Someone To Save you (5 page)

‘Come in,’ Carla Conway, the Chief Executive of St. Thomas’s requested from inside.

Sam counted out three seconds before pushing at the door. To his surprise, the board table was empty. Carla stood at the window on the opposite side of the room, looking out across the London skyline towards Westminster. She turned around and smiled. Dressed in a figure-hugging black suit, with her jet black hair pulled tight back in a bun, Carla Conway cut an impressive and imposing figure. She had a reputation for being a tough operator, but Sam knew from first-hand experience that she was also a fair person. Fifty years old, Carla had been at the hospital for three years, following a career in the financial sector, including most recently an executive director of the London offices of UGT, the American investment bank. The appointment of someone from the City had caused a stir, especially among the senior clinicians, who feared that a CEO without any public sector background would think only of money and nothing of patient care. But their fears had been largely unfounded. Carla had in fact been a champion of patients’ rights, a legacy of her own family experience in which two of her three sisters had died from a genetic form of breast cancer. As she had said in her opening statement, she wanted to make a difference after years of just making money.

‘Nice to see you, Sam.’

‘Carla,’ Sam replied. ‘You sent for me?’

She nodded, beckoning him over with her eyes. Sam moved up towards the window and looked out at the Thames. A tourist cruiser passed by, sharing the water with several other boats, including a small coastguard dingy. The blue light on the back flashed as it skimmed across the tops of the waves like a polished stone.

‘I wanted to congratulate you about yesterday,’ she said. ‘What you did was an amazing thing.’

‘Thanks,’ Sam replied, thinking back to the whereabouts of Alison. There had still been no word from the police. ‘I did what anyone else would have done in the situation.’

Carla raised a disbelieving eyebrow. ‘I don’t think so, Sam. Not everyone would have risked their life the way you did.’

Sam shrugged, not wanting to dwell on the event.

‘How are you? That’s a nasty looking bruise.’

‘I’m fine,’ he replied. ‘A little bit sore, but I was really lucky.’

Carla nodded. ‘You’re a hero, Sam.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t say that,’ he said. ‘I was just in the right place at the right time.’

‘Like on board the plane last year?’ Carla smiled. ‘You’re making a habit of being in the right place at the right time.’

‘That was different,’ Sam replied.

‘Different circumstances,’ Carla agreed, ‘but it still demonstrated something special Sam. It’s something that people wanted to hear about. People should hear about last night, too.’

‘The story is in today’s papers,’ Sam stated. ‘People already know about what happened.’

‘I’ve seen them.’

‘So that’s okay,’ Sam added. ‘People know.’

‘The basic story is there, Sam, but not the details. You aren’t even mentioned by name in the any of the articles, unless I’ve missed it?’

Sam shook his head in confirmation.

Carla looked off towards the city. ‘Then I think that more does need to be done, Sam. The general public will want to know more about the human story behind what happened.’

‘Just because people want something, it doesn’t mean you have to give it to them,’ he said.

‘True,’ Carla replied, ‘but sometimes it’s the best thing to do.’

‘I don’t want speak with the media,’ Sam said. ‘I don’t want any more coverage, and I don’t want my name mentioned. Surely you can appreciate that, after last time. I didn’t run onto the track and save those children because I wanted my name splashed all over the papers.’

Carla turned to face him. ‘I do understand, Sam. I really do. And I know that it was difficult last year with some of the coverage, but we have learned lessons and this time it will be different.’

Sam shook his head.

‘Sam, this is a great opportunity.’

‘For who?’

A mother had died. It was a tragedy, not an opportunity.

Carla blinked. ‘For you and the hospital.’

Sam smiled and shook his head. ‘I’m in surgery, not public relations.’

‘I realise that,’ she said. ‘That’s why I called you up here. We can help.’

Sam doubted that. ‘Help? In what way?’

‘We can draft a press release, and put in a quote from you. The press will be happy with that. They can run their story and they’ll leave you alone. And by the day after tomorrow you’ll be yesterday’s news, free to get on with the rest of your life.’

‘I was hoping the press wouldn’t be interested after today,’ Sam said.

Carla let out a laugh. ‘Do you know how many enquiries from the media we’ve had this morning about you? Twenty – and that was the latest update, an hour ago. We’ve managed to put them on hold for now, promising them a press release later this afternoon. But if the press release doesn’t materialise they’ll come knocking on your door for the story instead.’

Sam gripped the hair on the back of his head, considering his options. This changed things. Carla was right; if the press were so keen, they would track him down, quiz him, and then write whatever they wanted. So this way would be better, despite his genuine reticence to engage. He thought for another few seconds, fighting against his instincts. ‘Okay,’ Sam conceded. ‘I’ll do it.’

‘Good, that’s good,’ she said, her relief evident. ‘Sam, I know you probably think that I’m some sort of vulture, taking advantage of this, but the reality is that good news stories for the hospital really matter when it comes to decisions at the highest levels - especially with the kicking that we’ve had in the press during the past eighteen months over the infection rates.’

‘You’re just doing your job,’ Sam replied.

‘I’m not sure if that’s a veiled criticism, Sam,’ Carla smiled. ‘But you’re right; I am just going my job - which is to ensure that this hospital is a success. And by being a success I’m not just talking about money. I mean improving patient care. We’re all chasing the same goal here.’

Sam nodded. ‘I know.’

‘That’s good to hear,’ Carla said, ‘because I want to ask you one last favour.’

‘Go on,’ Sam said, wary as to the way this conversation was going.

‘We got a call this morning from the BBC,’ she explained. ‘They want to do an interview with you this afternoon on radio five live.’

This was a step too far. He had been interviewed on the radio the last time, and it had been a really stressful experience. ‘No way.’

