Blood Money Holby City

-I love you.

-Likewise.

I wake up every morning and I can't believe

that you're my...lady friend.

How about wife?

I was just taking the opportunity to explain to Mr Mooney

how our new system will make our hospital

a better place for our customers.

Each one of these patients

has suffered at the hands of this ridiculous referral scheme.

That is simply not true.

Hi, son. It's been a bloody nightmare, but I've...

MACHINE BLEEPS

-Michael!

-I'm sorry but I thought you'd want to know.

He's just died on the ward.

Let's take a look at your poster boy for your goddamn referral.

What do you think? Almost looks like a real person.

'That Mr Hanssen?'

Yes, speaking.

'Mr Henrik Hanssen,'

Clinical Director, Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons,

'and murderer.

'You've got blood on your hands,'

Hanssen. And I'm going to make you pay.

I see.

I'm going to kill you.

Well, so I gather, from all your calls and emails.

-I'm coming for you.

-'Very good.'

-Keep looking over your shoulder.

I most surely will. Bye, now.

Honestly, my accountant is single-handedly

trying to raze a rainforest, here.

Ah, that reminds me - Daniel's nursery, they need a cheque.

It's so complicated. It's costing a fortune.

Maybe I could help out with the paperwork.

Can barely understand it myself.

Oh, so, it'll be right over my little blonde head!

I didn't...

It's just that... what, with me being "Levy"

and you being "Williams" and Daniel "Levy-Williams".

It's so complicated. And there are tax implications.

Oh, it can't be that hard.

-Well, it could be a lot easier.

-How?

Well, Saul says if we get married sooner rather than later,

we can save on our tax liability.

Two Americanos, please.

What did you just say?

Two Americanos.

If we get married, then we...

Save tax.

So...

let's get married quickly

and save more tax.

I can't believe you just said that!

You know, when I was a wee kid, my parents told me that I was special,

that I had special powers,

that members of the opposite sex - girls -

would, erm, find me irresistible.

I've got an aortic aneurysm, OK?

It's a basket-case from end to end.

And I haven't been in theatre in three weeks.

And there was me thinking

it was last night's sexual fireworks display, on your mind.

Whatever.

You know this dynamic where we pretend we're not in a relationship,

and you make me wait in the car for five minutes while you go to work,

so that it doesn't look like we arrived together?

I was just wondering, is that getting a wee bit old?

Ten.

Sorry, erm, ten?

-Ten what? Ten out of ten for last night?

-Ten minutes.

Love you! Miss you!

All I'm saying is,

it would be prudent and expedient financially...

If we, you know, tied the knot, did the deed - soon...

"Prudent and expedient?"

Yes.

The two words a girl longs to hear.

Yes. I know it's not very romantic, but...

Romantic? It's like being wooed by the tax inspector.

-Morning.

-Morning.

Lovely morning.

-Morning.

-Morning.

-So, you got your coffee, Miss Naylor.

-Yeah.

Looks like an infection.

Should improve if you just release some air, please. Good morning.

Docs On Camera, Sunday night, 7.30 pm -

after the nationwide talent search, before the tedious costume drama.

If there's a point, please spare no haste in making it.

7.2 million viewers is the point.

Fly-on-the-wall documentary

showing Britain's top surgeons, doing what they do best.

I fail to see where this is leading.

St James's blew them out last night. MRSA infection. Huge embarrassment.

Two theatres out of action.

TV producers desperate to find a new hospital location.

-No.

-The board have agreed and I've already said yes.

These shows thrive on melodrama.

And triumph -

triumph-over-tragedy.

Doctors who save lives, and bring happiness where there was sorrow

are heroes in the TV viewers' eyes.

-Filming is intrusive.

-And illuminating.

"Holby's Heroes", Mr H,

raises Holby's status in the public perception.

How exactly do you think that'll work?

By thinking outside of the box, Mr Hanssen.

You, Professor Hope, on camera,

performing a very rare one-stage

total arch descending aortic replacement...

-It is an extremely...

-..the Hanssen Hope

-Holby dream-team...

-..demanding...

..state of the Art facilities in the hands of world-class surgeons,

showing Holby at the forefront of innovative procedure.

And how do we magically find time

for this extraordinarily complex procedure?

Well...

No!

She's my patient and I was told

the total's too much strain on theatre time.

"Over-reaching resources."

Under the circumstances, we decided to review.

-Well, then I'd still like to do it.

-Of course you do.

Elliot's already been part of a total.

So's Hanssen. Docs On Camera want to come back.

Feature more of our top docs.

By all means, call Mr Hanssen.

I'm sure he'll be happy for you to appear in the background...

working the suction tube.

Or wait and we'll make The Naylor Show.

It's a no-brainer.

Well, look on the bright side.

It frees you up

for a bit of afternoon delight in the linen cupboard.

