#YouToo Page 10

  ‘That’s her problem.’ Mike was not going to shift.

  ‘And she might not remember enough to realise it wasn’t her who took them,’ Jo added. ‘After all, she seemed pretty convinced that she had done it before.’

  ‘Aye, but it’s not you that has to work with the woman.’ Jo could sympathise with his dilemma.

  ‘I’ll stand up for you as well, if she makes a complaint. Please, Jim, I know you don’t want the pathology department to get a bad name.’

  ‘It’s a bit late for that,’ he said, giving her an almost toothless grin as the lift doors opened. ‘I’ll tell you what, you come on down and witness me taking them, or take them yourself,’ he looked at Jo. ‘Mr Parton can witness them, with me.’

  That seemed an excellent compromise.

  ‘Thank you, Jim.’ Jo said warmly as the lift doors opened, but none of them got out. Instead they waited until the doors closed again and the lift took them back to the mortuary.

  ‘That woman is a real piece of work,’ Jo said later as she and Mike Parton, holding the evidence bags of specimens tightly, walked back to the carpark.

  ‘Tell me about it.’ Mike smiled but he didn’t look particularly hap- py. ‘I’m going to make a formal complaint about her. I’ve come to the conclusion that she really needs to go before she completely and irrevocably cocks something up, if she hasn’t already.’

  Jo knew this would not have been an easy decision for Mike to make as it would effectively end the pathologist’s career.

  ‘I agree and I’ll back you up Mike.’

  Mike nodded his thanks and headed for his car.

  Jo wondered just why Lucy Cavendish was failing to cope with her job and had turned to drink. She had seemed like such a high flyer when she was made locum after Ian Dunbar’s death. There had been a complaint about failure to complete paperwork in Brighton where she trained and that was why she hadn’t got the job she wanted there, but surely that should have been a warning to her. If alcohol was the root of her problems, then she had been given a second chance and should have grasped it and made sure she stopped, although Jo knew it wasn’t that easy. But if she had got on with the job here in Hastings, and done well, or at least well enough, she would have been made permanent and might even have been able to go back to Brighton once she had proved herself. Instead, she could only imagine that the Board would restart the search for another person to fill the post in a substantive role and Lucy would be condemned to lower-grade locum jobs forever.

  Evening surgery had gone unusually smoothly and Jo was on her last patient. She had begun to think about getting home on time and maybe even cooking herself a proper meal instead of reheating something frozen, when her desk phone rang.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said to the patient she had just been seeing and who was still collecting up their coat and bags, and picked up the phone.

  ‘Dr Hughes speaking,’ she said formally as her patient exited the room, closing the door behind them.

  ‘Hi Jo, I have Mr Springfield on the line, he says it’s urgent,’ the receptionist told her and transferred the call before Jo could object. Not that she would have done, but she would have liked to have been given the chance.

  ‘Hello, Ben. How can I help?’ Jo said once she heard the click of the call being transferred.

  ‘Oh, Dr Hughes. Thank goodness I’ve caught you. It’s my mother. She’s taken an overdose and is refusing to go to hospital.’

  Jo took a deep breath and knew that dinner was not going to be any time soon.

  Chapter 11

  The neighbours were having a field day and Jo could see net curtains twitching at several windows. One or two people had even come out onto the pavement to see what was going on. The Old Town was known for its narrow streets and there was little chance of finding a parking space on them. To make matters worse, Mrs Springfield’s home was situated on a stretch of the High Street where the pavement on her side was raised a few feet above the road. Jo could see a police car was parked in a space further up the road and an ambulance had pulled up on the lower pavement opposite her house, making life difficult for pedestrians but at least allowing the cars to pass by, slowly, as the drivers strained to see what was going on. Jo was grateful that the surgery was only a short distance further down the road, so she had walked, swiftly, to the location.

  There was no answer when Jo knocked, so she rang and knocked again. At last she heard footsteps and the door was opened by Ben.

