Lifting Suspicion Read online

  ‘SHOs aren’t entitled to feelings like tiredness,’ she told him. ‘Ask any senior registrar.’

  He smiled at this but said nothing. ‘Then let’s try again,’ he said. ‘By the way, who is the patient? Will you introduce me, please?’

  ‘Well yes,’ Megan said.

  Christopher smiled at Ellen after he’d been introduced, and Ellen fell for him at once. He asked her a few questions, explained that he was just passing by and that he knew that she was in the best of hands with Megan. ‘And who’s this sturdy-looking fellow?’ he asked, looked down at the crib by Ellen’s bed.

  ‘That’s baby Fraser,’ she said. ‘Fraser McKay. D’you like it?’

  ‘Very much so. But you’ll have to make him a gardener. Fraser means “a planter of strawberries”.’

  ‘It does? I didn’t know that. Why, it’s lovely!’

  ‘I think so, too. Now, Dr Taylor’s going to get that cannula into one of your very small veins.’

  This time Megan managed perfectly. The drug was slowly pumped in over four minutes and Ellen’s pulse checked every minute, then Ellen was done. Christopher and Megan walked back down the ward.

  ‘That was really interesting,’ she said, ‘telling Ellen the meaning of the name. And such a lovely meaning. D’you know a lot of them?’

  ‘Quite a few,’ he answered. ‘I find it’s often an easy way into a conversation with a new mum or dad. It makes them realise that you really are interested in their baby. If you want to follow up, a good book is the Oxford Dictionary of First Names. But don’t ever lend it out. It’ll never come back. The nicest people borrow books and don’t return them.’

  ‘You’re a cynic,’ she told him.

  ‘I’m a realist.’ For a while his face had been clear, but now his frown returned. ‘What’s in that paper bag?’

  ‘It’s a dress – a very nice dress – but it’s a problem.’

  ‘Going to tell me about it?’

  She explained about Dolores, about how she didn’t want to force the girl to take it back. ‘I know her, and it would certainly upset her. And what good advice the hospital has managed to give her, she’d reject it all.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ he said, ‘but doesn’t it leave you as a receiver of stolen property?’

  ‘I suppose it does. I guess I’ll just have to send a money order to the store. Isn’t that what my consultant would tell me to do?’

  ‘It seems a good answer. May I see the dress?’

  She was reluctant to show him, but eventually she slipped it out of the bag and held it against herself.

  ‘It suits your colouring and, in fact, it suits you altogether. You’ll look really fetching in it.’

  She reddened slightly. ‘I doubt I’ll ever wear it – it’s not quite my style. I don’t go in for evening wear much.’ Rapidly she folded up the dress and stuffed it in its bag. ‘Do you want to do the rest of the round with me? I’ve nearly finished and then I’ve got some writing up to do.’ She indicated the folders under her arm.

  ‘I’ll wait for you in the doctors’ room. Perhaps we can have a longer chat.’

  ‘I won’t be long.’

  The doctors’ room was small and uncomfortable. Megan largely used it to keep unimportant files and to store copies of the myriad forms she had to fill in. There was a table, four chairs, and a telephone. She spent hours on the telephone.

  He had taken off his white coat, loosened his collar, and draped his jacket over the back of the chair. He looked more casual, but still there was the vague air of menace about him.

  ‘Your friend, Staff Nurse Connor, has provided us with some coffee,’ he said, pointing at the tray. ‘To be exact, she has provided you with coffee, and I can have some if I want.’

  ‘Cat’s a friend,’ Megan said, ‘and a very good nurse.’

  ‘I think I can tell that. What are you going to do now?’

  She spread the contents of the folder across the table. ‘There are the TTOs to write out,’ she said. These were the ‘to take out’ forms, notes for the newly discharged patients to take to their GPs. They also enabled the nurses to get any drugs the patient would be needing from the hospital pharmacy. ‘Then there are a couple of referrals. One of our patients needs to see an endocrinologist, and another needs to see a plastics man. The rest is just sorting out the programmes for tomorrow. Did you want to see someone, or something, specially?’

