Page 43 of A Class Act

Puffing and panting with the exertion of it all, I found myself heading into Beddingfield village and the road leading to the hospital where Mum had been blue-lighted once more. I’d worry about Sorrel – where she might be and what she might be up to – once I’d seen Mum and assessed what was happening there. As I got the feel of both the car and my knee, I realised I was driving too slowly and, fed up with the ensuing cacophony of car horns and accompanying hand gestures from impatientdrivers, I made myself catch up with the general flow of traffic, completing the journey in just twenty minutes.

‘Oh, Robyn, I’m really sorry you’re here again. Although it is lovely to see you.’ Samantha, one of the wonderful nurses on Ward 6 of Green Lea wing, looked up from her computer and stood up to give me a hug. ‘We really hoped after last time we wouldn’t see any of you back again.’ She paused. ‘What’s with the leg?’ She nodded towards my knee. ‘I heard you’d made it big dancing in the West End?’

‘Hardly.’ I grimaced, lifting the offending knee in her direction. ‘ACL.’

‘Well, I hope you’re not driving?’ She frowned, noticing the keys in my hand.

‘Me? Would I?’

‘Very probably.’ She tutted.

‘Can I see Mum?’

Samantha nodded.

‘Why are you keeping her in? Is she in danger again?’

‘She’s had another attack of her acute porphyria. You don’t need me to tell you that can be life-threatening if it isn’t promptly treated. This was a particularly bad attack, Robyn, and Lisa was experiencing dehydration from loss of fluids, as well as the usual breathing problems. Her blood pressure is far too high and she’s still in danger of another seizure. Repeat acute attacks can lead to chronic kidney failure, liver damage… even liver cancer. We have to keep her here under observation—’ She broke off. ‘Hang on…’

I hung on, trying to take in that this recurrence of mum’s condition, which had repeatedly raised its ugly head throughoutmy childhood and teens, appeared to be the worst yet. Symptoms of acute porphyria can include severe pain in the chest, legs or back; digestive problems, such as constipation, nausea and vomiting; muscle pain, tingling, numbness, weakness or paralysis. And, most frightening, mental changes, such as anxiety, hallucinations or confusion as well as seizures. Mum had not had an attack like this since I was about twelve, although she’d suffered badly during her pregnancy with Sorrel. Jess had never forgiven Jayden for putting Mum’s health at risk by getting Mum pregnant a third time.

‘Hang on… Mr Spencer…?’ Samantha stood and beckoned over a youngish man who, obviously harassed at the detour he was having to make back in our direction, walked towards us, a frown on his clean-shaven, baby-like features. Was the cliché about young policemen just the same when it came to medical consultants? ‘Mr Spencer’s new here,’ she said in a whispered aside to me. ‘He issogood, Robyn. Really. Lisa couldn’t be in any better hands.’

‘Just on my way for a quick break.’ He tutted. ‘What is it?’

‘This is Lisa Allen’s daughter, Robyn,’ Samantha started. ‘Can you give her a few minutes?’

‘Come on.’ He threw a hand in the direction of an office behind him. ‘I’ve five minutes before I need to be somewhere else.’

‘Down the pub?’ I quipped, attempting levity.

‘No, Ms Allen, to see a young man of eighteen who, because of his chronic illness, failed to gain the necessary A-level grades to take him off to Cambridge this autumn and who thought death a better alternative than taking up the place offered elsewhere.’

‘Right. I’m so sorry.’ Suitably chastened, I followed the man into his office.

‘Mum’s not very well, is she?’ I asked, sinking gratefully, if not gracefully, into the proffered seat to one side of his desk.

‘We’re going to do the very best for her, but, yes, she is poorly.’ The man was quickly perusing a file of notes. ‘We’re stabilising her and then, once we’ve done that, we’ll run the battery of tests needed to assess her. Look, go in and see her. How much time do you have? I believe you live in London?’

‘Oh, you know?’

‘Jess put me in the picture. To be honest, I can see your sister needs some help, some coping strategies…’

‘Sorrel?’

‘Who’s Sorrel?’

‘Mylittlesister. She’s fifteen.’

‘Ah yes, the catalyst for Lisa’s not feeling she can manage any more.’

‘Oh, please don’t let Sorrel know you feel she’s to blame.’

‘I’ve never met your little sister, Ms Allen, and apportioning blame isn’t helpful to anyone at the moment. I was actually talking about Jess: she’s just about at her wits’ end, you know.’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.’

‘As I say, no one’s pointing a finger at anyone. When do you go back?’

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