Exposure Page 4

“How did you hear? Did you contact the hospital? Will he survive?” The questions tumble out, despite herself.

  “I don’t know if he will survive. I eventually rang the hospital just now. It seemed a reasonable thing to do if you have received a suicide call and know the man’s in hospital, overdosed. You would, wouldn’t you? Mind you, it took me all day to make up my mind.”

  “So it’s a question of waiting,” observes Linda. “What happened at work?”

  “Nothing really. I saw the boss about ten. That’s our routine slot. Anyway, as I was leaving, I told Jonathon about the police coming and the answer phone message, then about Ramsey being in hospital. I said I didn’t think there would be much in it but that I thought that he should know.”

  “What did he say? Did you say anything about you and Ramsey?”

  “No, nothing, except that Mike and I had drinks with him and I thought then he might have had a bit of a crush on me, so to speak. I said it was all a bit difficult - laid it on a bit about his poor wife and what a sad thing for a Minister to do.”

  “That sounds OK,” Linda reflects quickly. “And what did he say?”

  “Well, basically he said not to worry but to keep him posted, and if there was a story, they would handle it at company level. Which was fine, but I did think he gave me rather a long look as I was leaving – you know how it is when you think that someone is weighing you up”.

  Linda laughs.

  “Well, that is his job, Susan. You are amongst the professionals when it comes to enquiry, you know. Just go with it. They need you and they don’t need trouble. It sounds OK to me.”

  “Thanks Linda. I can’t thank you enough for last night. It was good to be able to talk it through.”

  “No problem, honestly,” Linda assures her friend, thinking that there is a lot more to talk through, as and when Susan is ready. “Have you decided what to say to Bill?” she ventures.

  “I’ll play it by ear. I’ll have to give him something of the truth – maybe that I led Ramsey on a bit. But I can’t tell him about the affair – not yet anyway.”

  “All right. I’ve said nothing to Ken yet, and I’ll say as little as possible. But, Susan, you know I don’t lie to him. I’ll just bank on him not asking too many questions.”

  Susan has to accept this. She would not ask Linda to compromise herself.

  “What about the police?” Linda continues. “Have you heard anything?”

  “No, nothing. Presumably, whilst Dave is alive, I won’t.”

  “No. Probably not.”

  Susan pauses on the line and Linda hears her answer the doorbell via the intercom.

  “That’s friends arriving for a drink.”

  “OK. Just don’t forget where I am. Let me know how it goes. And Linda – I’ll be thinking of you.”

  Putting the phone down, Linda sits for a few moments, reflecting. What she does not see yet is why Susan has not told Bill about this Ramsey chap – new lovers tend to tell each other about previous serious, and not so serious, relationships. She supposes it will now be doubly hard for Susan to say much at this point. But, she thinks, her friend is taking a big risk. Bill could react badly if he finds out in the event of Ramsey’s death. And if he finds out through adverse publicity, that will be a disaster. Still, Susan must have her reasons for her decision. Linda certainly knows only too well, from her own experience, that silence can be the best policy.

  And, she concludes, if Susan decides to conceal the truth from Linda she will just have to respect that. Ken need know nothing. After all, Susan is her friend; not Ken’s

  CHAPTER 5

  She has to break cover and see Dave Ramsey. She has to see for herself what state he is in; what he is saying; what his wife knows and is thinking. Her reputation could depend on it.

  These last two days have seemed interminable. Susan knows now that Ramsey has survived but she knows no more than that. She rings the hospital from time to time, always choosing a different time from the previous call so that the shifts are different, and so that she will be speaking to a new nurse.

  She is a friend of the Ramseys, she says on each occasion, and she is enquiring after Dave. She knows the situation, of course. Eventually, after two days of this she asks if it is possible to visit. She promises that she will only stay for a few moments.

