The chief executive frowned. “Bill, I’ll let you answer that if I may.” He gestured to one of the senior hospital managers.
“Well, we have audited the activity of the maternity units on both sites and decided that with our proposed drives to increase efficiency, we will only need to bring about thirty percent of the staff over with us after the merger. This will bring about significant financial benefits without compromising patient care.”
“What?” shouted Sister Bevan, suddenly losing her composure. “We can barely cope with the workload as it stands and you are proposing a doubling! With only a thirty percent increase in staff! Are you mad? There’ll be deaths, I’m telling you now – people will die; patients and staff. Working here is going to be a living nightmare.”
All of the people in the room began to murmur to one another and the chief executive shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Ha, Sister Bevan!” he said with a nervous laugh. “You’re being characteristically melodramatic as usual! May I have a word with you please, outside?” He nodded towards the door, rose from his seat and left the room without giving her the chance to reply.
Sister Bevan exited the room as well and the Chief closed the heavy doors behind them before marching down the corridor towards the lift and beckoning her to follow. He stopped about half the distance to the lift.
“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed at her through clenched teeth.
“You’ve got to be kidding me Dan, eleven thousand deliveries with that number of staff- it’s going to be a disaster! How can you approve this with a clear conscience and worse, dress it up as an efficiency drive?” She became quite red in the face as she spoke.
“Look, everyone knows that these cuts are not about efficiency” replied the chief executive. “We all know that they are just divide-and-conquer tactics so that this Tory government can demoralise us enough so that we’ll agree that the health service is failing and go along unquestioningly with privatisation. But there’s nothing we can do. This ball is already rolling with too much momentum to stop it now. Think about it though, this will be good for people like you and me. When we do go private our pay will go through the roof – no more glass ceilings! Just ride this out Anne and there’ll be a great little position for you at the end of it. No more working all those ‘free hours’ for the NHS eh?”
“Dan, listen to me - someone is going to die because of this. It will not be safe to have a baby here. We are actually putting lives at risk by agreeing to this – do you get me?” She spoke slowly as if hoping that doing so might make him understand.
“Listen Anne, between you and me” he spoke in just a whisper now “we’ve got a big pot of money put aside for pay-outs if we do have a ‘bad outcome’. You know the kind of common as muck clientele we get round here – they’ll easily go quiet for a bit of compensation.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me? Right? This is some kind of a joke – have you heard yourself? We’re talking about dead babies here Dan, dead mothers! It’s not too late – we can’t just roll over and accept all this – we need to stand and fight.”
“As far as I’m concerned” said the Chief, adjusting his tie, “this is a good thing. People in the private sector get paid far more than us Anne, far more, for less work. People take us for granted. It’s time they started paying if they want a premium service.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you, people can’t afford to pay for …” At that inopportune moment, the bleeper that was attached to her belt let out its piercing cry. She grasped it and looked at the number displayed. “It’s Maternity Assessment, I’ve got to go.” She fixed the chief executive with a hard look. “This isn’t over.”
--
David and the Spirit stood behind Sister Bevan in the elevator as it made its descent. She was agitated with anticipation and kept muttering “come on, come on”. They arrived at the ground floor and she strode out of the elevator and into the Assessment Ward. Upon entering, she saw and heard a commotion coming from behind the curtain surrounding the bed closest to her desk (which was still garnished at that time with its single strip of purple tinsel). She marched over and drew back the curtain to reveal a young female doctor in a blue scrub top and trousers, flanked by a junior midwife and two security guards, standing over a thin woman in a meagre, dirty green jacket, curled up defensively on a bed.
David looked at the face of the woman on the bed and once again recognised her as Sam. His initial relief that she was at least alive was slowly replaced by a creeping shock of further realisation. Looking at her slight frame, her dirty unwashed appearance and adding these observations to his knowledge of her pregnancy; he realised that it was Sam who had knocked his wife over in the hospital that very day! She was the same person after whom he had despatched a miniature battalion of police officers and worst of all the same person who he had asked the Chief Inspector of Police to throw into the darkest, most horrible police station on Christmas Eve and even mete out corporal punishment upon. The horror of this recognition hit David with a force so strong that he felt unable to breathe and slumped down into an untidy sitting position on the floor and began to weep. He wept for Sam, from his knowledge of the sadness and tragedy that had befallen her on the path that led her to this hospital at this time on this day. And he wept for himself, for the shame of knowing that he had acted with such cruelty; and for the realisation that his own success was carried in a vessel of ideas that was kept afloat only by the tears of Sam and thousands more just like her.
David felt the gentle touch of a hand at his shoulder and looked up to see the kindly face of the spirit smiling down upon him. The spirit took him gently by the elbow and helped him to his feet so that he might watch the remainder of the events.
