‘Churches?’ exclaimed Steven.
‘Yes. I know it’s unfortunate and I know Joe Public won’t like it, but it makes sense. There’s no point in trying to squeeze virus patients into other hospitals where they’re not going to benefit anyway because there’s nothing anyone can do for them except give them nursing care. They’ll just be a danger to everyone concerned. It makes much more sense to house them together, away from other patients and the community and concentrated in an area where trained staff can cope.’
‘How are you doing for trained staff?’
‘It is becoming a problem,’ admitted Cummings. ‘We’re almost stretched to the limit but we’ve had a good response to a request for volunteers. Nurses who’ve left the profession in the past few years have been calling in to offer their services. We’ve had retired GPs volunteering to help and Caroline Anderson has been working as a volunteer down at one of the churches.’
‘Good for her,’ said Steven. ‘I wondered what she was going to do. Which one?’
‘St Jude’s on Cranston Street.’
‘Maybe I’ll go round and see her. She got a raw deal.’
‘The vagaries of public life,’ said Cummings.
‘You didn’t say what emergency measures you were bringing in,’ said Steven.
‘Closure of public places like cinemas, theatres, night clubs and restaurants in the first instance, asking people not to make journeys that are not absolutely necessary, and a leafleting campaign about simple precautions to be taken in avoiding the disease. We’re also going to have to insist on cremation of the dead from the outbreak within twenty-four hours. Apart from the mortuary space problem, the bodies are just reservoirs of the virus.’
‘It sounds as though you think it might be airborne, after all,’ said Steven.
‘We still can’t be sure,’ said Cummings, ‘but it’s hellishly infective if it’s not. Contacts are going down like David Ginola in the box. We could be looking at over two hundred cases before we’re through, and that’s providing there are no new nasty surprises.’
‘Then the new cases are all still contacts?’
‘That’s the one good thing,’ said Cummings. ‘There are no new wildcards.’
‘Thank God for that.’
‘One other thing,’ said Cummings. ‘Three patients have recovered, so at least we know now that it’s not a hundred per cent lethal.’
‘Good,’ said Steven. He felt sure that he could think of a fourth. ‘What’s the state of the Scottish problem?’
‘Eight cases, three deaths, but they’re containing it well. I understand they don’t have any high-rise housing schemes to worry about. People have more room to breathe up there.’
‘Let’s hope their luck holds.’
Steven drove down to St Jude’s church and found a police cordon round it. It comprised a series of no-parking cones and striped ribbon tape except for an area near the front entrance, which was guarded by two constables and where ambulances had access. He showed his ID and was permitted to enter. As he walked in through the stone arch he found himself thinking that this was the first time he’d ever entered a church and found it warm. Industrial fan heaters had been pressed into service to raise the temperature to hospital standards. Large signs in red warned against proceeding any further without protective clothing.
At the reception office, he found two tired-looking nurses sitting drinking tea, with an open packet of Jaffa Cakes on the table in front of them. He said who he was, then asked if Caroline Anderson was on the premises.
The older nurse looked at her watch and said, ‘She’s due for a break in ten minutes. Would you like to wait?’
Steven said he would, but declined her offer of tea. ‘How are you coping?’ he asked.
‘We’re running just to stand still,’ replied the younger nurse. ‘It’s a rotten feeling.’
‘I can imagine. What about the building itself?’
‘Every time I go through there,’ said the first nurse, nodding towards the nave of the church, ‘I feel like I’m stepping into a scene from Dante’s Inferno. It’s an absolute nightmare.’
The other nurse checked her watch and said to her colleague, ‘We’d best get ready.’ She turned to Steven and said, ‘It takes us a good five minutes to get into these suits. Just wait here, and Caroline will be with you when she’s had her shower.’
The older nurse popped a last Jaffa Cake into her mouth and said, ‘Once more into the breach…’
‘Good luck,’ said Steven.
Five minutes later Caroline Anderson came through the door accompanied by a woman in her late thirties, whom she introduced as Sister Kate Lineham. Their hair was wet and they were wearing fresh white uniform jackets and trousers. Their faces glowed from the shower.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’ exclaimed Caroline.
‘I came to see you and find out what you’re doing here,’ said Steven with a smile.
‘I volunteered,’ replied Caroline. ‘They stopped me doing what I do best, but they couldn’t stop me doing this. I understand all about cross-infection and I can mop up blood with the best of them, so why not?’
‘I take my hat off to you,’ said Steven.
‘You could always take your coat off as well and give us a hand,’ said Caroline. ‘We’re short on staff around here.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘You’re a qualified doctor?’
‘Sure.’
‘Well, throw your degree in the bucket. These people don’t need your medical skills, just simple nursing care and good aseptic technique. Think you could manage that?’
‘I can try,’ said Steven. ‘Where do you want me to start?’
It was the turn of the two women to be surprised. ‘Really?’ exclaimed Caroline. ‘I was only joking.’
‘I wasn’t,’ Steven assured her.
‘I’ll get you a suit. Oh, and we may both be doctors, but in this “hospital” we do what Kate here tells us. She’s a specialist nurse in infectious diseases. Comfortable with that?’
‘No problem,’ replied Steven.
‘We’re back on in fifteen minutes. We’ll show you the ropes.’
Caroline found a Racal suit for Steven and briefed him on the respirator function. ‘We’re using a portable entry/exit system the Swedes developed for dealing with just such a situation,’ she said. ‘Basically it’s just a clean- side/dirty-side system with a shower interface. Anything you take through there you don’t bring back out again. Okay?’
Steven nodded.
‘It’s just a matter of trying to keep the patients as clean and as comfortable as possible,’ said Kate. ‘The only medical procedure we carry out is the replacement of lost fluids, and that’s the most dangerous thing of all. Many of them are delirious, so we tend to do it with one of us holding the patient and the other inserting the needle. We’ve had to resort to tying some of them down to make sure the shunt stays in.’
‘The human rights people won’t like that,’ said Steven wryly.
‘Well, they can come and do it their way, and we can all go home and watch the telly,’ said Kate.
ELEVEN
Steven made a final adjustment to his respirator and checked for gaps between his cuffs and gloves. Satisfied that all the seals were in place, he followed Caroline and Kate through the improvised air-locked entry port into the nave of the church. He found that the nurse who had likened it to a vision of hell wasn’t far wrong. In spite of the nursing staff’s best efforts there was still lot of blood around. He had to remind himself that this was Britain in the twenty-first century and not the bloody aftermath of some medieval battle whose fatally wounded had been gathered in a church for the last rites.