I've just lost my most important procedure in months.

It's rapidly becoming crystal clear that Cardio

is a surgeon's graveyard.

And you think that the prospect of a sweaty clinch

with a skinny Scottish nurse is going to...

-Barry's GP just called.

-Barry?

Solar panels Barry. Page me when he arrives.

Sorry, you were just getting to the bit about the sensual encounter

with the muscular and rugged Celt.

Come on, Jac. It's only work.

Lighten up a bit, for heaven's sake. Just chill out, eh?

Chill? For your information, it's not "only work".

Oh, what? Don't tell me. It's me. Is that it?

Because I dared to say that the whole

ten-minute-into-workair-lock thing was a wee bit primary school?

Look, just because I happen to have the ability

to see through the frosty ice-exterior of Jac Naylor,

enough to want to jump her bones more than once,

does not make me an emotional retard.

If you must know...

..I'm late.

Late for what?

Late for what?

'Relationships need to be nurtured.'

When was the last time you took her out somewhere nice

where she had to wear killer heels?

Whoa! Sacha, it ain't rocket science. You just throw money at it.

It's not all about money, OK?

Chrissie likes me for my warmth and my wit.

I make her laugh.

Oh, my God!

Sorry. I was trying to get the best angle - for his blog.

Of course. This is my gift to you.

Oh, dear, that's a very nasty-looking laceration.

Now, what's caused it? Let's have a look.

"Lash effect from snapped cable."

Wire hawser. I was up high above it when it snapped.

Then it recoiled, the loose end whipped back,

dug right into the flesh.

Don't tell me - building site?

Up on some scaffolding?

Wire from a brick-lifting elevator worked loose?

Research ship, south Irish Sea.

Lowering a mini-sub into the water.

Oh, yeah, sure! A mini-sub?

Wow, blimey! Who are you, James Bond?

-AMERICAN ACCENT:

-Gordon Tracey, Captain of Thunderbird 4?

He's a deep sea diver, underwater welder. Manual metal arc.

Really? Wow.

Is this your son?

Nephew.

My little brother's boy. They live near, see.

Oh, right.

So when they choppered me into the docks...

Choppered?!

I'm so in the wrong job.

Right, now I think we're going to do a head and chest X-ray,

make sure there's no cable strands in that wound,

-and then close up that gash.

-I don't need an X-ray, surely?

It's only a scratch.

So we just move up to Keller to meet the patient.

OK, right, should I just...?

Exactly. We keep rolling, we just let the drama unfold.

PHONE RINGS

Hello, George Binns.

Beg your pardon?

He knew my name, he knew my job title, everything.

-He said I had blood on my hands.

-Yes, I see.

And in this low, creepy voice he said he wanted

-to squeeze my windpipe...

-And wring it out like a wet rag.

Yeah, so I'll call the police, they can trace the call...

Wait, how...?

There's no need to call the police, Mr Binns.

I know exactly who made these calls.

Are you sure about that?

Oh, believe me, Chrissie has a very well-developed sense of comic irony.

Don't you think we should have a little chat?

Is this a joke?

Beg your pardon, dearie?

Well, which was it? Hen night, or Conservative Party fund-raiser?

I'm sorry?

-OK, you can sit down now.

-I'm fine.

Sit...down!

I am not a dog, you know.

And I'm not a "dearie".

OK. Low blood pressure, abdominal pain, erratic pulse,

abnormally high temperature, blah, blah, blah...

I'm fine.

You were trampled on by a horse.

Not the first time.

-Only normally it's your head.

-Sorry?

I need to listen to your chest.

Can you take off your jacket and open up your shirt, please?

No!

-I am not in the mood for this today.

-Mum!

-What? What is she doing here?

-I got a call from Jinx.

Oh, she would, she can't keep her snout out.

Said you were dragged across

the yard by Synapse and driven away unconscious in an ambulance!

-I'm fine.

-She's not.

-I'm her daughter.

-Yes. I got that.

Could you tell her to take off her jacket and open up her shirt

so I can listen to her chest before I retire?

Don't ask. Just do it.

What is this?

-I feel like I'm repeating myself.

-You are.

-But the relative

of an ex-patient made verbal threats on your life and you do nothing?

The relative of a patient who died in our care.

People die every day in Holby.

2.4% of all patients ever admitted fail to leave, other than in a box.

In this situation, there is a strict professional protocol.

You of all people...

His father died as a direct consequence of our actions

regarding the AAU/Keller Non-Referral Scheme.

The Trust offered an out-of-court settlement - he accepted.

His father was refused treatment

because we were implementing an unworkable departmental policy.

An out-of-court settlement to establish no blame on our part.

Well, his son thinks we're to blame.

I think it's our duty to inform the police.

