The Furness Secret

by Mark Williams

  Suddenly, music shattered the funereal atmosphere. Charles’s face flashed up on Tom’s phone. He put it to his ear.

  “I’ve just got off the phone with the Culture Minister in Westminster. A car will be there within the hour. Get packed. The three of you are on tomorrow’s 10 o’clock flight to New York.”

  “What?! Chloe’s never been abroad. She’s no passport. Neither has Eve.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Just get packed and ready for the car. The government are taking care of this now.”

  January 16th 2011 – To the Airport

  A silver Mercedes people carrier had appeared at the door to Chloe’s dad’s house at six the next morning. Chauffeur driven no less. It was pitch dark and freezing cold, as Chloe and Tom loaded the boot up. They just had two suitcases. There was no need to take Eve’s buggy. She needed a special chair by now, with padding to keep her comfortable. The airport had assured them they would have something suitable waiting. As they set off for Manchester, the sick toddler was perched on her mother’s knee dozing fitfully.

  Chloe thought back over the last few hours. It just didn’t seem possible that this could be happening to them. Tom had kept most of his dealings with Charles private. Chloe supposed that in reality, she had no time to spare for detective stories with her baby girl being so sick. But now help had appeared from nowhere. For some strange reason, Chloe remembered her old English teacher. This turn of events was even more remarkable than some ancient Greek resolving the plot of a classic play.

  She was desperate not to get her hopes too high. But surely sometimes good things happened to people. Even miracles. She had never had any religious beliefs. Ever since her early childhood, Chloe couldn’t believe any God she wanted a part of, would allow little girls’ mothers to die. But she resolved to become the most devout supplicant to any deity who could save her daughter.

  January 17th 2011 – Trip to New York

  Tom had been told they could have had any three seats on the plane. All of them could have turned left, but he didn’t want to. He’d asked for their seats to be close together. Felt it was important. They were a family now. Besides he needed to stay close to Chloe to make sure she was OK on the plane. She had a visceral fear of flying.

  The flight had been smooth. The seatbelt signs came on, and they began their descent. Tom looked across at Chloe. They both looked at Eve. She was asleep. She’d been doing that a lot recently. She looked frailer than ever.

  A wheelchair was waiting for them as they disembarked. They went through customs and managed to get their luggage and themselves into a waiting yellow cab outside the airport. It was no trouble carrying Eve. She had lost so much weight that there was almost nothing of her. Lighter than a feather.

  “Crowne Plaza please. 49th and Broadway.”

  His voice sounded confident, but Tom felt more than a little lost. He might have been to Afghanistan, but that was with the support of the British Army. Everything taken care of. No need to worry about transfers from airports to hotels. Chloe applied gentle pressure to his hand. It was a reminder that he needed to take care of her, no matter what happened to their daughter.

  In actual fact, they were not on their own. True to her word, the Culture Minister was doing everything within her power to help them out.

  The cab pulled up on Broadway, just outside the hotel, and Tom fumbled in his pocket for the unfamiliar money with which to pay. He picked up Eve and Chloe carried their two battered cases. They entered into the hotel entrance and took the elevator up to the lobby floor. Tom looked around, a little awestruck. Now what?

  A smart looking man approached them. He was all grey suit, red tie, shiny black shoes and shiny black hair. He held out his hand that Tom shook appreciatively.

  “Neil Klosinski. The consulate sent me.”

  The accent was pure New York. But evidently their welcoming party was representing the British government.

  “I believe time is of the essence here. You’re already checked in. Leave the bags here and I’ll get the bellman to take care of them. Meanwhile you three just follow me.”

  Within two minutes, they’d returned to street level and were in the back of a black town car, which had been waiting for them at the rear of the hotel. The man from the consulate explained what was going to happen next.

  “As soon as we get to the clinic I’ll introduce you to Doctor Gottlieb. He’s in charge of the Neuroblastoma treatment program over there. He’ll give you the lowdown on what’s going to happen over the next week.”

  It was a short journey, through the midtown traffic and up the side of Central Park to their destination on East 63rd street. When they got there, the program leader was waiting for them in the foyer. A nurse in blue scrubs was standing by his side, holding the back of a child-sized wheelchair. The doctor addressed Tom, who was in front as the four entered through the huge glass doors. He was carrying his daughter protectively in his arms.

