‘What paper are they from?’
‘The daily version. Apparently it’s a different paper from its Sunday equivalent – different staff, different editors, but just as unpleasant. But the hospital is fighting back. The newsagent in the foyer told me he wouldn’t be stocking the paper any more.’ He frowned. ‘I gather that pair visited the ward?’
‘I wouldn’t let them in. I didn’t even tell them who I was. I did as you told me and kept calm.’
He flinched. ‘The nice thing about you, Dr Taylor, is that, once having been given an advantage, you exploit it mercilessly. Am I ever going to hear the end of this “calm” business?’
‘Probably not,’ she told him sweetly.
‘Hmm. How was work this morning?’
‘Interesting. We had a mother brought into Mat. One who seems to be hypertensive, but it’s a long way from being serious. I’d better get back.’
She started to put her cup and plates on the tray. He looked at her curiously. ‘You’re coping with this quite well, aren’t you?’ he asked. ‘You surprise me. I thought you were a quiet thing.’
‘I am a quiet thing,’ she told him. ‘You don’t know what it’s costing me to cope. But I’ll do it. I’m going to be a doctor.’
At seven o’clock on the following Wednesday night there was a knock on her door. Outside was Sue, carrying a bottle, and Jane with a portable television. ‘Group solidarity,’ stated Jane, marching into her room. ‘We’ve come to lend support and watch you be debated.’
Megan had decided to stay in the hospital residence until the following Monday, although her friends had told her there had been no more unpleasant callers. ‘The hospital CEO phoned us and told us we were doing a good job.’ Jane grinned. ‘I think I’ll go up to his room and remind him. He might promote me.’
‘Don’t rely on it,’ Megan told her.
It was good to have friends. She’d missed being at home in Challis, missed the knowledge that there was usually someone close at hand who could help or advise.
And it was good to be able to watch the programme in the privacy of her own room. She’d intended to go down to the main lounge to watch, but she knew that every free person in the residence would be there, watching. She didn’t really want to be present when her affairs were being broadcast nationwide.
She borrowed glasses for the wine while Jane set up the TV on her table. Then the three sat side by side on the bed to watch. ‘Let’s open the bottle at the end to drown our sorrows,’ said Megan.
‘No, we’ll open it then to celebrate,’ Sue said firmly, ‘and we’ll have a cup of tea now.’
The programme started at half past seven – prime time. They’d all watched it before. It started with Maddy talking straight to the camera about the three cases she was going to discuss. First there was an account of an accident in a printing works, where apparently health and safety rules had been almost entirely ignored. Then there was the story of a lad in a wheelchair. He’d wanted to go to the local school and the school had wanted him, but the local authority had tried to insist that he go to a special school. Eventually he’d got to the local school, and now he was halfway through his first term in Oxford.
‘And now we are dealing with this paper, this article and this man,’ Maddy said eventually. She held up the centre page of the paper concerned. ‘The article is supposed to be about corruption in one of our better hospitals, and the man is Piers Gault, the editor of this paper.’
The camera panned from the paper to the editor, sitting at Maddy’s side. He looked smart and confident, with slicked-back hair and a bow tie, but Megan thought she could detect a touch of the seedy self-assurance she’d seen in Jeremy Parks.
Maddy went on, ‘We also have Christopher Firth, who is acting consultant in Obstetrics and Gynaecology at the Emmeline Penistone Hospital for Women. It so happens he was once married to me. And so I’m going to put him through it.’ There was laughter from the audience. ‘First, though, let’s look at the paper. It claims it has a reputation for investigative journalism, so let’s look at some of its investigations in the past.’
Previous headlines were flashed onto the screen, complete with an ironic commentary by Maddy. There were stories of a boarding kennel, a rest home, a local authority treasury. In each case there were lurid headlines, and in each case nothing had come out of the subsequent investigation. Towards the end the audience started laughing.
‘That’s a good sign,’ Sue said approvingly. ‘They’re on her side.’