So, you have a film crew here filming the unfolding drama

of Holby's heroic doctors,

and you would like to bring in the police?

Do you think that's wise?

Sorry they want to shoot a patient conference.

Just leave this to me. I'll deal with Mr Mooney.

He's no real threat, I assure you.

TYRE HISSING

Some sort of weird rural perversion?

I quiet like it.

Sort of Tutankhamen on acid.

What happened?

-Excuse me.

-Last week,

Mr Showtime squished me

in the wash-down box up against the concrete.

-What is it?

-It's vet wrap. Will you shush?

Mr Showtime is huge.

Seventeen three. Five six to the wither. Built like a...

brick shed.

Something went crunch.

Oh, well, generally "crunch" is not good.

And of course you did nothing about it?

So, why?

-A self-adhesive horse bandage.

-Horse bandage?

We use it to keep gel packs and dressings in place.

I'm a vet. Well, training.

Which is why she shouldn't be here.

She's got exams, make her go.

Thanks, Mum.

Look, I run a livery, I haven't time for this.

You do understand the concept of the NHS?

Hospitals have doctors,

-trained in human medicine.

-And it's all free!

I've been in hospital with cracked ribs.

All they do is bind them and tell you to sleep sitting up.

So I bound them.

We haven't bound ribs in over a decade.

Right, can I have FBC's, U's and E's, a chest X-ray...?

Actually, Ms Naylor, I was wondering

if you and I might have a quick chat?

And an echo. And unwrap her.

Or perhaps not.

-I don't you think you want to be here for this.

-Yeah!

Bloody good education for the lad, watching a skilled surgeon at work.

-He might learn something.

-OK!

Now, I'm afraid this is going to leave a pretty chunky scar.

-Not my first.

-Can I show him?

Go on.

That was a black-tipped reef shark in the Galapagos.

Blimey.

Manta ray barb, diving Cayo Largo off south-west Cuba.

Wow!

What a life you lead, eh?

Bet you have a Harley in the garage, haven't you?

And a girl in every port.

-BOTH:

-Two!

Chrissie sent your flowers back.

Guess she doesn't do irony.

Woman trouble.

My patient could have died and been cremated by then.

Cretins!

You know, you want to watch the whole people-pleasing thing.

Sometimes you've just got to speak your mind.

Three hours to do a liver function test for the mad horsewoman,

all because Transplant Team have hogged all the lab time.

Well, what can I say?

Organ Transplant, it's where it's at.

It's the medicine of the future.

Where as cardiothoracics is all but dead, is that it?

No. That's not what I said, I'm just shooting the breeze.

You're late? What on earth does that mean?

Do you need me to paint you a picture?

You're late and you've done a test, or you're about to?

No.

Not done a test?

Not yet, no.

Oh, right. Um, why not yet?

What are you, my gynaecologist?

No, I'm your...

I'm involved, is all, and I just thought

we could deal with it together.

Deal with it?

OK, stop, stop.

As an involved-party in this "late"...

..obviously I am keen to know.

I know I'm not a clever heart doctor,

but I don't think not knowing, i.e. burying your head in the sand...

I don't think sticking your nose in my business is a good idea.

-Don't I have some kind of right...?

-No! You don't!

I just assumed that because I'm already involved...

Look, if I were you, I would assume nothing. OK?

Wife, girlfriend or mother?

Um, fiancee, actually.

You need to talk to her.

What?

Gestures go wrong.

Flowers are too often sent as an apology

instead of the apology actually being expressed.

I'm sorry did you just say...?

Uncle Bryn says most men are "emotionally constipated".

-Does he?

-Uncle Bryn's very cool.

Hey, what do you think they are?

Lesions on the lung.

Yeah, that's what I thought.

See these? These lobes are large, lung looks inflamed.

-Do a CT?

-I would.

That's a shame, he's a deep sea diver.

Not any more.

Did you put him straight?

-Tried to, yeah.

-You listen to me, kid, you won't go wrong.

Like the Director said, remember the viewers, keep it simple.

-All right, we rolling?

-Rolling.

OK.

An aortic aneurysm is, as the nomenclature suggests,

an aneurysm developed upon the feeble wall of the aorta,

the aorta being the largest artery in the body transporting

oxygenated blood perpendicularly through the thorax and abdomen...

Sorry, um, may I?

I like to think of the aorta as a garden hose -

it's about the same thickness - watering all parts of the garden,

and an aneurysm as a bulge at a weak point...

PHONE RINGS

I'm sorry.

I'm going to have to take this. Excuse me, please.

Hanssen?

Just pick up where we left off.

Sorry. Rather like the point on the hose...

I'm afraid this is not a good moment.

-PHONE:

-I read when an aneurysm's about to burst,

the pain is unbearable.

Like your chest is trapped in a vice.

Threatening George Binns was not a good idea, Mr Mooney.

