A Life for a Life

by Andrew Puckett

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘You heard me.’

  ‘You’re suggestin’ that I need—’

  ‘This is a very stressful time for both of you. It’s bound to affect your relationship, which has to be a major factor in the symptoms you describe.’ She stood up. ‘And now—’

  ‘I don’t think you’re in any position to be a judge of anyone’s relationship, Connie, let alone mine.’

  ‘You’d better explain that, Fraser.’ Her voice was still, her face expressionless.

  ‘I don’t have to explain anything to you, Connie, not a damned thing. You are the one’ – he pointed – ‘who’s going to have to explain why you persisted with the use of a drug with dangerous side-effects.’

  She laughed. ‘Put your finger away, Fraser, you look silly like that. And you’ll sound silly, very silly if you try to bring that old chestnut up again.’ She came round from her desk, moving towards the door. ‘You don’t seem to have grasped yet that Alkovin may, if we’re lucky, enable me to save your girlfriend’s life.’ She stopped, about a yard away from him. ‘I don’t expect gratitude, but I would have hoped for more professional respect, even from one of your background.’

  He absorbed this, then said, ‘You asked me to explain myself just now. What I meant was that bein’ a failure at relationships yourself, you are now tryin’ to undermine one that’s success—’

  She caught him a ringing slap on the side of his face that knocked him sideways, then another on the other cheek without giving him the option of turning it first… and there would have been more, but for the fact he seized her wrists and held them.

  ‘Let go of me,’ she hissed into his face.

  He gripped harder. ‘Not until you—’

  She brought her knee up into his groin. He gasped, dropped her wrists as she let out a piercing scream and ran to the door.

  ‘Help! Ian, he’s assaulting me…’

  Fraser painfully straightened himself up as Ian came running in.

  ‘Connie… what in God’s name… Fraser…?’

  ‘He assaulted me, Ian,’ Connie said breathlessly. ‘Get the police.’

  ‘Surely we don’t need—’

  ‘He came in here shouting about Frances, then he grabbed me – look…’ She held up her wrists, which were already beginning to bruise where he’d gripped her.

  ‘If there was any assault, it was she who assaulted me,’ Fraser said, aware as he said it of how feeble it sounded.

  ‘I was trying to defend myself,’ Connie said. ‘Call the police, Ian, now. If you don’t, I will.’

  By now, several other faces were peering in through the door – Robert, Sophie, Terry Stroud.

  ‘Oh, Jesus wept,’ said Ian despairingly. He phoned the police.

  They came and took statements. Fraser was told he could go home and was advised to stay there. He knew he had to tell the British Medical Association, the doctors’ trade union, what had happened, and thought about doing it from a phone box, so as to avoid worrying Frances or Mary, then realised they would have to know sooner or later anyway.

  Both women listened slack-mouthed to his account. Frances knew about their relationship, so it wasn’t quite so much of a shock for her, but Fraser didn’t care for the way Mary’s look became increasingly askance.

  ‘I have to say that Dr Flint struck me as the last kind of person who would do such a thing,’ she said.

  ‘Well, it doesn’t surprise me,’ Frances said. ‘She’s a complete bitch underneath all the charm.’ She sighed. ‘I wish you’d told me where you were going, Fraser.’

  ‘So that you could have stopped me, I suppose?’

  ‘Too damn right.’

  He pressed his lips together, then said, ‘Well, so do I, now.’

  ‘It’ll sort itself out,’ she said.

  But after Mary had gone, she said, ‘It’s a mess, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’ll not be allowed to go on working there.’

  ‘No, you won’t. Would they let you go to one of the other hospitals in the region to finish your contract?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘D’you think Ian believed her?’

  ‘I don’t know that either. Why?’

  ‘Would he give you a reference?’

  ‘He might,’ Fraser said slowly. ‘It’s in their interest to get rid of me as quietly as possible.’

