They were both treading on eggshells. Outwardly professional and confident but engaged in a private battle that had nothing to do with now and everything to do with their shared past. Lucas quirked his lips downwards. It wasn’t really the shared past that was the problem. It was the things they hadn’t shared, in the long years since he’d left her, that seemed to be the issue.
They were ready to leave the ward when a woman arrived. She looked tired, her dark hair scraped into a lank ponytail at the back of her head. Thea smiled, beckoning Lucas to follow her over.
‘Anna. This is Dr West, he’s working with me on Derek’s case.’
Anna gave Lucas a cursory nod. ‘How is Derek?’
‘He’s looking forward to seeing you. We did a procedure to drain the fluid from around his lungs this morning, and he should be much more comfortable now. Can we have a quick word with you?’
Somehow she managed to intimate that Lucas should follow them into the small area set aside for patients’ families, without actually looking at him. He wondered whether he should offer to fetch coffee and decided against it. As Thea was so keen that this was her hospital, she would be the one to know where the coffee machine was.
‘How’s it going, Anna? Did you get some sleep last night?’ Thea had sat down next to Anna and Lucas found a chair opposite them.
‘A bit. Actually, it’s almost a relief to know what’s wrong with him after all this time. I know it’s going to be difficult, but …’
‘You’ll have plenty of support, for as long as you need it.’ Thea turned her lovely eyes onto him and suddenly everything else melted away. ‘That’s where Dr West comes in.’
Anna turned her expectant gaze onto Lucas. ‘Yes?’
Lucas dragged his attention away from Thea and smiled at Anna. ‘Part of my job is to provide clear information and advice about tuberculosis. If you have any questions, you can ask the doctors here, or you can ask me.’
Anna took the printed card that he proffered, stowing it in her handbag. ‘Derek’s a teacher, you know. And he’s in a theatre group. But the last time he was there was before Christmas, when he painted the scenery for the pantomime. That was before he was ill.’
Anna was beginning to babble, and Lucas leaned forward to catch her attention. ‘It’s okay, Anna. We’ll go through all the people he’s been in contact with later.’
‘It’s just that I’m dreading what’s going to happen when everyone finds out about this.’
‘We realise that you’re in a difficult situation.’ He glanced at Thea, wondering if she felt that reassurance was her territory as well, but she simply nodded in agreement with him.
‘We put a lot of effort into making the community aware of the facts. And one of those facts is that tuberculosis is not easily transmitted from one person to another.’
Anna rolled her eyes, giving him a watery smile. ‘I understand that now. All the same, it feels as if it’s all around me. And my children …’
‘I saw in the notes that you have two children under five. And that they’ve both had their BCG.’
‘That’s right. I can’t help worrying, though. I bleached everything last night.’ Anna shivered, her gaze slewing around the room as if something was following her, waiting its chance to strike.
Giving her a leaflet wasn’t going to do it.
‘I can understand that, but you were probably wasting your time.’ Lucas shrugged. ‘Apart from working off a bit of steam?’
Anna chuckled, her shoulders relaxing slightly. ‘Yeah. I did that all right.’
‘Well, that’s something. Did you open the windows?’
‘No, I …’
Anna didn’t need to explain. Lucas had seen enough people instinctively shutting themselves in their houses, out of nameless fear. ‘Well, that’s what you need to do. Tuberculosis is transmitted aerobically and not via surfaces. Sunshine and fresh air are the best ways to eradicate the infection.’
Anna gave a snort of wry amusement. ‘That’s a nice thought.’
‘It happens to be scientifically true. But you’re quite at liberty to draw any metaphors you like from it.’ Both women were smiling now, and Lucas felt like a showman. One with a serious intent, who nonetheless got a buzz out of delighting his audience.
‘Okay. Now that Dr West has shed a little light on things …’ Thea paused to grimace at her own, truly dreadful, pun. ‘Dr West is going to be asking you about all the people who’ve been in close contact. I explained that to you yesterday.’
Anna nodded. ‘Yes. I want to help.’
Lucas nodded his thanks. ‘Why don’t you go and see Derek now, and I’ll come and find you in an hour? We’ll chat then, over a cup of coffee.’ He could find the machine. And if Thea wanted to join them, he’d get coffee for her as well.
The doors of the isolation unit clicked closed behind them. Lucas was strolling beside her, his jacket slung over one shoulder. ‘We’re agreed, then. You get to do the real work and leave the bureaucracy to me.’ He was grinning.
‘I didn’t say that.’ Thea attempted a severe look and failed. After all he’d done to assuage Anna’s fears it wasn’t easy to be angry with him.
‘My mistake. I could have sworn that was the general drift of it.’
She gave an exaggerated shrug. ‘Maybe I …’
‘Overreacted?’ He gave her a devastating smile.
‘Probably.’ She’d give him that. Asking him what the hell had happened to him hadn’t been entirely necessary.
‘Then you’ll admit that I haven’t gone over to the dark side.’
‘Don’t push it, Lucas. Anyway, there is no dark side.’ She couldn’t pretend that she hadn’t thought it. And Lucas had always been able to read her like a book.
‘Thank you.’ He gave her a self-satisfied smirk. ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’
Week Two
THE WEEK HAD flown by in a blur of activity. Lucas had visited the school where Derek Thompson taught, and had collected information from both Anna and Derek. The theatre group had been investigated, but since Derek had been asymptomatic for some months after he’d last seen any of its members, they were deemed to be at no risk of infection.
By the following Monday they had finalised a set of standard letters, along with lists of people to whom each should be sent. And Thea had convinced herself that there would be no more petty arguments between her and Lucas.
She had no reason to take him up on his assurances that he would be there if needed until the Friday evening, almost two weeks after the initial diagnosis of TB had been made. Dialling his mobile number, she wondered what she might hear in the background.
‘Thea. What’s the problem?’
That just about said it all. He knew she wouldn’t call him unless she had to.
‘There’s something I’d like to talk through with you. I’ve had a call from the local paper. I reckoned that was more your area of expertise than mine.’
Thea’s one horrific contact with the press in Bangladesh had taught her to