In the doctor’s surgery waiting room, Sam checked his inside coat pocket again to be sure. Yes, the donor cards were still there. He hadn’t managed to find his, but was over the moon that Dolly had been right – his dad’s card, and his mum, Linda’s, were inside the hatbox. And he had been thinking a lot about what Dolly had said regarding hope, so that’s exactly what he was doing from now on. Hope and positive thinking, that’s what it was all about. Look where negativity, blaming himself and feeling inadequate had got him? As soon as Dr Ben had confirmed his blood group was a match with Holly’s, and that Linda was a potential match too, then Sam was going to see Chrissie to give her the good news. He hoped this would show that he was thinking logically and planning ahead. That he was here for the long haul and not about to chase another overseas project. And he wasn’t just doing this to prove something to Chrissie. It was also because he wanted to do everything he could to make sure that Holly was kept well. He wanted to make sure all her records were up-to-date and the information was correct. That had to be a good thing – even if, as he wanted to believe, it would never be needed. He patted his coat; the cards were in the inside pocket, like lucky charms, he hoped, to help him and his family through.
His thoughts turned to a letter that Dolly had found in amongst his dad’s old paperwork. It was addressed to him and Patrick.
It’s time for me to say goodbye to you, Samuel and Patrick. My two wonderful boys. I want you both to know that I will always love you. I leave feeling incredibly blessed to have been a part of your lives and I know that you will grow into fine young men that any man would be proud to call his sons. Please look after your mum, and see if you can cut her some roses from the garden from time to time. I know one day you will have your own families who will bring you as much happiness and joy as you two have me, so keep those loved ones close always, because love is all you have at the end of the day …
*
Sam had cried on reading that part of the letter as he reflected on how his dad’s words and wishes contrasted with his own actions. He hadn’t kept his loved ones close at all. What a fool he had been! And he doubted that his dad would be feeling proud of him right now. Rob had then explained how he had been having treatment in hospital for cancer, exacerbated by his Type 2 diabetes. And Sam had taken a bittersweet moment of comfort in this knowledge, that maybe he hadn’t somehow passed the diabetes on to Holly through his genes after all. He had assumed his dad had the same type of diabetes as Holly, but now it seemed this wasn’t the case.
Sam had then cried in sorrow and sadness as he had tucked the letter back inside the envelope. His lovely, thoughtful, kind dad had wanted him, and Patrick, to know what was happening. He hadn’t wanted them kept in the dark at all. That had been Linda’s doing, because Rob had written on the back of the envelope: I’ve asked your mum to pass this letter on to you.
And, strange as it might be, Sam didn’t feel angry about that any more, because it really didn’t come as any surprise that she had withheld the letter, or perhaps she had simply forgotten about it, not considered the importance of it. His mother would always be the way she was, self-centred and narcissistic, and there wasn’t anything he could do to change that. And something he was starkly aware of now was that not all people made perfect, or even adequate, parents.
Another positive was that Holly had told him her next appointment with the consultant at the hospital would be on Thursday next week, and he had already squared it with Myles to take the day off – well, with Sylvia to be exact, as she was the real one in charge down at the Blackwood Farm Estate. She was the one who had placed the advert on the architects and planning recruitment website that he had responded to. He had also had a conversation with the endocrinologist’s secretary at the hospital, ahead of Holly’s next appointment, and asked for some time to speak with him on a one-to-one basis so he could really understand exactly what was happening with Holly, about the tests she’d been having, what the problems might be and what they could do to help at this stage. Sam felt so much better for taking control of the situation. Having a plan.
He was just about to take another look at the donor cards, even though he knew all the details, he had looked at them so many times, when the red light buzzed on the wall to tell him it was time to see Dr Ben. So, with a bit of a spring in his step, and a smile on his face, Sam made his way into the consulting room.
‘Good afternoon, Sam, how are you today?’
‘Much better, Doctor Ben. Really great. I found my parents’ donor cards.’ He could hardly wait to show them to him. ‘Well, I didn’t actually find them myself, I have my gran to thank for that.’ He grinned. ‘I didn’t find mine, though, but that’s OK now that you have the blood test results.’ Sam’s smile widened as he took a seat after placing the cards on Dr Ben’s desk. ‘It was a bit of a result that Dolly had my mother’s card. She hasn’t exactly been forthcoming in wanting to get tested,’ he admitted. ‘But I’m sure if she is the right blood group, then she might be more open to the idea …’ He paused to shake his head, knowing that this was mostly wishful thinking on his part, but if it ever came down to it … well, there was no point speculating but it was important to know and he remembered his pledge to stay hopeful. ‘And I’ve been doing a bit more research. I Googled blood groups and how they are inherited and all that. And both my mum and dad are blood group B, so that’s easy enough.’ He pointed to their cards on the table. ‘I’m going to be a B or an O, most likely an O as that’s the most common blood group. And that means Holly has to be an O, if Chrissie and I both are.’ Sam seemed to remember Chrissie telling him she was an O. ‘So that’s really good news isn’t it, Doctor? If I’m an O then I can donate to Holly.’ Sam knew that he was talking too much, so he shut up and waited for Dr Ben to find his results.
Silence followed.
Sam could hear the happy sound of children laughing outside the surgery window so he focused on that while he waited. He smiled and vowed to take Holly over to the village green later. She’d like that; they could take her bike down on the far side where it sloped right down, just like he had as a kid with his brother Patrick. Which reminded him, he needed to give Patrick a call, they hadn’t spoken for ages. Perhaps if he could sort everything out properly with Chrissie, the three of them could go to Australia for Christmas – Holly would love that. He would scan the letter from their dad so that Patrick could have a copy too. It’s what their dad would have wanted …
‘I shan’t keep you waiting much longer, Sam.’ Dr Ben picked up the donor cards and opened them again, and then consulted something on the screen.