He sounded scared.

-'He was.'

-Good.

'So he's calling the police.'

Is that what you want? Police involvement?

-If that's what it takes.

-To do what exactly?

To punish you for what you did.

I'm afraid I'm going to have to say goodbye now.

Look out the window, Mr Hanssen.

Down in the car park.

Why?

I'm here.

Your precious hospital.

'What do you intend to do?'

If you won't see me,

'maybe I should see someone else.

'Chrissie Williams - she was the nurse on Keller, right?

'She turned him away.'

Wait there, please.

Where's he going?

You'll get me into trouble, you will.

Telling the doctors I never offered you any painkillers.

Sorry. Didn't mean to.

I don't want any.

So, among a whole road-map of cracks and calluses and scar tissue,

there is a new fracture to the costal cartilage...

-It's what holds the sternum to the end of the ribs.

-..in a human.

Doesn't sound much.

Oh, no. It only allows the chest to expand every time you breathe,

and don't need to breathe - that's totally redundant(!)

Bea's been offered 75mg of diclofenac, but she's refused.

-That's some pain threshold.

-Will it need treatment?

An operation.

I haven't got time for that.

Well, if you don't, it'll hurt like a donkey danced on your ribs

every time you take a breath for, oh, next six months.

When can it be done?

Today, I suppose.

Do you get any symptoms of dizziness, shortness of breath,

-palpitations, sweats...?

-I'm 52. I'm menopausal.

I get all of that, every day.

-Any blood in your faeces?

-No.

Is it complicated?

I cut you open and stick a metal plate across your ribs

with a drill and four screws.

Put it this way - even an orthopaedic surgeon could do it.

-You don't sound very...

-Excited?

Oh, no, it's the pinnacle of my career.

I hate this job.

I hate lungs.

Is this your lung transplant's X-rays?

Wish it wasn't.

Abscesses?

Could be.

Or bronchial pneumonia.

Could be the start of rejection.

Could be an infection he picked up.

Could be something that came with the lungs.

Well, good luck with that.

We need to page the Professor.

And good luck with that.

Elliot's tag-teaming with Hanssen on my total aortic.

Won't be clear all day.

I'll get him pumped up with 1.5g of flucloxacillin.

Oh, no, you don't.

Do you seriously expect me to believe

that everything between the two of you is cushty?

What is it to you all of a sudden?

Well, I could say I really care about you,

but truth is I'm just really bored and nosey.

There's nothing's up, it's just...

she's got...stuff.

What "stuff"?

My lips are sealed.

No, no, no, no. You don't get to tease and then clam up.

-That's provocation.

-I can't.

-What stuff?

-You couldn't water-board it out of me.

All right, whatever. I know it's nothing really juicy.

It's not like she's carrying your love-child or any...

Mr Mooney.

Mr Hanssen.

'No, no, no, no, no.'

Jac is all about her career.

What career?

CT specialists are about as sought-after as syphilis these days.

Yeah, but there's no way she wants to become a mum.

I mean, she is the least maternal woman I have ever met.

So why would any normal woman who thought she might be pregnant

not take a test?

I don't know, um...

Cos she's afraid of having to make a decision.

Give that boy a cigar!

She hits 38, she's scared because she knows

she's not going to get many more chances at it.

If she is pregnant, and she wants to keep it...

..where does that...?

What does that mean?

She'll be a mum.

Cos I don't know if I'm ready to be a dad.

Making verbal threats on my life is, to some degree, understandable.

I do appreciate you've suffered a terrible loss.

-You want a brew?

-No, thank you.

Now, I'm prepared to accept this as a passing phase of your grief.

I'm also prepared to overlook...

I've got a gas hob.

..what's happened thus far in order that you may come to terms...

Propane burner. Little two-man kettle.

Proper job, with a whistle.

What I cannot and will not tolerate are threats against any of my...

Dad and me always had a brew...

..staff.

..when we were on an away job,

couple of bacon butties...

One time, we were renovating a farmhouse kitchen

they brought us eggs, straight from the chickens.

Wallop. Straight in the pan.

I appreciate that you must have been very close.

Mooney & Son. Renovations and Restorations.

I haven't stepped foot in the workshop since.

Can't face it.

Grief does pass, you know.

It may not end exactly, but each phase, however painful,

does, I assure you...

Why did they give me money?

-For your loss.

-Compensation?

-A settlement.

-To compensate?

Lose your dad, get this?

I don't think anyone is suggesting...

I got a letter.

No call. No meeting. No man from the Ministry.

No-one's spoken a word to me.

I regret that's a legal protocol.

"The case of your father who you alleged was treated

"sub-optimally during his stay."

Well, you see, any claim of negligence...

"An unsatisfactory outcome."

That's what they called his death.

-Well, it's a legal...

