Kit lay quietly on the examination table in Ned Welles’s consulting room, displaying the listlessness that always followed the attacks, and allowed Ned to examine him without complaint.
When he had finished, Ned said, ‘Good boy, you were very brave. Now – come and sit on Mummy’s knee again.’ Within minutes he became drowsy, held in Alice’s arms like a baby, exhausted by the events of the morning.
‘Right,’ said Ned. ‘Well, the good news is that I know what’s wrong – well, I’m as certain as one can ever be – and that it can be fixed surgically. The bad news is that it’s been allowed to develop – in no way your fault, Alice, or even your GP’s. It’s very rare – and he’s pretty ill.’
‘So – what is it?’ asked Alice.
‘It’s something called intussusception. Did you ever come across it at Thomas’?’
‘No. I’d have suspected it if I had.’
‘Of course you would. It’s pretty rare. And very unusual in any child much over two. Basically, the gut folds into itself, bit like one of those folding telescopes. Then, because it’s anchored by blood vessels, it can’t go any further and it causes an obstruction. And then it will swell, and if not treated, the bowel can necrose, leading to peritonitis. Kit’s high temperature leads me to suspect there’s a danger of that. Peritonitis, that is.’
‘But why the spells of being perfectly all right?’
‘In the early stages, it can un-telescope, so to speak, and all is well until it does it again. But each time, it tends to take longer. And finally we reach the stage Kit is at, where it is well and truly blocked. Surgery can cure it, but we don’t have much time. Now, I can fit him into my private list this afternoon, if you would like me to.’
‘How dangerous is the operation?’
‘If the bowel has not necrosed, not particularly. It’s difficult, of course, all surgery on small children is, but I’m confident about it. The main danger now is delay.’
‘Then – then we mustn’t delay,’ she said, her voice sounding shaky even to her. ‘Oh Ned, Ned, it is so good of you to do this.’
‘Well,’ he said. ‘I think you’ve been pretty good to me. All of you. I am more grateful for your discretion than I can ever tell.’
She knew, of course, what he was referring to. She merely smiled at him and said, ‘Please, please, do go ahead. Where do you operate?’
‘St Mary’s Chelsea. Small private hospital, but I have an excellent team. You may as well go straight there. I’ll alert them, and get Kit’s case first on the list. And I’ll ask Jennifer to sort out a room for you – that’s if you want to stay.’
‘Of course I do.’ There was a knock on the door; the icy Jennifer, now warm and friendly, put her head round it.
‘Mrs Knelston, your husband is here. He—’
‘How very timely,’ said Ned. ‘Ask him to come in, Jennifer, if you would. I’ll explain the situation to him.’
‘I might take Lucy out for a bit,’ said Jillie hastily.
‘No, said Alice, ‘please stay.’
Tom was ushered in, his eyes brilliant with what Alice knew was anger.
‘Good morning, Tom,’ said Ned.
‘Good morning,’ said Tom. ‘Look, it’s very kind of you to see Kit but I’ll take him and Alice home now. And Lucy. You appear to be sheltering my entire family.’
‘Tom, you will not take us home,’ said Alice, shocked into a new level of determination by his arrogance and near-rudeness, Laura fading, temporarily at least, into the background. ‘Of course we can’t go home; we have to take Kit to St Mary’s Chelsea where Ned is going to operate on him this afternoon.’
‘No, I’m afraid he’s not.’
‘And I’m afraid he is. Ned, please tell Tom what you just told me.’
Tom listened in silence; then he said, ‘I’m grateful, Ned, of course, but that is only your opinion. I don’t want Kit put through surgery until we are quite sure your diagnosis is the correct one. Also, for obvious reasons, I want him treated on the NHS.’
‘The NHS is a wonderful organisation,’ said Ned, his voice very calm. ‘I work for it, and I believe in it as much as you do. But it would be highly unlikely that Kit could have this surgery done under its aegis in time. Had he been diagnosed earlier, it might be different. You could go to casualty, of course, but even then, hours would be lost. He is dangerously ill, Tom. Time is of the essence.’
