“I just wondered where you were, that’s all.”
“Did you think they’d caught me and had me shot?”
“Don’t joke!”
“I’m not joking! That Nurse Kaye has already given me a couple of queer looks. Here, take these.” He grabbed two magazines and a romantic novel from the pile on his trolley and handed them to her.
“But I don’t want them,” Rachel began, but Gavin interrupted her.
“I know that!” he said. “Just pretend you’re reading them. Just to keep Nurse Kaye’s beady eyes off me. Here!” He reached into his back pocket for the newspaper, and gave it to Rachel. She had just stuffed it under the sheets when the door opened and Nurse Kaye came in.
“I thought I saw you pushing your trolley down the corridor,” she said to Gavin. “Aren’t you a bit early today?”
“Yep! I’ve put go faster stripes on my trolley!”
Nurse Kaye ignored Gavin’s remark and went over to the bed. She picked up the book he had given to Rachel. “I thought you’d read this,” she said to Rachel.
“That’s what I told Gavin,” Rachel quickly replied.
“Fussy beggars these heart patients!” Gavin said, taking the book back from Nurse Kaye. “First they change their hearts, then they want to change everything! How about this?” He held up another book.
“Okay, I’ll give it a try,” Rachel replied, taking the book from him.
“Right! I’m off!” Gavin began to pull his trolley back out the door. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”
Rachel quickly called after him. “I’ll have finished your magazines by then,” she said. “You can pick them up like you did yesterday.”
Gavin and his trolley disappeared. Rachel looked up at Nurse Kaye. “Is my Mum here yet?” she asked her.
“No, not yet,” the nurse replied. “Like I said, it’s a bit early. But I’m sure she’ll be here soon.” She paused for a moment, looking closely at Rachel, and then added, “You seem to be improving really well, Rachel. Maybe its time Dr Jones started you on some physiotherapy.”
“Why not!” Rachel said brightly. “I think the sooner I’m up and about, the better!”
“Alright, then. I’ll talk to him and see what he thinks.” Nurse Kaye plumped up Rachel’s pillow and quickly checked the monitors before leaving.
Rachel waited a little while longer before retrieving the newspaper from under the sheets. She took one of the magazines that Gavin had brought her and put the newspaper inside it. It didn’t conceal it very well, but it might give her a few more seconds if someone should suddenly come in the door.
She looked at the headlines. It was about some politician caught with his mistress. She glanced quickly down the front page, her eyes passing over a large picture of a scantily clad young woman in an inviting pose. Ah! There it was!
‘New Twist in Heart Op Case,’ it read. ‘Developments in the case against the Manchester Royal Infirmary took a new twist today as Mr McCord, the solicitor acting for the woman who received the heart, took out a counter suit against Mr Williams, the man suing the MRI for allegedly removing his wife’s heart without his permission. Mr McCord said to reporters that his client had been put under extreme stress by Mr Williams’s case, and that he was seeking damages to the amount of two million pounds. Asked if he thought the amount was unreasonable, Mr McCord replied that the amount reflected the pain and stress that his client was being put through. He also asked reporters to remember that his client was short of funds, and that the case was a heavy burden. At one point he also threatened to expose former clients of Mr Brian Morgan QC, who had failed to pay their bills, stating that because of them, Mr Morgan was unable to forgo his usual fee for presenting their case at court.’
‘It was also revealed today that Diana Williams (above), the 22 year old supermodel daughter of Alex Williams from his first marriage, is returning tomorrow to console her grieving father.’
Rachel’s eyebrows raised as she looked again at the picture of the scantily dressed young woman. They could have found a more suitable picture, she thought. The story finished with a note to see page two, so Rachel quickly turned to the second page. There was another headline, but no pictures this time.