-Didn't even use his name.

Not once.

Well, that is regrettable.

One thing at a time. That's what Dad always said.

Make the best job of today, today. Worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.

Might I ask what you hope to achieve today?

You want to hear him dying?

Professor Hope, just talk us through what you're doing.

Right. Well, I've just injected the heart with a potassium solution

to, um...

Forgive my indulgence, but even as an experienced

cardiothoracic specialist, this moment you're about witness

still gives me goose-bumps.

Now, a beating heart is dramatic,

but what you are about to see is even more dramatic.

I'm going to make the heart stop.

If you come just a little... Focus in a bit closer.

The potassium freezes the heart and keeps it in suspended animation

while allowing us to work on it.

And meanwhile Helen is kept alive on a heart-lung machine.

It should stop any minute now...

There.

Wonderful.

RECORDING: 'Hiya, son. Just to let you know, I'm still in hospital.

'Had a bit of a turn. It's been a bloody nightmare but I think I'm...

He sounds confused.

He sounds very distressed.

-And he sounds really scared.

-Indeed.

Thing is, my dad was never scared of anything...ever.

Except me mam, and the taxman.

That was his little joke.

Staff Nurse McKee...

and Consultant Michael Spence, they were the ones.

We do deeply regret none of us was able to save...

But where were you?

Is that what you want today, to find someone specific to blame?

He was killed by a hospital policy.

A policy that said he couldn't be transferred to the ward

-he needed to be in!

-Strictly speaking,

he died because his abdominal aneurysm ruptured.

-In the back of a van.

-Yes. Unfortunately.

How would you like to die in the back of a van?

-Barry.

-Abscesses. Poor bloke's riddled with them.

He's going to have to lose some of that lung.

And we've got no Elliot today. He's tied up with Jac's total.

Then we'll have to get Jac in there with us.

-Not today.

-No choice. Got to get the gangrene.

-We've been here before.

-Jac doesn't play nice on our team.

-It's not about us.

-Or you two.

-She'll be all up in your face,

telling you how to run your department.

You'll get all vexed.

OK. I get it.

I suppose now that she holds the key to my future,

we might as well see what she's made of.

I'll get a chance to ask her why she hasn't peed on that stick yet.

Only joking!

Chrissie, er, Sister Williams?

Yes?

The flowers and card, that was a joke. You did realise?

You didn't think I was being...cheap?

Sacha, if you've got something to say, just say it.

I just want to talk about us, you know.

Make sure everything's...

Oh, right, if you want to talk about us, you know,

if it's personal, than I would suggest

you just talk to my accountant.

-Everything I say is wrong.

-No.

She's been dragging her heels setting a date...

-so, this morning I asked her to marry me.

-Oh, sweet.

-To save income tax.

-Oh. Not very romantic.

-No.

KNOCK AT DOOR

We have a situation.

Right. Change of plan, I'm afraid.

I won't be able to do your procedure today.

-Good, so I can I go home, then?

-No. I don't trust

-that you won't do more damage to yourself.

-She will.

Stay here. We'll get you in tomorrow, Thursday at the latest.

Well, why can't you do it?

I'm needed on a lung-transplant emergency.

DOOR SLAMS

We're on.

PAGER BEEPS

Mr Mooney, this is not a police matter yet -

there is still time for if to end well. But if you continue like this,

making threats, I'm afraid the conversation is over...

My dad loved oak. Oak panels, oak boards.

This was his invention.

Perfect tool.

Could whack a spike into a two-inch board.

He called it Rocky.

After Sly Stallone, you know...

-the punch.

-BAM!

Look, for your sake and for the memory of your father...

You know what he would have wanted his lasting memory to be?

He'd have wanted me to kick all your arses from here to payday.

KETTLE WHISTLES Would that help?

No-one apologised!

Well, as Clinical Director, let me convey that we are deeply saddened

-by the events that led to his death.

-"His" death?!

Not even you can say his name!

-We are sorry about the circumstances surrounding your father.

-Thank you!

KETTLE CONTINUES WHISTLING

What exactly do you think you're doing?!

You're not sorry. None of you are.

So this is the aorta coming out of the heart,

shaped like the handle of a walking stick...

-OK, let's cut there.

-CAMERA BEEPS

No Mr Hanssen yet?

-So what's next?

-It's the handing over, which is critical.

Team timing is crucial -

it's like the passing of a baton in a relay race.

One fumble and everything is lost.

ELLIOT SIGHS

Could really do with an ETA for Mr Hanssen, please!

Thank you.

I've only got powdered milk. Dad wouldn't have liked that.

"Cow juice should be wet," that's what he'd say.

PHONE RINGS

George Binns?

Stuff him.

I have a woman lying on an operating table at, this very moment,

-who needs my attention.

-And?

-She has three children.

So bloody what?

