An Affair of the Heart Read Online Free PDF Page B

broadened. “It went like a dream!” he told Dr Jones.
“Everything went like clockwork. It was as if that heart couldn’t
wait to get in there and start working again.”
    Dr Jones took a
deep breath. “I’m glad,” he said, and he smiled too. “How is
Rachel?”
    “She’s fine!
They’ve taken her into the ICU. She’ll probably stay in there for
the next day or two. But I’d bet that she’ll be back in her own
room, sitting up and talking, by Friday! Now we’d better get to the
ICU before Gina causes complete havoc!” He slapped Dr Jones on the
back and went out the door, not waiting to see if the doctor was
following him.
    Dr Jones was
left on his own in the waiting room. He was so relieved. He hadn’t
expected everything to go so well. There was always some kind of
complication, no matter how tiny, that caused concern. But if
Ronald Bloomfield said that everything went like clockwork, then
everything had gone like clockwork.
    “Come on,
Jones!” he heard Bloomfield calling from halfway down the corridor.
“Stop dawdling!”
    Dr Jones smiled
as he went out of the waiting room, closing the door carefully
behind him. Rachel was going to be fine.
     
     

Chapter
Twelve
...into the
Fire
     
    Dr Jones had
been surprised when Andrea Walker, the Chief Executive of South
Manchester University Hospitals NHS Trust, which included
Wythenshawe hospital, had summoned him to her office. He was even
more amazed when he got there. Not only were she and the Medical
Director present, but Ronald Bloomfield and two other people he
hadn’t seen before were also there. They all looked very serious
when he entered.
    “What’s this? A
lynching party?” he said with mock humour as he closed the door
behind him.
    “Not quite,
Philip,” Andrea Walker said. She gave him a weak smile that worried
Dr Jones far more than the thought of any lynching party. “You had
better sit down,” she went on.
    Dr Jones did as
she asked, sitting down in the one remaining empty chair in the
room.
    “You obviously
know Ronald Bloomfield and Gordon Murray,” Walker said to him,
indicating the surgeon and the hospital Medical Director. Dr Jones
nodded and greeted his two colleagues. Andrea Walker then indicated
the two people he didn’t know. “This is the General Manager of
Manchester Royal Infirmary, Mr Eric Barrett, and his Legal Advisor,
Mr John Stanley.”
    Dr Jones stood
up and shook hands with the two men, one short and slightly fat,
the other tall and lean. He was beginning to feel very
uncomfortable. Something was going on, and whatever it was, it had
to be unpleasant for somebody judging by the people who were
gathered in this room.
    “Gentlemen,
this is Dr Philip Jones,” Walker continued with her introductions
as the two men shook hands with the worried doctor. “It’s his
patient that concerns us.”
    “My patient?”
Dr Jones repeated in a questioning manner.
    “It’s Rachel
Carter’s heart transplant,” Bloomfield replied. “It seems that
someone has made a cock-up of the authorisation from the
donor.”
    “Now, see
here!”
    “That’s not
exactly true!”
    Bloomfield’s
reply seemed to spark sudden life into the two men from Manchester
Royal Infirmary, who quickly protested at his choice of words.
Andrea Walker had to calm them down.
    “Gentlemen,
gentlemen! Please let’s not argue about that now!” she said.
“Remember that this has serious implications for the patient, not
just for us, or our staff.”
    “What
implications?” Dr Jones demanded.
    “I’ll explain,”
Gordon Murray said, his slight Scottish accent still noticeable
even after fifteen years in Manchester. “And donae worry, I’ll do
it in a way that doesnae offend anybody.”
    Andrea Walker
sighed and nodded her agreement. “That would be a good idea,
Gordon,” she said.
    “The heart
transplant that Mr Bloomfield carried out on Rachel Carter three
days ago involved a heart taken from a donor at Manchester Royal
Infirmary,” Murray