Neef poured himself a night cap of whisky and sat down on the couch with a sigh. Dolly positioned herself at his feet. Eve was still very much in his mind; if he closed his eyes and put back his head he could see her smile. She put her head a little to one side when she laughed; it was a mannerism he liked a lot. He felt a pang of guilt at the thought, something to do with Elaine’s ghost but there was no denying the fact that he had enjoyed the evening very much. His only regret was that it seemed to have flown by. But there would be other evenings, he felt sure of that. He decided to concentrate on that thought as he rinsed out his glass. He was only vaguely aware of Dolly making herself comfortable on the foot of the bed as he dropped off to sleep.
Neef woke with a start as the telephone rang. He clicked on the bedside light and looked at his watch. It was two thirty am.
“Mike? It’s Kate Morse. I’m really sorry to disturb you.”
“What’s the problem?” asked Neef, rubbing his eyes. He was trying to remember if Kate was on duty tonight. He felt sure she wasn’t.
“It’s Charlie,” said Kate. “I’m worried sick.”
“Charlie?” repeated Neef.
“He’s a lot worse. I called in the GP again as you suggested but he said there was nothing to worry about. It was just a bad dose of flu. He’d be right as rain in a couple of days. He should stay in bed and take aspirin, you know the routine. But he won’t be, I know it, Mike. He’s really sick and I don’t know what to do for the best.”
Neef could hear how worried Kate was. She was a very experienced nurse and used to modulating her voice through all sorts of crises but she was having a hard time doing it this time. “I’ll come over, Kate. Give me fifteen minutes.”
“Thanks Mike. I’m so grateful.”
Neef pulled on jeans, a tee shirt and a warm sweater while Dolly opened one eye to watch the proceedings. “Keep my place warm, Dolls,” he said as he put on a waterproof jacket and pulled his medical case out from beneath the bed. Dolly closed her eyes again. She didn’t move.
The journey to the small bungalow where Kate and Charlie Morse lived took twelve minutes. During the day it would have taken half an hour but at three in the morning the streets were virtually free of traffic. A couple of taxis and a police panda car were the only other signs of life as he negotiated roads that were rapidly turning into rivers.
“Thanks for coming, Mike,” whispered Kate as she answered the door. “He’s through here.”
Charlie Morse didn’t turn to look at Neef as he entered the room. He continued to stare up at the ceiling while taking rapid shallow breaths. He had the bed-covers down at waist level. His skin was pale and a thin film of sweat coated it. There was an unpleasant, sweet smell in the room, nothing specific, just the universal smell of illness, thought Neef.
“I won’t ask you how you’re doing, Charlie,” he said. “I can see that for myself.”
Neef took out his stethoscope and warmed it briefly on the palm of his hand before applying it to Charlie’s chest. When he’d finished, Kate stepped in to help support her husband in a sitting position while Neef sounded Charlie from the back.
“Okay,” said Neef.
Kate let Charlie sink back down on the bed. She tried to bring up the covers but Charlie stopped her with a vague push of his hand.
Neef moved back from the bed and Kate joined him, looking apprehensive.
“We’re going to have to get him to hospital,” said Neef. “He has severe pneumonia, both lungs.”
“The phone’s out here,” said Kate. She led Neef out into the hall where he dialled 999.”
“That bad?” said Kate.
“The quicker the better,” said Neef, “and if you’ll take some advice, Kate.”
“Yes?”
“Change your GP. He’s an idiot.”
Kate nodded. Her mind was racing ahead to the next problem. “Mike, could I possibly ask you to stay here for a few minutes in case the kids wake up. I’m going next door to see if I can a get a neighbour to look after them. I’d like to go to the hospital with Charlie.”
“Of course,” said Neef.
Kate threw a coat round her shoulders and disappeared out through the front door. Neef returned to Charlie’s room and told him the ambulance was on its way. Charlie acknowledged with a slight nod of his head. He was breathing more rapidly than ever. A long way off in the distance, Neef thought he could hear the wail of a siren.
As the ambulance drew up outside the house, Kate came running up the path. “Mrs Redpath is going to come over,” she said to Neef. “Could you hang on till she comes?”
“Of course.”
Neef watched the two green-clad technicians load the stretcher bearing Charlie Morse into the back of the ambulance. Kate stood beside the open doors, her coat draped over her shoulders against the rain. She glanced up at Neef and he saw the worry on her face. The neon street lights were being unkind. She had aged ten years.
“Mrs Redpath won’t be long,” said Kate.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Kate climbed into the back, the doors were closed and the ambulance moved off into the night, its blue light flashing mutely through the rain.
“Where are they taking him?” asked a well modulated woman’s voice behind Neef.
Neef turned to find a small, stout woman standing there. Her fair-skinned face was fringed by a halo of pure white hair. She had a coat on over her dressing gown but was still wearing carpet slippers. Neef could see the wet ring around the outside edge of them. “Mrs Redpath?” he enquired.
“Yes, and you must be Dr Neef. Kate told me you’d wait.”
“University College Hospital,” said Neef.
“He’ll be well looked after there,” said the woman.
Neef nodded.
Neef left Mrs Redpath in charge of the house and the Morse children who had slept throughout the proceedings and drove home. He wasn’t going to get much sleep, he realised.
Neef actually slept for three hours before the alarm went off but it felt as though his head had hardly touched the pillow. He got up and took a long, hot shower before making himself plenty of strong coffee and two slices of toast. It was seven forty-five when he set off for the hospital and a scheduled early morning briefing with staff. This was held in a small seminar room beside the theatres. Neef was last to arrive; he pulled a paper cup off the stack and poured himself some coffee from the machine.
“Good Morning everyone,” he said in a voice loud enough to quieten the hubbub. “I just thought I should say something about the Gene Therapy trial we’re starting this morning and how it affects you. The fact is that we will be using more or less standard surgical procedures throughout so we won’t be asking anything new of you at all; that’s why I could leave this briefing so late. Our first patient this morning is, Rebecca Daley. Rebecca has a hepatoma and it will be our task today to inject the tumour with a virus suspension provided by Dr Pereira here. The virus carries a gene which hopefully will make Rebecca’s liver tumour sensitive to Gancyclovir which we will start giving her in seven day’s time. I’ll be doing the injection myself under ultra sound guidance. It should be quite straightforward. The second operation will be on Martin Liddle and this will be performed by one of Mr Louradis’ surgical team. I’m afraid I haven’t been briefed on who exactly. Martin has a pancreatic tumour and we will be introducing Dr Pereira’s virus through ERCP. If anyone has forgotten, that is Endoscopic Retrograde Cholangio Pancreotography. In this instance of course, we won’t be using the technique to extract a tissue sample, we’ll be injecting the virus.” Neef turned to Pereira who this morning was wearing a Tee shirt advertising a SCUBA diving school on Crete. “Basically they’ll be inserting an endoscopy tube equipped with light and video camera down the patient’s throat, through the stomach and duodenum until we reach the pancreas. We’ll be able to follow its progress all the way on a video monitor.”