David watched Sister Bevan dismiss the doctor and the midwife and kneel down and speak to Sam in a gentle voice. He heard Sam whisper that she “just needed a place to stay” and he heard the protestations from the doctor as she left the ward, saying that there was nothing wrong with Sam apart from being unwashed and that she was wasting a bed and that security had been called to escort her out of the hospital.
He listened to Sister Bevan trying to reason with the security guards to get them to leave and he heard their refusals citing that they would need senior clearance to do so. He watched Sister Bevan pick up the phone to ring the head of security and at the same time he saw one of the security guards lean down and whisper something to Sam that he could not quite hear but that brought a frantic look to her face.
He heard Sam threaten to throw a cup of acid at the guard. Even David knew that her cup was only filled with water and he could see that her threat was analogous to that of a medieval woman pretending to be a witch and threatening to place a spell on an assailant. She was simply using what little charisma was left to her to make an idle defensive threat. He watched as the security guard approached Sam again and how she threw the cup of plain, cold water at his arm causing him to fall to his knees in a comical over-reaction. He watched the second security guard start to laugh just as the panic took a grip of Sam causing her to leap out of her bed and run out of the ward. He saw Sam run at full speed into his own wife Samantha as she passed by on a trolley and he saw Sister Bevan walk out of the ward and scream SAMANTHA! as she fled. Finally, he saw himself and his theatrical gesticulations as he ordered the staff to follow Sam as she disappeared down the corridor.
--
All of a sudden, quite without warning David found himself back at the Canal Bridge. It was dark and Sam was sat with her arms around her legs and face between her knees, sobbing and shivering at the same time. Two policemen approached and after a few questions, helped Sam to her feet and handcuffed her hands behind her back. They escorted her down the towpath to a waiting Police car. He watched Sam’s features relax a little as the warmth from the heated car began to sink into her skin.
Once again the spirit once brought his Torch down upon the ground with a great CRACK! This time, when the ec
ho ceased, David found himself in the middle of the detention area of a small police station. He and the ghost were surrounded by several locked, heavy metal doors, each of which had viewing slots cut at eye level and a slot lower down for administering nutrition. Shouts of various profanities and the sound of banging and kicking came from behind at least two of the doors. The harsh, powerful glow from the white strip lights overhead reflected in every direction off the yellowing tiles that clad the walls and floor, making David squint uncomfortably. Similar to inside the hospital, but to an even greater extent, this place too was very much devoid of any kind of festive garnish.
A tall, broad shouldered male police officer wearing a thick blue-black jumper walked past David and the ghost and stopped at cell number five. He slid the cover of the eye slot to one side and peered inside. David stood up on his tip-toes and looked over the officers’ shoulder. In doing so, he was just able to catch a glimpse of Sam laid on her side on the simple plastic mattress that was laid atop the ledge in the cell that functioned as both a bed and a seat. Sam’s knees were curled up towards her chest and her arms cradled the bump in her abdomen. Her face twisted every few seconds into a grimace of pain.
“What’s the matter?” asked the officer.
“I’m having pain” said Sam.
“Pain where?”
“In my tummy, I’m pregnant”
The officer closed the viewing slot without further comment. He walked to the reception area of the station and picked up the phone. Twenty minutes later another man in a long black overcoat walked into the station. His shoulders were covered in a light dusting of snow and he carried on his breath the aroma of a hastily swallowed cup of coffee, taken to try and ward off the grogginess that comes from being suddenly summoned from the first phase of sleep. The man pressed his identity card onto the bullet proof glass of the reception desk so that the officer behind could read it.
‘Dr. Mark Rowan: Police Surgeon’
The officer pressed the button which unlocked the heavy steel door leading to the cells and the doctor walked through.
“What have we got?” he asked the officer. If the good doctor felt any irritation at having being called out so late on Christmas Eve, it was certainly not detectable in his voice which was soft and polite, in stark contrast with his surroundings.
“A woman” replied the officer “in custody on an assault charge. She’s complaining of pain in her stomach. Says she’s pregnant but we’ve no record of that.”
“Right” said the doctor, “where is she?” He took off his long black coat to reveal a bright red jumper and brown khaki trousers.
The officer led him to the cell and began to unlock the thick metal door. He turned the key with a heavy clunk before sliding across the fat metal bolt.
“What’s her name?” asked Dr. Rowan.
“Samantha or just Sam” replied the officer.
The two men entered the room where Sam was still curled up on the bed but in the intervening time, she had fallen asleep. The officer dragged in two plastic chairs and placed them in the corner of the room. A female officer with a sleepy face joined them as well just before he closed the door and the two officers took their seats in the corner to watch the spectacle.
“God, it’s cold in here” remarked Dr. Rowan. He walked over to Sam and squatted down next to her. He gently touched her shoulder causing her to wake up with slight startle. “Hi, is it Sam?”
“Yes” she replied.
“Hi there, my name’s Mark, I’m one of the police doctors. This gentleman tells me that you’re pregnant and that you’ve been having some pain – is that correct?”
