The Waiting Rooms

by Eve Smith

  She starts kneading my fingers. The heat sparks up my wrist and keeps going, like an electric current. I can sense it already, how bad it’s going to be, as if the pain receptors have fired off their impulses and my brain is sounding the alarm. I clench my jaw. Any moment now. Any moment.

  She squeezes my wrist. I yelp and jerk it away. A wave of nausea sweeps through me.

  ‘Goodness, is it really that bad? Look at you, Lily, you’re dripping!’

  I shrink back in my chair. ‘Please, Natalie.’ Hot tears press behind my eyes. ‘Can we just leave it?’

  She clamps her hands on her hips. ‘OK, Lily. What’s going on? Have you taken another fall?’

  ‘No, I…’ I nurse my arm in my lap. ‘It just hurts. I must have bumped it or something.’

  She gives me an indulgent smile. ‘Lily Taylor. Do you think I was born yesterday? Come on. Let’s take a look.’

  The blood drains from my face as she slips the blouse off my shoulder.

  ‘Oh.’ The way she says it isn’t good. Like the worst kind of surprise. ‘It’s quite inflamed.’

  She pulls on a fresh set of gloves and gently presses her fingers around the hard red lump. The breath hisses between my teeth.

  ‘Try to keep still, Lily.’ She probes under my arm. I flinch. ‘Is that tender?’ I grimace. ‘Hmm. Your lymph nodes are a bit swollen. Odd. Nothing’s shown up on your profile.’

  She looks up. The smiles have gone. ‘I’m sorry, Lily. But that’s definitely infected.’

  And there it is: the death knell. It sinks me, even though I’ve known, all along.

  She frowns. ‘How long has it been like this?’

  I hesitate. ‘Two or three days.’

  Her mouth gapes. ‘What? Why on earth didn’t you say something? You of all people know how important it is to act straight away.’ She hunkers down on her haunches. ‘Lily, what’s going on? Why didn’t you tell someone?’

  A sob catches in my throat. Just thinking of Kate unravels me, like a loose spool of wool. ‘If I reported it, they’d cancel my visit.’

  ‘Your visit?’ Her eyes widen. ‘Oh, Lily. You can always postpone a visit. You can’t delay an infection.’ She sighs. ‘Do you know what might have caused it? Did you catch yourself on something? In the garden, perhaps?’

  I swallow. How much should I say?

  Natalie’s lips tighten. ‘I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, Lily.’

  I slump back in the chair. ‘I … I think it was the brooch.’

  ‘What brooch?’

  ‘It was a birthday present. From Anne.’ The blood rushes to my cheeks. ‘The pin nicked me when she put it on.’

  Natalie glares at me. ‘Anne knew about this? I didn’t see anything in the incident log.’

  My words trip over each other in their rush to get out. ‘It was an accident. Please. I don’t want her getting into trouble. It was just a tiny prick. She cleaned it thoroughly.’

  The breath shoots out of Natalie’s mouth. ‘Obviously not thoroughly enough.’

  And just like that, doubt creeps into my mind. What if it’s no coincidence that Anne’s off? My chest squeezes. It’s always those dearest to you who betray you in the end.

  She stands up and takes a deep breath. ‘I hate to say it, Lily, but…’

  I clamp my hands over my ears.

  I will not listen. I will not hear her say it.

  ‘…we’re going to have to take you to the San.’

  The walls swoop in. Voices explode in my head: protests, wails, pleas. I see that woman’s face lolling towards me. Her body, entombed behind the doors.

  ‘Please, Natalie. There must be something you can—’

  ‘You know the rules. Apart from anything else, it could be contagious.’

  I cannot breathe. I think of Kate taking the call from Mrs Downing. Her face changing, the initial shock. Would she care, after a life without me? Would she really notice, if I was gone?

  ‘I can’t go to that place,’ I whisper. ‘Not now. I’ll never see her again.’

  Natalie fixes me with a stare. ‘Who?’

  ‘My friend’s daughter,’ I stammer. ‘The woman who came the other day.’

  Natalie’s brow furrows. And I realise, she is my only hope.

