Sarah led the way upstairs to HTU, Joe and Jean followed, still with their arms around each other and Lafferty brought up the rear.
In the early hours of the morning the stair well seemed cold but Lafferty’s momentary urge to shiver faded as they passed through swing doors into HTU and felt the warmth hit them. As if needing to break the silence, Jean said, “It’s very warm in here.”
“We have to keep it that way for the patients,” said Sarah. “In a unit like this clothes and blankets get in the way.”
Lafferty saw what she meant. Mary O’Donnell was clad in a simple white hospital shift which left her throat and arms bare for ease of access. An unsightly plastic airway protruded from her mouth and her chest rose and fell in response to the ventilator that hissed and clicked beside her bed. Electrode wires snaked out from the bandaging on her head and she had suffered some superficial grazing to her face which had left an angry red weal. Her eyes were closed and there was no response from her when her mother, unable to restrain herself, knelt down by the bed and laid her face against her shoulder, sobbing her concern.
Joe placed a hand awkwardly on his wife’s shoulder and helped her to her feet.
“Can we stay?” asked Jean when she had recovered.
“I really don’t think there’s much point,” responded Sarah gently. “Nothing will happen tonight. We’ll know more when we run tests on her tomorrow.”
“But if she should... get worse and...”
“Mary will not die,” said Sarah. “The machine is breathing for her.”
Jean looked puzzled. She asked, “Are you saying that she can’t die?”
“More or less,” said Sarah. “As long as she’s on the ventilator we can keep her blood oxygenated so technically Mary cannot die.”
Jean O’Donnell looked as if a great weight had been removed from her shoulders. “It’s wonderful what they can do,” said her husband.
“But,” cautioned Sarah, “it may be that Mary’s brain is so damaged she won’t be able to recover.”
“You mean she could be a vegetable, don’t you?” said Jean.
“It’s possible,” said Sarah. “We’ll have to hope for the best.”
“And pray,” said Jean, looking down at her daughter.
“You will pray for her, Father, won’t you?” she asked Lafferty without turning round.
“You know I will,” said Lafferty.
“Go home now,” said Sarah kindly. “Try to sleep. We’ll call you in the morning when we know more.”
Jean looked up at Joe who nodded. Joe wrapped his arm round her again and nodded his thanks to Sarah before setting off for the door. Lafferty was left standing there.
Sarah looked at him and said, “I’m glad to get the opportunity to apologise to you in person, Father Lafferty. I really am most sorry that I didn’t inform you of John McKirrop’s death.”
“That’s over and done with, Doctor Lasseter. Don’t give it another thought.”
“That’s gracious of you, Father. Can I offer you some coffee?”
“Most welcome,” accepted Lafferty, gratefully. He followed Sarah to the duty room where she switched on an electric kettle.
“It’ll be instant I’m afraid.”
“That’s fine but are you sure you don’t want to get back to bed? I assume you were called out for Mary?”
Sarah nodded and said, “That’s OK. I could do with some coffee. You don’t think I was too direct — too frank — with the O’Donnells, do you?” Sarah had turned to face Lafferty and he was surprised at the vulnerability in her eyes. His heart went out to her. “Not at all. Can I take it from what you said that there’s not much hope for Mary?”
Sarah shook her head and said, “I don’t honestly think so. The crash helmet she was wearing didn’t fit properly and had actually been damaged in a previous accident. Her injuries are very bad. That’s why I felt I had to try to prepare the O’Donnells for the worst.”
Lafferty nodded and said, “You did it kindly.”
Sarah let out her breath and said, “You don’t know how relieved I am to hear you say that. You know, it’s an awful thing but when you see broken bodies day in day out and weeping relatives it’s so hard to find...”
“New compassion?” asked Lafferty.
“Exactly,” nodded Sarah. “I can feel it happening to me and I feel so guilty but I can’t seem to stop the hardening process. There are times when I hate myself for it but I can’t fight it.”
“No you can’t,” said Lafferty. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s your body’s way of telling you that it can’t stand the strain of carrying everyone else’s grief. It’s too much for anyone. Don’t worry. Underneath it all you haven’t changed. You’re still the same caring person you were before you came into medicine. The fact that you worry about it says so.”
Sarah looked at Lafferty for a moment before saying, “Do you know, I probably shouldn’t say this but that’s the first time I’ve ever heard anything comforting from a man of the cloth.”
Lafferty laughed and said, “Then my day has not entirely been in vain.”
“More coffee?”
“That was fine,” said Lafferty who started to get up. He said, “I hope you don’t mind my saying this but what you said on the telephone about John McKirrop regaining or not regaining consciousness has been puzzling me.”
Sarah visibly stiffened at the name, McKirrop, and Lafferty noticed. “If it’s none of my business,” he said. “Just tell me and I’ll shut up.”
Sarah desperately did want to talk to someone about McKirrop’s death but she needed to think about it first. She confined what she had to say to the disagreement over whether McKirrop had been conscious or not.
“And you think he knew what he was saying?” said Lafferty when she had finished.
“Yes,” affirmed Sarah. “He didn’t remember anything about the assault which brought him in here but I’m sure he was quite lucid about what happened in the cemetery.”
“That’s really what I wanted to talk to him about,” said Lafferty.
“Really?” said Sarah.
“I’ve been trying to help John Main find out what happened to his son’s body,” said Lafferty.
“I see,” said Sarah. “Poor man, he’s had quite enough to contend with without that happening.”
“You know him?” asked Lafferty.
“Not personally, but his son died here in HTU,” said Sarah.
“Of course, I’d forgotten,” said Lafferty. “Can you remember what McKirrop actually said when he came round?” he asked.
Sarah took a deep breath and said, “It was really just a case of a few phrases but he clearly remembered the empty coffin. He said that two or three times. And something about yobs beating him up.”
“Yobs?” asked Lafferty with a puzzled frown. “He used that word?”
“Yes, yobs.”
“Anything else?”
“No, I think that was it.”
“I’m grateful to you for talking to me about it,” said Lafferty.
“It’s the very least I could do in the circumstances,” said Sarah.
“Good night, Doctor,” said Lafferty. “From what you said about Mary, I fear we may meet again before long.”
Sarah nodded slightly and said good night. Lafferty left.
There were grey streaks of dawn in the sky as Lafferty walked across the courtyard to his car. A milk float cruised past the main gate, its full load of bottles bouncing in unison in their crates as its small wheels made heavy work of the uneven surface. Yobs, was a funny word to use to describe Satanists, he thought as he struggled to put the ignition key in place in the darkness. Yobs conjured up images of tearaways, vandals, and thugs, people who broke and destroyed things — but grave-robbing? That was something else. That wasn’t their style at all. The engine of the old Ford Escort sprang into life accompanied by a squeal which said that the clutch release bearing needed attention. He really must get it fixed soon.