  It is that easy. Several hours later, she tiptoes almost, to the little single room opposite the nurses’ station and to Dave’s bedside. She takes in the scene at a glance. She recognises Brenda who is sitting with her back to her, mousy-coloured hair straggling and shoulders stooped, dressed in a grey skirt and pink sweater – clothes that could only be described as drab and unflattering. She is a short, plump woman, perhaps in her late twenties or very early thirties. Dave is asleep or sedated or both. And he is almost unrecognisable, strapped to tubes and machines and nearly as white as his hospital gown. Always a gaunt man, he now looks cadaverous.

  “Brenda? Hello. Do you remember me?”

  Brenda looks round, startled and with momentarily unseeing eyes. Her cheeks are sunken, her face grey. For a fleeting moment, Susan feels sorry for her. But it is only fleeting. Susan is here to protect Susan.

  Brenda clearly does remember her now – they all saw each other on a number of occasions. Susan always suspected when she met them in the street that Dave used their husband and wife shopping mornings as an excuse to bump into Susan. Poor, sad, Brenda – she was always none the wiser about her husband’s ploys.

  Brenda smiles at Susan and there is an unspoken question in her expression as to why Susan, a big TV personality, is here.

  “Miss Blakely – how nice of you to come here.”

  Susan replies, using her professional role and taking an enormous gamble in doing so.

  “I wanted to see you both. Dave was so nice when I interviewed him on television a couple of years ago. We hear about things, you know, at the TV centre. I heard about this yesterday.” Susan is sweeping her hand round the room as she speaks, taking in the patient and the equipment in her explanatory gesture. “When I heard, I just had to come and see if there is anything I can do. What happened, Brenda, Do you know?”

  As she whispers all this, Susan indicates a chair and asks with her expression whether she can sit by Brenda. Brenda nods, obviously glad to have someone to talk to. Susan is a skilled interviewer and she is about to put her ability to show compassion and concern to work to draw out Brenda’s knowledge of what happened.

  “I don’t really know too much yet, Miss Blakely. Dave has been in and out of sleep and unconsciousness for days now. There are always medical things going on. There’s been no real chance to talk.”

  Tears are welling in Brenda’s eyes as she looks away from Susan to her husband.

  “This must be a nightmare beyond your worst imaginings, Brenda. How did you hear the news?” Susan prompts her. As she does so, she stretches over and holds Brenda’s hand for a moment.

  Brenda begins to tell the story of the night she heard about the suicide attempt, as if reliving it, like people who have been traumatised often need to do. This is now bread and butter interviewing for Susan.

  “It was the police who came to my door. I had gone to bed. I was a bit worried that Dave was not home when I got back from my parents’ house – I go over there every week. I just thought that he was late from being at the soup run for the church. But when it got to eleven and he still wasn’t home, I decided to sleep a bit and to ring the homeless shelter if he wasn’t home by one. But I fell asleep and the bell woke me.” She pauses. “ I should never have gone to bed.”

  Brenda is speaking to herself now. Susan lets her gather her thoughts and the young woman continues with her story.

  “Dave was still not beside me. I knew then that something was wrong. I just hoped that it was Dave at the door. Maybe his keys were lost or even stolen. But I heard the policewoman’s voice. The policewoman checked and checked again that I was Brenda Ramsey. I knew then that something was seriously
wrong.

  “Is it Dave? What’s happened? Is he hurt? Has there been an accident? They didn’t answer right away. They asked if they could come in. They said they did have some bad news. The policewoman and the sergeant brought me into the sitting room. I think I was already in a bit of shock then, Miss Blakely.”

  Susan is struck by the verbatim, flat toned account coming from Brenda. Is she still in deep shock or mentally unwell?

  “Call me Susan, Brenda. What happened then?”

  Brenda picks up on her staccato account. Susan knows that she is getting the whole picture now and just hopes that no one comes into the room and breaks Brenda’s flow of concentration.

  “They told me that Dave was in hospital – his condition was serious. It wasn’t an accident, though. He appeared to have taken an overdose. I just looked at the officers, Miss Blakely. I was too stunned to say anything. I sort of came to slowly and I heard the policewoman asking me if I had someone, a relative perhaps, whom they could call for me. But my first reaction was to deal with this on my own. I don’t know why really. The questions began to tumble into my head. How? Why? How is he? Where is he now?”