  He shook his head, and tapped a file in front of him. ‘I just wanted a quick look at some patient notes. And I saw you carrying on with the usual SHO jobs. A bit late, aren’t you?’

  ‘Things have been … difficult lately,’ she said, ‘but the work has to be done.’

  ‘Yes, the work has to be done. You know I’m speaking to all the department medical staff tomorrow?’

  ‘I know. I’ll be there.’

  ‘Later I want to speak to the ancillary staff, and the nursing staff as well. Then I want to talk to all the medical staff one by one. We need to get to know each other. I think this department has … been in trouble because there has been no firm leadership for a while. Too much good work wasted because no one has been in overall control.’

  He was sitting opposite her at the table. She noticed that he took his coffee black with no sugar. She had hers white, and dropped in two large spoonfuls of sugar. He stared at her again, and she tried to stare back. His eyes were dark grey, and when he wasn’t smiling his face seemed almost threatening. She reached into her bag and took out her black-framed glasses again. She felt more secure with them on. But he could be so charming! She remembered how he had delighted Ellen McKay.

  He pushed a plate of biscuits towards her. ‘Staff Nurse Connor sent you these biscuits. She thinks you need feeding.’

  Megan took a chocolate one. ‘We get on,’ she said. ‘I’ve learned a lot from her.’

  ‘You get on with people. I’m wondering how.’ He was leaning over the table now, scowling at her. ‘I’m not really sure of your position here. You’re not the SHO I would have picked. Certainly your exam results were excellent, and the reports from last year, when you were a house officer, are equally good. You impress people. I wonder how exactly.’

  She was unable to speak and simply looked at him horrified. This man, her new boss, was saying he didn’t want her. What had she done wrong? Eventually, she managed to say, ‘I thought getting on with people was necessary in a team. I’ve tried hard. What’s wrong with my work?’ There was a tremor in her voice that she just couldn’t get rid of.

  ‘I gather you were a pet of the late, unlamented Charles Grant-Liffley. If not more than a pet.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ She grew suddenly angry at the arrantly sexual way he was looking at her. It was cold, assessing, and she didn’t like it. She pulled her white coat over her breasts.

  ‘Well, Charles wasn’t married. And he had a reputation all his life for chasing pretty, young doctors.’

  Now she was really angry. ‘He also had a reputation as one of the most competent Obs and Gynae men in the country. But apparently hospital gossip doesn’t think that’s worth mentioning. Certainly I was close to Charles. He was a lot older than me, but I was proud to call him my friend. I learned a lot from him.’

  She was in tears now. She was tired and it had been a long hard day. ‘But you’ve just got a dirty mind, like so many others in the hospital. I hope your medicine is a bit more scientific than your people-handling skills. Have you any evidence, any good reason for running him down? Or do you just get your kicks from bullying people?’

  ‘You’re defending your esteemed consultant? After what he’s done?’ Now Christopher was angry, too. ‘I’ll tell you what he did, Dr Taylor. He stole from this hospital. Not money or goods perhaps, but time. Not only his own but other people’s, too. When he should have been working for the hospital, when he was earning a very reasonable salary, he was profiting by working for himself. Using this hospital’s time, equipment, and services to make money. And
you helped him! Did you make money, too?’

  His face was now creased with anger. He went on, ‘I don’t have a single private client myself, but I have no objection to others having them, just so long as they don’t steal from those they are supposed to be working for.’

  Usually Megan kept quiet in an argument. She wasn’t hot-headed like her friend Jane. But this man had gone too far. ‘As I’m sure you know, Mr Firth, Charles Grant-Liffley has had a massive stroke. He’s in St Leonard’s Hospital now, in a coma, and he can’t defend himself. I’m a bit sickened at the number of people who once were only too happy to have a good word from him and now they’re turning on him. This place has been crawling with accountants and auditors, people who know the price of a medicine but not how to prescribe it. I always found him a good teacher, a good friend, and an excellent doctor.’

  To her surprise he poured her another coffee and pushed it across the table to her.

  ‘I’ve a vague idea that this isn’t the best way to get on with a new consultant,’ she said after a while.