  “Welcome to the hospital, Sir. It’s always an honour to meet a serving member of our armed forces.”

  Well, Tom thought, he guessed he was certainly on the Americans’ side, if not exactly a member of their armed forces. The nurse had taken charge of Eve. His daughter was already in the wheelchair and being rolled across to the bank of elevators. The doctor continued.

  “We already have a room prepared for our little patient. May I suggest your wife accompanies her to get settled in. I’ll take you up to my office, where I can explain the treatment plan we offer.”

  In spite of the circumstances, Tom saw Chloe give a tiny smile at the word wife. He nodded to the consultant, who turned to show him the way. Limping deliberately after him, something a little incongruent struck the corner of Tom’s eye.

  There was a man standing in the corner of the building lobby. He was on his own, looking across at Tom’s group. Well sort of staring really. A bit of a glassy stare that Tom found a bit disturbing. The man was dressed in black, and it gave him a strangely ominous appearance. Looked a bit like the crows Tom was used to seeing perched on the trees back home. Actually his appearance was more like a magpie, because there was something white around his neck. It was a dog collar.

  Thirty minutes later, Tom was seated in Dr Gottlieb’s office, high above the Manhattan streets. He was seated on a chair against one wall of the room. There was a coffee table in front of him loaded with glossy magazines. On the other side was a long leather couch. Perched on it were three men. Dr Gottlieb in the centre, flanked by two other men in scrubs. The doctor was explaining the situation to him.

  “Please let me introduce my colleagues to you. Dr Ng. Dr McCarthy.”

  He indicated each of the men in turn as he introduced them. Tom smiled and nodded.

  “Sorry to outnumber you. But all three of us are going to help in your little girl’s treatment. I am in charge of the clinic overall. It’s my job to make sure you’re getting access to all the right medical personnel. If you’re uncomfortable with anything during your stay, or there is anything you don’t understand you just need to get into contact with me. Dr Ng is in charge of our scanning unit. After the treatment he will be monitoring the progress of the tumour. And last Dr McCarthy, the man in charge of our immunotherapy program. Perhaps he can explain a little about how the treatment works.”

  Dr McCarthy smiled and bent forward, trying to give an air of intimacy. A small frown of concentration etched across his forehead. He’d been through this little speech more than a hundred times to worried parents.

  “The idea of immunotherapy is to stimulate the body’s immune system to try and target a substance which is present on the outside of the cancer cells. When we trialled this, we found a much better success rate than using chemotherapy alone. And we know from your daughter’s records that just chemotherapy isn’t going to do it for her.”

  Tom wasn’t really interested in how the treatment worked. He just cared about the outcome. He sat back in his chair and blew out a sigh. He g
azed at the men on the couch. He knew from the man at the consulate that these were some of the best medical guys in the US. If these three men couldn’t bring his daughter the gift of life, then he guessed no one could.

  January 21st 2011 – Grabbing a Coffee

  So far, Chloe had not needed to send up any prayers. Sure, they’d got to the US, and the clinic had been superb. All of the staff had been so friendly and supportive. But despite the treatment, Eve was still very sick. Chloe had gone downstairs to get some coffee from the Deli opposite. There was a machine by the nurses’ station, but what came out was crap. Outside on the sidewalk, sipping the fresh brew, she realised that she was completely knackered. The constant vigil by Eve’s bedside had been going on for over five days. They had only been back to the hotel for a few hours each day. Just to grab a quick shower.

  Even though it was nearly two in the morning, on the spur of the moment she decided to take a short walk. The snowstorm had finished and the sky overhead had cleared. Chloe had some leather boots on and they crunched pleasantly on the newly frozen snow. She pulled her blue coat tight around her, knowing that by walking four blocks west, she would reach the edge of Central Park.

  Five minutes later she emerged from between the tall buildings and could see the open spaces of the park stretched out in front of her. The clouds that had dropped the snow had largely disappeared. The moon was nearly full. Its light reflecting off the white sidewalks and the branches, heavy with snow. She sighed deeply. The white from the snow-laden trees framed her hair and contrasted with the deep blue of her coat. Chloe looked up. A myriad of stars spangled the pitch black of the night sky. One seemed particularly bright.