  I wet my lips. ‘Actually, Natalie, that’s not quite true.’ I swallow. ‘She isn’t my friend’s daughter.’ I prise the words out of my mouth. ‘She’s mine.’

  Natalie steps back. ‘But you said … I thought you said you didn’t have any children?’

  I lift my eyes to hers. ‘I had to give her up for adoption. After she was born. That visit was the first time I’d seen her, since, since…’ I grab Natalie’s hand and another spike of pain sears up my arm. ‘Please, Natalie. I have to see her again. I need to make things right. There’s still so much I have to say.’

  Natalie gently pulls away from me. ‘A daughter,’ she whispers. ‘Such a precious thing.’

  The room fills with silence. Spots of light spark behind my eyes.

  ‘You know, just a few days earlier, you wouldn’t have had a problem.’ She shakes her head. ‘It’s not right. I’ve never agreed with that Act.’

  My voice erupts. ‘I’ll do anything, Natalie. Anything at all.’ The pounding in my shoulder intensifies. ‘I have money.’ Her face stiffens. ‘For the drugs, I mean. For whatever it takes.’

  She glances at the door. ‘What you’re suggesting is illegal, Lily.’

  ‘I know—’

  ‘It would be extremely dangerous. For me and for you.’

  I scan the map of her face as the blood judders through my veins. ‘You can trust me, Natalie. I’m good at secrets. I won’t ever tell.’

  She stares at me for the longest time. She has lost so much in her life. Why should she help me?

  ‘Alright. I’ll see what I can do.’

  My body folds in on itself, as if someone’s just filleted out my spine. ‘Thank you. Thank you so—’

  She holds up a hand. ‘No guarantees. And if anyone asks I’ll deny it.’

  I want to jump up and hug her. Kiss this woman’s feet.

  ‘You’re not to say a word, Lily, you hear?’

  ‘Of course. I won’t tell a soul.’ I steel myself as she dabs antiseptic on my arm, determined not to make any fuss.

  ‘You need to keep your head down. Stay in your room as much as possible.’ She uncoils a bandage and wraps it tenderly around my shoulder. ‘Keep this covered at all times, OK? And no fiddling. I may be able to jiggle the rota a bit while Anne’s off, but I won’t be able to look after you all of the time.’

  I gulp a couple of breaths. ‘How will you get hold of the—?’

  ‘There are people who make that their business.’ She shoots me a look. ‘Not that I’ve ever had dealings with them myself. But I know some that have.’

  ‘What about the patch? Won’t things start to show?’

  ‘Frankly, I’m amazed it hasn’t triggered an alert already. I’ll take a look at your profile, see what I can do with the data feed. But as for the bloods…’ She tapes the bandage. ‘That’s going to be trickier.’ She tips her head to one side. ‘Although, there may be a way…’

  I gaze up at her, willing her to go on.

  ‘Remember those bloods we took, before your birthday?’

  I nod.

  ‘They always keep some back, in case they have to run more tests. That might just buy us a few days’ grace while the drugs kick in.’

  The relief is so intense I feel giddy. ‘I … I don’t know what to say, Natalie…’

  ‘Say nothing, Lily Taylor.’ She gives me a tight smile. ‘Nothing at all.’

  I have a sudden urge to confess everything, to tell her about the cards and all the things I’ve done.

  ‘I need to get going now, Lily.’ She pulls off her gloves and drops them in the bin. ‘The others will be wondering where I am.’ She walks to the door and turns. ‘Remember, stay in your room. I’ll bring you more pain relief
later. If all goes well, I’ll have something stronger for you by morning.’

  I ease my shirtsleeve over the bandage, sink back and shut my eyes.

  So close. So terribly close to becoming another day-tripper.

  CHAPTER 45

  Crisis

  Security Tightened at Old Bailey as Trial of ‘Plague Doctor’ Continues

  Bekker, who faces mass murder and terrorism charges, refuses video link and will be present in court.

  MARY

  I step into the antiquated wooden box, gripping the ledge so tight that my knuckles blanch. The purifiers hiss from the ceiling like an audience at a pantomime when the villain appears on stage. I straighten my back, stare at the oak-panelled wall and breathe. I feel naked, under everyone’s gaze. Their prejudices already circling.

