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‘Did she bring a liver with her?’
Ly
‘Do you want me to bring her up here, darling, or are you going to come down?’
Caitlin nodded pensively for some moments, then said, ‘How ill do you want me to look?’
The doorbell rang.
Ly
Caitlin lolled her head back and let her tongue fall out of her mouth. ‘Yrrrrrr,’ she said. ‘I’m dying for a new liver and a nice glass of Chianti to wash it down with!’
‘Shut up, Ha
Ly
The elegance of the woman standing in the porch took her by surprise. Ly
‘Mrs Ly
‘Marlene Hartma
The woman gave her a disarming smile, her cobalt blue eyes full of warmth.
‘I am so sorry to be late. There was a delay because of snow in München. But now I am here, alles ist in Ordnung, ja?’
Thrown for a second by the sudden switch of language, Ly
Marlene Hartma
The German woman shrugged it off her shoulders with the haughtiness of a diva, then handed it to Ly
‘Would you like some tea or coffee?’ Ly
‘Do you have mint tea, perhaps?’
‘Er – mint tea? Actually – yes, yes, I do,’ Ly
A few minutes later she came into the living room, carrying a tray with a mint tea and a milky instant coffee for herself. The German woman was standing at the mantelpiece, holding a framed photograph of Caitlin, who was dressed as a Goth, with spiky black hair, a black tunic, a chin stud and a ring through her nose.
‘This is your daughter?’
‘Yes, Caitlin. It was taken about two years ago.’
She replaced the photograph, then sat down on the sofa, placing her black attaché case beside her.
‘A very beautiful young lady. A strong face. Good bone structure. She could model, maybe?’
‘Maybe.’ Ly
‘No, not yet. Give to me first a little of her medical history.’
Ly
‘Well, OK – I’ll try. Up until nine she was fine, a normal, healthy child. Then she started having bowel problems, strong occasional stomach pains. Our GP diagnosed it initially as indeterminate colitis. That was followed by diarrhoea with blood in it, which persisted for a couple of months, and she felt tired all the time. He referred her to a liver specialist.’
Ly
‘The specialist said that her spleen and liver were enlarged. She had a distended stomach and she was losing weight. Her tiredness was getting worse. She was always falling asleep, wherever she was. She was going to school, but needed four or five naps a day. Then she started getting stomach pains that went on all night. The poor kid was really distressed and kept asking, “Why me?”’
Suddenly, Ly
‘Hi!’ she said.
‘Angel – this is Mrs Hartma
Caitlin shook the woman’s hand warily. ‘Nice to meet you.’ Her voice was quavering.
Ly
‘Darling, I was just telling Mrs Hartma
Caitlin sat down in the opposite sofa. ‘I can only sort of remember.’
‘You were very young, then.’ Ly
Ly
Caitlin nodded.
‘Can you understand what it is like for an active teenager to spend a year in a hospital ward?’
Marlene Hartma
Ly
‘It wasn’t that great in that ward,’ Caitlin confirmed, with a wistful smile.
‘When she came out, we tried everything. We went to healers, priests, tried colloidal silver, a blood transfusion, acupuncture, the lot. Nothing worked. My poor angel was like a little old person, shuffling along, falling over – weren’t you, darling? If it wasn’t for our GP, I don’t know what would have happened. He’s been a saint. Dr Ross Hunter. He found a new specialist who put Caitlin on a different regime of drugs, and he got Caitlin’s life back – for a while. She returned to school, was able to swim, play netball, and she took up music again, which had always been a big love of hers. She started playing the saxophone.’
Ly
‘Then about six months ago, everything went pear-shaped. She started finding her breathing difficult on the saxophone, didn’t you, darling?’
Caitlin raised her head, nodded, and returned to her texting.
‘Now the specialist has told us that she needs to have a transplant – as a matter of urgency. They found a matching donor and I took her up to the Royal for the operation a couple of days ago. But at the last minute they said there were problems with the donor liver – although they never explained exactly what those problems were – not to my satisfaction. Then we were told – or at least, it was hinted to us very strongly – that she was not being treated as a priority. Which meant that she could be in that group of 20 per cent of those waiting for a liver transplant who…’
She hesitated, looking at Caitlin. But Caitlin completed the sentence for her.
‘Who die before they get one, is what my mother is saying.’
Marlene Hartma