Dooms Day Book

She was carrying an umbrella and a large handbag, and when the house officer asked for the patient’s NHS number, she leaned the umbrella against the admissions desk, opened the handbag, and looked through it.

“She was just brought in from the tube station complaining of headache and chills,” Mary said. “She was in line to be assigned lodging.”

She signaled the medics to stop the stretcher trolley and pulled the blanket back from the woman’s neck and chest so he could get a better look at her, but he didn’t need it.

The woman in the wet mac had found the card. She handed it to the officer, picked up the umbrella, the handbag and a sheaf of varicoloured papers and came over to the stretcher trolley carrying them. The umbrella was a large one. It was covered with lavender violets.

“Badri collided with her on the way back to the net,” he said.

“Are you absolutely certain?” Mary said.

He pointed at the woman’s friend, who had sat down now and was filling out forms. “I recognize the umbrella.”

“What time was that?” she said.

“I’m not positive. Half-past one?”

“What type of contact was it? Did he touch her?”

“He ran straight into her,” he said, trying to recall the scene. “He collided with the umbrella, and then he told her he was sorry, and she yelled at him for a bit. He picked up the umbrella and handed it to her.”

“Did he cough or sneeze?”

“I can’t remember.”

The woman was being wheeled into Casualties. Mary stood up. “I want her put in isolation,” she said, and started after them.

The woman’s friend stood up, dropping one of the forms and clutching the others awkwardly to her chest. “Isolation?” she said frightenedly. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Come with me, please,” Mary said to her and led her off somewhere to have her blood taken and her friend’s umbrella spritzed with disinfectant before Dunworthy could ask her whether she wanted him to wait for her. He started to ask the registrar and then sat down tiredly in one of the chairs against the wall. There was an inspirational brochure on the chair next to him. Its title was “The Importance of a Good Night’s Sleep.”

His neck hurt from his uncomfortable sleep on the campstool, and his eyes were smarting again. He supposed he should go back up to Badri’s room, but he wasn’t certain he had the energy to put on another set of SPG’s. And he didn’t think he could bear to wake Badri and ask him who else would be shortly wheeled into casualties with a temp of 39.5.

At any rate Kivrin wouldn’t be one of them. It was half past four. Badri had collided with the woman with the lavendar umbrella at half past one. That meant an incubation of fifteen hours, and fifteen hours ago Kivrin had been fully protected.

Mary came back, her cap off and her mask dangling from her neck. Her hair was in disarray, and she looked as bone-weary as Dunworthy felt.

“I’m discharging Mrs. Gaddson,” she told the registrar. “She’s to be back here at seven for a blood test.” She came over to where Dunworthy was sitting. “I’d forgotten all about her,” she said, smiling. “She was rather upset. She threatened to sue me for unlawful detainment.”

“She should get along well with my bell ringers. They’re threatening to go to court over involuntary breach of contract.”

Mary ran her hand through her disorderly hair. “We got an ident from the World Influenza Center on the influenza virus.” She stood up as if she had had a sudden infusion of energy. “I could do with a cup of tea,” she said. “Come along.”

Dunworthy glanced at the registrar, who was watching them attentively, and hauled himself to his feet.

“I’ll be in the surgical waiting room,” Mary said to the registrar.

“Yes, Doctor,” the registrar said. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation…” she said hesitantly.

Mary stiffened.

“You told me you were discharging Mrs. Gaddson, and then I heard you mention the name ‘William,’ and I was just wondering if Mrs. Gaddson is by any chance William Gaddson’s mother.”

“Yes,” Mary said, looking puzzled.

“You’re a friend of his?” Dunworthy said, wondering if she would blush like the blonde student nurse.

She did. “I’ve come to know him rather well this vac. He’s stayed up to read Petrarch.”

“Among other things,” Dunworthy said, and while she was busy blushing, steered Mary past the “NO ENTRANCE: ISOLATION AREA” sign and down the corridor.

“What in heaven’s name was that all about?” she asked.

“Sickly William is even more self-sufficient than we had at first assumed,” he said, and opened the door to the waiting room.

Mary flicked the light on and went over to the tea trolley. She shook the electric kettle and disappeared into the WC with it. He sat down. Someone had taken away the tray of blood– testing equipment and moved the end table back to its proper place, but Mary’s shopping bag was still sitting in the middle of the floor. He leaned forward and moved it over next to the chairs.

Mary reappeared with the kettle. She bent and plugged it in. “Did you have any luck discovering Badri’s contacts?” she said.