  ‘Dr Hughes, thank goodness you’ve come.’ He ushered her into the living room. Jo could see two policemen standing in the kitch- en with one of the ambulance crew. The three of them were all on the burly side, so the small kitchen was quite cramped. None of them were looking happy which was not a good sign. The two policemen put down their mugs of tea and came into the living room as soon as she was inside.

  ‘Right,’ the first one said, ‘now you’re here, Doc, we’ll push off, because there really isn’t anything we can do.’

  ‘I’d rather you waited, mate,’ the ambulance man interjected, hur- rying after them. ‘In case, you know.’

  ‘Why?’ Jo asked him, not entirely sure why the police were in- volved in the first place.

  Ben sighed.

  ‘My mother called the police because she said she was being ab- ducted by the ambulance crew against her will.’

  Jo groaned, she could hear the old lady saying exactly that.

  ‘We wouldn’t do that,’ the ambulance man protested. ‘We can’t. If she doesn’t want to go, we’re not here to force her.’

  Although Jo was sure that they would have tried to persuade her, she knew that they would stop short of physically removing someone without consent, unless that person had been sectioned. In that sce- nario, the police might well have to assist and she assumed that was why the ambulance man wanted the police to stay.

  ‘There is no reason for us to be here at the moment and we are urgently needed elsewhere,’ the policeman insisted, apparently to the surprise of his colleague.

  ‘But if my mother is not capable of making the decision, you can make her go, can’t you? Isn’t that right, Dr Hughes?’ Ben looked at Jo, needing her to agree with him. It was clear that all of them had been through this argument several times. ‘Then they can take her to hos- pital and it isn’t abduction,’ he turned to the police officer again. ‘We just need the doctor to certify her unfit and then we’ll need your help to get her in the ambulance.’

  ‘It’s not quite that easy.’ Jo cut in before the policeman could say the same. He obviously wouldn’t want to manhandle an elderly lady into an ambulance, for her own good or not, and in any case, Jo need- ed to find out exactly what was going on before she started down that road.

  ‘The Sarge has been trying to contact the mental health team, but -’ the younger policeman started.

  ‘No luck so far.’ Jo finished for him. He nodded and seemed reluc- tant to leave just yet. He probably realised they would end up being called back but his colleague had made his mind up and was already at the door.

  ‘This isn’t a good use of police time,’ he said firmly, and Jo had to concede he had a point.

  His younger colleague still hesitated. ‘If you need us back -’

  ‘C’mon!’ the older, more experienced man called impatiently and he hurried to the door.

  Jo turned to Ben.

  ‘Let’s go and see your mother,’ she said gently, starting for the stairs. ‘And you can tell me what’s been happening.’

  They walked slowly up the stairs as Ben quietly explained that he had called in to see his mother after Jo’s phone call, because he had indeed picked up that something wasn’t quite right.

  ‘She was in bed, which is unusual at this time of day, and as I came into the bedroom she was acting furtively. Then a small bottle of cough medicine rolled out from under the covers and landed on the floor. It was empty, and as I picked it up, I saw there were others and pill pack- ets that she had hastily shoved under t
he covers.’ He stopped on the landing and Jo could see that the door to his mother’s room was open, and a female paramedic looked up with undisguised relief at seeing Jo.

  ‘What’s she taken?’ Jo asked.

  ‘A mixture of things, over-the-counter stuff, cold cures and the like, and painkillers mainly,’ Ben explained. ‘The bottles and packets are all there.’

  ‘Okay, let me talk to her will you? Alone?’ She looked at Ben, and then the paramedic.

  He nodded and the paramedic didn’t need a second invitation to head for the door.

  ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Dr Hughes,’ said Ben. ‘You can tell them to take her now. Even if she doesn’t want to go.’

  ‘It’s really not that simple,’ said Jo. Ben looked puzzled. ‘Your mother has the right to refuse treatment.’

  ‘But not if she’s not in her right mind, isn’t that what they say? And she can’t be, can she? After all, she’s taken an overdose.’ Jo could tell that he was getting frustrated.

