She rang round and, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, they agreed. All that is except Adrian Hodges, who ran the Issue Department. He was too busy. Adrian was always too busy for anything, especially meetings, but usually managed to turn up just after they'd started.
Dominic was the first to arrive and carefully moved his chair next to hers – he always did that, she noticed, presumably to underline the fact that he was her deputy.
Next came Ashley Miles ('Wotcher, Jessie…') a fair-haired, fresh-faced extrovert of about thirty who ran the Reagents Lab. Closely following were Paul, Verity Blane from Plasma Products, and Maria N'Kanu, who was in charge of Cross Matching.
When they'd all found seats, Jessie said, 'We may as well start now, Adrian said he'd come when he could.'
'Which I wager'll be in exactly…' Ashley made a show of consulting his watch. '… two minutes from now.' There were one or two chuckles, but no takers.
'I'll get the minor matter out of the way first,' Jessie continued. 'Are any of you fully staffed this week?'
'Chance'd be a fine thing,' muttered Verity.
'I am,' Maria said. Her voice was soft, slightly husky.
'Can you lend someone to Paul? He's four down and having problems.'
'For how long?' Maria asked. 'Next week might be difficult for me.'
'Let's say this afternoon and tomorrow – we'll worry about next week next week. OK, Paul?'
'Yes. Thanks, Maria.' He made it plain that his gratitude was for her alone.
'Let's move on to the main business…' The door opened and a thickset man of about forty with greying hair came in.
'Sorry I'm late.'
'OK, Adrian. Find a seat.'
Ashley was looking ostentatiously at his watch and some of the others tried to smother grins. Adrian looked round resentfully. 'What's so damn funny?' he demanded.
'Nothing, Adrian,' Jessie soothed. When he'd sat down, she continued, 'I think you all know about the Western TV programme tomorrow – well, there's been a development. Dr Goring from the Blood Division now says he wants to take part in it.'
There was a buzz as people reacted in different ways. 'Is that good or bad?' Ashley asked.
'I saw him arriving,' Verity said. 'I'd assumed he'd come to stick electrodes on to you.'
'He did, in a manner of speaking…' Jessie told them what had happened, but leaving out the threat of redundancy.
'So what are you going to do?' Verity asked.
'I want to go ahead with it, more than ever.' She looked round at them. 'But I have to be able to say that I have the full support of all of you.'
'Goes without saying, doesn't it?' Ashley again, and there was a murmur of agreement. 'Unless there's something you haven't told us.'
'I don't think so, but this would be make or break, so I must be able to present us as a united front.'
'Then there's no question,' said Verity with a shrug. 'You have our full and unconditional support.' There were nods and more murmurs of agreement.
'Thank you,' Jessie said. She'd intended leaving it there, but then Dominic spoke up.
'There's something Jessie's left out.'
She looked askance at him.
'There's every chance that they're going to try and sack her after tomorrow and I think we need to pledge her – '
'Dommo, this isn't the time – ' she began as Verity said,
'Is that true, Jessie?'
She hesitated. 'I don't know. It's a possibility, but – '
'What did you mean just now?' Verity asked Dominic. 'The union? Industrial action?'
Dominic nodded. 'That's exactly what I meant.'
'Well, I have no problem with that,' Verity said, looking round.
'Nor me,' said Ashley.
'Well, I do have a problem with it,' Paul said, biting off the words. 'It's all right for Verity, who's got private means, or Ashley, with no kids, but I've got four. I want to get another job after the centre closes, and I'm – '
'But that's the whole point,' said Jessie, trying to regain the initiative. 'If we can prevent closure, then you won't have to look for another job.'
'But the centre is going to close,' Paul said. 'I wish it wasn't, but it is, and we all know it. Of course I support what you've been trying to do, but I'm not taking industrial action.'
'Nor me,' said Adrian.
'Well, I will, if it comes to it,' said Dominic. 'Who'll join me?'
Verity and Ashley raised their fingers.
'Maria?' Dominic looked at her.
