An Affair of the Heart (3 page)

Dr Jones
grinned at Rachel and squeezed her hand. “It’s going to be alright,
Rachel. Just you wait and see. By this time tomorrow, you’re going
to feel like a new woman!”

“I hope so, Dr
Jones,” Rachel replied. “I can’t help it, you know? I think if my
heart was okay, I’d probably run away.”

“Don’t be
silly!” Gina scolded her daughter. “This is going to make you well,
and it’s not like you haven’t been through this before. You’re just
being a big baby!”

“I am not!”
Rachel protested. “The other operations weren’t the same. This time
they’re going to replace the whole damn thing. Of course I’m
scared. You’d be, too, if you were in my place.”

Dr Jones saw
the hurt look on Gina’s face. He quickly squeezed Rachel’s hand
again. “It’s going to be alright,” he repeated. “Everything’s going
to be just fine. You trust me don’t you?” Rachel nodded. “Well
then. Don’t you worry about anything, okay? Now let’s get you to
your room.” Dr Jones stood up and led them both to a single room
further down the corridor.

Even though
there were two nurses ready to help, Gina insisted on getting her
daughter undressed and into bed herself. One of the nurses tried to
help, but spent most of her time keeping out of Gina’s way. The
other nurse just smiled and stood by, holding on to the clothes
Gina had thrust into her hands after she had first snatched the
gown she was carrying. Dr Jones and the nurse smiled at one another
as Gina fussed over her daughter.

Nurse Julia
Kaye had seen all this before, of course. She had been here on the
numerous occasions that Rachel had been in for tests and
examinations. It was always the same. If you protested or got in
the way, Gina would mow you down like a bulldozer.

Rachel was soon
in bed, and everything was tidied away.

“Everybody
out,” Dr Jones announced. “I’d like to examine my patient without
an audience if you please.”

“I suppose you
mean me?” Gina said, hands on hips.

Nurse Kaye put
her arm around Gina, and said, “Why don’t we go and get a drink for
you and Rachel while Dr Jones is examining your daughter?”

Gina gave her
that ‘don’t mess with me’ look, and said, “I can manage on my own,
if you don’t mind.” She brushed aside Nurse Kaye’s arm and turned
back to Rachel. “Will you be alright, sweetheart?” she asked.

“Yes, Mum. I’ll
be fine.”

Gina kissed
Rachel on the forehead before heading for the door. There she
paused and glanced at Dr Jones, saying, “I know when I’m not
wanted.” Then she went out.

Nurse Kaye
smiled at Rachel as she followed Gina out the door. Now Dr Jones
and Rachel were left alone together, and he began to examine her,
placing his stethoscope against her chest, listening to her
heart.

“You’re not
having second thoughts, are you?” he asked her.

Rachel looked
down at the large scars on her chest from previous operations. They
started just below her neck, went down between her breasts, and all
the way to her midriff.

“I’m not a big
baby, am I, Doctor?” she asked him. “I mean, still living at home
with my Mum, and everything?”

“Of course
you’re not a baby.”

“But I’m
twenty-four! I should be working and living on my own, not still at
home with my Mum. It’s not right.” Rachel clutched her glasses in
both hands, her head down.

Dr Jones could
see that Rachel was worried about the operation, but there was more
to it than that. He took the stethoscope from his ears and sat down
on the bed beside her. “Rachel,” he said. “This operation is going
to give you the chance to live your life just like everybody else.
You’ll be able to do what you want. Travel to other places and see
some of the world. You could get married and have children. And
yes, you can work for a living and get your own place. It’s just
what you’ve been waiting for. But remember, nothing’s compulsory.
You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. And whatever
you do decide to do, your mother is still going to love you.”

“But we’ve been
so close!” Rachel exclaimed. “If this operation finally works,
what’s that going to do to us both? What am I supposed to do? Say
‘thank you very much’ and walk out?”

“You love your
mother, don’t you?”

“Yes of course
I do. She’s done everything for me over the years. I couldn’t ask
for a better mother. We share everything. We even cry watching the
same weepy movies.”

