“Damnation,” said Neef. “What are they playing at?” He diverted his eyes so that Kate would not see any signs of the alarm bells ringing inside his head. An atypical pneumonia that wasn’t responding to treatment? It seemed too much like re-visiting a bad dream. He looked sideways at Kate and saw that she was under great strain. It was etched in worry lines round her eyes.
“How was Thomas’ op?” Kate asked in a brave attempt to change the subject.
“He’s fine,” replied Neef. “The operation wasn’t exactly smooth but he came through it OK. Now we’ll have to hope for the best for all of them.”
“Tracy Torrance died in the Randolf Clinic this afternoon,” said Kate. “You were in theatre at the time.”
Neef nodded sadly. “I hope to God her mother doesn’t still believe I wished it on her,” he said.
“I’m sure she won’t,” said Kate. “Once all the pain and grief has gone away and she can think clearly again.”
Neef was happy to see that the leaked story about the Gene Therapy patients at St George’s, ‘New Hope for Cancer Kids’ wasn’t too sensational. Although Mark Louradis had sought the publicity himself, he had apparently played out the role of reluctant academic being interviewed by an intrusive press. He had trotted out the usual platitudes about things ‘being at a very early stage’ and it being ‘too soon to say’ if the patients were going to benefit. He himself was only ‘part of a team’ and a lot of dedicated people were involved. It would be some time before the therapy would be generally available. All mind numbing stuff that the press and public had heard so often before, thought Neef. The press however, did now know what was going on and he could expect their continued interest.
On the evening of the following day, The Citizen ran Eve’s story about the two cancer girls, based on Mr Lees’ complaint to the paper and her own subsequent investigation of the facts. She had waited two days as she promised she would to see if Lennon’s people would come up with anything but they hadn’t and had admitted as much in an interview. The story made the front page. “City Fear as Cancer Killer Baffles Boffins”.
Neef suspected that the Public Health people were not going to be so enthusiastic about being the baffled boffins in question although Lennon seemed to have been quoted fairly enough. Lennon had obviously said much the same to Eve as he had to him in their last conversation and it was unfortunately true that the investigation was going nowhere at present.
Neef thought that the facts had been reported accurately. He wondered what would happen now. He suspected that there were going to be a lot of worried parents out there. There was of course, a chance that there would be no more cases and that the incident would fade away to be written off as just one of these things but if there should be another case, the seeds of panic had possibly been sown by this article.
On the following Monday, Lawrence Fielding reported to Neef that Jane Lees had responded well to steroid treatment and her ‘pneumonia’ was under control. “What made you suspect an immune response?” he asked.
“I wasn’t entirely happy about the original viral pneumonia diagnosis for Melanie Simpson,” replied Neef. “I asked Frank MacSween about it at the time. I thought maybe the underlying cancer had given the appearance of viral pneumonia when it was really some kind of immune response, an inflammatory reaction to the tumours. Frank thought the post mortem appearance was typically viral and I accepted what he said. But when Jane Lees presented with exactly the same symptoms as Melanie Simpson, my suspicions were aroused again. I thought that steroids were worth a try.”
“And you were right,” said Fielding. “Steroids suppressed the lung symptoms.”
“Not that it’s going to do her much good I’m afraid,” said Neef. “Her cancer is too well advanced.”
“No, but at least she’s a lot more comfortable on Antivulon and steroids in the meantime,” said Fielding. “And to quote a source not a million miles from here, ‘If that’s the best you can do... so be it’.”
Neef smiled at having his own philosophy quoted back at him.
When Wednesday came and went without there having been any follow-up to the interview Louradis had given, Neef felt well pleased. The Public Health people were still under daily scrutiny but most of the coverage of that particular day went to Tracy Torrance’s funeral. The Citizen gave it mass coverage with, “Brave Little Tracy Loses Last Battle”, using colour photographs of the wreaths with their poignant messages to wind up second-hand emotion. “Recouping their investment,” as Tim Heaton put it when he called to ask Neef how the Gene Therapy trial was progressing.
“So far so good. The patients start on Gancyclovir tomorrow,” replied Neef. “Then it’s just a question of waiting and seeing.”
“Fingers crossed,” said Heaton. “This could really put us in the big league.”
Neef gave a noncommittal grunt.
“Did you get supplies of your American drug?” asked Heaton.
“Antivulon. We’ve started using it,” said Neef. “It’s a bit too soon to say but one of our patients, John Martin, is coping with it much better than his previous chemotherapy. Thanks for your help in getting it. I appreciate it.”
“Not at all,” said Heaton. “That’s what team work is all about.”
Neef suddenly felt defensive. Heaton was after something.
“I understand from John Marshall that you don’t want any press involvement with the Gene Therapy patients until the trial is virtually over?” said Heaton.
“That’s right I didn’t want any false hopes being built up for the children’s parents. They’re very vulnerable people”
“Oh absolutely,” said Heaton unconvincingly to Neef’s way of thinking. “It’s just that as something did however manage to find its way into the press last week, however regrettable, I was wondering if it might not be a good idea to keep the papers sweet with some more formal announcement of what’s going on? Perhaps a press release composed by John and yourself? Maybe a photograph or two? Put the record straight so to speak?”
“I’d rather not have any press involvement at all at the moment if it can be avoided.”
“That’s the thing,” said Heaton hesitantly. “I’m not sure it can. As the press know about the trial through Mr Louradis’ interview, we really have to answer their questions otherwise they might start assuming the worst and we don’t want that do we?”
“All right,” conceded Neef. “I’ll keep Marshall informed and he can feed them information but I don’t want the press anywhere near the unit.”
“Good,” sighed Heaton. “I’m sure John can keep them at bay while presenting things in a positive light. Anyway, glad you got your American drug all right.”
Neef put the phone down and cursed under his breath. The man was a master at making him feel guilty.
Jane Lees died early on the following Friday evening. Her pain was under control and her end was peaceful. Her mother and father were with her as was the hospital chaplain, Geoffrey Keys. The Lees were not churchgoers but had agreed to Keys being present and luckily took comfort from what he had to say. Neef spoke to both parents afterwards in his office. It was a very different occasion to the last time he had seen them. Mr Lees’ anger had entirely disappeared and had been replaced by grief over his daughter and bemusement at why it had to be her.
“Why?” he asked with tear filled eyes. “Why our Janey?”
“I wish I could answer that,” said Neef softly. “Although in Jane’s case, there will be some kind of an answer. It’s just a question of time before the Public Health investigators find out why your daughter contracted the disease. I’m so sorry.”