Page 218 of Feathers in the Wind
‘I’m coming too.’
I gave him a withering glance and he subsided on the sofa. Even stubborn cavaliers know their limitations.
* * *
Outside the hospitalI knew so well, my hand tightened on Christian’s and, as if sensing my tension, he began to cry. I crouched down and held him in my arms as the busy hospital moved around us.
‘Okay, little guy, this is it. How about I carry you?’
The glass doors slid open for us and I hoisted him into my arms, surprised at how light he was in comparison to a modern child of his age. His voluminous clothing had masked his frailty.
I stopped outside Mark’s office and knocked. At his peremptory bidding, I poked my head around the door and smiled.
‘Are you busy?’
‘You know I am,’ he replied. ‘What do you want?’
‘I was wondering if you would look at a patient for me.’
Without waiting for Mark to protest I carried Christian into the office and sat him on the examining bench.
Mark rolled his eyes, checked his watch and his appointment diary. ‘I’ve got a couple of minutes, that’s all.’
Mark, for all his faults, is very good with children. Christian submitted to his poking, prodding and occasional tickling. He placed the stethoscope on the child’s chest, listened for a moment, grunted and looked up at me. Knowing him as I did, the deepening frown worried me.
As I redressed the boy, Mark perched on the edge of his desk.
‘You’re right, Shepherd. This is one very sick little boy. If he’s not operated on, his life expectancy is no more than a year, two at the most.’ His voice held a somber note and I flinched at the verdict.
Now came the hard part. I gathered my courage in both hands.
‘Can you do it?’
He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Book him in. You know the procedure. I’ll need to get some imaging and tests done. Have the parents been told?’
‘Parent. He only has his father, and yes, he knows.’
‘Then I need to speak to him. Is he here?’
I shook my head. ‘He’s my friend Nat’s son.’
Mark’s expression closed over, his lips thinning with disapproval. ‘Oh, I see. Well, get him to sign all the consents and we’ll fit the boy in to surgery over the next couple of days.’
He sensed my hesitation. ‘There’s a problem, Mark.’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘Nat’s...um...Nat has no National Health Service ID. This will have to be a private job.’
Mark’s eyebrows rose. ‘What do you mean he has no ID?’
‘Please don’t ask me questions, Mark. I’ve said this is a private job. My cost.’
‘You know I can’t operate...’
‘Yes, you can.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Mark, I know I am presuming on our friendship...’
‘Former friendship!’ Mark reminded me.
‘Professional friendship,’ I corrected. ‘What is important here is the life of this child.’