  ‘You could be right.’ His voice seemed calmer, too. ‘But we can always start again. Megan?’ She liked the way he said her name, though she wasn’t sure why. ‘Megan, I’m going to ask you one question, and I want you to know that I’ll never quote your answer to anyone else. This is between you and me, because I need to get things straight in my own mind. Were you always absolutely certain that what Charles was doing was absolutely proper?’

  His look challenged her, and she had to stare straight into his eyes. Desperately she looked round the room for help, but there was none. She came back to those intense, grey eyes and they held her attention. In them she thought she read sympathy. But he also wanted the truth.

  She should have been able to answer with a simple yes or no. But she couldn’t. Eventually she muttered, ‘It’s not an SHO’s job to question a consultant. We’re dogsbodies. We do what we’re told.’

  ‘I know that. And I appreciate loyalty. I like being part of a team. But, Megan, I won’t have any one of my team trying to hide behind so-called professional loyalty if a single member of the public is hurt.’ He swallowed the rest of his coffee, and went on, ‘But I’ll say a bit more about that in the morning.

  ‘I’m looking forward to working with you, Megan. I hope you’ll also find me a good teacher.’ He was mercurial, his moods seeming to change from second to second. Now he was smiling, and the warmth of his personality made her forget the anger of only moments before.

  ‘I think working for you will be … stimulating,’ she said. ‘But, of course, so is drinking neat vodka.’

  He laughed, a great shout that shocked her slightly. ‘Do you drink much neat vodka, Megan?’

  ‘I’ve never, ever drunk it,’ she said primly. ‘The very idea fills me with horror.’

  ‘Me, too. What do you do for recreation, Megan? Any sport, any hobby? Tiddly-winks? Building a model of St Paul’s out of matchsticks?’

  ‘Recreation? An SHO? When do I find time? What should I give up? I don’t sleep enough already.’

  ‘I know what being an SHO is like – I was one myself. But you should try to do something other than practise medicine.’

  ‘I will, I promise. When I qualify.’

  He shook his head. ‘What shall I do with you? Don’t work too hard, I want you bright in the morning. ’Night, Megan.’ And he was gone.

  Megan reached for the first paper in her folder, but smiled and didn’t start on it. Sure enough, her friend Cat came in. ‘What did you think of him, Megan? He scares me, creeping round before he’s officially started. But isn’t he a sensational man?’

  ‘Sensational?’ She thought about the word. He had aroused sensations in her, but of various kinds. He had been vicious, kind, honest, penetrating. ‘It’s going to be exciting, working with him,’ she said. ‘Not a calm life like we had with Charles.’

  ‘Charles was a gentleman of the old school,’ said Cat. ‘I think this man is a gentleman, but a different type. He’s going to stir things up.’

  ‘Great,’ said Megan.

  It had been hard getting all the medical staff together, but somehow they’d managed it. They met in the boardroom, where the meeting had been called for ten and to last no more than fifteen minutes. Megan arrived early, to find Christopher already there, talking to the slightly creepy junior registrar, Sylvia Binns. Today he was dressed less formally, in dark sports jacket and shirt with an exuberant tie.

  Sylvia frowned at her, but not at Christopher. He walked over and shook hands again. ‘Good to see you again, Dr Taylor. Things still hard on the ward?’

  ‘Always,’ she told him, and noticed Sylvia’s slight look of surprise. The rest of the team came in quite quickly, all except Will Powers. ‘We’ll start,’ Christopher said crisply at one minute past ten. ‘If you can pass on what I have to say to –’

  Will came in. He looked furtively at the assembled group and muttered, ‘Sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad – tried to get here on time but –’

  ‘The traffic was worse than usual, was it?’ Christopher asked in a loud, clear voice. ‘You surprise me. It seemed quite all right earlier this morning.’ Will flinched.

  Christopher started again. ‘I don’t like formal meetings so this one will be brief. There will be no time for questions, but I’ll be seeing you all individually later. You know I am acting consultant, a complete outsider. The reasons for that we’ll go into later. I want to introduce myself, tell you my history, where I’ve worked and what I’ve published, my special interests.’ He produced a sheaf of papers and skimmed them across the table. ‘This is an adaptation of my CV. Read it at your leisure and anything you wish to comment on I’ll be pleased to hear.’

