CHAPTER THIRTY THREE: A Change of Heart

Andrew could not sleep that night. Next morning he felt half dead. He ate no breakfast, but-just drank one cup of coffee. His first thought now was for Mary Boland. He got out his car, and drove straight to the Victoria Hospital to see how she was.

‘Good morning,’ she said, when he entered her room. ‘Aren’t my flowers beautiful? Christine brought them yesterday.’

He sat on her bed and looked at her. She seemed to be thinner! ‘Yes, they are nice flowers. How do you feel, Mary?’

‘Oh – all right.’ Her eyes avoided his. ‘Anyway, you’ll soon make me better!’

Her confidence in him added to his misery. He thought: ‘If any harm comes to Ìàry, I will never forgive myself.’

At that moment, Dr Thoroughgood entered. ‘Good morning, Manson,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Why, what’s the matter with you? Are you ill?’

Andrew stood up. ‘I’m quite well, thank you.’

Dr Thoroughgood gave him a strange look, and then turned to Mary. They examined Mary together, and then walked over to a corner of the room, where they could not be heard, and discussed her case.

‘It seems to me,’ said Andrew, ‘that her progress is not at all satisfactory.’

Dr Thoroughgood rubbed his hands. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Manson.’

‘Her temperature is higher.’

‘Yes. But-‘

‘This case is very important to me. I don’t want to tell you your business but I think that you should do an operation on her lung. I suggested this when Mary first came into hospital.’

Thoroughgood was annoyed. ‘I don’t agree with you,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Manson, but you must allow me to treat this case in the way that I consider best.’

Andrew felt too weak to argue. He went back to Mary, told her that he would call to see her again on the following day, and left the hospital.

It was now nearly one o’clock. He went to a cheap restaurant, where he drank another cup of coffee but ate no food, and then drove to his office in Welbeck Street, where Nurse Sharp, who was in a bad temper, also inquired if he felt ill.

His first patient was a young man with a weak heart. Andrew gave him a thorough examination, and then asked him many questions before deciding on the treatment to give him. When, at the end of the examination, the young man tried to pay him for his services, Andrew said quickly: ‘Please don’t pay me now. Wait till I send you a bill.’ The thought that he would never send a bill, that he had lost his desire for money and now hated it, comforted him strangely.

His second patient was a rich woman of forty-five, Miss Basden, who visited him every few days. Smiling sweedy, she began to tell him about her imaginary aches and pains.

Andrew interrupted her. ‘Why do you come to me, Miss Basden?’

She stopped in the middle of a sentence and looked at him in surprise.

‘Oh, I know – I’m to blame,’ he said. ‘I told you to come. But there’s nothing the matter with you.’

‘Dr Manson!’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I can be of no further service to you, Miss Basden. But I am sure that there are many other doctors in this area who will be very pleased to tell you that you are ill, and to give you expensive treatments.’

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Then she hurried out of the room.

Andrew was about to go home, when Nurse Sharp came in smiling. ‘Dr Hamson to see you!’

The next minute Freddie entered. His manner had never been so friendly. ‘Listen, Manson,’ he said. ‘I have heard about that operation yesterday, and I think that you were quite right to be angry with Ivory. It was shameful! As a matter of fact, old man, I’m rather annoyed with Ivory and Deedman. We’ve been working together – sending each other patients – but they haven’t been paying me my fair share of the money. They’re cheats! I could tell you a lot of other things about them, too!’ Hamson paused. ‘Listen, old man, I’ve got an idea! Let’s work together – you and I – without Ivory and Deedman. We don’t need them! I know all the tricks – all the ways to make money. And you’re a clever doctor. If we work together, we’ll make a fortune!’

Andrew sat quite still. He felt no anger against Hamson, only a bitter hatred of himself. At last, he said: ‘I’m sorry: I can’t work with you, Freddie. I’m tired of all this! There are too many doctors whose only thought is to make money.’

Hamson’s face turned red. ‘What the-‘ He jumped up. ‘Have you gone mad?’

‘Perhaps. But I am going to stop thinking about money and success. A doctor shouldn’t try to make money out of sick people.’

‘You’re a fool!’ shouted Hamson. He turned and rushed out of the room.

Andrew got up and drove home.

Christine was in the living room. The sight of her pale, sad face made him tremble. She said: ‘You’ve had a busy day. Will you have some tea before the surgery?’

‘There will be no surgery this evening,’ he said.

She looked at him in surprise. ‘But it’s Saturday – your busiest night!’

He did not answer.

‘Why, what is the matter?’ she asked.

Andrew gave her one look. ‘Christine!’ he said. He ran forward and knelt at her feet, crying.