanding what little blood he has left, it prevents his veins collapsing.’

  ‘So what do you do next?’ I asked in a perfectly level voice.

  Still her eyes were on me. ‘Put a name to the rare antibody in the patient that’s causing the problem.’

  ‘Does this often happen?’

  ‘Rarely. That’s why they’re called rare antibodies.’

  ‘Ha, ha, smartass. Er — did I hear right just now when you told Chalgrove that it would take three-quarters-of-an-hour rather than the hours plural hitherto suggested?’

  She stuck out her tongue at me. ‘All right. I was just so mad when that blood wouldn’t match, it would have to happen when it was most needed. Besides—’ she tilted her head slightly — ‘I wasn’t feeling very pleased with you.’

  The silence was filled by the timer and she hurried over to the microscope.

  Minutes passed.

  ‘Little e,’ she announced at last.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  She stood up. ‘Little e, that’s the name of the antibody.’

  ‘Not very imaginative, they might at least have called it Ernie—’

  ‘Which means that we’ll need R2R2 blood,’ she continued, crossing to the computer terminal.

  ‘Ronald, Reginald,’ I muttered as her fingers rattled the keys and the screen came to life.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said a moment later. ‘We’ve got six in stock, I’ll go and find them.’

  ‘Can I give you a hand?’ I said nonchalantly.

  ‘No, thanks, Tom.’ She paused, and her eyes searched my face. ‘You can come if you like.’

  The coolness of the Blood Bank seemed to carry its own quietness.

  ‘They should be in here.’ She pulled a wire basket towards her. ‘Hell! There’s only three.’

  ‘Have they been issued?’

  ‘Can’t have been, they wouldn’t still be in the computer. No, they’re in among that lot somewhere.’ She indicated the regiments of packs and drew a piece of paper from her pocket. ‘Look, here are the numbers, you take that side, I’ll take this.’

  With the slightest of tremors, I began shuffling through the rows of packs; this faded as they began to assume a malignant will of their own beneath my increasingly cold and clumsy fingers.

  ‘Ah!’ She had found one. I glanced over and mentally crossed the number from my list.

  My fingers were completely numb now and kept getting tangled in the tubing, it was useless -

  ‘Here’s another, Holly.’

  ‘Well done.’

  We searched for another minute, then she said, ‘we’ve wasted enough time. These five’ll have to do.’

  Back in the laboratory, I blew on my hands and rubbed them together as she put up another series of tests.

  At last she had finished.

  ‘How long now?’ I asked.

  ‘Twenty minutes or so. Tom?’

  I raised my head. ‘Mmm?’

  ‘You realize what you’ve been doing, don’t you?’

  I looked down again. ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Well, go on, say it!’

  ‘I can’t,’ I said at last. ‘It’ll break the spell.’

  ‘No, you won’t, you’ll—’ she searched for words — ‘you’ll seal it, confirm it.’

  Silence, while the tip of my tongue touched my lips and I felt her eyes on me.

  ‘I’ve been handling packs of blood.’

  ‘As though they were oranges in a supermarket.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you weren’t scared?’

  ‘No.’

  The warmth of her smile should have made me feel — I don’t know — grateful or something, but that wasn’t what I felt.

  ‘I’d better tidy up,’ she said unsteadily, turned and busied herself while I watched and waited.

  I felt triumphant and lustful, and not just for her body. I wanted to tear away and destroy the layers of schoolmarmish sexlessness, awake her, plant inside her a mark that would prevent Adrian from ever touching her again.

  And as I watched her, I knew that despite my ignoble motives, I was going to do it, because she wanted me to.

  The telephone again. ‘Hello, cross-matching… Yes, I have five units which will be ready in five minutes… Yes, that’ll be fine.’ The single ding as she replaced the headpiece seemed unnaturally loud. ‘They’re sending down a nurse,’ she said, refusing to meet my eyes.

  The alarm shrilled for the last time and she gratefully turned to her racks and tubes.

  She was still bent over the microscope when there was an apologetic cough at the door. I turned to see a very young nurse.

