Serious stuff!

‘I have bad news about Greg, I’m afraid, darling,’ Mum said, at last.
The look on her face was so serious that I felt an awful surge of adrenalin and suddenly my hands and legs were shaking.
‘What?’ I said. ‘What is it?’ He can’t be dead, I was telling myself, it can’t be that bad. He only rescued Biggles from the river – and he was discharged from hospital the same day! What on earth could be wrong? Maybe it was something to do with Biggles. At that thought, my heart nearly stopped, I’m sure.
‘He hasn’t had to have Biggles put down, has he?’ I said, suddenly feeling so sick that I reached for the nearly empty bowl of grapes on the coffee table. ‘They didn’t decide he was dangerous after he bit me, did they? He is so not – he’s the most gentle dog ever – that was only because he was so very distressed!’
Mum looked aghast. ‘Good grief, Kate, of course not!’ she said. ‘Everyone knows Biggles would never bite anyone normally. No, actually, Kate,’ – she looked grave – ‘it’s more serious than that. Greg has been rushed into hospital.’
‘What on earth for?’ I gasped. ‘He was fine! They sent him home!’
‘It’s because of all the river water he must have inadvertently drunk,’ said Mum. ‘At first they thought he’d just caught a cold or had the flu – but now they think it’s Leptospirosis – and that Weil’s disease might have set in.’
‘I’ve never heard of either of them,’ I said. ‘What do they do to him?’
‘Well, the leptospirosis is rather like flu but the problem with it is really that there can be nasty complications.’
‘Like what?’ I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Greg must have them or Mum wouldn’t be looking so serious.
‘Liver failure, kidney failure – and meningitis.’
I felt as if someone had suddenly opened the door and an icy wind had blown in.
‘Meningitis?’ I said. ‘Is that what they think he’s got then?’
Mum shook her head. ‘They’re not sure. He does have a terrible headache and a stiff neck but no rash. But it’s a possibility. No, the thing they’re really worried about is liver failure. He’s become extremely jaundiced, very suddenly. It’s called Weil’s disease.’
‘I thought you said it was called lepsori – thingy whatsit.’
‘Leptospirosis. Yes, it is – Weil’s disease is a complication of it.’
‘So is he going to be all right?’
‘Kate, they can’t be sure. He’s very poorly right now. He’s in intensive care.’
I burst into tears. ‘Why did no one tell me?’ I sobbed. ‘What if I want to visit him?’
‘We didn’t tell you because we didn’t know. No one knew till the early hours of this morning when he staggered into his mum’s room with the awful headache. The thing with leptospirosis is you start with flu symptoms and then they stop – and then all the complications start – if they’re going to.’
‘And they have?’
‘Yes,’ said Mum. ‘I’m afraid so.’ She handed me the box of tissues. ‘But you must remain positive, Kate. It is treatable and it’s not that rare. The doctors know what they’re doing – and he is young and strong.’
‘But how did he get it?’ I demanded. ‘Just through being in the river?’
Mum nodded. ‘Yes – it’s often passed on through rat’s urine – and he swallowed quite a lot of water. Kate, you can’t visit him at the moment, I’m afraid. No one can except his parents. He’s really, really poorly.’
She came and crouched by my side – which if she hadn’t just told me such terrible news, I couldn’t have helped smiling over. When she squats down like that, her bottom half looks like a Sumo wrestler, she has such an enormous bum. But her top half is wonderfully cuddly and I wrapped my arms around her neck and buried my nose in her hair – which is black with magenta streaks at the moment.
‘Can we pray for him?’ I whispered.
‘Of course,’ Mum said.
There are some advantages in having a mum who is a part-time vicar. Very good in the sort of crisis where there’s absolutely nothing you can do except pray! Of course, I joined in. But it was great to have her there to start me off and to keep my mind on the job. I don’t know about you but my mind wanders dreadfully when I’m praying, even when it’s something really serious. Anyway, we prayed for Greg and his Mum and Dad and when we’d finished, I felt slightly better. It must be awful if you don’t believe in praying at all. What do you do in a real crisis? What do you do when there’s someone you care about in trouble and there’s nothing else you can do? It must be agony. I think that, even if I didn’t believe in God, I’d still give prayer a go. I mean, it would be worth a try!
There was a tap on the door.
‘It’s OK, Suzie!’ Mum called. ‘You can come in now – that is all right, isn’t it, Kate?’ She got up and opened the door and then disappeared into the kitchen
I nodded, blowing my nose at the same time. I didn’t mind what state Suzie saw me in – and I still hadn’t talked to her about Ben, what with the accident and everything.
‘I didn’t know you were here,’ I said. ‘Is Ben around?’
Suzie shook her head. ‘No – I texted him to check. He knows I don’t want to see him till I’ve talked to you.’
‘He must be really fed up,’ I said. ‘He wanted me talk to you days ago.’
‘I know,’ said Suzie, ‘but you know what Ben’s like. He gets in a real state about things but then, when he’s calmed down, he’s the most laid-back person I know. That’s one of the things that’s really great about him – especially when you’re used to my family. They run on rails!’
I laughed – and then felt guilty. I had forgotten about Greg for a moment. But Suzie must be a mind-reader.
‘You can’t worry about Greg all the time,’ she said. ‘Life goes on, you know.’
‘I know, I know,’ I said. ‘It’s just – how can I have forgotten the state he’s in already?’
‘You haven’t,’ said Suzie. ‘You’ve just remembered him, silly! Just pray every time he flashes through your mind. I would!’
‘Well, you’re a much better person than me,’ I said. ‘Which reminds me – we’d better get on and talk about this fiasco with Ben telling people he’d slept with you – the stupid, stupid boy.’
Suzie was looking at the floor.
‘What’s up?’ I said. ‘Lost something?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I just feel awkward with you saying that I’m a better person than you, Kate. I’m so not honestly. I’m just so not.’
I looked at her red cheeks quizzically. ‘What is it, Suzie?’ I said. ‘Something’s really worrying you, isn’t it?’
To my surprise, Suzie, who is always so jolly and buoyant, began to cry.
‘Oh Kate, you’re not going to believe this,’ she sobbed. ‘It’s bad – it’s so, very, very bad…’