When the camera came back to the editor he didn’t look as cool as he had before. ‘I do feel that’s a bit unfair,’ he said. ‘There are other –’
‘Are you saying that anything I said is untrue?’ Maddy asked silkily. ‘Because if it is I’ll happily apologise and amend what I’ve said.’
‘Well, no, I suppose it’s all true. But it’s the way you’ve put it.’
‘The way I’ve put it?’ Maddy asked. ‘Well, let’s see.’
The next section was a very short history of Emmy’s, with pictures of a tough-faced Emmeline Penistone herself. There was an account of its founding, of the good it had done for women who’d been unable to afford to pay, and then of its move to its present modern buildings.
‘But its staff still like to feel that they carry on the tradition started by Emmeline Penistone,’ Maddy said, ‘the tradition of dedication to public service.’
She turned to Christopher. ‘Mr Firth, is this tradition now being abused? You won’t deny that the hospital is looking into accusations of corruption?’
‘First of all, the tradition of dedication is as strong as ever. No one who has been a patient there will deny that. Secondly, yes, we are looking into something but the accusations aren’t of corruption. They are accounting problems. My predecessor, a very eminent surgeon, Mr Charles Grant-Liffley, has suffered a stroke and is now in a coma. He’s not in a position to explain. However, I’m surprised the paper didn’t try to reach his bedside.’
Christopher looked at the editor with such contempt that the man twitched.
‘Let me make it clear that the hospital will cover up nothing. We have auditors looking into the situation, and they are thorough. When they complete their report it will be made public. But it will take time. That wasn’t good enough for this paper. They sent one of their so-called investigative reporters to hound one of our junior doctors, steal from her handbag, and search through the confidential information in there.’
‘Just a minute,’ shouted the editor. ‘That’s not exactly true.’
‘It is exactly true,’ Christopher roared back. ‘Now, call me a liar again and my medical defence service will sue you and your newspaper. I repeat, your investigative reporter lied to a member of my staff, stole from her handbag, and took confidential information from it. Is that what you call serious investigative journalism?’
The editor’s mouth was opening and shutting, but no words were coming out. ‘Gentlemen, gentlemen,’ Maddy put in soothingly. ‘There does seem to be some dispute about facts here. Mr Gault, do you deny perhaps the most serious charge here – that something was stolen from a handbag? In fact, I understand it was a photograph?’
Piers Gault’s eyes shifted from Maddy to Christopher. ‘Well … I’ll have to check. We accepted the photograph in good faith.’
‘If it was stolen, what will you do to the journalist?’
Gault was gaining in confidence. ‘Well, you have to understand that investigative journalism isn’t easy. People lie to us and we often have to use whatever ruse we can.’
‘So you tell all your reporters that they can steal if they think they can get away with it?’
‘That’s not what I mean at all! What is this interview? It’s a travesty.’
‘No, Mr Gault, it’s not a travesty. It’s an attempt to discover facts. And it looks like you need to be shown how it should be done.’
Maddy faced the camera as it closed in on her. ‘Mr Firth has admitted that there ha
ve been questions about Emmy’s. Auditors are looking into the facts, and in time they’ll publish their report. When they do so, we’ll tell you what, if anything, they’ve discovered. And we won’t steal from anyone’s handbag.’
The camera drew back to show the three people who’d been sitting on stage. Usually they carried on talking. This time, however, the editor stood, and stalked off at once. And the applause was deafening.
The three girls watched in awe. ‘I’ll open the bottle,’ Jane said. ‘I think we’ve got something to celebrate.’ She reached for the corkscrew. She filled their glasses and they solemnly clinked them together then drank.
‘That photograph was one of a set of three I had taken in a booth,’ Megan said, ‘to go in my pass for the unit. It wasn’t a very good photo either. He could have had it if he’d asked.’
‘He still went into your handbag,’ Jane said fiercely, then giggled. ‘I’m glad he didn’t go into mine.’
‘That was a hatchet job,’ Sue said. She seemed to know something about these things. ‘I’m not objecting, but that editor was set up. Maddy could have been a lot harder on Mr Firth. Funny, since she was once married to him.’