-Is that what your father would say?

-Yeah!

-Is it really?

I got the impression your father was a very kind man,

a man with a strong conscience.

You don't know anything about him. You never met him.

A man who would take such time and care and love

to hand-carve an entire chess set for his grandson

does not seem the sort of person who would hurt innocent people.

-You're not innocent.

-No, Mr Mooney, I'M not.

I pushed your dad's trolley. Myself.

I took him down from Keller Ward,

where Mr Spence had taken him to be treated.

You what? You were trying to save him?

Oh, no. Quite the opposite. I took him back to AAU,

-from where he was fatally discharged to another hospital.

-You?

If it's revenge you seek,

If you are looking for someone to blame, you have your man...here, now.

Nobody else was doing anything but their jobs.

I was in charge. I deprived your father of the treatment he needed.

You came for the truth. You have it.

You killed him.

CLATTERING

I don't want one.

OK, humour me. All right? It won't hurt.

I was whipped by a cable, I've got a gouge on my flesh -

I don't need a scan.

Well, I think you do.

Now look, I'm sorry, but it's important.

I need to run a scan to check something.

Something came up on your X-ray, and it's not clear.

Bullous emphysema.

They're cystic air sacs.

And you know this? For sure?

And do you know what this means?

If I dive...

..they could rupture, I'd die underwater.

Yeah, we figured that much out.

I'm getting out of this thing. I feel stupid.

I haven't dived in over nine months.

The lesions were discovered on my last company insurance medical.

Instant termination.

Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.

Unfit to dive.

So the...rescue ship? The mini-sub?

It was a snapped cable on scaffolding brick elevator...

just like you said.

I've been welding reinforcement rods on a building site.

Woo-hoo!

Cool job, Bryn(!)

-Have you told anyone?

-What?

That I'm welding concrete reinforcement cages

in a sewage plant? What do you think?

When were you thinking of telling Angus?

The boy thinks I'm a superhero.

How do you think he'll feel when he finds out you've been lying?

Oh, Barry.

This is the middle lobe, right side lung.

Riddled with gangrene.

How much resection can we get away with? Cut the middle?

-Trim the lower?

-It all has to come out.

The whole lobe?

The whole lung.

And leave him with one lung? I don't think so.

One good one.

Leave any part of the infected lung in there

and it could spread to the good lung.

Barry waited nearly two years for these.

Well, one of them's OK.

-No. We resect the infected portion.

-Absolutely not!

This really isn't your call.

Actually, it IS my call.

I don't see another consultant in here.

Jac. Please, don't do this.

Why? Why are you telling me it's your fault?

-Perhaps because I believe it's true.

-The report said...

Nothing. Why would it? This is a hospital trust.

Its concern is business, politics,

but the truth is my decision killed your father, simple as that.

-Yeah?

-So if you think what your father

would want you to do with this knowledge is this - do it.

-What?

-You set fire to your blood money. Kill me.

Kill us both. Kill that innocent woman

and make her children suffer the pain and bitterness

that you're feeling. Go on, do it.

-Shut up!

-Go on, do it!

You make my error of judgment your father's legacy.

And if you want Richard Mooney remembered as the man

whose death caused yet more death, more pain, do it!

Go on, do it now!

-STOP IT!

-DO IT!

-We don't have time for this.

-I agree.

So let's get on with what we should be doing. A pneumonectomy.

Look, I understand why you'd make that call...

He's on anti-rejection drugs.

Any infection we leave could cause serious problems,

so let's get it out.

No. Believe me, if Barry wakes up with one-and-a-half lungs,

he'll feel a lot better than if he wakes up with one.

In his head, maybe. But not in here.

The effect that each stage of transplant has

on the emotional and psychological welfare of the patient,

not to mention their family, is huge.

-Not as huge as gangrene!

-We do know what we're doing.

-And I don't?

-That's why Elliot appointed us - me and Mo.

-Why we're the transplant team.

-Emotion has no place in surgery.

"Psychological welfare"?

It's this simple - the infection spreads, he's dead.

What's the emotional impact on his family then?

-You don't get it.

-I don't care what's going on between you two.

-But it isn't going on in my theatre. Jonny Mac.

-What do you mean?

What does she mean?

Jac, just let Mo finish the op.

No.

You can power-play him all you like, but me?

I don't care if you think you're pregnant with Elvis's seed -

you don't tell me to chuck away a lung I fought tooth and nail to get.

You told her?

Right. I'm getting Elliot.

What happens now?

You go home. I go and repair an aneurysm.

No police?

No.

So what are you going to do?

You don't care, so long as I don't do it here.

That's not true.

-I wonder if you'd wait for me at hospital reception.

-Why?

Just promise you'll wait there until I've finished in theatre.

-May I have that?

-No.

-Give it to me, please.