  They talked over their options during the rest of the afternoon. Fraser couldn’t help noticing that his problems had, paradoxically, seemed to lift Frances’ mood, so much so that they went out for a meal that evening. Later, though, she became spiky and unstable again and it took all his diplomacy to avoid another row. At least she agreed to take the sedative, which helped her to sleep – that night, and over the weekend.

  On Monday, after a visit to the Trust HQ where an administrator told him he was suspended on full pay, he went to the small office the BMA had in the city.

  ‘You realise, Dr Callan, that as an organisation we represent both you and Dr Flint?’ Dr Smith was earnest, bespectacled and, underneath his elderly medical student image, rather shrewd. ‘So it’s in our interest to find a compromise, one that suits both of you. What is not in our interest is the public spectacle of two professionals fighting. You do see that, don’t you?’

  ‘Sure I do,’ Fraser said. ‘But I will not, cannot, compromise my position on Alkovin. It’s a dangerous drug.’

  Smith considered him, then said, Tell me about it again – how, exactly, did it come to be used in your department?’

  He listened carefully while Fraser went through it in detail, putting in questions now and again.

  At last he said, ‘I’m going to give you the phone number of some people in London who may be able to help you provided you forget it was me who gave it you.’

  Fraser rang it as soon as he got home and was put through to someone with the unlikely name of Tom Jones.

  ‘Can you come up on Wednesday?’ Jones asked after Fraser briefly told him what it was about. He had a marked London accent.

  Fraser asked Frances who shrugged and said, ‘All right.’ She looked so miserable after he put the phone down that he went and put his arms around her.

  After a few moments, he said quietly, ‘Why don’t we get married?’

  ‘We are, in September.’

  ‘No, I mean this week. Get a special licence and just have your mother and maybe one or two others.’

  Her expression went from astonishment to delight. ‘What a lovely idea…’ She thought about it, savouring it for a while, then sighed. ‘We’ve told everyone September, and I think it would be unlucky to change it. But thank you.’

  She was probably right, he thought, it might give the wrong message to rush things.

  It was strange how he’d known what he’d wanted from the time he first took her out…

  8

  May 1998–January 1999

  I could marry this one…

  The thought had come from nowhere and he’d laughed softly at himself as he’d brought the drinks over.

  ‘Share the joke?’ she’d said as he sat down.

  ‘Oh, just something in the play,’ he lied, and picked an incident at random from the Stoppard they’d just seen.

  He’d had plenty of girlfriends, but never such a thought before. It wasn’t as if she was startlingly pretty, he’d had prettier, but there was something about her face, the way it lit when she smiled, that entranced him…

  ‘What made you decide to go for medicine?’ she asked. ‘I’ve never met a lab worker who became a doctor before, let alone a pathologist.’

  He thought for a moment. ‘I suppose it was when I was doing my part-time degree – did you do that?’

  She shook her head. ‘I did mine full-time at university. You were saying…?’

  ‘Well, I could see the others struggling with stuff I was soaking up – sorry if this sounds big-headed, I thought at the time there must be some catch… but then, when I pas
sed with first class honours having not exactly killed myself studying, I realised I had a facility for exams and decided to push it as far as it would go.’

  ‘How sickening,’ she said. ‘I’d have been one of the strugglers. But what made you choose medicine?’

  He shrugged. ‘I found the human body, its workings, fascinating – it’s why I went into lab work in the first place.’

  ‘But how did you manage to get into medical school? I thought they only took people who got straight As at school.’

  ‘They do make exceptions, but it was mostly due to the pathologist where I worked, Dr McCloud.’ He told her how he’d encouraged him, taken the time to show him how to approach the interviews, the kind of answers they liked. ‘I’d never have done it without him.’ He smiled. ‘He had no preconceptions, he took people entirely on their own merits,’

  ‘You make him sound a bit like JS.’

  Fraser smiled again, mirthlessly this time. ‘Aye, maybe he was.’

