Pestilence

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

The first hint of the trouble that was yet to come in Olney St. Mary came by way of a telephone call from Sam Bradley to the new doctor one sunny Tuesday evening. Hilary Newton was just filing the last of her patient record cards away after a particularly quiet evening surgery. Two sore throats, a newly diagnosed pregnancy and a strained back made up the sum total of the calls on her medical training that day.

She reached out to lift the jangling telephone receiver, never realising that that one call was about to change the lives of everyone in the village.

“Doctor Newton,” she announced to the as yet unknown caller.

“Doctor, we haven’t met yet but my name’s Bradley, Sam Bradley. I own the garage in the village.”

“I know who you are Mr. Bradley. I’ve seen you around and someone told me who you were in case I needed my car repaired in the future. What can I do for you?”

“It’s my son doctor, young David. He came home from school complaining of feeling unwell and he seems to be running a temperature. He’s complaining of feeling cold despite his body heat and he’s coughing a lot and seems short of breath.”

“Hmm, sounds like he could have a dose of the ‘flu Mr. Bradley. Listen, you keep him warm and give him plenty of fluids to drink and I’ll be over to see him in a few minutes. I’ve just a couple of things to clear away here at the surgery and I’ll be right over. You live in the house behind the garage, don’t you?”

“That’s right Doctor, and thanks.”

“Don’t worry Mr. Bradley. I’m sure David will be just fine.”

Five minutes later Hilary Newton picked up her ubiquitous black ‘doctor’s bag’, locked the surgery door and got behind the wheel of her Ford Prefect. The little beige car wasn’t quite as imposing as the old Austin Princess that Meddings had driven but it suited her. Though it was only half a mile from the surgery to the Bradley house she thought it would appear more professional if she appeared on call in her car rather than on foot.

Sam Bradley met her at the door to his home. His wife Emily, he explained, was upstairs sitting with David in his bedroom. Bradley informed the doctor that in the last few minutes David had begun to complain of pain in the muscles of his arms and legs, and that he felt as weak as a kitten. Hilary asked the man to show her to his son’s bedroom.

Young David Bradley looked awful! It was evident to the doctor that the boy was in some discomfort from the pains that he’d been complaining of. He seemed to be trying to lift his aching arms and legs from the bed, as though being in contact with the soft mattress was in itself a cause of agony to the boy.

“Here’s the doctor David, you’ll soon feel better now, son” came the consoling words from his mother. A little overweight and with a shock of mousey brown hair that desperately needed a perm, Emily Bradley looked as though she were about to burst into tears at any moment. Her son was ill, and she wore the worried and anxious look of mothers all around the world when they think their child is in danger from some unknown source.

Moving right up to the boy’s bedside Hilary placed a thermometer under the boy’s tongue with her right hand while placing her left hand on his forehead. She barely needed to wait for the mercury to rise in the thermometer to ascertain that the boy had a high fever. When she removed the thermometer and took a reading, she was appalled to find that the boy’s temperature was a hundred and two degrees. This was one very poorly young man. David shivered despite his temperature.

“I feel really cold, Doctor,” he said through gritted teeth. “I hurt all over.”

“Don’t you worry David. We’ll soon get you sorted out.”

“Is it influenza then, Doctor?” asked the boy’s mother.

“Quite probably, Mrs. Bradley. I’ll give David something to help bring his temperature down and you must make sure he takes on plenty of fluids to prevent dehydration.” She passed a small supply of white tablets to the boy’s mother.

“Panadol,” said the doctor. They contain paracetamol, a new d**g that helps to reduce fever. David is old enough to take it. Give him two tablets now, two more at bedtime, and repeat the dose when he wakes in the morning. I’ll be back to see him tomorrow. Try to keep him calm, Mrs. Bradley. You might try wiping his brow with a cool wet towel to give him some relief from the fever symptoms as well.”

“Right then, Doctor and thank you. You see David; it’s just a dose of ‘flu. You’ll be right as rain when the doctor’s tablets start to work. Isn’t that right Doctor?”

“Let’s just hope that David is feeling much better by the time I come to see him tomorrow.”

As she was about to leave the house Sam Bradley approached her and asked

“What did you say those pills are called, doctor?”

“They contain Paracetamol Mr. Bradley. It’s relatively new and was introduced three years ago. It’s been clinically trialled and tested and believe me it’s much kinder to the stomach than aspirin, which can cause all sorts of problems in someone as young as David.”

“Well, you’re the doctor. I must say we don’t hold with all these new-fangled things here in this part of the world, Doctor Newton.”

“It’s a simple pain killer Mr. Bradley, what we call an analgesic. It’s also the best d**g on the market to help reduce his temperature. I promise you it won’t harm David in any way. Now, why don’t you go and see your son? You and your wife should take it in turns to sit with him through the night, just in case his temperature rises any further. If it does you must send for me right away, do you understand?”

Sam Bradley appeared to be mollified by the doctor’s words and allowed himself to relax a little.