'I – I need to think about it. Of course I appreciate what you've done for us, Jessie, but I don't know about industrial action. Wouldn't it turn the public against us, make things worse?'
'Well, I don't think it's going to come to that,' Jessie said firmly. 'All I'm asking for at the moment is your support for tomorrow.'
Paul pressed his lips together. 'All right,' he said, 'you've got that. And now, if you don't mind, I have work to do.'
As he got up to go, there was a knock on the door and Steve Tanner, Dominic's deputy, put his head in.
'Sorry to interrupt, but I thought 1 ought to tell Dominic that the minus thirty door is jamming.'
'All right, I'll come and have a look,' Dominic said, standing up. He was the centre's Safety Officer.
'Dommo,' Jessie called after him, 'I want to see you when you've done that.'
'OK.' He raised a hand without looking round.
The meeting broke up and people filed out. Verity moved over to her. 'A wordlet?'
Jessie nodded curtly. 'All right.'
'Are you mad at him?' Verity asked when she'd shut the door.
'Dommo? Yes, I am rather.'
'Well, he shouldn't have horned in the way he did, but isn't it possible he has a point?'
'That was not why I called the meeting.'
'I know that.' She hesitated. 'What did Goring actually say to you?'
Jessie realised that she wanted to tell Verity about it. 'Sit down,' she said.
'So it's back off or else?' Verity said when she'd finished. 'You won't, of course.'
Jessie shook her head. 'That's why I called the meeting – to try and cobble together some sort of united front.'
'You wouldn't have had to do any cobbling if it wasn't for Paul. Slimy scrote,' she growled. 'Who'd give him a job, anyway?'
She had straight honey hair, blue eyes and a classic profile and Jessie thought she was almost beautiful; she found herself wondering again why she wasn't attached… But for all I know, she is.
At most times, and with most people, Verity Blane surrounded herself with an invisible barrier, and yet at other times, Jessie felt there was an unspoken bond between them.
Verity said thoughtfully, 'You know, in some ways it might not be such a bad thing if they did try to sack you – '
'Oh, thanks.'
'No, listen… Some sort of industrial action might be just what we need now, to raise our profile and concentrate minds.'
Bit of a firebrand, aren't you, despite the cut-glass accent. 'I don't know, Verity, it only needs one newspaper or TV report about us putting patients' lives at risk and we'd be finished… Maria's right, it's best avoided if possible.'
'You may not have a choice, Jessie.'
'Let's wait and see, shall we?'
Verity looked for a moment as though she wanted to continue the argument, then shrugged and smiled. 'OK.' She paused. 'How does George stand in all this?'
'Oh, studied neutrality.'
'Has it ever occurred to you that he's using you, making the bullets for you to fire?'
'He's got troubles of his own, Verity. He's worried sick about Sarah, and how he's – '
'Very laudable, I'm sure, but don't you think he's being just a teeny weeny bit hypocritical there?'
Jessie looked back at her. 'I didn't hear that,' she said. Then, 'You don't like him much, do you?'
'Oh, he's all right. It's just that I don't think he should be leaving the defence of this place to
you.' She sighed, got to her feet. 'I've said enough, so I'll leave you in peace. But if I can be of any help…'
'Thanks, Verity.'
She touched Jessie's shoulder, then gently squeezed it. 'Nil Carborundum, eh?'
Verity walked thoughtfully back towards her own lab, then, on impulse, continued down the corridor and round the corner to the Microbiology suite. She pushed the door open and went into the main lab.
There was nobody there, no sound, save the whisper of the ventilators that kept the suite under negative pressure because of the hazardous material stored in the adjoining containment lab.
Bad, she thought, to leave a department unattended – there should always be someone to answer the phone…
As though on cue, the phone in Dominic's office at the other end of the main lab began ringing. She hesitated, then realised that there was someone there, working in the containment lab, but they were gowned up and unable to come out. She crossed the room and picked up the phone.
'Microbiology Lab.'
'Is Mr Tudor there, please?' The voice seemed vaguely familiar.
'Not just at the moment, I'm afraid. Can I – ? Wait, he's just come in.' She held out the receiver to Dominic, who took it.