  ‘And now it’s all change,’ she said tonelessly.

  ‘Yeah.’

  She said, ‘Have you noticed? Nobody ever seems to talk about him now – it’s almost as though there’s a tacit conspiracy…’

  ‘I can think of one reason for that.’

  She looked at him.

  ‘Because if it wasn’t an accident… Can you remember who the police spent the most time with?’

  ‘No?’

  ‘Connie, Ian and Leo. They must have had their reasons for that.’

  ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘No, I can’t believe that. Let’s talk about something else.’

  Later, when he stopped outside her house, she said, ‘Thanks for a lovely evening, Fraser.’

  ‘I’d like to see you again.’

  ‘You will, tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘I know.’ She quickly kissed him on the side of the mouth before climbing out of the car.

  He watched her go in. She waved as she shut the door.

  *

  They disagreed about foxhunting, emotional intelligence, hand guns and South American politics.

  ‘You could always stay the night,’ he suggested.

  ‘Thank you’ – she smiled that smile – ‘but I think I’ll go home.’

  They agreed about Tony Blair, Mozart, the sea and South African politics.

  ‘Stay with me…’

  ‘Don’t push me, Fraser.’

  Yes, she’d lived with someone before, for nearly a year, investing more than she’d got in return, which was why, when she did stay with him, it was at a time of her own choosing.

  *

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said. ‘Show me.’

  The one-piece swimming costume clung to her body like sealskin and he suddenly felt a childish desire to show off.

  He took several deep breaths, then ducked under the water and began swimming away from her; soon she couldn’t see him for the ripples made by the other swimmers. About half a minute later he bobbed up at the far end of the swimming pool over a hundred feet away. She swam over and joined him. He was still panting.

  ‘Where did you learn to do that?’ she asked.

  ‘Used to go swimming a lot.’ He grinned at her between breaths. ‘In Glasgae, if y’ didnae like footba’, there was only swimming left.’

  ‘Most people prefer to swim on the water, not under it.’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s just something I’ve always liked doing. I did a diving course in Israel a few years ago.’

  ‘Why Israel?’

  ‘Why not? It’s hot and the life under the Red Sea is… well, y’ have to see it to believe it.’

  ‘D’you still go there?’

  ‘I went last year. Why? Fancy coming with me?’

  ‘I might.’

  Later, in the pub, he asked her about her family. Her father had been a teacher, she told him, her mother too, until they married.

  ‘Dad could have been a headmaster if he’d been prepared to move, but Mum wouldn’t leave Avon.’

  ‘Roots?’

  ‘Deep ones in her case – I’ve lost count of the number of cousins twice removed I’ve got round here.’

  ‘It didn’t stop your brother moving away – Africa, isn’t it?’

  ‘Botswana. He’s a teacher too and he loves it there. He comes home every Christmas, burnt to a cinder, but you can see he’s itching to get back.’

  ‘Older than you?’

  She nodded, then looked at him curiously. ‘D’you ever see your family? You never mention them…’

  He shrugged and looked away. ‘I try to see my mother at Christmas, but…’

  ‘Yes?’ she prompted.

  ‘I know it sounds bad, but she always has my brothers over when I’m there an’ I’m… I’m not comfortable with them. Nor they with me. I don’t really belong there.’

  She half smiled. ‘You make it sound as though you’re a refugee from a foreign country.’

  ‘Have you ever been to Glasgow?’

  She shook her head. ‘But I thought it was supposed to be the cultural centre of Europe now,’ she said innocently.

  Fraser snorted. ‘Now that would depend on which bit you were in and who you might be listening to. Would you jump at the chance of an invite to a social gathering in St Paul’s?’

  ‘Aren’t you being rather judgemental?’

  He didn’t reply and she said, ‘I suppose not, but every city’s got its dodgy areas, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Aye, an’ I grew up in one,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s fine well for a person to drive through an’ say, “Oh, what an interesting community”, but they wouldn’t want to live there.’

