‘That would be entirely up to you,’ Elizabeth said, looking at Grace. ‘You could give a part donation, such as heart, lungs, liver and kidneys, or a more full donation, which would include his eyes to help blind people see again, skin, bones, bone marrow.’
‘If,’ Roy Grace said, ‘and only if I agreed, would there be any difference to Bruno whether it was a partial or total donation?’
She gave him a deeply sympathetic and understanding smile. ‘The only difference would be in the number of people he could help.’
‘Is there the remotest danger Bruno would feel anything? Like, pain?’
Charlotte Elizabeth shook her head. ‘It’s a good question and let me assure you that Bruno would absolutely not feel any pain at all. I could explain the process, if you would like?’
Both of them nodded.
‘The first thing to do is perform tests to confirm the brainstem is dead, which we have done. Then the transplant team would want to harvest the organs as soon as possible, after testing they are in good condition. It’s a difficult job but they are really skilled at it. At the same time, the team would be starting to look for suitable recipients, who could be anywhere in Europe. Once they’ve been identified, whether within the UK or on the continent, teams would motorbike or fly in for the relevant parts and rush them to hospitals where the recipients would already be anaesthetized in anticipation of receiving the transplants.’ She paused for a moment. ‘It would be impossible to overstate just how grateful recipients — and their families — are.’
Grace looked at Cleo and saw the quiet encouragement in her eyes. Then he looked up at the coordinator. ‘If I... we... consented, would we ever find out the names — identities — of the people — who received Bruno’s organs?’
She nodded. ‘We can’t initially tell you any names — that depends on whether they or their families agree. But for sure you would be able to know just how many people — and where — were helped.’
Roy Grace nodded, trying to think clearly through his muzzy brain. ‘I’m sorry if I’m being forgetful, but can we go through the situation again as I understand it?’
‘We all understand how difficult this is for you. For anyone,’ Elizabeth said.
‘Thank you.’ His eyes were misting. ‘So, you need to keep Bruno on life support?’
‘That’s correct, yes,’ Dr Williams said. ‘We could maintain him on that for a short while.’
‘But the moment you took him off the support mechanisms, he would pass away fairly quickly?’
‘Correct, yes.’
‘So all of you agree that Bruno is brain dead?’ Cleo asked, partly resigned, partly disbelievingly, and partly just for it to sink in.
‘I’m afraid so,’ Williams said.
Grace sat in silence for some while, squeezing Cleo’s hand and feeling the pressure back. Thinking.
Sandy had vanished twelve years ago. He’d never even known she was pregnant. The last time he had seen her, she was lying in a High Dependency Unit in hospital in Munich, severely injured after being struck by a taxi, plumbed into a forest of life support and monitoring equipment.
Then she had died and left him with his challenging son, who, until that point, he had never known existed.
And now Bruno was lying, similarly, in England, after being struck by a car.
How had it come to this?
He looked up at Dr Williams, at Imelda Bray, at Charlotte Elizabeth. Like himself, he knew, these people were professionals who dealt with situations like this on a daily business. Just as he himself regularly talked to the loved ones of people who had been brutally murdered, for these three, this was just routine, however much they dressed it up with sympathy and understanding. They could have been door-to-door salespeople, he thought darkly for a moment, trying to flog him a vacuum cleaner or an insurance policy or double glazing. They were trying to sell him the idea of transplants. His son’s organs and other body parts.
Feeling a surge of sadness, which he swallowed back, he asked the consultant, ‘Is it going to make any difference if we agree to it now or in a few hours’ time — or tomorrow?’
‘There is some time pressure for you to consent, Mr Grace. With every hour, as Bruno becomes increasingly unstable, the blood supply to his heart and kidneys, in particular, will lessen and the quality of the organs will suffer. Those organs only remain viable for transplant for a short while, so we always try to arrange transplants for as soon as possible.’
Williams looked at his two colleagues. They both nodded.
‘So,’ Grace said, ‘if we were going to consent to organ donation, the sooner we did it, the more valuable it would be?’
‘That is correct,’ the consultant said.
‘Can we go back and see my son?’ Grace asked.
‘We’ll take you to him now.’
‘May I suggest one thing,’ Grace said solemnly. ‘Out of respect, we don’t talk about Bruno’s condition, or anything to do with possible transplants, in his presence.’
‘Understood,’ said Williams quietly.
58
They remained at Bruno’s bedside for twenty minutes before returning to the Relatives’ Room with Williams and the two women.
After some moments, Grace asked, ‘If... if we did agree to donating some — or all — of Bruno’s organs, what would the process be?’
The counsellor, Imelda Bray, then said, ‘We would give you all the time you need to sit with him. What we could do is dress him in his favourite clothes: does he have a cap or a T-shirt, or something like that, which he loves to wear?’
Grace nodded. ‘Yes, he does.’
‘Perhaps you could bring them. We could play his favourite music. If he’s into computer games, bring one in, something like his iPad, if he has one?’
‘He does, yes,’ Cleo said.
‘Then the best thing for you,’ the counsellor said, ‘is to say goodbye to Bruno on the ward before we take him down to the operating theatre.’
‘If we agreed to donate everything that could be helpful,’ Grace asked, ‘what would be left? What I... I mean — is that his mother is buried here in Brighton and I’d like to bury him near her grave. Will there be something to bury?’
‘Of course, plenty, darling,’ Cleo interjected.
Imelda Bray gave her a knowing smile. ‘You’re the expert on this.’
‘But not on my stepson — I... couldn’t...’
‘Please don’t worry, we wouldn’t dream of that,’ Charlotte Elizabeth said. ‘Our own team are very experienced in this. You would be able to give him a proper funeral.’
Roy and Cleo sat in silence for a long while. Finally, Roy stood up and held out his hand to Cleo. Addressing the three hospital staff, he said, ‘You’ve been incredibly helpful, I’m very grateful. If you could give my wife and I some time to go away and discuss this... who should I call when we’ve come to a decision later today?’
Imelda Bray gave him her card. ‘It has my mobile number — you can reach me any time.’
He glanced at the card then pocketed it. ‘Thank you, all of you, for being so helpful. I’ll try to get back to you as quickly as I can.’
He turned away, so they couldn’t see his tears, opened the door for Cleo and followed her out. As he did, his job phone rang.
59
‘I’m just in the hospital,’ Roy Grace answered. He looked at his watch: 6.45 a.m. ‘I’ll call you back, Glenn? And will you take the morning briefing?’
‘Sure, but just call me whatever I’m doing and I’ll answer.’