Donor by Ken McClure Read Free Book Online Page A

do it before you leave,’ replied Turner. ‘But as Dr Grayson said, I don’t think you should build your hopes too high.’
    Sandy’s look suggested that this was the last thing he wanted to hear.
    ‘Look, why don’t we all go and get some tea?’ suggested Turner. ‘There’s something I’d like to talk over with you.’
    Sandy’s first inclination was to decline the invitation but he changed his mind when he saw that Turner wasn’t just being polite or mounting a damage-limitation exercise on behalf of his boss. The man looked as if he really did have something to say. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I think we could all do with some.’
     
     
    The visitors’ tea room smelt of strong tea and plastic. The tall windows looking out on to the courtyard were misted over, thanks to a tea urn with a faulty thermostat which bubbled constantly and sent wafts of steam up into the air. Here and there a cleared patch on the glass permitted views of the rain speckling the puddles in the courtyard below. At Turner’s suggestion, Sandy took Kate across to one of the red-topped tables and sat down with her while Turner got the tea and brought it over on a brown plastic tray. There was a slight hiatus while he righted the cups in their saucers, placed them around the table and poured out the tea. As he sat down, he said. ‘This must be a nightmare for you.’
    ‘It all happened so quickly,’ said Sandy, searching for something sensible to say in reply. ‘She was as right as rain one moment and then suddenly she’s in here and …’
    ‘She’s dying,’ said Kate.
    Turner’s silence was worse than anything he could have said at that moment, thought Sandy.
    ‘What was it you wanted to speak to us about?’ he asked, determined to end the silence.
    Turner rested both forearms on the table and leaned forward as if to impart a confidence. ‘We have to think ahead about what to do for Amanda if neither of you should prove to be a suitable donor.’
    ‘I thought we’d just have to wait,’ said Sandy.
    ‘I don’t know how you’ll feel about this,’ said Turner, ‘but I thought there was one possibility we might explore together for Amanda. It’s only a possibility, mind you, and it might come to nothing, but I think it’s worth considering.’
    ‘What is?’ asked Sandy.
    ‘We had a circular from the Scottish Office recently concerning the Médic Ecosse Hospital here in Glasgow. Apparently, because of some political agreement reached between the hospital and the government over funding, they’re taking on a number of NHS patients recommended to them for specialist treatment. They’ve done this occasionally in the past but it was only out of the goodness of their hearts. Now it’s been put on a more formal basis. I suppose it’s still a PR exercise but the fact remains that a patient accepted by them under the new scheme will be treated as one of their own patients and completely free of charge.’
    ‘How does this affect us?’ asked Sandy.
    ‘It just so happens that Médic Ecosse has a world-renowned transplant facility.’
    ‘You mean you think they might accept Amanda as a private transplant patient?’
    ‘As far as I could see, there was no qualification about what kind of patient could be referred to them. If a case could be made out that a patient would clearly benefit from their expertise or facilities, then the criterion for referral would be met. That, I have to say, may be wishful thinking on my part but on paper there’s no bar.’
    ‘Do you think Amanda would benefit from such a referral?’ asked Sandy.
    ‘I think …’ Turner paused as if considering his words carefully. ‘I think that Amanda might conceivably get her transplant quicker at Médic Ecosse than here in the unit, and in her case time is of the essence.’
    ‘But how, if there’s an international register and a waiting list?’ asked Kate.
    Turner paused again, then said, ‘I suspect there may be several international