‘Again, that is only your opinion,’ said Tom. ‘Look, I’m very grateful for your help. But I cannot allow this operation to go ahead this afternoon and certainly not at that particular hospital. I’m sorry.’
‘Tom, how can you talk like that?’ cried Alice. ‘Kit could die. You’re putting your absurd principles against your son’s life.’
‘My principles are not absurd.’
‘They are under these circumstances,’ said Alice. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter if they are or not, because neither I nor Kit are coming home with you. Ned, we’ll see you this afternoon.’
Ned looked at her, his dark eyes anguished.
‘You must resolve this between you, of course,’ he said, ‘but I beg you to do so quickly. I cannot stress enough the danger Kit is in. And there is one other very important thing. If you decide on what I am convinced is the right action, I need one of you to give me your written consent. That’s the law, as I’m sure you will know, Tom. I –’ He stopped.
‘I’m afraid I’m not prepared to do that,’ said Tom.
‘Tom!’ Alice was shouting now. ‘That is a truly wicked decision. You’re putting your political career before your son’s life.’ She stopped, looked down at the sleeping Kit, and said abruptly, ‘You think people will find out, don’t you, and that will destroy you politically. That’s what this is about. You’re so desperate for success and power and all that ridiculous, horrible stuff, you’re prepared to risk Kit’s death. Tom, you can’t do that. Please, please, tell me you can’t.’
Tom was silent; then he said, ‘No, Alice, I won’t agree to what you want – so wrongly, in my opinion. It’s got nothing to do with my having success and power. I find that infinitely insulting. It’s to do with what I believe in. It’s about justice, nothing more or less. Justice for the individual. And I care passionately about that. Don’t you understand?’
‘No, I don’t. Especially not when it is our son’s life at stake. But it doesn’t matter, because I’ll sign the form.’
‘No,’ said Tom, and his expression as he looked at her was of open dislike. ‘No, Alice, I absolutely forbid that. And I feel quite sure, as Kit’s father, my wishes would outweigh yours in a court of law.’
Panic struck at Alice, panic and something else even more powerful: shock that Tom could display such paternalistic arrogance – the arrogance he had deplored, as he had often told her, in his father.
And then, something extraordinary happened. She felt Laura move onto her side. She would not have stood for that: for being told what and what not to do by her husband. It would have been abhorrent to her, against all her feminist principles. She might not have followed the course Alice had chosen, but she would have put Kit first, in whatever way she thought best. Alice knew that. And she would have fought Tom, if she believed she should. Alice suddenly, and with great clarity, had no doubt about it, and in that moment Laura changed: from being rival and enemy to ally and friend. So engrossed was she in this revelation, that Alice hardly realised Ned was speaking again.
‘I’m afraid you are wrong there, Tom,’ he said. ‘The law, as it stands, gives preference to whichever parent is in favour of any surgery, be it the father or the mother.’
Alice looked at Tom, and said, ‘Right. That’s settled then. Ned, give me the form or whatever and I’ll sign it.’
‘Alice, please,’ said Tom, and there was desperation in his voice now. ‘Please try to see it my way.’
‘I see it very clearly your way. And I don’t like what I see. You want to stop Kit from having the best possible care in the least
possible time, and there’s only one reason as far as I’m concerned. You don’t want to betray your own principles, not just because you do hold them so passionately, and I accept that, of course. But also because you’re afraid of being seen to be betraying them, caught out if you like, and endangering your political career.’
‘That is untrue and unjust.’
‘Oh, really? Well, I’ll try to believe that. But in just a couple of hours Kit could be receiving the best surgery available. Why should you deny him that?’
‘I don’t accept it will necessarily be the best. It’s available, yes, wonderfully available, but why the best? The finest surgeons in the land work for the NHS –’
‘Could I just remind you,’ said Ned, mild still, but with an underlying threat in his voice, ‘that those surgeons include me? For many, many hours a week. At a very fine teaching hospital. Whose theatres and support staff just happen not to be available to me this afternoon. And who, should I turn up there now, with a request to use their facilities for Kit, would almost certainly turn me away.’