‘They’re still good friends,’ Megan said. She, too, thought that Maddy had been very lenient with Christopher. Why?
There was a knock on her door. ‘Yes?’ she shouted. There was always someone borrowing teabags or hair spray – it was like being back at school.
Christopher appeared in the doorway. He looked disconcerted to see the three of them there, sitting side by side on the bed, glasses in hand.
Ever ready, Jane sang, ‘“Three little maids from school are we. Pert as a schoolgirl well can be.”’
‘Pert,’ he said, ‘yes. Schoolgirls, no. I like Gilbert and Sullivan. Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude but –’
This time Sue said, ‘We’re the friends Megan lives with. Will you come in? We’re just having a celebratory drink – would you like one? I think there’s a spare glass.’
He didn’t hesitate. ‘I’d love a drink,’ he said.
Jane leaned forward, poured him a generous measure, and pointed to the one easy chair. ‘You can sit there,’ she said.
He did, then looked enquiringly at the three, still side by side. ‘I feel a little uneasy,’ he said. ‘As if I’m on trial. What did you think of the show, Megan?’
‘I thought your ex-wife was marvellous. She really sorted that rancid man out. He was just like Parks, you know. He didn’t look the same but he felt the same.’
‘Yes, she’s good, isn’t she,’ he said absently. ‘She’s wanted to have a go at Parks or his paper for a while. You gave her that chance so she was happy.’
Jane tossed down the rest of her wine, then slipped off the bed. ‘Got to go, Megan. Just called in for that bit of moral support. See you Monday if not before.’
‘I must be going, too,’ Sue said. ‘That was a good programme, Mr Firth. I think a lot of people will be glad of your support.’
‘I enjoyed it myself,’ he murmured, and stood as Sue and Jane filed out. Then he remained standing, his half-empty glass in his hand.
Irritated, Megan said, ‘Don’t you say you have to go at once. I feel as if I’ve got a disease or something. Or have you really got something that you have to be doing?’
He sat and emptied his glass. ‘No,’ he said. ‘In fact, I’d like a refill.’
Megan leaned forward and poured him one.
‘How come your friends had to rush off?’ he asked. ‘I know them both, of course. Jane is a brilliant theatre nurse. I hope they weren’t being sensitive, leaving us both alone?’
‘I hope so, too,’ she said, although the idea had occurred to her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She decided to change the subject. ‘How come you’re here when we saw you in Manchester not five minutes ago?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘Like nearly all shows, it was recorded,’ he said. ‘A couple of hours ago. I just got back. That editor was trying to give Maddy a hard time after the show, but she wasn’t having it. There’s one other thing – the editor now half-blames Jeremy Parks for him being made to look a fool. I don’t think Parks’ future on the paper is all that safe unless he can come up with something new.’
‘Good,’ said Megan viciously. ‘Anything unpleasant that happens to him, I’m all in favour of.’
They both drank their wine.
‘Christopher,’ she asked after a while, ‘can I ask you a personal question?’
‘You can ask. I’ll try to reply.’
‘Why was your ex-wife so ready to help you? She seems very fond of you. Most divorced couples I’ve met either hate each other or at the very best are guarded and careful.’
His reply took some time coming and was thoughtful. ‘We didn’t part all that nastily. Well, to be honest, she wasn’t nasty – I was. I knew she was doing what she thought was the best for me, but I’m afraid I was a bit unpleasant.’
‘Who would have thought it?’ she murmured, and ignored the black glance he gave her. ‘Certainly she seems to have gone to a lot of trouble for you – in fact, for me.’
Both their glasses were empty, and she reached for the bottle. There were only dregs left but she carefully shared them.
‘Are you going out tonight?’ he asked. ‘Any special plans?’
‘No. I may study a bit later.’
‘Feel like another glass of wine? I fancy one. Hanging around a warm TV studio is very wearying and it makes you thirsty, too. I want one, but I don’t approve of drinking on my own.’