“Right then, if you’re sure Doctor. We can call you at any time if he takes a turn for the worse?”

“Any time at all Mr. Bradley, I mean it. Now, I’ll bid you goodnight. As I said I’ll be back to see David in the morning, right after surgery.”

“Yes, okay. Goodnight, Doctor Newton.”

It took Hilary less than five minutes to drive the half mile to her home. During those minutes she reflected on the state of her latest patient. That David Bradley was ill she was in no doubt about. That it was influenza she was reasonably sure about, though she had the terrible feeling that she might be witnessing the manifestation of a new strain of the killer bug. Influenza had been responsible for millions of deaths throughout the history of mankind and the ‘flu virus had developed an uncanny means of mutating from time to time, developing new and more powerful biological weapons in its global war against the human race. Hilary knew that if this was indeed a new strain that had found its way to Olney, then she would need help from outside. Of course, she knew that it was early days and that the last thing she should do was panic. Tomorrow was another day, and she would see how David Bradley was as soon as her morning surgery was over.

As she unlocked her front door and pushed it open, she could hear the incessant ringing of the telephone from within.

Rushing to answer it in case it was Sam Bradley with news of a sudden rise in David’s temperature she snatched the phone from its cradle.

“Hello?”

“Is that the doctor?” asked an anxious and unknown voice.

“Yes, this is Doctor Newton. Who’s speaking please?”

“Doctor Newton. This is Simon Parkes at Birtles Farm. Can you come to see my grandson right now, please Doctor? He’s very ill, boiling up he is, and shivering at the same time and…”

“It’s alright Mr Parkes. Listen, keep him warm and I’ll be there in just a few minutes. I’ve just visited the Bradley boy and he has the same symptoms. I think we’re looking at a case of influenza. I’m sure it looks much worse that it really is. Don’t worry, please, I won’t be long.”

“David Bradley?” asked the farmer. “He and Evan are best friends, doctor. Do you think they’ve both picked up the same bug?”

“I’ll know better when I get there Mr. Parkes. Now, if we can get off the phone?”

“Oh yes, sorry Doctor. We’ll be waiting.”

The drive to Birtles Farm took a little longer than the one to the garage. It took Hilary Newton almost ten minutes to reach the farm gate, and another three minutes to slowly navigate her way along the long dirt track that led up to the farmhouse. Simon Parkes was waiting on the step that led into his home when Hilary pulled her Ford Prefect to a halt and stepped from the car.

The next few minutes were a virtual repeat of her earlier visit to the Bradley home. Ellen Parkes was made of sterner stuff than Emily Bradley. Perhaps being a farmer’s wife and being used to the occasional illness amongst the animals on the farm, she was a little more hardened and able to cope with her grandson’s sickness.

“Right Doctor, what do you think?” she asked after Hilary had spent five minutes closely examining young Evan Parkes.

“I can’t say for certain, Mrs. Parkes, but I think it’s influenza. He’s showing the same symptoms as David Bradley and your husband says that they’re best friends. They could have picked up the influenza virus from the same source if they’ve spent a lot of time together recently.”

“A lot of time together? Those two boys are virtually inseparable Doctor, always have been.”

“That would certainly explain them both succumbing to the virus at the same time Mrs. Parkes. Now, I’m going to give you some tablets that should help to bring Evan’s temperature down and ease the pains in his muscles. I’m going to call back and see him in the morning, as soon as I’ve been back to see the Bradley boy. Don’t you worry; we’ll soon have Evan on his feet again.”

Ellen Parkes nodded at the doctor and turned towards her grandson.

“Thanks Doctor. Now you be a good boy and do as the doctor tells you, Evan. You must rest and take these tablets she’s prescribed for you.”

“Yes Nan,” said the boy. His voice seemed quite feeble and it was evident that he was struggling to speak, perhaps because of the soreness in his throat.

As she sank into a chair in her house soon afterwards Hilary Newton looked up at the clock on the wall. It was ten o’clock. Between the two house calls she’d spent three hours ministering to her two young patients. She was exhausted after a long day in the first place, now she was ready for a hot drink and bed.

After a cup of cocoa Hilary Newton made her way upstairs to the bathroom, where she washed and changed into her favourite pink nightie, which was hanging on a hook behind the door, and then to her bedroom. As she lay in bed she tried to think if she’d missed anything that might have helped her in her diagnosis of the two young boys that evening. In her last few seconds of cognitive thought, before she was overtaken by the dark and welcome blanket of sleep Hilary decided that she’d done all she could for the boys. If it was influenza, and she was relatively certain of her diagnosis, then she was comforted by the thought that the disease was admirably treatable. Medical science had moved by leaps and bounds since the 1918 influenza pandemic which had swept around the world like one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, leaving millions dead in its wake. No, the two boys would soon be up and running again. She was sure of that.

The events that were to follow over the next few days were to prove Hilary Newton catastrophically and tragically wrong.