‘Everything OK?’ Sam asked. ‘Sorry the cards are a bit faded, my dad died years ago, and they’ve been in an old hatbox …’
‘Yes, yes it’s fine,’ Dr Ben said. And a little awkwardly, Sam thought. He inhaled and swallowed hard, a creeping feeling of unease coming over him. A little while later, and he could bear it no longer.
‘It isn’t, is it?’ Sam leant forward as if to see the screen, fully expecting Dr Ben to shield it from him as doctors usually did. But he didn’t. Instead he leant back and let Sam see what was written. His blood group information was right in front of him. And it wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. His eyes raced over the screen. Again and again. Each time his brain trying to process what they saw.
Samuel Anthony Morgan.
Blood group A.
Sam’s mouth went dry.
It was a few seconds, but felt like an eternity, before he was able to articulate his thoughts in order to talk.
‘But that can’t be right. I’m an O or a B if both my parents are a B. I looked it up. Two Bs can’t have an A child. So I have to be either O or B. How can I not be? And Holly? What blood group is she?’
‘I’m not sure I have that—’
‘If it isn’t on the computer then the hospital will know.’
Sam felt panicky now. But there was still a glimmer of hope. If he had understood the charts on the internet correctly, then Holly could have inherited his A blood group and then he’d still be able to donate to her. Dr Ben turned to face Sam and paused, as if in thought, deliberating what to do for the best. Then he picked up the phone and told the person on the other end of the line who he was and why he was calling.
‘Yes. Yes that’s right.’ There was a short silence then, ‘My patient’s name is Holly Morgan. I need to know her blood group. I can’t find it on the system.’ And he gave her date of birth. A few seconds later, he got the reply. Wrote it on a piece of paper and moved it across the desk towards Sam.
O.
Sam’s heart plummeted.
His research said that people with blood group O could only receive a kidney from a person with the same O blood group.
Not A.
Definitely not A.
A was no good at all to his daughter.
Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He tugged at the collar of his coat, desperate for air. His lungs felt as if they were being trampled on, squeezed by a slab of concrete. And then a hideously bizarre thought rushed into his head – this would suit his mother no end. Her ‘poor Prosecco-pickled kidneys’ could remain in place, with her being a B and therefore unable to donate to her granddaughter, should the need ever arise. She was off the hook, exempt from any kind of responsibility to her family. Yet again. Whereas, Sam, so keen to take responsibility, couldn’t do anything to help.
‘Your blood test result is absolutely conclusive, Sam. I’m very sorry it isn’t the news you were hoping for. Are you sure these donor cards are correct? They haven’t been tampered with? As you said, they are quite faded.’ Dr Ben picked up the cards and scrutinised them again. But Sam knew that the doctor was just stalling for time, clearly keen to try to soften the blow somehow.
‘I’m sure. That’s exactly how they were given to me and I can’t imagine my gran would have altered them.’
‘I really am sorry, Sam.’ Dr Ben handed the cards back to him.
‘So what now?’ Sam didn’t know what else to say as he still tried to take it all in. He couldn’t even contemplate yet why his blood group didn’t match that of his parents. Or was it fear that he was feeling right now? Fear of what this devastating revelation implied. But before he could go anywhere near that train of thought, he first needed to know about his daughter. Where did this leave her? ‘What about Holly?’
‘Well,’ Dr Ben coughed to clear his throat and pushed his glasses further onto his nose. ‘Holly’s consultant will be able to talk to you more, but please remember that we don’t know for certain that she will ever need a transplant, and even if she did then she’d be placed on the register …’
‘But what if she needs the kidney right away and there just isn’t one?’ Sam, shoulders hunched, felt as if he was going mad. The kind of madness that comes from not being able to do anything whatsoever. He wasn’t stupid. As the realisation sank in, Sam knew that Linda was behind this. He knew it in his heart, and he felt like a complete and utter fool for thinking she couldn’t surprise him any more. When, here he was … relying on her in the most critical way possible, with his daughter so dependent on the result, and she had let him down yet again. He knew what this devastating information meant. His dad, Rob. That lovely, caring, kind man, wasn’t his biological father. It was the only explanation. And, given what he knew of his mother, it was the most plausible. And no wonder she had been coy about getting tested, and had tried to persuade him not to. She didn’t want her secret discovered. A nasty, big can of worms to be crowbarred open after all these years.
How could she?
How could she let him live a lie for his entire life?
And what about Dad? Did he even know that he wasn’t my biological father? Did he die never knowing the truth? He must have done, because if he did know then he absolutely never let it show. He was a brilliant dad. The best. And Patrick? Does this mean he isn’t my biological brother?
Sam felt as if his head was going to explode, the pressure was that intense. And he knew his first thought, when it came to Patrick, was how to break the news to him, thinking about how it may affect him that they might not be brothers after all.
He stood up, in need of some fresh air.
‘Err … um, I … err … have to go,’ he said, his voice quavering, barely able to formulate how he was feeling right now into comprehensible words.
‘Please, Sam,’ Dr Ben stood up too, ‘there’s no need to rush away. You’re my last appointment of the day. Stay, and let’s talk. I realise this has come as a huge shock, but we don’t know for sure that the donor cards are wholly accurate … perhaps talk to your mother? Maybe she can reassure you, put your mind at rest. Please don’t jump to any hasty conclusions that may bear no resemblance whatsoever to the truth.’
But Sam knew that was never going to happen. His mother cared only for herself. Always had done. And always would. She had never really been there for him … so perhaps it was time to end their toxic relationship once and for all.