  ‘As I say, it’s not that simple. We will need a mental health profes- sional to assess her first.’

  ‘What? How long is that going to take? Call them!’ Ben exploded. ‘Let’s just see if I can persuade her to go, okay?’ Jo walked to the

  bedroom door and Ben followed the paramedic downstairs.

  ‘I wondered how long it would take before he called you in,’ June said weakly as Jo came in and closed the door. ‘Well it’s not going to make a scrap of difference. I’m not going to hospital and that’s that.’

  The flowery curtains were pulled across the small window and the only light came from a bedside light, giving the room a warm, inviting glow. Jo came and sat down on the old lady’s bed, smoothing the comforter and taking Mrs Springfield’s hand in hers. The array of empty pill and medicine containers was on the bedside table and Jo picked them up one at a time to look at what they had once held, with mount- ing trepidation. Many people think that something they can just buy over the counter probably isn’t strong enough to do damage, but it certainly can be, particularly if it contains paracetamol, as several of these did. There was good news and bad news. The good news was that June would lose probably consciousness once all the opioid-based painkillers that Jo had prescribed and that June had taken really kicked in. The bad news was that it might be too late if she had taken the cold medications first.

  June seemed to read her mind. ‘I took the paracetamol with my tea. Two packs. Thirty-two tablets. Then I swigged the flu and cold medi- cines, a bit sickly but not bad tasting. And I only started on the other, stronger painkillers later, with my evening sherry.’ She nodded at the bottle and cut-glass schooner on the table. ‘And I haven’t had enough alcohol to be considered incapable.’ She had obviously thought this through carefully. ‘By the time I lose consciousness it will be too late to do anything.’

  Jo had a sinking feeling that her patient was right. ‘Have you told him? About the cancer?’

  June looked uncomfortable. ‘He’ll find out once I’m gone.’

  ‘I never thought of you as a coward.’ Jo was being deliberately provocative and it seemed to work.

  ‘It’s not cowardice, I just don’t think he needs to know.’ June’s voice was very slightly slurred, telling Jo that the pills were beginning to take effect.

  ‘I disagree. At the moment he thinks the reason you’ve done this is because you are depressed and that’s all. He would understand your position so much better if he knew you were dying anyway.’ June was looking unconvinced. ‘It would make it much easier for him to bear,’ Jo pleaded.

  June thought about what she had said for a while before nodding. ‘Okay. You can let him in. I’ll tell him.’

  Jo went to get Ben, relieved that she could at least get him an explanation for his mother’s suicide, even if she couldn’t save her.

  The ambulance driver and female paramedic were sitting in the living room when Jo came down, having taken Ben back upstairs and left him to speak to his mother alone.

  ‘What’s the plan?’ the female paramedic asked as Jo took out her phone.

  ‘I’m going to try and call out a member of the mental health team, so that if we need to use section 4 we can, as a last resort.’

  Jo knew there were a number of courses open to her if it came down to forcing June into hospital. She could wait until June was un- conscious, but the longer they waited before treating the paracetamol overdose, the greater the chance of liver failure and death. There was also the problem that once conscious again, June could still instigate legal proceedings against Jo and the ambulance team for acting against her express wishes and causing her added pain and distress in her final days.

  The next option was that Jo could ask an approved mental health team professional to use the provisions of the Mental Health Act to certify June under section 4, as an emergency measure, for June’s own safety, but it would also take time and there was no guarantee they would agree to it under these circumstances. It was a legal minefield if the patient was not obviously in the grip of extreme psychosis, even if they were a danger to themselves. It was not illegal to commit suicide and it didn’t even necessarily mean that you were mentally ill.

  Jo’s first task was to call someone out, in case they had to resort to sectioning June. If she could show she had at least tried to get someone here, like the police sergeant had already done, then she might find it easier to live with the fact when June died. She also hoped that Ben would be comforted to know that everything possible had been done to try and save his mother. It might also give him time to come to terms with the fact that she was dying.