“Then you’ve
nothing to worry about, have you? Because we both know that Gina
loves you like mad. And there’s no way that your relationship is
going to end with this operation, Rachel. It might change a little
in time, but that’s only natural. And remember, you’re not going to
wake up as superwoman, ready to fly off into the sunset. It is
going to take time for you to recover, and to work out what you
want to do. And if there’s one thing that’s certain, your mother
will be there to help you through it.”

Rachel put her
glasses back on and gave Dr Jones a wry smile. “I am a big baby,”
she said. “Scared of being healthy, and what it will mean.” She
sighed. “I shouldn’t have snapped at Mum like that in the corridor.
I didn’t really mean it, but this operation isn’t like the other
ones, is it? I’m going to have someone else’s...you know...inside
me. It is sort of scary.”

Dr Jones became
a little more concerned. He had explained all the ramifications of
having a heart transplant to Rachel many times before. She knew
everything she needed to know, and more. She knew what they were
going to do, how long it would take, and what could possibly go
wrong, both during, and after, the surgery. But knowing about it
all, understanding it all, that was one thing. Actually going
through with it was another.

“I asked you
before if you had changed your mind. You haven’t have you?”

She shook her
head. “No, it’s just last minute jitters, that’s all. I suppose I
sort of feel sorry for my old heart, too. It’s done it’s best for
twenty-four years, and now I’m going to evict it and put another
one in it’s place. And I just can’t quite get used to the idea that
by tomorrow, someone else’s...” she paused and looked down at her
scarred chest, and then continued, sheepishly, “I just don’t know
how it’s going to feel.”

“It’s going to
feel fine!” Dr Jones replied. He stroked her hair and smiled at
her. “By tomorrow it’s going to be all over and done with. And you
can start planning what you’re going to do with your life at last.
It’s what you’ve been waiting for.”

“But I don’t
even know what I want to do. It’s always been so pie in the sky.
And as for getting married and having children, who’s going to look
at me?”

“Lots of
people. You’re far too beautiful for your own good!”

“Yeah, until I
take my blouse off! Then it’s like a blue movie version of ‘Phantom
of the Opera!’”

Dr Jones
laughed. Just then, Nurse Kaye returned pushing a trolley with
equipment and monitors on it. “Your mother’s on her way back with
two cups of tea,” she announced. Other nurses followed her in with
more equipment, and the room started to get busy again.

Dr Jones waved
his finger at Rachel as he got up from the bed. “Only a couple of
sips for you,” he said.

“I know,” was
the reluctant reply.

“And as for
boyfriends,” Dr Jones added. “If they can’t love your scars along
with the rest of you, then kick ‘em out, I say!”

Now it was
Rachel’s turn to laugh. Gina came through the door. There was
another man with her. Rachel recognised him immediately. She knew
him quite well. Mr Ronald Bloomfield was his name. He was a nice
man, really. But the sight of him frightened her, and the laughter
and the smile faded from her face. She could feel her heart trying
to climb into her stomach, as if it were trying to hide, to get
away. Mr Ronald Bloomfield was the surgeon who was going to perform
the transplant.

Alex Williams
covered his eyes as the police car drove through the city streets
towards Manchester Royal Infirmary. The news of Sarah’s death had
practically killed him, too. The argument that they had had before
she left was bad enough. But to know, now, that when she had fled
from the house in tears and anger, was the last time that he would
see her, that had broken him completely.

He had
collapsed when they had told him. He just slumped to the floor and
cried. The two police officers had to pick him up. They had been
worried about him, and had wanted to call a doctor. The woman
police officer had then suggested that it would be better if they
put off the ordeal of identifying the body until he was feeling
more capable. But when he heard that, Alex had revived almost
instantly. He didn’t want to wait for any doctor. He suddenly had
an overwhelming desire to be close to his wife again, the need to
see her driving him on. He had to see her again, to touch her, just
one more time.

Now he just sat
in the back seat of the police car, head down, his hands over his
eyes.

WPC Foster
looked over her shoulder at Alex. “We’re nearly there, sir,” she
said softly.

Alex said
nothing.

