Land studied the envelope. ‘This is Bryant’s handwriting. What’s he doing sending me letters?’ His forefinger drifted towards the poorly adhered corner.
‘Please, Raymond. Don’t open it and I’ll do a deal with you.’ He thought fast. ‘Leave it sealed until the weekend. Arthur didn’t know what he was doing.’
‘Another note criticizing my ability to manage the unit, I suppose.’
‘Something like that. He wasn’t thinking clearly. He’d just had one of his blue pills. If I can’t get him to retract the contents, you can open it at this time on Saturday afternoon, how about that?’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Land, who so rarely did. ‘I don’t like it when he insults me. Why should I hold off? What’s in it for me?’
‘Actually it’s a secret, but I’ll cut you in on the deal,’ said May, thinking on his feet and lying through his teeth. ‘Arthur insisted that your impatience would always get the better of you, and bet me fifty pounds that you couldn’t keep your hands off that envelope until Saturday. So if you prove him wrong and leave it unopened until then, I’ll split the winnings with you.’
‘I don’t know.’ Land thought for a minute. ‘Why do I feel there’s something fishy going on here?’ He reexamined the envelope suspiciously, but finally returned it to his pocket undisturbed.
I can’t believe I got away with that, thought May as he headed back over towards Bryant. I’ve bought myself a little time, now all I have to do is convince Arthur to rescind his offer. I’m such a hypocrite, telling him off about his envelope when I can’t bring myself to show him the contents of mine. It’s no good, I’ll have to get it off my chest. My God, I need a drink.
He ordered himself a fresh pint, then prepared for the worst.
5
* * *
MORTALITY
‘Arthur, I passed the statue of Edith Cavell the other evening.’ It was an opening gambit in his bid to explain his fears about the forthcoming operation. May had just told his partner about the clinic’s letter.
‘Did you know there are memorials to her all around the world?’ Bryant interrupted, sipping his London Pride bitter. ‘There’s even a mountain on Venus bearing her name, and of course Edith Piaf was named after her. Cavell said she was proud to die for her country. You don’t hear that very often nowadays, which is probably a good thing.’
‘Arthur, did you hear what I said? I’m rather afraid I’m going to die.’
‘Rubbish! A blur on an X-ray. They’ll get you in and whip it out like a rogue tonsil. It’s a bit late to be having intimations of mortality. Hatch, match, dispatch; there’s no dignity in life. We wet the bed when we’re born and when we leave. You’ll be fine so long as they don’t leave a swab inside you or accidentally dose you with MRSA.’
‘This thing growing inside me is the size of a conker. It’s going to be a dangerous operation.’
‘Oh, doctors always say that. It’s a way of covering themselves. Nobody likes to admit their job is easier than it looks. Patients think heart attacks are caused by stress because the first thing doctors ask them is, “Have you been working hard?” Nobody in their right mind is going to say, “No, I’ve been winging it for quite a while now, but the boss hasn’t noticed.” Stop worrying so much.’
‘Arthur, just for once try and take something seriously. I want you to be prepared for the worst.’
‘If you go I won’t stay around. It stands to reason. Wouldn’t be much fun here without you.’ He attempted to smooth his fringe of unruly white hair down. ‘Anyway, we can’t bow out yet. I need a few juicy final cases with which to conclude my memoirs. There’s still the matter of the Deptford Demon – ’
‘You’re the one who just handed in his resignation.’
‘Yes, but I thought I’d get a bit more work under my belt before they pack me off with a pitifully small cheque and an engraved carriage clock. It’ll take them months just to sort out the paperwork.’
‘It feels like the end of times,’ said May with a weary sigh. ‘There are so many things to be put in order. If anything happens to me, someone has to take care of April. And who’ll look after Crippen?’
‘Oh, this is sheer morbidity. When are they taking you in?’
‘I’m booked into University College Hospital at the beginning of next month.’
‘You see? They can’t be worried or they’d have strapped you on to a trolley the moment they saw the X-rays. I’ll come in with you, even though it means standing outside with all the dressing-gown people every time I want a snout.’