  Don’t look up…

  The usher clears his throat. ‘Repeat after me. I do solemnly, sincerely and truly declare and affirm…’

  My mouth opens but only breath creeps out. I know he’s there, watching me; the only thing that separates us is a panel of bulletproof glass. Four months in custody; it’s a wonder Piet’s still alive.

  I swallow and try again. ‘I do solemnly, sincerely and truly declare and affirm…’

  I’m taking the affirmation, not the oath. There is no Almighty God here.

  ‘…that the evidence I shall give…’

  ‘…that the evidence I shall give…’

  ‘…shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.’

  My tongue flicks over my lips. I think of the statues I saw above the entrance. A bare-breasted Truth gazes at her reflection in a mirror. She has weathered much worse than the others: her nose has gone and much of her hands. Her pitted, scarred body bears testament to the travesties that take place.

  ‘…shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.’

  There’s a tapping of fingers on keys. Charlotte Tanner QC stands and gives me her snake-charmer smile, her chestnut hair coiled neatly beneath the wig. ‘For the benefit of the court, please state your name.’

  ‘Mary Kate Sommers.’

  ‘And your age.’

  ‘Fifty.’

  ‘Can I ask you to speak clearly into the microphone and address your answers to the jury, not to me?’

  I glance round. Five men and three women stare back at me, as if I’m the one in the dock. A reduced jury: they had to pass a law for that, just to keep things going. For this trial, they’d have had no problem getting the full complement.

  She tugs her black gown forward over her shoulders. ‘Dr Sommers, you are a master of science and a doctor of philosophy, is that correct?’

  First, establish credibility…

  ‘Yes. I graduated from Oxford University with a first-class honours degree in biology and went on to complete a doctorate in plant science.’

  ‘And what is it that you do now?’

  ‘I investigate the properties of plants to ascertain their use, principally for medicinal purposes.’

  A couple of men at the front are furiously typing away. My heart skitters even though I know the court has imposed reporting restrictions. I’ve been assured that no details of my testimony can be published while I’m alive.

  She checks her screen. ‘Does your work necessitate a lot of travel?’

  ‘It used to, yes. Before they closed the borders.’

  ‘Where did your work take you?’

  ‘All over, really. Africa. Asia. Europe.’

  ‘Did that include South Africa?’

  My heart is pounding so hard I’m worried the microphone will pick it up. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And when did you first visit?’

  ‘Twenty-eight years ago. I went there to do field research. For my PhD.’

  Miss Tanner drags a painted black nail over the cuticle of her thumb. ‘And was it during this research that you first met the defendant?’

  My teeth clench. The defendant.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can you tell us a little about how you met?’

  My eye veers to the gallery, which is almost empty. Pre-Crisis, this courtroom would have been packed, but now only family or people directly connected with the trial are admitted, due to the risks of infection. I search for Piet’s wife. Thank God, she’s not there.

  ‘I was in Astofele: one of the national parks. Collecting data. I had an encounter with a rhino. Dr Bekker came to my aid.’

  ‘I see. And what happened after that?’

  ‘We went our separate ways. But a couple of weeks later, I bumped into him at one of the camps. That’s when I realised we shared an interest in botany. Albeit in different fields.’

  ‘And what was his particular field?’

  ‘Bioprospecting. He was searching for plants with medicinal value for the development of new drugs.’

  The defence counsel is bent over his screen, fingers flying across the keys; a fold of chin spills over his stiff wing collar.

  ‘And did the defendant mention TB at this point?’

  ‘Yes. I hadn’t realised how big an issue it was in South Africa. But when Dr Bekker took me to a local hospital, I saw for myself how serious the situation was.’

  ‘Dr Bekker took you to a hospital?’

  ‘Yes. To show me the TB wards.’

  ‘And what was your impression?’

  I take a deep breath. ‘Well, to be honest, I was shocked. The hospital was crammed; they were completely overwhelmed. The HIV epidemic had exacerbated the spread of TB. Drug resistance was already rampant.’ I wipe my hands on my skirt and resume my grip on the ledge. ‘We’re used to seeing scenes like that now, in this country, but not back then…’

  Out of the corner of my eye I see the judge highlight something on one of his papers.