  ‘I’ve come for the blood for David Brown,’ she said.

  Chapter Twelve

  The blood for who?’ I demanded, taking a step towards her.

  She backed away, startled. ‘David Brown.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Intensive care, they’re about to operate.’

  ‘Whatever’s the matter?’ cried Holly.

  I turned and snatched up the form lying in front of her. ‘D. Brown’ was scrawled in one corner.

  ‘David Brown,’ I said, holding it in front of her. ‘It’s David, didn’t you realize?’

  ‘Realize what? There must be a hundred David Browns in this region!’

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ I said to the nurse.

  ‘It’s not the same one,’ said Holly. ‘It can’t be. We saw him scarcely two hours—’

  ‘It’s him!’ I turned to the nurse. ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘Multiple fractures. They’re about to operate, I must have the blood, so if you’ll excuse me…’

  ‘OK, it’s ready now.’ Holly packed it into a plastic box which she handed to her. ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes,’ I said to Holly.

  ‘Tom, you can’t—’

  ‘Just a few minutes. Could you wait here?’

  ‘I don’t think you should—’ began the nurse.

  ‘It’s all right, I work here. David Brown’s a friend of mine.’ I walked out of the lab and she had little choice but to follow.

  ‘I’ll open the doors for you,’ I said.

  We passed out of the lobby into the starry summer night.

  ‘Can I carry that for you?’ I asked.

  She clutched the box tightly. ‘I mustn’t let anyone else touch it.’

  We walked in a fast, uneasy silence across the grass by the side of the Centre towards the entrance of the main building.

  ‘I was with him only a couple of hours ago.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I just can’t understand what can have happened. Don’t you have any idea?’

  ‘I think he had a fall.’

  We reached the main entrance and the doors hissed open automatically. A porter looked up from the reception desk as our feet echoed in the hallway.
/>
  Down a wide, brightly lit corridor. ‘Here,’ she said, turning to where the lifts waited with doors open.

  Silence as they slid shut and we ascended.

  Level five. She stepped out and along a corridor, not waiting for me. A blue sign said ‘Operating Theatres — Authorized Personnel only.’ Beneath it sat Falkenham and Sergeant Bennett.

  ‘Mr Jones,’ said the former tonelessly, ‘what are you doing here?’

  The nurse vanished between some swing doors.

  ‘I’ve just heard,’ I said. ‘I was with Miss Jordan, I didn’t realize until—’

  ‘You had no business to be with Miss Jordan. You have no business here.’

  I sat down beside them. ‘I think when you hear what I have to say—’

  ‘This intrusion is in the worst possible taste. David’s wife and mother are over there.’

  He nodded imperceptibly towards two women I hadn’t noticed before on the other side of the hall.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry.’ I lowered my voice. ‘How is he?’

  ‘Not good,’ Falkenham said in an undertone.

  Bennett was twitching with impatience. ‘What was it you had to say?’

  Falkenham shot him an irritated glance.

  ‘It seems irrelevant now, but…’ I hesitated.

  ‘Well, come on.’

  ‘David Brown was part of the conspiracy.’

  They looked at each other for an instant, then Falkenham said, ‘You were right, it is an irrelevance. I think you’d better go.’

  ‘How do you know he was part of the conspiracy?’ asked Bennett.

  ‘He admitted it to me tonight at the dance. Said he would tell me about it later.’

  Bennett softly whistled. ‘Had he been drinking?’

  ‘Quite a bit.’

  ‘Well, that might explain it.’

  ‘Explain what?’

  ‘How he came to fall.’

  ‘Where did he fall from?’ I asked innocently.

  ‘Top of the building, just where all that scaffolding is. It broke his fall on the way down which is why he’s still—’

  A sharp nudge from Falkenham stopped him.

  ‘Accident?’

  ‘Probably,’ Bennett said shortly.

  ‘When did it happen?’

  ‘I think that’s enough questions,’ said Falkenham. ‘I can’t see how it concerns you.’