couples although there was a group of four businessmen at a table with their briefcases tucked underneath at their feet, exuding the confidence of the mob-handed as they exchanged stories of their prowess in the commercial jungle. A couple of loners were at the bar, one reading an evening newspaper opened at the accommodation-to-let section and the other, a young woman, concentrating on the screen of her mobile phone.
Steven looked for a clue to suggest she might be a nurse on her way home — sensible flat shoes, black stockings, a glimpse of white uniform dress beneath her coat — but didn’t find any. He lingered over his beer for twenty minutes or so before giving up and leaving. He thought about driving round the area some more but no longer felt confident that this approach was going to work. Most hospitals had a choice of pubs within easy reach where many of the staff would be regulars but St Raphael’s was different. It was located in an upmarket, exclusive area: there weren’t any pubs round here. On the way back, however, he decided he might as well give the Pink Puffin a try.
The name had indeed been a clue, Steven concluded when the barman looked him up and down and said, ‘You’re new.’
Steven smiled. ‘Just arrived today.’
‘And what brings you to the Puffin?’ the barman asked, the smile in his eyes suggesting he knew the answer.
‘St Raphael’s,’ said Steven. ‘I’m starting work there.’
‘A nurse?’
Steven nodded.
‘So you won’t know anyone round here if you’ve just arrived?’
‘That’s right, all alone in the big city.’
‘Robbie works at St Raphael’s,’ announced the barman as if he’d just remembered. He turned away from Steven to scan the clientele. They were exclusively male and mainly in pairs, although there did seem to be a birthday gathering with six at one table wearing party hats. ‘Robbie! Robbie!’ he called out. ‘Come over here and say hello to…’ He turned questioningly to Steven.
‘Steve.’
‘Come and say hello to Steve.’
Steven watched as a short, tubby man broke up one of the pairs to come over to the bar. The barman introduced them and related Steven’s story.
‘Come and join us,’ said Robbie. ‘The smoke can be a lonely place if you don’t know anyone.’
Steven followed Robbie back to his table, where he was introduced to Clive, who Robbie made a point of adding was his partner. ‘So, hands off.’ He made a slight smacking gesture with his hand.
Steven shook hands with a tall, handsome man.
‘So you’re a nurse,’ said Robbie as they all sat down. ‘Clive was a nurse too until he took to the skies and became a trolley dolly.’
‘BA cabin crew,’ explained Clive.
‘I didn’t know we were getting anyone new at Raffa’s,’ said Robbie. ‘You must be Iwona’s replacement, poor love.’
‘Iwona?’ asked Steven.
‘Polish nurse,’ said Robbie. He touched the side of his nose and said conspiratorially, ‘Sent home in disgrace, you might say.’
‘How so?’ asked Steven, anxious to keep the conversation flowing and trying to appear as keen to garner scandal as Robbie clearly was to impart it. He imagined he was about to hear a tale of illicit sex in a linen cupboard.
‘I shouldn’t really,’ whispered Robbie, leaning forward, ‘but as you’re staff anyway…’
Steven leaned forward to meet him halfway.
‘MRSA,’ announced Robbie, lingering over each letter.
Steven couldn’t believe his luck. He wanted to hug Robbie — and it wouldn’t have seemed out of place in his current surroundings — but instead he said in a low growl, ‘No, you’re kidding.’
Robbie shook his head, obviously pleased at Steven’s reaction. ‘A carrier,’ he said. ‘Infected three people before it was discovered that she was the cause of the problem.’
‘Poor love,’ said Steven, hoping he wasn’t camping it up too much, ‘that’s going to be an absolute nightmare to live with. I just don’t think I could do that. She wasn’t an illegal, was she?’
‘No,’ exclaimed Robbie, exchanging shocked glances with Clive. ‘Raffa’s is the best, my man: the staff are the best, the pay is the best. Absolutely everything is pukka and above board at Raffa’s. Iwona was fully qualified and a damn good nurse, it has to be said. The MRSA carrier thing was just… well, just one of those things. There but for the grace of and all that.’
‘So the problem’s been cleared up?’ asked Steven.
‘And without a breath of scandal,’ whispered Robbie. ‘We were lucky. The papers would have had us on toast if they’d found out.’
‘Being the hypocrites they are,’ added Steven.
‘So where was your last job, Steve?’ asked Clive, who had been quietly appraising Steven throughout with eyes that gave away nothing.
‘Glasgow,’ replied Steven after a momentary hesitation, suddenly aware that he didn’t have a cover story. ‘Western Infirmary.’
‘Tough city,’ said Clive.
‘Reason I’m here,’ replied Steven, once again hoping he wasn’t pushing the pink button too hard. He had started to suspect that Clive was having his doubts about him.
‘You’ll love Raffa’s, Steve,’ said Robbie.
‘What does MRSA stand for, Steve?’ Clive asked suddenly, to the amazement of Robbie, who seemed embarrassed at his partner’s behaviour.
‘What’s this, pub quiz night?’ he exclaimed.
‘Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus,’ said Steven calmly, ‘although people outside the profession often think it’s “multiply-resistant”.’
Clive smiled. ‘Is the right answer,’ he said. ‘Sorry about that, Steve.’ He turned to Robbie and added, ‘I thought he might be press.’
Robbie’s eyes opened like saucers. ‘You’re not, are you, Steve?’ he asked like a child seeking reassurance.
‘No,’ said Steven, ‘I’m not.’
He bought a round of drinks and left soon afterwards, citing tiredness after the long journey down from Scotland.
‘See you at Raffa’s then,’ said Robbie.
‘Thanks for being so welcoming,’ said Steven, nodding to both as he got up and waving to the barman as he headed for the door.
‘See you soon,’ said the barman, using his eyes to impart more into the phrase as he polished a glass.
THIRTY-TWO
Steven returned to his flat and called the duty officer at Sci-Med. ‘I need this information ASAP. St Raphael’s Hospital employed a Polish nurse until recently; her first name was Iwona. Everything was above board so there should be no difficulty getting the information — but don’t approach St Raphael’s directly. I need to know her full name, how long she was at St Raphael’s, the official reason given for her leaving and which Public Health lab might have been involved in her demise if any. Get people out their beds if you have to.’
‘Will do.’
Steven was woken just after four a.m. by the duty man, who made a joke about including him in his ‘get people out their beds’ instruction.
‘Very funny,’ said Steven. ‘What’d you get?’