She looked at him. There hadn’t been all that much wine – a bottle between the four of them. ‘We can’t have our consultant a solitary drinker,’ she said. ‘Yes, I would like another glass. I suppose we have something to celebrate.’
He fetched a bottle from his nearby hospital flat. It was still chilled when he opened it – he must have left it in his fridge. He eased out the cork and poured her a glass. It was a different wine from the cheap and cheerful bottle the girls had brought.
‘So, do things seem a lot better for you?’ he asked. ‘No more worries?’
She shook her head. ‘One thing I told Jeremy Parks is true. I did sign things that Charles put in front of me. I’ll never do it again. But certain documents have my signature on them so I’m the responsible doctor. Because I’m a doctor, I’m allowed to make decisions, and those decisions may be questioned in a court of law. There’s no wriggling out of that.’
He didn’t say anything, and she was glad. She went on, ‘I want to ask you a question, Christopher. If you needed, say, an X-ray or a scan done urgently, and it was a bit of an unusual thing to ask for, would you explain why to your house officer? Or would you just expect him to see to it, not question you? Please, I want … I need an honest answer.’
He didn’t reply at once. He leaned back in her chair, closed his eyes, and ran the cool, beaded glass across his warm forehead.
‘First, I would hope not to ask any doctor to do something unusual without telling him why, especially if I am supposed to be training him – or her. But then, if I was in a real hurry I wouldn’t expect to be questioned.’
There was a long pause and then he went on, ‘But you’re right. There’s your signature on what could turn out to be a legal document. And it doesn’t look very likely that Charles will recover sufficiently to vindicate you.’
He poured himself another glass of wine. ‘Incidentally, from what I hear of him, I think he would have done so at once.’
‘That’s what I think,’ she said shakily. ‘It’s small comfort but it’s some. Christopher, I feel my career is in the balance. I don’t want a question mark against me this early. It could harm me for the rest of my life. Just that whispered comment, “Wasn’t she the woman who was accused of fiddling the books?” People might not believe it, but the suspicion would be there.’
‘For what it’s worth, I’m certain you acted properly and I’ll tell anyone that.’ He stood
, emptied his glass, and put it down. ‘I know it’s hard to do, but you should try to put it all to one side. There’s nothing you can do but wait and see. Any help it’s possible to give, I’ll give you. Now I’ve got work to do. I’m going down to London early Saturday morning, just for the day – one of those get-togethers where nothing much gets decided but you still daren’t stay away. I’ll have to be prepared.’
As he opened her door, he said, ‘Remember what I told you? About getting out a bit more?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I enjoyed going to Ellesmere Port, but I haven’t been anywhere since.’
‘Hmm. You’re off next Sunday, aren’t you? Fancy a day out – a sort of mystery tour? We’ll go for a bit longer this time. If you want to, of course.’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I want to. I very much want to.’
‘Good. I’ll call for you here.’ He made no move, but stood in her doorway, as if unsure what to say next. ‘Remember, Megan, you have to fight for yourself. Medicine can be a bit hard. People think that because you’re dedicated to helping, they can put on you. You have to watch it.’
‘I will,’ she said. He opened the door further. Finally he was leaving. She stepped towards him, leaned forward and kissed him lightly. ‘That’s for your ex-wife,’ she said.
He grasped her, pulled her hard towards him, and kissed her. ‘And that’s for me,’ he said.
Chapter Five
Next morning Megan was working with Sylvia Binns in one of the day clinics. This was interesting, for there were ante- and post-natal clinics and she could see how the work they did fitted in with the mother’s stay in the ward. Sylvia was a competent junior registrar but she tended to work in rather a hurry. Several times Megan had to ask her to explain things. However, when asked, Sylvia was willing enough to explain.
It was a hard day, like all of them, but an enjoyable one. But it had a bad ending. She was back in her room in the residence, thinking how good it would be to be back with her friends in Challis. She’d changed into her dressing-gown, ready for a shower. The phone rang and it was Will.
Lifting Suspicion Page 8