  The bitterness in his voice surprised her, but she didn’t say anything, sensing that he would go on.

  ‘Remember how I told you I was good at academic work? Well, in the school I went to, that was the quickest way to social oblivion. Even my brothers were embarrassed by me.’ He paused again, then seemed to come to a decision and went on: ‘The only way I could gain any kind of street cred was to prove myself by my deeds out of school. So’ – he took a breath, released it – ‘I joined a gang of joyriders, learned how to break into cars, hot wire the engines an’ drive round like a maniac terrorising people.’

  ‘How old were you?’

  ‘Fourteen, fifteen.’

  ‘Hormones,’ she said. ‘Testosterone.’

  He shrugged again. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Didn’t you get caught?’

  ‘Eventually, which was probably the best thing could have happened.’ He smiled without humour. ‘My form teacher came to court and spoke for me and I only got probation. But you know what really got me? The old man whose car I’d stolen had to come to court to give evidence, and when I looked at him, I saw what I’d become. When I promised never to do it again, I meant it,’

  ‘Did you keep the promise?’

  ‘Aye. But I had no real friends after that and just lived for the time I could get out.’ He looked up at her. ‘That’s why I don’t belong there an’ hate going back. And yet, I’m not sure I belong here, either.’

  ‘Yes you do,’ she said, but they both knew what he meant.

  *

  ‘Did you know that Fraser and Frances Templeton are virtually living together?’ Ian watched Connie’s face as he imparted this information.

  ‘I believe I’d heard a rumour,’ Connie said disinterestedly. ‘I’m glad he’s found his level,’ she added, which told Ian what he wanted to know.

  Fraser didn’t care what they thought. He didn’t care about anything else much and it wasn’t until after Frances had moved in with him that he gave Alkovin any more consideration.

  It was another suicide attempt, successful this time; a man of fifty who had relapsed after consolidation.

  ‘I’m sure Fraser’s eyes would have lit up when he heard about it,’ Connie said at the weekly medical meeting, ‘but I think we can agree that this man’s personal life,
taken together with the relapse, is explanation enough.’

  ‘My eyes would never light up for anyone’s death,’ Fraser felt impelled to say. ‘Especially a suicide.’

  ‘Of course not, Fraser. I was joking.’

  The meeting moved on, but Fraser noticed that Robert Swann, the junior consultant, had been on the point of saying something and then apparently changed his mind. He was a quiet, almost withdrawn man, younger than Fraser, but they seemed to get on.

  Over the next month, Fraser wrote up every case of psychosis in ALL he could find and compared the number with that in myeloid leukaemia, which wasn’t treated with Alkovin. There was a statistically significant increase with ALL.

  Then, although he knew he was taking a risk, he contacted his opposite number in Birmingham and asked if he could see the data in their Alkovin trial.

  They hadn’t been looking for it in the same way, but there was nevertheless a significantly higher rate of neurological disturbance where Alkovin was used.

  He considered approaching one of the higher managers in the Trust, then thought he’d have a better chance of convincing them if he had someone else on his side. He went to see Robert.

  ‘Forgive me if I’m wrong,’ he fished, ‘but I’ve gained the impression that you might have reservations about the Alkovin situation.’

  After a pause, Robert nibbled carefully. ‘Some of the things you’ve come up with have made me wonder once or twice.’ After a pause, he said, ‘Put it this way, Fraser – I can’t see that it would hurt to take a look at it. Use reverse criteria perhaps, assume there is a neurological effect and look for evidence.’

  To commit himself or not? Fraser wondered…

  ‘Well, the fact is, Robert, I’ve done just that. Looked for and found evidence.’

  ‘Have you now? Is that it there?’ He nodded at the sheaf of paper in Fraser’s hands.

  ‘I’ve made you a copy.’

  They went through it together and Fraser told him what he had in mind.