  Brenda pauses and looks at Susan as if for some confirmation that she understands. Susan smiles gently.

  “Then I asked them if he was going to be all right. They told me that he was in intensive care in the liver unit here at the City General. They offered to bring me here as soon as I felt ready. Miss Blakely, I could hardly take it in. They said that he took paracetemol but no one knows why. He was found in his car and taken to hospital about two hours after they think he took the pills”

  Brenda breaks off from her monologue and then turns to speak directly to Susan.

  “Paracetemol? I was surprised at the time, Miss Blakely. I thought that wasn’t serious. I thought that paracetemol was just like aspirin,”

  She looks at Susan as if to say ‘How could I have been so stupid?’ For a moment, Susan feels genuinely sorry for her.

  “Brenda, there are lots of things we don’t know till something like this happens and it affects us directly.”

  Brenda gives her a sad smile.

  “Well, anyway, they told me that I’d have to speak to the doctors about that but that he did take a lot and there could be complications. They asked me whether I had any idea why my husband wanted to do this? Did he give me any warning?”

  A frisson runs through Susan as she waits for this question to be answered. This is one of her own main questions for Brenda; her main reason for being here. Brenda looks at her now.

  “I don’t know, Miss Blakely. He has so much to live for.”

  Susan feels relief go through her but gives no indication of this to the other woman. Thank God, though – Brenda has no idea about her affair with Dave.

  “There was a letter, Miss Blakely.”

  Susan freezes. Brenda continues, oblivious to the tension in Susan.

  “The police sergeant saw the letter first. It was lying on a small coffee table by one of our armchairs. He went over and picked it up. I hadn’t noticed it in the dark. And I didn’t see it before I went to bed. Perhaps if I had …”

  Susan shakes her head.

  “It sounds from what you have said as though they could not have found Dave any more quickly than they did.” She does not know whether this is true or not but it might keep Brenda on track for what Susan needs next.

  “Brenda, would it be possible to see the letter?” Susan is gentle.

  Brenda hesitates and Susan jumps in to seem apologetic.

  “I’m are only trying to help, Brenda. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interfere.”

  “The police have it. But I remember what it said. He said he was going away on a journey. He said there are some things – sins - he has done that fill him with shame. He says that, more than anything, he wants me to go on and have a happier life than I could have if he were here. There was more about the church and God, but that’s what I remember most.” Brenda gives a sob as she chokes back tears.

  Susan looks at the ashen-faced young woman whose simple world has changed forever.

  “Brenda, do you know what sins Dave was talking about?” Her tone is solicitous.

  “No.” This is said quietly but emphatically. Susan lets the matter rest.

  “What happened next?”

  Brenda goes on with her account. The policewoman accompanied Brenda to the relatives’ waiting room on the ward and she sat with Brenda while nurses brought tea and told them that the doctor would be with them as soon as possible. It was dawn when a junior houseman, no older than Brenda herself, came in and sat down opposite her. The doctor’s name, apparently, was Doctor Semple. He treated Dave from his admission onwards. He said that Dave was as comfortable as they could make him. Brenda’s main question was, ‘Will he be all right?’

  Doctor Semple told Brenda that paracetemol and some anti-depressants had been washed out of his system, although he was quite deeply unconscious when he was admitted. He regained consciousness but he was very drowsy and really continued to be very unwell. Brenda’s first reaction to what doctor Semple told her was that Dave would now be all right since they got the pills out of his stomach.

  “Apparently, with paracetemol it’s much more serious than that. Depending on the amount of the dose, paracetemol can lead to liver failure.” Brenda just looks at Susan as she says this. She is clearly overwhelmed by this and not understanding how that could be. “The doctor suggested that it was not certain, but that it could be irreversible.”

  Brenda stares at Susan, still getting herself accustomed to the idea.