‘Who Goes First Argument in Heart Op Case,’ it read. ‘Both Sir Richard Hargreaves QC and Mr Brian Morgan QC were at an astonishing hearing in court today. At stake was who goes first in their separate cases against the Manchester Royal Infirmary. Sir Richard pointed out that his client should be first, as it was from his wife that the heart was alleged to have been wrongfully removed. Mr Morgan countered that by pointing out that the outcome of the case had much more far reaching effects for his client, who may have to face a further transplant operation. Further arguments were presented on both sides, but the judge finally decided in favour of Mr Morgan, agreeing that his client was at greater risk, and so should take precedence, adding that Sir Richard would have his day later, when his client’s second case, the one against Miss Rachel Carter, the recipient of the heart, also came to court.’
A note at the bottom of the story this time said to see the centre pages, so Rachel quickly flicked through the paper to them. The first thing she saw was a picture of herself. It was an old one, taken when she was at Manchester University. She couldn’t remember who took it or when. “I look awful!” she said to herself. There was a little biography underneath. What little it said about her wasn’t very far out from the truth. There was also a picture of her mother taken outside the hospital. She didn’t look happy. There were other pictures too. It was like a portrait gallery of all the people involved in the case. Each one with a short biography underneath. There was Alex Williams again, and that same picture of his wife. Dr Jones was there too, and Sir Richard Hargreaves and Brian Morgan. There was also a picture of a striking looking red haired woman. ‘Helen Worthington,’ it said underneath.
She looked at each picture and read each little biography underneath, taking each of them in turn until she reached...
Her heart jumped. Rachel definitely felt it jump in her chest, and suddenly it was beating faster than before. She looked at the picture of the man with the boyish grin that had caused the reaction. He had dark hair and eyes. He was quite handsome.
‘Robert McCord,’ it said underneath. ‘Born in Chicago, USA in 1960. Grew up in the gangland areas of the city. Qualified as a lawyer in 1989, and became well known for his defence of Greg Conners in the 1992 Chicago banking fraud. Came to the UK in 1995. Worked briefly for Alex Williams in 1996 when it is rumoured that they became bitter enemies, which maybe one of the reasons why he is accepting no fee from his clients, Gina and Rachel Carter. Currently has an office on Brazennose Street in Manchester overlooking the statue of President Lincoln. “To stop me getting homesick,” he says.’
Rachel read the little biography a second time before looking at his picture again. She put her hand on her chest, feeling the heart beating just that little bit faster. Then she looked at the picture of Sarah Williams. ‘Worked briefly for Alex Williams,’ the biography had said. ‘When they became bitter enemies...’
Suddenly she knew. She couldn’t explain why, or how. She just knew.
Chapter Twenty-One
News of the Wanderer
Dr Jones and Nurse Kaye were discussing whether or not Rachel was ready for physiotherapy when the telephone call came.
“I think you’re right,” Dr Jones said as he walked with Julia Kaye back towards the nurse’s station, where another nurse was already waving the phone at him. “She is ready for physio. But I’m worried about how we’re going to continue keeping all this from her once she gets mobile and starts to see more people. And there’s the press trying to sneak into the hospital every five minutes.”
“I think she knows,” Nurse Kaye said.
Dr Jones took the phone from the outstretched hand of the nurse behind the counter. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes. I don’t know how, but I have my suspicions.”
Dr Jones paused with the phone in his hand. “Well, I am surprised,” he said. “She’s taking it all very well if she does know.” He thought for a moment before making his mind up. “Physio will give her something else to think about. We’ll start her tomorrow morning. Let me know when Gina gets in. Thanks Julia.”
Dr Jones pressed the phone to his ear as Nurse Kaye walked away. “Hello, Dr Jones here,” he said on the phone. In reply he was greeted by loud whistling and crackling noises and a very faint voice. “Who’s that?” he said putting his finger in his other ear. “Speak up, man! I can hardly hear you!”
“Is that you Philip?” the faint, crackly voice said. “It’s David.”
“David?” Dr Jones repeated under his breath. Then it dawned on him, and he grabbed the phone with both hands. “David! Where are you man? Where’ve you been? Everyone’s been looking for you!”