  ‘And so, after your trip to the hospital, Dr Bekker asked you to come and work for him, is that correct?’

  ‘That’s right. As part of his new venture.’

  ‘And what was the job he offered?’

  ‘He wanted me to help set up a new screening programme. In South Africa. For native plants that showed medicinal potential. South Africa is rich in diversity and has a long history of traditional medicine.’

  ‘Did you accept?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Even though, if I understand correctly, you had been working in a different area of research?’

  ‘Yes. But my skills were relevant to both areas.’

  ‘So, would it be fair to say that Dr Bekker changed your mind?’

  ‘I suppose he did, yes.’

  She shuffles her papers and nods. Her eyes glitter. We’re moving out of the safe zone. ‘Can you remind the court how old you were at this time?’

  I pretend to think about it. ‘Twenty-three.’

  ‘Twenty-three. And the defendant would have been…’ she checks her notes ‘…thirty.’

  I inhale. ‘Perhaps, I … don’t really recall.’

  She purses her lips. ‘After Piet Bekker recruited you, did you see much of him?’

  ‘Not at first. I was mainly working out in the field. He travelled a lot, too.’

  ‘You said “at first”. Did things change?’

  Cramp needles my fingers. ‘Two, maybe three months in, there was a big company dinner. To celebrate a breakthrough with HIV. After the meal we got talking.’

  ‘And what did you discuss?’

  A man in a grey wool coat sidles into the gallery and takes a seat. My heart lurches. Commander Graham Parfrey.

  ‘Sorry, I … Could you repeat the question?’

  ‘What kinds of things did you and Dr Bekker discuss, after the meal?’

  ‘He asked me how I was enjoying the job. We discussed the latest riots … what might happen with the government, that kind of thing.’

  She arches her fingers and carves each nail into the pad of her thumb like a cat sharpening its claws. ‘And what happened next?’

  I keep my breath steady. ‘He asked me if I’d like
to visit the northern section of the park. He said he rented a hut there.’

  ‘A hut?’

  ‘Yes. An old ranger’s hut.’

  ‘I see. Was it just you he invited? Or were other people going to be there?’

  ‘Just me.’

  She raises an eyebrow. ‘Didn’t you think that a little strange?’

  I grip the ledge. They’ve rehearsed this with me so many times, but my body still rejects it, like a toxic implant. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, that a director of the firm, a married man in his thirties, with a six-year-old daughter, should ask a twenty-three-year-old employee to “visit his hut”? Alone?’

  The defence counsel looks up at the judge and frowns. My jaw stiffens. I know what I’m supposed to say. That I was afraid of offending him, that it might hurt my career, that I felt pressured into it because I was young and naïve.

  I focus on the intersection of the QC’s hair with her wig’s tight grey curls. ‘I … I didn’t really see it that way.’

  Her mouth twitches. ‘Did you go to the hut, Dr Sommers?’ Her tone is sterner.

  ‘Yes.’ I think of the bushwillows tapping the windows.

  ‘And what happened?’

  I summon the first lie. It catches in my teeth, like sweetcorn, but it doesn’t taste like sweetcorn, it tastes like milk that has soured, fruit on the turn. ‘He seduced me.’

  Such a poisonous word: ‘seduce’. Parfrey chose it specially. All the implications of rape without the charge.

  The defence counsel leaps up. ‘Objection! Your Honour, this is clearly “bad character” evidence, highly prejudicial and of no relevance to the case.’

  Charlotte Tanner gives the barrister a tight smile and turns her sights on Judge Wheeler. ‘Your Honour, this evidence is a vital part of the prosecution case.’ The judge peers down at her, adjusting his glasses. ‘Establishing the nature and history of the relationship between the defendant and this witness is important explanatory evidence, given the significance of her testimony. As such, it should be presented before the jury.’

  It’s not enough for them to unpick the fabric of Piet’s professional reputation, they have to smash his personal integrity too. Cheapening what we had, laying the moral transgression at his door so the jury don’t see me for the brazen sinner I am.