“Yeah” she replied “But I think it’s gone now.”
The female officer rolled her eyes and looked at the doctor in anticipation of an angry reaction to having been summoned for no good reason – but none came.
“Well that’s good” said Dr. Rowan softly. “Would you mind if I had a look at you anyway?” Still shaken from her encounter with the young doctor at the hospital earlier that day, Sam shook her head and curled her knees even tighter up to her chest.
The doctor leant in slightly closer and spoke as gently as possible. “It won’t hurt Sam, I just want to check that you and the baby are ok, then I’ll leave you be – I promise.” Sam glanced at the doctors eyes and finding in them only a gentle concern, she nodded her head and rolled onto her back.
“That’s good” said the doctor. “Have you had any bleeding today?”
“A little bit” said Sam as she lifted up her top to reveal her neat bump.
“Right, well we’d better get you seen at the hospital too once I’ve checked you” said the doctor. At his words Sam pulled her clothes back over her bump and shook her head.
“Ok, ok, we won’t do that. We can just keep an eye on you here for a while if that’s what you want. Could I have a look at your tummy?” Sam lifted up her top again and the doctor placed two warm hands around her bump. “How many weeks are you now?” He asked.
“Twenty six tomorrow” Sam replied. Beneath his fingers the doctor felt a womb that was reassuringly soft and the baby jostled and rolled in its waters in protest at being disturbed. The doctor smiled at the thought of the tiny feet kicking him away from the inside. He opened his large leather doctors’ bag that was laid at his side and took out a little grey box, small enough to fit into the palm of his hand. Attached to the box via a curly cable was a piece of grey plastic that looked like a miniature microphone that had been decapitated of its furry head leaving only a flat surface on top. He opened a small packet of clear gel and squeezed it onto Sam’s belly just below her belly button.
“Sorry if it’s a bit cold” he said. “I’m just going to listen to the baby’s heart” He pressed the flat head of his device onto the area where the gel was and almost instantly the fast, reassuring da-dum, da-dum, da-dum of the baby’s heart emanated from the little grey box.
Now, there is a phenomenon that is seen all around the world, in many different kinds of people, that when they become aware of being in the presence of an unborn child, something is stirred deep within their heart and they come to look upon the world with new eyes. It has been said that this phenomenon is particularly common at Christmas.
And so it was that when that small cell, on that Christmas Eve night filled with the sound of the baby’s heart, the male police officer leapt to his feet. “Oh my god! Is that the baby’s heart?” he exclaimed. He walked over to Samantha and the doctor with just a hint of moisture in his eyes. “Is everything ok?”
“Yes, everything’s fine” said the doctor standing up. He gently wiped the gel of Sam’s tummy before gesturing to her to cover up. “I’ll just check her pulse and blood pressure but I think everything’s fine. It’s not too unusual to get the odd flurry of contractions now and then and its fine as long as they don’t last.” He turned to Sam. “We’ll keep you here then ok? You let these guys know if there’s a problem and I’m just fifteen minutes away” He finished his work and took his leave.
A few minutes after the doctor left, the male policeman returned to the room carrying under his arm two blankets and an extra pillow. “Here” he said handing them to Sam. “You must be freezing in here. You hungry?”
A short while later a happy laughter could be heard coming from that small, dingy cell; the first happy laughter that had fallen on Sam’s ears since almost a time before her recollection. She and the police officer sat eating Pizza on that cold Christmas Eve, and I do ask if you should happen, by any unlikely chance, to know a man more blessed in a laugh than that officer, I should like to know him too. For it is a fair, even-handed, and noble adjustment of things, that while there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good-humour. The officer laughed and twisted his face into the most extravagant contortions as Sam described the incident with the water and the theatrical hypochondria of the hospital security guard. Eventually Sam’s face too beg
an to stretch into a reluctant smile.
--
“Spirit,” said David, with an interest that had been growing for some time, “tell me if Sam will live – will her baby be well?”
“There are many possibilities David. But if these shadows remain unaltered then Sam will die and so too will the child. And even while she lives that sorrow that you fear and that you have seen come more and more often, will one day settle on her with such resolve that its roots will sink so deep inside as to become immovable. When that happens, even as her body lives and breathes, it will be naught but a shell in which to carry her sadness.”
“No, no,” said David. “Oh no, kind Spirit! say she will find a way out of all this.”
“If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other of my race,” returned the Ghost, “will find her here.”
David hung his head and felt overcome with grief.
--
It had been a long day, if it were only a day; but David had his doubts of this, because all the events appeared to have been condensed into the small space of time that he and the ghost passed together. It was strange, too, that while David remained unaltered in his outward form, the Ghost grew older, clearly older. David had observed this change, but never spoke of it. Looking at the Spirit now, as they stood together under the harsh white light, he noticed that its hair was grey.
A Christmas Cameron Page 12