“So I hear,” Dr David Askwith replied. “An American reporter told me this morning. We met by chance, I had no idea what was going on.”
The line was terrible; Dr Jones could hardly hear his colleague’s voice. “You’ve got to come back!” he said loudly. “Do you hear me? You’ve got to come back now!”
“It’s not that easy, Phil! I’m a bit stuck here. Would you believe it, I was just passing through Albania when all the shooting started! Mind you, it’s my own fault! People said that it was brewing. Now I don’t think I’ll be able to get out, at least not until the shooting stops and it’s a bit safer! They need a few extra doctors here, anyway. People seem to get shot every five minutes. Look, Phil, I’ve had to borrow this phone off a reporter, and I’ll have to give it him back soon, so you’d better tell me what all the fuss is about.”
Dr Jones was desperate. He didn’t know what to say first. “Do you remember that heart you found for me?”
“Yes. Was it okay?”
“Did you get authorisation to take the heart from the donor?”
“Of course I did! What do you think I am? A body snatcher?”
“How? How did you get it?”
“She had a donor card.”
“No, David! That was the other woman! Sorenson! It was Williams the heart came from! Sarah Williams! Not Sorenson! Do you remember?”
“Yes, I told you! She had a donor card! Phil, this reporter wants his phone back, so we’ll have to be quick. I still don’t see what all the fuss is about.”
“Only Sorenson had a donor card!” Dr Jones almost yelled. “It was in her handbag! Williams didn’t have a handbag! She didn’t have anything!”
“No, that’s right, it was in her back pocket. Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you again when I’m out of here. Bye!”
“Dr Askwith! David!” Dr Jones shouted down the phone, but the line had already gone dead.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cracks
“But is it a set back?” Alex demanded. He was pacing back and forth in Helen Worthington’s office.
“Not really,” Helen replied, watching him walking up and down. He was beginning to irritate her. “It just means that we won’t be in the driving seat, that’s all.” She was sitting in her big leather chair as usual.
“You’re a fool if you believe that!” Alex snapped. He wasn’t in a very good mood at the best of times, but today his mood seemed to be worse than ever. “McCord doesn’t want to win his case against the MRI! He wants to lose! We needed to be first! How did you let this happen, Hargreaves?”
Sir Richard looked up. He was a rather over weight man in his late fifties, with grey hair and a beard. He was sitting back and relaxing in one of the comfy chairs in Helen’s office.
“I didn’t let this happen,” he said slowly in a very upper class accent. “Both Helen and I advised you that it was more than likely that the judge would find in their favour. The life of the Carter girl could be at risk if the MRI is truly at fault, so the judge was bound to–”
“Of course they’re at fault!” Alex interrupted, impatiently. “But now that McCord’s in charge, he’s going to give them every opportunity to wriggle out of it!”
“He can’t avoid the truth,” Helen said quickly. “Sooner, or later, the question of authorisation to remove the heart has to come up. They either had permission, or they didn’t, it’s as simple as that.”
“But what if he does avoid it? What if he strings the case out for as long as possible? What then?”
“Then we play our trump card, and get rid of him,” Helen replied sternly. Alex stopped pacing up and down and turned to glare at Helen. She already knew his feelings on that matter, but if they needed to get rid of McCord, then regardless of the fact that Alex might want to hide his wife’s affair, she would use it. She stared back at Alex, unmoved.
“If you want to talk about being foolish,” Sir Richard said to Alex in the strained silence. “Maybe we should discuss the impending arrival of your daughter.”
“Hah!” Alex scoffed and resumed pacing about the office. “Not that again!”
“Yes! That again!” Helen said with some venom. This was the real reason for his more than usual bad temper today. Not the result of yesterday’s hearing, but their questioning his decision to ask his daughter to return from her home in Italy. And why could the man never sit still? Why did he have to pace about all the time? It was driving her crazy. “Sir Richard is quite right,” Helen continued. “I don’t think asking her back here was a good idea at all, Alex. Diana would have been far safer out of the way in Italy. The press are going to have a field day!”
