In the morning MacLean phoned the Oil Company that he had once worked for and asked to be put through to Offshore Personnel. He asked to speak to a member of staff he knew vaguely and, after an exchange of pleasantries, he enquired about Doyle and Leavey. Leavey still worked on the Celtic Star rig but Doyle was no longer on the company register. MacLean asked about work schedules and learned that Leavey would be flying into Aberdeen on Thursday, two days away. This was a stroke of luck it could have been two weeks away. He write down the ETA of the helicopter at the company’s helipad in Aberdeen, accepting the ‘weather permitting’ proviso as a matter of course.
On Wednesday, Tansy and MacLean went to visit Carrie at the hospital. MacLean did so with some trepidation but his fears about how Carrie would react to him proved groundless and in the end it turned out to be the best day he had for a long time. Carrie’s eyes sparkled when she saw him and she immediately took his hand in proprietorial fashion as the three of them walked round the grounds together. It felt like their old Saturday morning expeditions. True, Tansy was with them but she was happy to take a back seat in the proceedings, enjoying every moment and rejoicing in the fact that all three of them were together again.
Carrie’s chatter was, of course, missing but her enthusiasm and love of life was all around them. When they got to the cherry trees MacLean turned to look at Tansy. He nodded as if to re-affirm the promise he had made to her there and she smiled to camouflage her tears.
Their walk in the grounds was a prelude to their planned meeting with Dr Coulson, Carrie’s consultant. MacLean knew that this was going to be difficult because he felt sure that Coulson was going to announce the scheduling of a first operation on Carrie’s face and put them in the difficult position of raising objections. The onus would fall mainly on Tansy as the child’s mother while he, as Carrie’s ‘uncle’ could say very little.
‘Dr Coulson will see you now,’ announced the young nurse and the three of them trooped into Coulson’s office. Coulson, as usual, gave the impression of being a man in a hurry, anxiously moving papers around his desk while Tansy and MacLean sat down on plastic chairs in front of him. It seemed that speaking to relatives was a necessary evil for Coulson, to be got over as quickly as possible. MacLean noted the golf clubs in the corner.
‘We have pencilled Carrie in for surgery next Wednesday Mrs Nielsen,’ said Coulson, expecting routine approval.
‘I’d rather you waited a bit, Doctor,’ said Tansy.
Coulson looked surprised and paused with his pen in mid air. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said.
‘Carrie is just beginning to get back to being her old self. I’d like her to have a week or two to build up her strength?’
Coulson adopted a patronising smile and said, ‘I really think that I am the best judge of your daughter’s readiness to undergo surgery Mrs Nielsen.’
‘I don’t question your professional competence Doctor,’ said Tansy. ‘But I’m Carrie’s mother I know my daughter. I’d like you to wait.’
MacLean, who was sitting in enforced silence, was filled with admiration for the way that Tansy was handling the situation.
‘Mrs Nielsen, the sooner we get started the better Carrie’s chances will be,’ said Coulson.
‘Of what?’ asked Tansy.
Coulson was becoming annoyed. He spread his hands and blurted out, ‘Of regaining some semblance of a face… ‘ He left out ‘you stupid woman’ but it was implied.
‘Some semblance of a face,’ repeated Tansy quietly.
MacLean closed his eyes and dropped his head on to his chest. Coulson had been pushed into saying it. With one slip of the tongue he had destroyed hope in his patient’s mother and now he tried to justify his stupidity by saying, ‘Well, the damage to the child’s face is extensive.’ He did not look Tansy in the eye.
MacLean hoped to defuse the situation by asking exactly what Coulson intended to do.
Coulson launched into what MacLean could only think of as a ‘popular surgery for the masses’ routine. He spoke down to them, using words he thought his audience might understand, pausing frequently to ask if he had made himself clear. MacLean found himself becoming alarmed, not at the man’s manner — pompous oafs were ten a penny in any profession — but at what he was saying. Coulson was outlining surgical procedures that had been out of date for years, techniques that had been pioneered on burned pilots in the Second World War. Pomposity was one thing, incompetence was quite another. MacLean found that he could not hold his tongue any longer.
‘Wasn’t that technique superseded by the Gelman Schwarz operation some time ago?’ he interrupted.
Coulson stopped talking as if he had run into a brick wall at speed. ‘I didn’t realise… ‘ he began uncertainly.
MacLean backed off to let Coulson out of the corner. It was very tempting to keep him in it and slowly nail him to the wall but he cautioned himself that that would be counter-productive. The objective was to delay commencement of surgery, he reminded himself. ‘I read a lot,’ he explained. ‘I thought I should find out a little about Carrie’s prospects.’
Coulson’s confidence was restored. Like so many ‘experts’ he relied a great deal on the ignorance of others. It was important to keep a comfortable distance between himself and the layman. Any signs of relevant knowledge in the masses was a worry. ‘I see,’ he said slowly. ‘Actually medical opinion is divided on the matter.’
Oh really? thought MacLean without saying so. It must be divided into those who don’t want their patients to end up looking like plastic Pinocchios and those who haven’t bothered to read a textbook in the last twenty years! ‘Medical Opinion’ was such a convenient cop-out for so many. It tolerated fools so well. MacLean had come to an easy decision; there was no way Coulson was going to lay a finger on Carrie.
Tansy did not know what was going on but she was grateful that MacLean was now involving himself in the conversation. She could see that there was an undercurrent of anger bubbling inside him and that a change had come over Coulson. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but for some reason he had become vulnerable.
Coulson finished his talk and glanced at his watch. He said to Tansy, ‘I hope you can now see why we should start surgery on Carrie as soon as possible Mrs Nielsen.’
With a quick glance at MacLean to signal her uncertainty Tansy opened her mouth to reply but MacLean took over. He said to Coulson, ‘Doctor, the reason we would like you to delay surgery for a little while is that Mrs Nielsen is considering sending Carrie to the Mannerheim Clinic in Zurich. No reflection on you of course, but Dieter Klein’s work on facial reconstruction is world famous and we would like to do the best we can for Carrie. I’m sure you’re familiar with Dr Klein’s work?’
‘Of course, ‘ stammered Coulson. ‘You should have said so at the beginning. When will you know?’
‘We expect to hear from Dr Klein within the next two weeks,’ lied MacLean.
‘Then we will put everything on hold for the moment,’ said Coulson.
‘Thank you Doctor.’
When they were out of earshot Tansy said to MacLean, ‘Coulson seemed impressed with the name.’
‘It was enough to stall him for the time being,’ said MacLean. ‘And keep his paws off Carrie.’
Tansy looked at him strangely and wondered about the choice of word but she didn’t say anything.
MacLean in turn did not tell her that Coulson wasn’t so much impressed with the name as embarrassed. The man was so far behind the times that he had obviously never heard of Dieter Klein. He probably hadn’t read a medical journal in years.
The helicopter bringing the men back from the Celtic Star rig was not due in to Aberdeen until four thirty in the afternoon so MacLean took a mid-morning train from Waverley Station which would still afford him plenty of time to get to the heliport. The wind had been rising steadily from daybreak and now it had started to rain as the train rattled out on to the Forth Bridge on its journey north.