  Everyone picked up one of the sheets. Megan took one, and after the briefest of glances she was very impressed. Christopher had done an awful lot in his short life.

  He went on, ‘You all know I’m here because the present head of Obs and Gynae has had a stroke and is now in a coma. You also know that doubts have been raised about him being responsible for some financial irregularities. At present these are only doubts. The man is not accused, he cannot defend himself. So I suggest the best thing to do is to remain absolutely silent. Gossip can only cause grief. Of course, you will co-operate fully with the hospital authorities, tell the absolute truth if questioned, but that is all. For the good of the profession, for our patients, for our own careers and, of course, for Mr Grant-Liffley, the least said the better.’

  Megan stole a glance at Will, who was by her side. He obviously shared her thoughts. This man was hard! Life under him wouldn’t be as easy as it had been under Charles.

  Christopher was frowning now, bent slightly forward, his shoulders hunched. She’d seen the posture before – it made him look menacing.

  ‘Over the past few years I have been an expert prosecution witness in three cases involving doctors,’ he said. ‘I didn’t like it, but I did it because I thought they were harming patients. Doctors are not above the law. One of the cases concerned sexual harassment, a registrar who thought he could use his authority over two female medical students. I won’t have that. It interferes with our work. I will support you all, confident that you will support me, but for certain things I will happily throw you to the wolves.’

  He smiled now, and she realised that everyone suddenly felt happier. It was incredible, the way he could change so quickly from a dark, threatening creature to a man you wanted to trust, to smile back at.

  ‘I honestly believe we have a good team here. I’m looking forward very much to working with you professionally and, I hope, meeting you socially. I’m not married myself, but I also hope at least to say hello to your families. A happily married doctor will be a good one. Thank you.’

  Everyone looked dazed, Megan thought. She’d never heard a senior hospital man speak so plainly. But she liked him. Vastly different from Charles, of course, but she felt he was an honest man.

  Sylvia Binn
s had something she apparently had to talk to Christopher about, while the rest of the group moved uncertainly towards the door. As they walked down the corridor Will ran after her and took Megan by the arm.

  As ever, he was tall and smiling, confident that everyone liked him. Apparently he had already forgotten the rebuke for lateness Christopher had given him. Megan knew that she wouldn’t have forgotten so quickly.

  ‘Megan, can you do me a big, big favour?’

  She sighed. She knew that she was carrying Will – doing far more than half of the duties they were supposed to share. What made it more irritating was that Will seemed to think that it was right and proper that she should do so. Everyone liked Will – so Will liked to think. She’d known him for ages as they’d been students together. He’d been part of the heavy-drinking, hearty, noisy crowd she had disliked so much. His father was a consultant in some obscure speciality in some equally obscure northern hospital. Will was always talking about him.

  ‘What d’you want, Will?’ she asked resignedly.

  Will didn’t notice her tone of voice. He never did. ‘I know you’re on duty today and I’m supposed to be on call tonight. Could you sit in for me from eight to twelvish? There shouldn’t be much happening so you can study or something.’

  ‘What if I’m already going out, Will?’

  He looked at her, blank-faced. ‘Going out? You never do.’

  This was true, she didn’t – well, not very much. ‘All right, I’ll do it. When you get back at twelve, are you going to be fit enough to be on call? You wouldn’t want our new consultant to find you drunk on the ward, would you?’

  Will obviously hadn’t thought of this. ‘Well,’ he said hopefully, ‘perhaps there won’t be any call-outs. They’re not too common, are they?’ The idea of not drinking apparently didn’t enter his head.

  ‘All right Will, I’ll stay here and cover your night duty. But you’re to do some for me soon.’

  He leaned forward and gave her a big, loud kiss on the cheek. ‘Of course I will. You’re a darling, Megan.’ But even as he spoke she knew there wasn’t much chance of it. Will’s social life was far too busy for him to help out others.