Pestilence

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

“But I thought you said it was only the flu,” cried Ellen Parkes, her earlier veneer of stoical acceptance of Evan’s illness having totally evaporated with the news of her grandson’s death.

Her husband stood by her side, one arm around his wife and a look of shock etched deeply into his rugged features. Hilary had driven straight to their house after receiving the phone call from Paul Trent and there had been no easy way for her to inform the couple that their beloved grandson had died en route to the hospital. Now she had to cope with the consequences of the grief her news had generated.

“That’s what I thought initially, Mrs. Parkes, and it might still prove to be influenza.”

“I didn’t think people still died from that,” said Simon Parkes, speaking very quietly.

“For the most part they don’t, Mr. Parkes but there are some strains of the ‘flu virus that are more virulent than others, and we’re only now discovering that there are new variants evolving all the time. We just don’t know if this could be one of them. We’ll know more when the doctors at Ashford have had a chance to do tests on David Bradley and on…”

“On Evan’s body? That’s what you were about to say wasn’t it, Doctor?”

“Yes, Mr. Parkes. I’m afraid it’ll be necessary to conduct a post-mortem examination. It’s the law in the case of a sudden and unexplained death. Without it the doctors can’t issue a death certificate you see.”

Ellen Parkes was sobbing almost uncontrollably by then. Hilary realised that this woman had lost her son and daughter-in-law to the ravages of war, and now their legacy to her and her husband in the form of their son had also been wrenched away from her by the as yet unknown disease that had come upon him so suddenly. She felt an enormous sympathy for Ellen and her husband, in addition to a heavy burden of responsibility for what had happened to Evan.

Had she missed something in her original diagnosis? Could she have been more thorough in her evaluation of his condition? Should she have known what it was that ailed the boy? All of these questions were running through her mind whilst at the same time she tried to find the right words with which to console the grieving couple, if indeed there were such things as the ‘right words’ to use on such occasions.

“He was so young, so fit.” This came from Simon Parkes.

“He had everything to live for, Doctor,” added his wife.

“I know,” Hilary said quietly, trying to keep the couple as calm as she could.

“I also know that there’s nothing I can say at the moment that will help you, but the important thing is to try and find out what caused this dreadful thing to happen to Evan and to poor David, and hope that we can find a way to stop it happening to anyone else.”

Simon Parkes was ready to speak, but at that moment Hilary noticed a shudder run through his body as though the emotion was proving too much for his usual ‘stiff upper lip’ façade. He might be a rugged and tough farmer of the land, but he was human after all. Fighting back tears that had suddenly welled up in his eyes he tried his best to respond to Hilary’s last words.

“We know you’re right, Doctor, but whatever it was that killed our Evan, finding out about it won’t bring him back will it? I’m sorry that David is suffering as well, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t think past Evan right now, and neither can my wife. If you don’t mind, I think we’d prefer it if you left now. We’d like to be on our own.”

“Yes, please Doctor, we don’t blame you. You did your best I know that, but it wasn’t enough was it?”

Ellen Parkes words struck deep into Hilary’s heart. It wasn’t enough, was it?

She could think of no appropriate response to that grief laden accusation, though she realised that it hadn’t been meant unkindly. The thing she’d learned very quickly about these country folk was that they spoke pretty much as they thought and often the use of diplomacy was an alien concept to their mentality. No, Ellen Parkes wasn’t being hurtful in her remarks, she was simply being truthful according to the way she saw things.

“Right, well, I’ll go then,” Hilary said after a pause. “I’ll be in touch as soon as the hospital let me know anything about the results of the tests.”

“The results of the post-mortem don’t you mean Doctor?” asked Simon Parkes.

“Well, yes.”

“I should have gone with him in the ambulance,” Ellen sobbed as her husband showed Hilary to the door. As she walked the few yards to her car she looked back to see the farmer holding his sobbing wife in his great, strong arms, and from the movement of his shoulders it was clear that he had waited only until Hilary had left the house before allowing his own emotional floodgates to open.

Thinking it was impossible to feel more wretched than she did at that moment, Hilary drove slowly back to her surgery. Almost fearing the consequences of what she might hear she nevertheless felt compelled to phone Ashford General as soon as he got back into the house. Paul Trent wasn’t optimistic.

“The boy is barely hanging on Hilary. We’ve run a whole battery of tests and I’ve asked for the results to be rushed through as fast as possible, but at the moment nothing seems to be slowing down the progression of the disease. If it is ‘flu then it’s the most destructive and virulent strain of the disease I’ve ever seen in my life. I’ve asked Malcolm Davidson, head of my department to take a look at young David. He’s just finishing his daily rounds and then he’ll be joining me. I have a wild theory about this, but I’d rather not discuss it until I’m sure.”

“What sort of wild theory Paul? You can’t just throw that at me and then expect me not to want to know what you’re thinking.”

“Listen Hilary, let’s just say that if I’m right, and I hope to God I’m not, then you’ve got a very serious problem on your hands down there. If I’m wrong, then I’m the only one who’ll have egg on his face. Davidson will help me confirm or deny my theory when he sees the boy, then I’ll get back to you.”

“Paul, you can’t do this to me!”

“Davidson will be here soon, Hilary. In the meantime get your textbooks out. Look up the symptoms in detail, particularly the rapid onset and progression of the disease. You might get some idea of how I’m thinking that way. I’ll be in touch again soon, I promise.”

Before Hilary could protest further, Paul Trent replaced the receiver and the line went dead.

“Damn you, Paul Trent,” she shouted aloud into her empty consulting room, before reaching behind her to the bookshelf where her medical dictionaries and textbooks waited invitingly for her to explore this strange medical phenomenon that had struck at the young men of Olney St. Mary, and which Paul Trent seemed reluctant, or perhaps afraid to mention by name. Hilary Newton began to read…