Tom was silent for a moment, then he said to Alice, ‘If you go ahead with this, totally against my wishes, then clearly there’s nothing I can do to stop you. I would hope you would see how unhappy that makes me, and that it would trouble you. Please, Alice, please, for my sake consider that at least. And could I remind you that – that –’ He paused, clearly struggling with a mass of painful emotions. ‘When Laura died, and I asked you if it still would have happened, if her care would have been what some would call better, had she been under Jillie’s uncle at St Thomas’, you and she both assured me she would not. Surely that must mean something to you.’
They faced one another across the room, gladiators in a life-and-death struggle: Jillie watched them, half fascinated, half fearful. And then Alice spoke, her eyes brilliant, her voice low with rage and fear, but quite strong.
‘Tom, we lied,’ she said.
‘I think,’ Jillie had said, after Alice had made her poisonous confession, ‘I think I’ll wait outside.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Ned. ‘In any case, I have other patients to see. Please tell Jennifer when you have come to a decision, Alice – and can I just remind you that time is passing and Kit is in danger. Whatever you decide.’
‘But I thought – I thought you said you could save him?’ Alice’s voice was thick with fear.
‘Alice, Jillie was right, there are no certainties in medicine. You know that, of course you do. He is a very sick little boy and it’s a difficult operation. Of course I can’t guarantee anything although I do feel confident. But I do repeat, time is of the essence. You must make your minds up very soon, if he is to have the best possible chance.’
‘My mind is made up, obviously,’ said Alice, giving Tom a look of such implacable hatred that Jillie winced. ‘And since that is sufficient for Ned to go ahead, there is no need for any delay.’
‘And the form?’
‘I’ll sign the form,’ said Tom, very quietly.
Chapter 57
The operation was delicate, and took longer than anyone had expected. To Alice, waiting in the parents’ room, and to Tom, banished to the general reception area two floors below, the afternoon seemed endless and terrifying.
Once Tom ventured upstairs: ‘I was afraid I would miss Ned if I was down there, when he had finished, you know.’
‘I’ll see you are informed, of course,’ said Alice.
‘Alice – Alice, please will you let me just try and explain—’
‘You couldn’t,’ she said.
‘But—’
‘Tom, please, just go away. I shall never forgive you as long as I live. I think the best thing you can do is go back to Purbridge. You’ve got really important things to do there.’
He left; she went back to her chair and sat hugging a cushion. How had she let this happen? How could she have put Kit’s life in danger, accepting what the GP said, not taking him somewhere she trusted immediately? Was she mad? Or just feeble? She thought of Kit as she had last seen him, dressed in his tiny hospital gown, lying like a doll on the trolley as they wheeled him down to theatre. He had been so brave, hadn’t cried or made a fuss, just lain there, his fair hair neatly combed back; only his blue eyes, wide with apprehension, to hint at what he must be going through.
As they stood in the lift, a little hand came from under the blanket groping for his mother’s; Alice took it, kissed it, tears blinding her.
Silence; then a sudden wail: ‘Teddy. Want teddy.’
‘Darling, I can’t—’
‘Teddeee.’ The small face crumpled, the chest heaved with the beginning of a sob: losing Teddy was breaking Kit, as the pain and the fear had not.
‘Kit –’
‘It’s all right, Mrs Knelston,’ said the nurse who was accompanying them to theatre. ‘You can go and get his teddy. We’ll wait. Mr Welles likes the children to have anything they want at this stage, to feel as comfortable and happy as possible.’
What an amazing man he was, Alice thought, running upstairs and searching frantically for Teddy, finding him finally under the cot where Kit would sleep. No wonder Jillie had loved him so much.
Reunited with Teddy, Kit smiled a seraphic smile.
‘Teddy brave,’ he announced.
‘Teddy is very brave.’
‘Stay now, Mummy.’
‘I will.’
And stay she did, holding Kit’s hand up to the moment when he lost consciousness, lying limp and still, even Teddy no longer required.