  The third option was to make June as comfortable as possible and let nature take its course, as it was likely to do anyway, in spite of their best efforts. June obviously wanted them to do this, but Jo didn’t think Ben was likely to agree, even after he learnt of his mother’s terminal illness.

  Having made her call and learnt that a doctor from the mental health team would be coming out as soon as possible, but that it might be some time, Jo accepted the offer of a cup of tea from the paramedic. Ben had told them to help themselves, which they were doing as it was likely to be a long wait. Jo knew that it was most unlikely that anyone would arrive in time to save June.

  ‘I’ve told him that if there’s another shout we might have to leave, but that if his Mum changes her mind and wants to go to hospital, he can always call us back,’ the paramedic explained. ‘But so far it’s a quiet evening.’ Both she and her partner looked around and touched wood, hoping not to jinx the shift, knowing that once they reached pub throwing out time, things could rapidly change.

  ‘Dr Hughes?’ Ben called down and Jo put her cup on the table and hurried upstairs. If she was hoping that there had been a rapproche- ment between mother and son it didn’t take long for Jo to be disappointed. They were each looking more than a little irritated with the other, and both of them were clearly unhappy with her.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me my mother was dying?’

  ‘She did not give me permission to do so.’ Jo explained calmly. She didn’t want to add to the tension already present.

  ‘But I have a right to know something like that.’

  ‘And your mother has the right not to tell you if that is what she wishes.’ Jo placed a hand on his arm. ‘If it helps, I am sure it was be- cause she didn’t want to worry you.’

  ‘I don’t care!’ he shouted, shaking her hand off. ‘You should have told me.’

  ‘I can’t ignore your mother’s rights. After all, she is my patient, not you.’ That silenced Ben for a moment.

  ‘I am here you know,’ June said quietly. ‘I’m sorry you are angry, Ben, but you know what would have happened. You would have come around here, visiting all the time, making sure I was all right, insisted I move in with you even, and I couldn’t bear the fuss. I just wanted to quietly slip away.’

  ‘Do you honestly think that would have been better? Killing your- self and leaving me wondering why
?’

  ‘You would have known why. Dr Hughes would have been able to tell you once I was dead.’

  ‘No. That wouldn’t have helped. It would have been too late. I would always have wondered why you didn’t let me help, let me say my goodbyes. Admit it. You were just being selfish.’ Ben shook his head, tears in his eyes, and stomped out of the room. There was an awkward silence.

  ‘He’s right, you know,’ Jo chipped in.

  ‘Yes, yes, I do know. But for heaven’s sake, can’t I be selfish just once in my life? I am the one who is dying, after all.’ June lay back against her pillows with a petulant wave of her hand. The argument seemed to have worn her out. Jo came and sat on the edge of her bed and took her hand.

  ‘Of course, you are right, but is this really the time? It’s your last act in life, your last message to the world and to your son.’

  June snatched her hand away.

  ‘Have you called out the shrinks yet?’

  ‘It will be some time before they arrive and by then, well, it might be too late.’

  ‘Good.’

  Jo was silent for a few moments whilst she though of another tack. ‘Are you trying to make your son feel a failure for the rest of his

  life?’

  ‘What on earth are you talking about? Of course I don’t want him to feel a failure.’

  ‘But that’s exactly how he’s going to feel unless you go to hospital, isn’t he?’

  ‘I don’t see why he should.’

  ‘He’s come here and found you like this and he’s pulled out all the stops to try and save you. If you insist on staying here and dying, he will feel he’s failed.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘There’s nothing ridiculous about it. He tried to save you. His own mother and he couldn’t persuade her to go to hospital. He will feel he has failed because he has!’

  ‘I’ll still die. Maybe not today, but soon. This cancer will get me if I don’t kill myself. You know that.’

  ‘Yes. Of course, you are going to die, but for your son’s sake, don’t make it today. Let him be a hero. Let him save you.’