  “He could die - from headache pills?” Brenda blurts out the question.

  Susan responds quietly.

  “I believe there is that possibility, yes. I understand that people do use it as a way of committing suicide.”

  But Brenda is clinging now to hope.

  “They told me a that there are a number of things they can do in intensive liver care. There are the treatments that they usually use, like dialysis. These may not be successful though. Now there is also a new treatment that might save him. They are trying this, Susan, but it will be several days before we know whether he’s going to make it.”

  She has finally used Susan’s name, and as far as an interview is concerned this is a good indication to Susan that Brenda is trusting her and relaxing with her. And so far, Susan has heard nothing to implicate herself in the reason for Dave’s actions. Nothing, so far, is traceable back to her.

  “What about a liver transplant?” She now asks. “is that a possibility?”

  Brenda hesitates.

  “They say that Dave would not be a priority – not after a suicide attempt.” Brenda braces herself. “He could die.”

  They both stop to look in silence at the person in the bed, Brenda with her thoughts, Susan with the sense of fear that comes when events outside one’s own control may have a negative impact on one’s life. Brenda is speaking again.

  “It is possible. And it won’t be immediate. They say that he will be lucid, certainly at first, and able to talk to me. They have allowed me to stay with him. I have a fold down bed in here.”

  Poor woman, Susan thinks, genuinely sympathetic; even if only momentarily. How do you begin to grasp all this?

  “If he lives,” Brenda asks, “What will happen?”

  Susan is not prepared for the question. This changes the talk they are having from one where she is a sympathetic listener to one where she is being asked for semi-professional advice. She gathers her thoughts.

  “Well, you are bound to be asked what you think might have caused this. The doctors here and the social workers will want to work out how best to help him. There’s the medical side but there is also the longer-term recovery and treatment side. Presuming the best happens and he pulls through, his mental well-being will take some time to recover, Brenda.”

  “Is he mad?” Brenda asks, hearing Susan’s reference, ‘mental’


  “I don’t think so,” Susan replies in all honesty. “Not in the way that I think you mean. But he is probably very depressed and distressed to have done this. The people here will help. And they know a great deal more about these things than we do.”

  “What should I say to him?”

  Susan reflects the question back to Brenda.

  “What would you like to say to him?”

  Brenda sits thinking.

  “Just that I want him to live.”

  “Then say that.”

  Susan knows it is time to leave. As she gives Brenda another squeeze of the hand, a pleasant nurse with an air of efficiency comes into the room from behind the desk to greet her. She must have been aware that there was a deep conversation happening and waited for the signs of it coming to an end.

  “Hello, Brenda. How are you doing?”

  Brenda smiles at the nurse before introducing Susan.

  “Miss Blakely, this is Staff Nurse Jones. Judy is Dave’s special.”

  Susan takes her opportunity.

  “I’m a friend of the Reverend and Mrs Ramsey. I just called in to see if there is anything I can do to help.”

  Brenda turns to the nurse, quite comfortable now in Susan’s company.

  “Will he live?” Brenda pushes her.

  The nurse looks at her and then at Susan.

  “We don’t know yet, Brenda. I was talking to the doctor this morning and there are definitely signs of liver failure. I believe you know this?”

  Brenda looks at her, hearing the full implications.

  “How long will it be before we know, one way or the other?”

  “He could survive, Brenda. There is a possibility. As you know, the doctors are trying this new treatment. It is a drug called N-acetylcysteine. It has been found to increase the chances of survival. It is going to be touch and go for a number of days. This will be a hard time for you and for Dave. I’m afraid it will be very hard indeed, not knowing how things will turn out.”

  “Dave knows he could die,” says Brenda, half as statement, half as question.

  “Yes …yes, he does. I spent a little time with him last night. We talked about the possibility of him living too, of course. He is groggy but I understand he talked with a minister this morning?” As Staff Nurse Jones says this, she looks at Brenda to see whether she is going to be forthcoming. Brenda says nothing; just nods.