And Alice, terrified beyond anything, went to the parents’ room and sat there, willing Kit to be strong, strong enough for his small body to withstand all that was required of it.
She looked out of the window, thinking about Kit, the astonishment and wonder of her first sight of him, his first smile, his first laugh – a slightly hoarse, deep chuckle, nothing like his light dancing voice – his first steps – tottering determinedly across the sitting room from one chair to the next, a long and perilous journey for his sturdy little legs. Kit lying sweetly and peacefully asleep in his pram in the garden, under the apple tree. He always smiled in his sleep; as if to show that his dreams, like his life, were sweet and happy. Please God, it would continue and safely, that short, precious, happy little life. That short, fragile little life.
* * *
A clearly exhausted Ned came smiling into the room two hours later, assuring her that all was well. ‘The bowel hadn’t necrosed. He’s still unconscious and quite poorly, but absolutely not in danger. Although – another twelve hours even, and it could have been a very different story.’
‘Can I see him?’ said Alice, tears of relief streaming down her face. ‘Not yet. But when he comes round he’ll need you to be with him. In this hospital, mothers are welcome to stay with their children round the clock.’
‘That’s amazing,’ said Alice. ‘Thank you.’
‘Now I must get back to theatre. I’ve several more operations to do yet, one almost as difficult as that one. Kit will be in his room in an hour or so.’
‘Oh, Ned,’ said Alice, ‘how can I ever thank you?’
‘Well –’ Ned hesitated, then said, ‘There might be something Tom could do. When he’s an MP, that is. I haven’t got time to discuss it now, but another day perhaps. Where is Tom?’
‘Oh – downstairs in reception, I think,’ said Alice coolly, as if that was a perfectly normal place to wait while your child was having life-threatening surgery.
‘But he is still here?’
‘I imagine so.’
‘Alice –’ said Ned gently and then stopped, clearly thinking better of what he was about to say. ‘I’ll go and find him, tell him the good news.’
‘Oh, no, you’re far too busy … I’ ll—’
‘No, I’d like to see him. I’m never too busy to speak to parents,’ said Ned. She hoped he wasn’t sending her a coded message that he didn’t believe she would tell Tom. He couldn’t think
she was that wicked.
‘Look,’ said Tom, after they had seen Kit through a painful and nauseous awakening and he was in a more normal sleep, ‘why don’t I go home. Relieve poor Mrs Hartley of Charlie. Then you can stay here.’
‘Well, if you have the time that would be extremely kind,’ said Alice. She spoke as if he was a fairly distant acquaintance. ‘Thank you.’
‘Alice! They’re my children, for God’s sake.’
She didn’t answer.
‘Tom?’ Donald Herbert’s voice was at its most hectoring. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing at home, with only days to go to polling day?’
‘I’m sorry, Donald, but I can’t be anywhere else. Kit has just had life-threatening surgery and—’
‘Yes, yes. Where’s Alice, can’t she hold the fort?’
‘Not at the moment,’ said Tom firmly. ‘She’s at the hospital with Kit.’
‘Well, she can’t be there all the time?’
‘I’m afraid she is.’
‘How extraordinary. Well, if you don’t get back to Purbridge sharpish, you won’t have a cat in hell’s chance of getting in.’
‘Just hearing you talk like that makes me wonder if I want to,’ said Tom and put the phone down.
It rang again immediately. ‘What was that for?’
‘Oh, things you didn’t say. That you hoped Kit was going to be all right, what was wrong with him, that sort of thing.’
There was a silence; then Donald said, clearly reluctantly, ‘I’m sorry. How is he?’
‘As well as can be expected,’ said Tom. ‘He’s going to live if that’s what you mean. But he might not have done.’
‘What hospital is he in? I’ll send him a – a toy or something. And some flowers for Alice, she must be getting pretty fed up.’
‘Honestly,’ said Tom, not answering the question, ‘please don’t bother. It wouldn’t be worth it. I’ll go back to Purbridge next Tuesday, Donald, best I can do.’
A Question of Trust Page 52