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began. “It appears that, through some strange
accident, the donor’s identification got mixed up with that of
another deceased patient. Suffice it to say that authorisation to
proceed with the removal of the heart wasnae obtained from the
correct relative. Nor was there any written authorisation from the
deceased herself. Regardless of the fact that the transplant
operation was carried out very successfully, this now leaves us
with a somewhat tricky problem. We’ve now been notified by the
solicitors acting on behalf of the donor’s husband, a Mr Alex
Williams, that he intends to sue both hospitals and Miss
Carter.”
    Dr Jones was
speechless. He just sat there in silence, staring at Gordon Murray
as if he had been speaking a different language.
    “Can’t we put
him off?” Andrea Walker asked. “There must be dozens of other
negligence cases ahead of this one.”
    “Normally,
yes,” John Stanley said. “There are probably hundreds of cases
ahead of ours. But Williams has got a lot of money, and he’s not
going to be shy about spending it. That solicitor of his is already
pulling strings to get the case heard early.”
    “That’s right,”
Barrett said. “And it’s already got to the attention of the
national newspapers. One of the tabloids carried a story only this
morning, saying how Williams intends to keep his wife’s body in
storage until this is all over.”
    “Aye, and
there’s Dr Jones’s patient to think about too,” Murray added. “It’s
all going to add pressure to their case for an early court date. I
think you’ll find that this case is going to get into court a lot
sooner than you might think.”
    Dr Jones was
completely baffled by their conversation. “But I don’t understand
any of this,” He finally managed to say. “Why is Williams keeping
his wife’s body in storage? And why would he want to sue us,
anyway? We had no involvement in the process of obtaining the heart
for the transplant; that was the MRI’s responsibility. And what has
any of this got to do with Rachel? She was just the patient. She
didn’t choose the heart, she just received it.”
    “Exactly,”
Murray replied, raising his finger. “Mr Williams is suing
Manchester Royal Infirmary for compensation for making the mistake
in the first place, but he’s keeping his wife’s body in storage
because he’s suing us, and Miss Carter, for the return of his dead
wife’s heart.”
     
     

Chapter
Thirteen
Recovery and
Shock
     
    Rachel was
recovering well. She was awake, and sitting up in bed. She had a
cup of tea and some toast that morning, and now she was looking
forward to a full meal at lunchtime. She did actually feel hungry.
Hungry and restless. She was eager to be doing something, but she
just didn’t know what. She pushed her glasses back up from the end
of her nose and looked around the room. Quickly bored of that, she
began to move her feet back and forth under the bedclothes,
watching the lumps they made moving about. It was so strange. She
felt so...energetic.
    She didn’t feel
like resting anymore. Now she just felt bored sitting here in bed.
Instead, she wanted to get up, walk around, and do something. She
placed her hand on her chest and felt for the heartbeats. It felt
different; there was no doubt about it. Dr Jones had said that she
would feel fitter and healthier. That was to be expected. But not
that the heart itself would feel any different in her chest. They
all told her that was silly. They were wrong. It did feel
different. It felt stronger, eager. It was as if it expected her to
be doing something, or going somewhere. She just didn’t know what
or where.
    Rachel wondered
about the woman whose heart this was. What kind of woman was she?
Was she a good person, or bad? And what was she doing when she
died? Was she going somewhere? Was there something she wanted to
do? It was all so strange, but somehow, exciting.
    Rachel felt
talkative, but for some reason that morning, her mother had