'Hello? Er… no, not at the moment… All right, yes.' He banged the phone down rather pettishly and turned to Verity. 'Can I help you at all, or is this just a social visit?'
'No, it isn't,' she said irritably. 'I just came to tell you that I found myself in agreement with you for once. If we don't do something positive, Jessie is going to lose her job as well as her campaign for the centre.'
'By positive, I assume you mean some sort of industrial action?'
'Well, you were the one who suggested it.'
'But we're in a minority, aren't we?'
'Well, there's you, me, Ashley…'
'And Paul and Adrian and Maria against.'
She snorted. 'Since when did Paul and Adrian count for anything?'
'Do they not have votes,' he asked sonorously, paraphrasing Shylock, 'as we do…?'
'Oh, for God's sake,' she snapped, 'whose side are you on – other than your own?' Not for the first time, she had to physically suppress the urge to slap him.
'On Jessie's, believe it or not,' he said. The door opened and Steve, his deputy, came back in. 'Talking of whom, she wanted to see me, didn't she?' He walked off, leaving her staring after him.
'Well, you weren’t going to tell them, were you?' he said defiantly a couple of minutes later.
'No, I wasn't,' Jessie said, 'because I didn't want them to know, not yet, anyway. All you succeeded in doing – '
'Jessie, Goring is going to try and sack you. You have to know who's going to stick up for you.'
'All you've succeeded in doing is driving a wedge between them when I wanted them united. There's no way – '
'They never were united, Paul was always going to let you down.'
'Not necessarily… and all that talk of industrial action, you even succeeded in driving Maria away.'
They stared at each other a moment, then Dominic dropped his eyes.
'I'm sorry, Jessie, I just thought it would help to – '
'But you didn't think, that's the trouble.'
'I thought it was time they knew what it's costing you.'
Jessie let out a sigh. 'All right, Dominic, I'm sure you meant well… just don't do it again, OK?’
‘I just wanted to say I'm sorry if it seemed like I was letting you down.' Maria N'Kanu sat uncomfortably, twisting her fingers, rather like a naughty child, Jessie thought.
There was something childlike about Maria, a simplicity that was usually refreshing for its honesty, but now, faced with moral dilemmas, it was somehow pathetic.
'It's OK, Maria – I know how you feel about industrial action. I wouldn't do it myself, except as a last resort.'
'Is it going to come to that? Are they really going to try and sack you?'
'I don't know, I hope not. It is a possibility, though.'
'You see, I'm on call this weekend, so it would be me who'd – '
'It's not going to happen that quickly,' Jessie said with a smile, 'so you can stop worrying.'
'Well, that's something…' Her face relaxed a little.
I don't think I've ever seen her wearing make-up, Jessie thought, looking at her. Inclination or upbringing? Maria's father was a Kenyan diplomat, long-time resident in Britain, and had sent his daughter to an expensive, although somewhat old-fashioned school…
'Is there any other way I can help you?' Jessie asked without quite knowing why.
'I don't think so, thanks. You know how it is.'
'Yes, I think I do, Maria.'
Her face in repose wasn't beautiful, or even pretty; its attractiveness lay in its strength.
'If they really do try and sack you, Jessie,' she said quietly but with intensity, 'I won't let you down.'
Chapter Five
He turned as the rattle of the taxi died away and stared for a moment at the outline of the old farmhouse before starting up the drive. The farmer and his fields were long gone and it was, Goring thought, just the sort of place where he'd have expected George and Sarah to end up. He reached the porch and gripped the bell handle.
He'd had a busy evening already. A visitor had called at his hotel room and stayed for half an hour's urgent talk, then he'd phoned his office in London before bathing and dressing.
Footsteps, then Medlar pulled the heavy door open.
'Come in, Adam, let me have your coat.' He hung it up. 'No trouble in finding us, then?'
'The taxi driver didn't have any. I might have.'
Medlar smiled. 'Come on through and say hello to Sarah.' He led the way into a comfortable living-room.