‘We have people who can help,’ she said. ‘Melanie Grace is our new communications manager. She’ll be able to advise you, and she’ll also liaise with the BBC to make it clear where the boundaries are.’

‘I really don’t want to do this.’

‘Please, Sam, I will really appreciate it, the board will really appreciate it. You have no idea how much this could help the hospital. Just for fifteen minutes of your time. Your story can make a real difference, believe me.’

What choice did he have? He’d ceded control of the situation, giving Carla a yard and now she was taking a mile. ‘What if I say no?’

Carla shrugged. ‘Then it doesn’t happen. We call the BBC and tell them we can’t do it.’

Sam thought it over. It was a foolish man who went against the wishes of the Chief Executive, even a fair one. Carla had been highly supportive of the cardiothoracic centre, giving the go-ahead for the expansion of the team and acquisition of several expensive bits of equipment, and they needed to keep that support. And then there was the important fact that she would be on his interview panel. ‘Fifteen minutes? And then that’s it?’

‘A quote for the press release and a fifteen minute interview,’ she said, the hope rising in her voice. ‘Then that’s it.’

‘Okay,’ he conceded. ‘But on one condition. I do this one interview and then that’s it; no more interviews, no more comments. Nothing.’

Carla held out her hand and smiled. ‘You have my word, Sam.’

6

‘You’re doing what?’

‘I didn’t feel I had a choice,’ Sam admitted, as Louisa shook her head. They were in a quiet part of the hospital cafeteria, out of earshot from the other staff and patients. ‘I know it sounds terrible, but in two weeks I’m going to be facing Carla Conway across an interview table, and I don’t want to make an enemy.’

‘So you do whatever she says,’ Louisa replied. Her face was flushed with anger. Louisa didn’t often get angry, or at least hid it well, and the strength of her reaction took Sam by surprise.

‘I’ve got more than just me to think about, Lou,’ Sam explained. ‘If everything goes to plan I’ll have a family to support in just under nine months. And it’s just fifteen minutes.’

Louisa shook her head again, unconvinced.

‘They have helped me today, dealing with the media enquiries. And Carla’s right. If I don’t go along with this, the press will come right to my door. At least this way there’s some control.’

‘I’m just worried about you, Sam,’ Louisa said, softening.

They paused for a second as someone approached them. The white-haired late to middle aged man was wearing a distinctive neon yellow puffer style coat, like something you’d expect to see on a roadside worker. He fixed his sights on Louisa.

‘Miss Owen, I, I, I’d like to speak, to, to...’

‘Richard, now isn’t a good time,’ Louisa interrupted with uncharacteristic abruptness. ‘We’re seeing each other on Friday. Remember what we agreed?’

The man’s face pursed as if in heavy contemplation. ‘Of c, c, course,’ he said, his eyes drifting to the floor. ‘Sorry, to, to, bother you, Miss, Miss Owen.’

He turned, his head lowered, and moved off, quicker than Sam had expected, obviously agitated. They both followed his journey, weaving around the tables and chairs, until he disappeared out of sight, through the main exit doors.

‘He’s a patient?’ Sam asked.

Louisa nodded. ‘Richard Friedman. I’m having a few problems with him. I really hate being like that with people, but sometimes you have to be quite firm.’

‘Want to talk?’

‘It’s okay,’ Louisa dismissed. ‘The guy is struggling to come to terms with a bereavement. He’s just a little clingy. I can handle it. Anyway, you’re not changing the subject on me, Sam,’ she said, ‘we’re talking about you and this silly radio appearance.’

‘Fair enough,’ he said.

‘I am worried about you, Sam. ‘I just don’t think that this is a very good idea when you’re still coming to terms with what happened. Yesterday was a massively traumatic event, even for someone like you who deals with death every day.’

Louisa was right, of course. ‘I’ll be okay.’

‘But will you? You were nearly killed yesterday – yesterday for goodness sake. And today, instead of speaking to a counsellor about things, or speaking to your friend, who just so happens to be a clinical psychologist, you’ll be talking to a DJ on national radio.’

‘I know, I know,’ Sam admitted, recognising the irony of the situation. He still wasn’t at all comfortable with the decision, but he’d made up his mind.

‘And after what happened last time, I just don’t know how you can even contemplate putting yourself through that again. I know how much it affected you last year when the papers were full of your life story. It affected me too, it affected your parents, and Anna. Journalists dredging through your past, gossiping about Cathy, speculating about what happened. Do you really want to risk that happening again?’

‘They’ve promised that they won’t ask me any questions about Cathy,’ Sam said.

‘But can you really guarantee that?’

‘No, I suppose not.’

‘The media might not be able to resist themselves, Sam. Marcus has just been released from prison; Cathy would have just celebrated her thirtieth. You can see how it might be too tempting?’

Sam nodded; he’d thought the same himself. ‘I know, but if they do start asking questions about that, I’ll stop the interview there and then.’

‘If you say so.’

Sam glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better go. They’ve got a taxi coming to get me in a few minutes.’

Louisa just stared at her coffee.

Sam tried again. ‘Look, Lou, I know what you’re saying, and I do agree. But I just think that this could be the best way of getting the press attention out of the way, in a more controlled fashion. It might backfire, who knows. I don’t want this any more than you do, but I’ve decided it’s the best thing to do under the circumstances. Will you support me?’

Louisa looked up. ‘Just be careful, Sam.’

During the ten minute taxi ride over to the BBC radio studios, Sam dwelled on what Louisa had said. He just hoped that they would be true to their word, and steer well clear of anything to do with Cathy. Louisa had been right – the media coverage the previous year had hurt Sam terribly. It had also really affected his parents, pushing his father back into depression. After over a decade of trying to shut out the pain and horror, it had all come crashing back into their lives, as fresh and raw as ever.