“Then keep them away from her!”
“That’s going to be practically impossible now that everybody knows that she’s arriving today! Whatever possessed you to ask her to come here?”
“She’s my daughter!” Alex insisted. “I want her here, with me!”
“But she knew Sarah, the opposition is bound to call her as a witness!”
“A witness to what?” Alex snapped. “She wasn’t there! What could she tell them?”
“They’ll call her as a witness to Sarah’s character,” Sir Richard Hargreaves replied. Alex ignored him, continuing to pace up and down, so Sir Richard continued. “They’ll want to try and prove that your wife was content to have her organs used after her death. It’s the sort of thing that she might have confided in her friend, your daughter. They did know each other for quite some time, after all.”
“It doesn’t matter what she thought, or what she told Diana!” Alex said angrily, his voice raised. “What counts is what the MRI did that night! They didn’t have my permission to do what they did, but they just went ahead and did it anyway! My God! Not only didn’t they ask me! But I don’t think they even wanted to tell me what they’d done, until that policewoman made them!”
“Alex! Stop walking about and sit down!” Helen suddenly shouted.
Alex stopped dead in his tracks and turned to glare at her. “What’s the matter, Helen? Pressure getting to you?” he said rather coldly.
Helen glared back at him. “No,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “You’re wearing out the carpet.”
Alex came forward and put his hands on her desk, leaning right over it, and staring straight into Helen’s eyes. “I’m paying you a lot of money to win this case,” he said in the same cold tones. “And so far the results I’ve seen haven’t filled me with much confidence. Remember, Helen, that there are plenty of other firms out there who are just as capable of fighting this case for me. So be careful, because rather than being famous for winning this case, you could be just as famous for being sacked halfway through it.”
Sir Richard raised his eyebrows and stared at them both. “Getting a little heated, aren’t we?” he said.
Alex straightened up and walked towards the door. “The presence of my daughter will have no bearing on the case.” he said as he opened the door. “I want her picked up at the airport. Arrange it. And keep those damn reporters away from her!” Then he left.
Helen was left alone with Sir Ric
hard. There was an uneasy silence. Sir Richard took a deep breath and said, “You do know that our client is quite likely to pull the plug on this little affair of ours at any moment.”
“He won’t give it up,” Helen replied, still annoyed with herself for allowing Alex to rattle her. “He’s got far too many scores to settle with this case.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure. It’s obvious that his wife’s death has affected him very badly, and he’s far from rational at the moment. All it would need is for a glimmer of common sense to break through that thick layer of anger and frustration he’s surrounded himself with, and we could both be out of a job. The presence of his daughter right now could be more damaging to our cause than you think. She could supply that common sense, and she’s the one person right now who he’s likely to listen to.”
Helen thought for a moment. She was growing calmer again. She looked at the notes on her desk. One of them contained the flight details and arrival time for Diana Williams. She made her mind up quickly.
“Then we’ll just have to make sure that that doesn’t happen, won’t we?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Voice of Common Sense
Diana Williams came through the Arrivals gate at Manchester Airport’s Terminal Two to be greeted by a hoard of photographers and reporters screaming for her views on the trial. It was a mad scramble as soon as she appeared, and in an instant she was at the centre of a howling mob. Other passengers were barged out of the way, and luggage was knocked from some of the trolleys. One angry man, seeing his wife pushed aside, punched a photographer, and the camera fell to the floor with a smash. There was complete pandemonium.
Police and airport security suddenly appeared and pushed their way through. They began to push the reporters out of the way, making room for Diana and the other passengers to get through. There were shouts and screams as Diana Williams slowly forced her way out to the street, where a black BMW was waiting for her. She got in, and it speeded away, quickly leaving behind the odd few photographers who chased after it, cameras clicking.
An Affair of the Heart Page 6