Background
If John Morgan were a tree, he'd be an oak; others find shelter from his strength. A character firmly rooted, drawing others to his circle of family and friends: under the shadow of the Eden Tree.
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Colleen had remained in Baltimore, living in the house bequeathed to her and Sean in Sean's mother Kathleen's will. Unbeknown to Colleen, she had inherited another legacy: a deadly one.
As a 14-year-old, she had fled in the middle of the night to Sean's mother's to escape from her mother's live-in boyfriend. He had been abusing her for months and had brutally raped her on the night she fled.
The emotional and mental torment lingered beyond the scars on her body. Becoming weak a few days after her visit to the UK, she had struggled on until finally, her physician in Baltimore did some tests and discovered that she had HIV, the legacy of her mother's boyfriend. She was in danger of developing AIDS. The local hospital could not offer treatment so she was referred to a specialist unit attached to Victoria University Hospital in Cork.
Sean arrived back in the UK, having spent several days with Saul reviewing the security of his hotels in Albania. Rachel met him at the airport looking worried. She had received a call from a doctor at the hospital in Cork.
It was clear that Aunty Colleen needed their help. Sean's conversation with the specialist was brief. Client privilege prevented the doctor from disclosing the details of Colleen's illness and although both Sean and Rachel tried speaking with her, she was not forthcoming and urged him not to travel to Ireland. The specialist had assumed they knew something and had mentioned AIDS.
Sean," I said, "Liz and I both agree that you and Rachel must go. We'll look after Iggy. Don't worry about a thing."
The Caseys made plans to travel to Ireland and I dropped them at Manchester airport. Iggy insisted on coming in my car. The boy would miss half a day at school, but he was stubborn and tough once he had made up his mind and he would not be persuaded to miss the journey.
*
Cork Airport past Farmer's Cross, Sean and Rachel drove in their hire car the 20 minutes on the dual carriageway and then to the hospital just off the city link road. Sean strode confidently to a pleasant receptionist and inquired about Colleen Casey. She gave him the ward number with a sympathetic look.
Colleen was sitting in an easy chair in the ward, wearing a light-blue woollen dressing gown that contrasted with her pale skin. Seeing them, she laid aside a Hello magazine and rose unsteadily to greet them.
With moist eyes she said, "Ya needn't have come."
Sean struggled to hold his emotions in check. Colleen had lost several pounds since the party at Kirmingsham Hall. Other patients, some with drips and machinery attached, looked over at them. Disinfectant, floor polish and some putrid unidentified smells assaulted their nostrils.
"Let's talk," Sean said, and beckoned Colleen to show the way. Rachel took her arm as she slowly walked along a corridor, her slippers slapping on the hard floor. In a small waiting room off the ward with the walls papered in a diagonal shaped pattern, a senior nurse brought tea on a tray. The three sat at a round table and supped the tepid brew.
With dry lips and in a weak voice, Colleen told them her story. Sean's emotions went from shock to deep sorrow and then to fury, as she poured out her heart to her nephew. Her mother's boyfriend had died years before, but the virus lived on. Rachel had seen her fair share of catastrophic epidemics like HIV and AIDS in her work with Save the Children in Uganda, Nigeria and Kenya.
"OK, I've heard enough." Sean took Colleen by the hand. "You're coming with us to the UK where we can look after you."
Reluctantly she capitulated, got dressed behind a screen, and discharged herself from the hospital.
It was not the first time that Sean had taken a patient out of a hospital to save a life.
The trio spent the night at Colleen's house in Baltimore, allowing her to pack and gather some personal items as well as rest for a while.
That evening, Sean and Rachel went for a walk around the fishing port. "This is where I grew up," Sean said, pointing out some of the local attractions in the moonlight. Moored boats rose and fell with the tide and red and white buoys bobbed up and down.
"Not sure you ever grew up!" Rachel said. "And what's that smell?" She leaned over the harbour wall surveying the nets glistening from the day's activity. The smells of freshly caught fish and crab drifted in the mild breeze. Seagulls cawed and fought over fish carcasses on the cobbled jetty, which was overlooked by a ruined castle. They bought fish and chips in greaseproof paper and sat on the jetty eating.
"My God, this is the life!" Sean proclaimed, his concerns temporarily laid aside. Sean had the ability to compartmentalise his life: a segment for fun, a segment for action, a segment for worry. Worry would return in the morning.
*
next morning I met their early flight to Manchester from Cork at 8:30.
While we would all accept, love and care for Colleen, we knew she needed a miracle, a healing miracle.