  January 21st 2011 – At the Clinic

  All they could do now was wait. The treatment itself had been successful in that the tumour had shrunk, if not disappeared. But Eve had suffered horrendous side effects. Vomiting, temperature, breathing difficulties, irregular heart rhythm, you name it, Eve had it. And she had been so weak before they’d even started on her. The only saving grace was that Dr Gottlieb had told Tom, that if Eve regained consciousness, the prognosis would be good. She should be out of the woods.

  The little girl was in a private room, way up on one of the top floors. It was very modern, all glass wall to ceiling, with an automatic sliding door. Lying flat on a huge bed, Eve was dwarfed by all the machinery monitoring her. And she had been unconscious for nearly three days now.

  The doctors and nurses all spoke to them in hushed tones. Little smiles of compassion told a tale in themselves. The medical community wasn’t giving them much of a chance. But as Chloe never stopped reminding him, where there’s life there’s hope.

  It had been a blizzard outside. Nothing like what passed for a snowstorm back home. But once it had stopped Chloe had decided to go for a walk round the block to grab a coffee, and try and clear her mind.

  Tom was sitting on a metal-framed chair, staring vacantly out at the corridor. He could see the nurses’ station in the distance. The vicar or whatever he was stood leaning over the counter having some sort of conversation with them.

  He could see his little girl’s bed reflected in the glass of the wall. And he could also see his own image. Tom thought he looked a little different, probably exhaustion. His reflection showed a marked line snaking right across his forehead. Tom presumed it was a strand of hair. He started to reach up to brush it away, when he heard a groan from behind.

  Jumping to his feet he was by his daughter’s bedside in the blink of an eye. Eve’s eyes fluttered open and she turned her head towards him. Her mouth opened but nothing came out.

  The little girl swallowed and this time Tom could hear. It was just a single word.

  “Father…”

  What no daddy! But Tom’s heart leapt through the roof. Eve smiled and spoke again but in a stronger voice, more like a woman’s than that of a little girl. Her eyes had moved from her daddy and they were looking towards the corridor.

  “Forgive them. For they know not what they do.”

  On the other side of the glass wall, the priest reached for his phone.

  The Epilogue

  Vatican City – Rome

  The long bony fingers unlocked the clasp on the ancient leather book. He had made sure there was a modern translation on his desk to read if he so wished. But the old white haired man was a classical scholar and had no problem in reading the original Greek text. He started with the first word, ‘Revelation’ and read sedulously on from there.

  This is a true and faithful record of the words given to me by our Lord and Master, seven times ten years from his coming.

  ‘To you my most loyal and faithful servant, I reveal a true vision of what may befall this earthly world, after I return from whence I came.

  ‘I have taught the peoples of the world that the way to salvation is by communication with the Eternal Light. They must worship the message not the messenger. And they must not bow down to idols or false prophets of any kind. The lessons I have delivered may find willing ears and flourish like properly planted seed on fertile ground. In that case the world will rejoice and all will be saved. But some of the people may reject my message as if it had fallen on stony soil.

  ‘If this should happen, even should it take five hundred or more years, another messenger will be sent from the Eternal Kingdom. This preacher will have great wisdom revealed to him by the Eternal Father. He will build on my work and all of the peoples of the world should listen to the gift of words that together we have given. They should come together as do rivers flowing into a great ocean.

  ‘But I also give to you a dire and dreadful warning. Should the people divide like so many tributaries, a great ill will descend upon the earth. Terrible forces will be awakened with the power to destroy the whole world. The very ground will rise up and send great waves of water to destroy entire cities. I say to you, should that which both of us have taught be ignored, times, two times and half a time, then shall I return as a final saviour.

  ‘But my second coming will not be as was my first. So that they can receive forgiveness for their wilful ignorance, a great task shall be set to all of the miserable sinners of this world. The bodily form that shall allow my return will be in great mortal suffering. To deliver me from this pestilence will require immense material wealth, which as a penance, will need to be rendered freely unto me.

  ‘Should no help be given to assist my passage, truly will the great wrath of God be justly unleashed. A violent conflict will begin amongst those who do not follow the true way. This dreadful battle, with weapons of impossible destruction, will not come to an end, until all of the people, of all the lands have perished. Never to return to this earthly realm again.’

  These are the words of the Lord. As given to his trusted disciple Judas Iscariot.

  The old man took off his glasses and buried his head in his hands.