WPC Foster
glanced at her partner. PC Roberts just shrugged his shoulders and
kept driving. She looked back at Alex. At least he had stopped
crying, she thought.

They drove on
in silence, and soon they were at the hospital.

“We’re there
now, sir,” WPC Foster said. She opened the door and got out, and
then reached in to take Alex’s hands from over his face. He looked
surprised, stunned. Gently, she helped him out of the car.

It was all a
blur to Alex. The journey to Manchester, arriving at the hospital,
getting out of the car, and walking along the corridors,
everything. He was aware of people, and of the bright lights and
the noise. But he couldn’t quite focus on them. The sounds of
voices were distant and echoed, and the faces of people seemed
distorted. He was in a dream, a nightmare.

He was standing
in a room with WPC Foster and another man in a white coat. He felt
sort of cold. In front of him was a long table with a white sheet
over it. There was someone lying on the table underneath the sheet.
His heart began beating like mad, and he swallowed loudly.

“Take your
time, sir,” WPC Foster said.

The man in the
white coat drew back the sheet to reveal the head and shoulders of
a young woman underneath. She had blonde hair, and there were
bruises and contusions on her face and forehead. Both her lips were
split, and her nose looked like it was broken. She looked very sad,
and white, and still.

Alex took a
deep breath and sighed. “That’s not Sarah,” he said. “That’s not my
wife.”

“How the hell
could you get the two bodies mixed up?” Dr Peter Clarkson demanded
in a raised voice.

“I didn’t!” Dr
Anders replied. “They were identified incorrectly before I came on
duty.”

“Who was the
attending?”

“It was Dr
Askwith. He dealt with Mrs Williams and Miss Sorenson when they
came in.”

“Get him back
here!”

“I’ve tried.
But he’s gone off duty and he’s not answering his phone or his
pager.”

“This is
ridiculous! Of all the incompetent, idiotic...”

Dr Anders
listened as Dr Clarkson ranted on. He was the senior consultant in
charge of the Accident and Emergency department at Manchester Royal
Infirmary, and he was obviously very angry. Dr Anders felt that he
was being unfair to her, placing her under severe pressure when she
had only just come on duty herself, and had hardly had a chance to
get familiar with the case. And what made it worse was that they
were standing together with WPC Foster in the Accident and
Emergency department, with other doctors and nurses nearby who
couldn’t fail to hear his raised voice.

Just then, Eric
Barrett, the hospital General Manager, came rushing down the
corridor towards them with another man.

“I came as soon
as I could,” Eric Barrett said hurriedly. He was a short man,
slightly overweight, and he was losing his hair. He had been at
home when the call had came, settled and relaxed after another hard
day. Now he looked dishevelled and panic stricken. “This is John
Stanley,” he said, introducing the second, younger man. “He’s our
Legal Advisor. Now, quickly, tell us the whole story.”

Dr Clarkson
turned to Dr Anders and said, with a sarcastic flourish, “Go ahead!
I think this honour belongs to you!”

Everyone stared
at her. Dr Anders cleared her throat. “Two victims of a road
traffic accident were brought in just after seven o’clock this
evening. Both had severe head injuries. One of them was dead on
arrival, the other was pronounced dead shortly after. Dr Askwith
was the doctor on duty. He handled both patients. They had been
identified by the police as a Mrs Sarah Williams and a Miss Katja
Sorenson.”

“So it’s the
police’s fault,” Barrett interrupted quickly, looking accusingly at
WPC Foster.

“Let her
finish,” Dr Clarkson said sternly. “Go on.”

Dr Anders
continued. “Miss Sorenson was identified by the contents of her
handbag as well as the registration of her car. The identification
of Mrs Williams, on the other hand, was only based on the car
registration, as she was carrying no other form of identification
with her. The car was traced to her husband, who the police have
now brought in to formally identify her body. He says it’s not
her.”

“So, someone
else was driving her car,” John Stanley said. “So what’s the
problem?”

WPC Foster
cleared her throat. “Miss Sorenson has also not been formally
identified,” she said as everyone stared at her. “She has no living
relatives in this country, and her flatmate wasn’t in when officers
called at her address.”