'Hello, Sarah,' Goring said softly. His voice was trembling slightly, he noticed.
'Adam, how good to see you.'
He bent over the steel framework of the wheelchair and kissed her flaccid cheek.
'Sit down,' she said, 'by the fire. It's a bitter night, isn't it?'
'It is,' he agreed. What can I say to her? he agonised. I can't say “How are you?” or “You look well”…
'A drink, Adam?' Medlar asked.
'Whisky and soda, please, George.'
'Of course, we're spoiled down here,' Sarah said as her husband went over to the sideboard. 'This is the first really cold snap we've had. How's Audrey?'
'Well, thank you. She asked to be remembered to you.'
'And I, her.' Sarah paused. 'And Richard and Fiona?'
It was as though she had divined his difficulty and was making it easy for him, he thought, as he told her what his children were doing.
Sarah Medlar had still been a beautiful woman at fifty, but then, ironically on her birthday, the first symptoms of multiple sclerosis had manifested themselves. It's a disease that can sometimes be merciful, slow-developing with remissions, but not in Sarah's case. After just eighteen months, she was wheelchair-bound, her useless body bloated with drugs. She still had mobility of her head and one arm.
I'd have still recognised her, Goring told himself…
'Adam?' Medlar handed him his drink, then carefully placed Sarah's in her hand.
She raised it. 'Good health,' she said.
Her eyes, he thought, as they sparkled ironically at him, I'd have recognised those eyes.
'What are Hugh and James doing now?' he asked.
'Hugh's still at RADA and James started medical school last autumn.'
'You must be proud of them.'
'I think I'll wait a few more years before committing myself to that,' she said, her eyes still twinkling. 'One should never underestimate the capacity of one's children to let one down.'
He chuckled; he should have remembered her acerbic wit.
'Dr Medlar?' a soft voice called. 'It's all ready.'
Goring looked round to see a soberly dressed woman of about forty in the doorway.
'Thanks, Mary. We're eating in the kitchen
,' he said to Goring. 'We find it easier.'
He released the brake on the wheelchair and gently manoeuvred Sarah across the room.
The Medlars had retained as much of the character of the farmhouse kitchen as was practical. The stone floor was uncarpeted and the heavy table had just a plain white cloth. A row of pots hung from a massive beam.
'Oak?' asked Goring, pointing to it.
'More likely to be elm,' Medlar answered as he locked the wheelchair into place. 'It was a little more readily available in those days.'
He carved the meat, which was venison, dispensed vegetables, poured wine as he and Sarah kept a light flow of conversation going. He cut Sarah's food into pieces and put it on the platform in front of her so that with her one good hand she could feed herself. They talked of children, past colleagues, past friendships.
I shouldn't have come, Goring thought to himself. But I couldn't have stayed away.
Sarah looked up, smiled at him as though reading his thoughts. T hope you're not going to be too hard on poor Jessie tomorrow, Adam,' she said.
Goring smiled back. 'I think perhaps you ought to put that to her,' he replied. 'I've a feeling that poor Jessie is more than able to look after herself.'
'Such a waste,' she said.
'Yes, it is,' he agreed. 'Is there any chance she may yet accept my offer?' he asked Medlar.
'I very much doubt it.'
'Then it is, as you say, a waste.'
'It's a great pity,' Sarah said slowly, looking at him, 'that there wasn't some other way of implementing the necessary improvements to the service. All those people losing their jobs, all those skills going to nothing.'
It suddenly became a matter of supreme importance for Goring to justify himself in her eyes.
'But they needn't go to nothing,' he said.
'I'm listening, Adam.'
'I won't bore you with the practical arguments since I'm sure you already know them,' he said, 'but I'll give you a philosophical one.' He drank some wine as he gathered his thoughts.
'I think we make a fundamental mistake in our society when we refer to our work as our occupation rather than our livelihood. Our culture became great because every individual was prepared to do whatever and to go wherever necessary in order to thrive. The hunters followed the herds. The Celts came to Britain and the Irish went to America. We go where we can best earn our livelihoods.
Chilling Out Page 3