-I won't puncture any tyres.

-That's not why I'm concerned.

-No.

-Give it to me, please.

-No, just get off.

-Just give it to me!

-Get off!

-BAM!

HE YELLS

PHONE RINGS

Darwin Theatre.

It's Professor Hope.

Want to put it on loudspeaker?

Look, I am already struggling

because Mr Hanssen appears to have gone AWOL.

I'm up to my elbows in an aortic graft,

-'so I will only say this once.'

-I'm, sorry but...

Jac, I am well aware of the patient's condition

and agree with Ms Effanga.

Save the lung. If you won't do it her way, get out of there.

-The patient...

-Do I make myself clear?

Yes.

Thank you.

God, what are we going to do?

Actually, it doesn't seem to have struck anything important.

-You need a...

-I need some pliers, please.

Thank you.

I'm sorry.

No, don't worry.

Just be grateful if you would wait here at the hospital.

I'd like you...

to do something for me.

DOOR SLAMS

You can't just leave without telling anyone.

Mum, come back!

-Mum...

-Get back into bed!

Who do you think you're talking to?

Mum...

I'm going home, I'm going to strap my ribs up again...

No, we are going to theatre. Get this over with.

Oh, so now you ARE going to operate?

-You want this plate fitted, or not?

-By you?

-No. I'd rather go home.

-Mum!

I don't trust her.

If you were a vet and you came to my stables with that attitude,

I'd have you kicked off the yard.

SHE LAUGHS Well, I'd like to see you try.

Even with broken ribs, I could still make dog-mince of you.

Fine. Go home then, and then you'll have to see your doctor,

and get a referral, and go on a waiting list.

And it's non-emergency so it could take six weeks.

Hopefully longer.

I can see why you're on your own and everyone else is a team.

You're horrible!

Come on. We're going to find another hospital.

DOOR SLAMS

Normally, the general surgeon -

Mr Hanssen! -

would perform all the abdominal surgery,

mainly because surgeons like myself - heart surgeons

tend to specialise in the heart...

..not the kidneys, not the intestines, not the liver.

If I'd wanted to specialise in THOSE organs,

I would have become a general surgeon. Thank you.

Can you hold that back now? Right. Time is of the essence.

I'm now going to attach the graft to the aorta.

Professor? Professor, we can't see, can we start that again?

-What?

-We can't make the shot.

-Get out.

-Mr Binns agreed...

-Get out of here!

-You told her?!

-I am very sorry.

You told your boss that you think your girlfriend is pregnant?!

Mo's my best mate.

And, anyway, you've been giving me the permafrost all day!

I've got no idea what's going on with you - in your head.

So, really, what do you expect?

Some privacy!

Well, stop acting like a psycho. Talk to me.

Take the test. Act normal!

Anyway, I didn't tell her.

She read my mind.

Honestly. It's, like, supernatural or something.

You're pathetic.

We've just been working together for too long.

Sometimes, I think we're going to get, like, synchronised periods.

You do realise you said "girlfriend" just there?

HE LAUGHS

You did say it, though.

DOOR CLOSES

Ms Naylor?

Ah, Horsewoman's liver tests. Not my problem any more!

Wait here, please.

Is that him, who, er, threatened me?

-I thought said you were dealing with the problem!

-I am.

Then why's that idiot still here?

He's not an idiot, Mr Binns.

He's a grieving man whose father died on our watch.

-He threatened to kill me!

-Quite so.

By the way, he told me - Uncle Bryn -

-about his new job.

-Oh, right.

Pretty cool!

Welding? On the site of a...

Nuclear bunker? Well cool!

-Yes.

-Disguised as a sewage plant. That is so slick.

-Hiya.

-Oh, hello.

Is this...?

Yes, it is.

Sacha said you were a very helpful young man.

I told her how you talked me through all the...

you know, the headless flower thing.

So did the advice work? Did talking help?

-No.

-No.

Maybe she just wants you to work a bit harder.

Or do something big to grab her attention.

You do know that, sometimes, you sound like Yoda?

When my Uncle Bryn fell in love with a captain's daughter in Brazil

and her father wouldn't let him see her any more,

do you know what he did?

I can't imagine.

Well, what he did was...

JAC: Three minutes?

Like I've got three minutes to just throw away!

SHE SIGHS

Right.

MONITOR BEEPS

BP's dropping - the graft isn't holding.

Right, 3-0 Prolene, please.

Thank you. Suction.

OK, right.

OK.

OK, release the clamp.

No, it's still bleeding.

Where the hell is it coming from?!

My apologies, Professor Hope.

Now, where are we?

I can't locate the source of the bleed.

The rest of the graft is sound.

Monitor, lactate and release the clamp, please.

Left gastric artery is damaged, if I'm not mistaken.

4-0 Prolene, please.

So we'll suture the artery and repair the graft...

-How did I miss that?

-This is abdomen, and you are heart.

Each to his own place. My apologies for upsetting the order of things.

This is excellent work, Professor Hope.

-Thank you.

-Truly excellent.

I wonder if afterwards I might have a few moments.

-Yeah, sure. What are we filming?

-Downstairs.

I thought maybe we could go back to your office.

Film a debrief?

-Mr Hanssen?

-That won't be necessary.

-What have you been taking?

-What?

All of those breaks and cracks, what do you take for the pain?

-Nothing.

-She's lying.

She's got internal bleeding. Her white count is higher,

she could have a very serious infection.

She's been taking this, I'm sure of it. It's hydrazolnate.

This is a horse drug.

An equine anti-inflammatory. You've been taking this?!

-We need to get her back inside right now.

-I'm too busy.

-Mum!

-Did you know about this?

-No...

I know some of her old hunting cronies take it,

I didn't think Mum was stupid enough.

-It gives powerful pain relief...

-Yes, for horses!

Meanwhile, it's destroying her kidneys.

-I knew something was wrong.

-What do you mean?

I've been passing blood.

Well, why didn't you say?

I thought I had bowel cancer. I've seen it in the animals.

So you took more and said nothing?

I don't have time for cancer.

I thought...

I thought...

Sorry.

We need to get you back inside. Right now.

What are you doing? Where are you taking them?

Don't fluster, Mr Binns, it won't look very "heroic" on camera.

I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago.

Please, Mr Hanssen -

if you're about to do what I think you're about to do,

please don't do it.

Excuse me.

Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to Mr Nicholas Mooney.

Step outside with me, will you, please?

-Are you ready to record?

-Definitely.

Right. Are you recording?

Good.

Mr Mooney, would you stand with me here, please?

I would like to make an announcement.

I would like to take this opportunity

to make an unreserved...

She's here.

-Chrissie...

-I can't stop, I'm meeting Mr Hanssen.

Um...no, you're not.

What? I'm busy.

That phone call from Hanssen...that was me.

-What?!

-I know. I was quite pleased with it myself, actually.

-I haven't time for this.

-PAGER BEEPS

Look, honestly, I need to show you something, OK?

Something outside - something very, very special.

We are run off our feet up there!

-Chantelle...

-OK, I'm ready.

-Haul away.

-Here we go!

LIFT ANNOUNCEMENT: 'Doors closing.'

Hello.

Well, you'll be glad to know that I have done a beautiful repair job.

Those ribs are now braced, solid as steel.

The horse-strength anti-inflammatories

you've been necking have caused renal damage and stomach ulceration.

So you will have to stay here for that to be treated.

But the best news is - you won't be on my ward.

-The horses...

-I'll sort them out.

Mum, you should've said something. We're a team, OK?

-Is that a tear?

-No.

Negative.

Negative?

Well, that's good, right?

'..wanted to take the somewhat unprecedented

'but I believe long overdue opportunity

'of making an official apology...'

Just when you thought all the good guys were gone.

'On behalf of myself, the hospital and the Trust

'to Mr Nicholas Mooney here

'and to his deceased father, Mr Richard Mooney...'

'"Ritchie", he hated Richard."'

'Beg your pardon. To Mr Ritchie Mooney

'for the appalling circumstances surrounding his death -

'a death which was a direct result of a deeply-flawed hospital policy.'

SQUEALS OF EXCITEMENT

LAUGHTER

HAPPY CHATTER

'This policy is no longer in place...'

LAUGHTER AND CHATTER

'The policy of non-referral which we implemented,

'was directly responsible for Mr Ritchie Mooney's death.'

That was more than just professional suicide, Mr Hanssen.

-You threw yourself under the bus!

-I told the truth.

-Was that part of the plan?

-We let a patient down.

I really admire what you tried to do.

I'm truly sorry, but I just can't be a part of this.

I quite understand.

The Trust WILL crucify you.

Thank you, Mr Binns. I accept your resignation.

I would have given you my A-game every single moment

of every single day

but I cannot stand by and watch you fall on your sword.

I do understand. It is likely to get a little messy.

I've learned such lot from you, Mr H.

Sadly, to get on in this profession,

I'll probably have to forget most of it.

Chrissie?

Chrissie?

Chrissie.

That was so lovely.

Oh, good. This is good.

So, we are still getting married?

Of course.

And really, it doesn't matter when.

-No, I want it to be soon.

-Soon?

Very soon.

Great. That's great.

-But it has to be small, OK?

-That banner thing was lovely but...

But it was big. It was...yes.

So the wedding has to be small, low-key - small.

Your wish. My command.

-I mean it!

-I know. I understand. I do.

Small.

HE SIGHS

DRAWER OPENS

DRAWER CLOSES

HE GROANS

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd