by John Thornton
Consultant gastroenterologist Miles Westwood has guarded a devastating secret for years.
When tragedy tears apart his comfortable life, not once but twice, he finds unexpected solace in Freya, the captivating woman from his past. As new hope sparks between them, Miles realises he must confront not only his hidden guilt but also the grim spectre of her husband’s pancreatic cancer.
In a quest that tests the limits of his expertise and his heart, can he unravel the mystery of this dreadful disease, avoid further heartbreak, and bring his life back under his control?
Slivers of sunlight intrude past the edges of our bedroom curtains. Motes of dust dance languidly in the brightness, too dazzling to look at. I close my eyes again. There is no need to get up yet. It’s Sunday and my mind is still a little muzzy from the alcohol I drank last night.
I begin to feel uneasy. What’s the matter? I am annoyed that my foggy brain, normally so sharp, is not offering me a quick answer. Maybe it’s just my imagination. It’s quiet. Nothing is wrong. I start to relax again.
Then it hits me. It is too quiet. I cannot hear Clare’s breathing.
I turn in our bed to face her. She is completely still. Her pallor is alarming and there is a slightly waxy appearance to her skin that my job has rendered me familiar with. I reach out to touch her, then pause, my hand a few centimetres from her face, not wanting to feel what I expect. I summon the courage. Her face is cold, too cold.
My training takes over. I try to palpate a carotid artery pulse and then, in desperation, attempt to feel the other one. Her eyes are open, pupils widely dilated. I switch on my bed-side light and bring it towards her face. Her pupils remain fixed. She has gone.
I know death, but in a hospital bed, not mine.
This cannot be. I must be dreaming. But what little part of my logical mind is still functioning, despite my horror, tells me that I am not. I pull her awkwardly towards me, lay her cold face on my bare chest and begin to stroke her hair rhythmically.
I am keeping her a little longer.
Excerpt from Under Control
“A fascinating read exploring timely and topical issues, including the NHS, the modern practice of medicine, the challenges of grief and of moving on, and the science behind discovery and research. The novel has excellent detail and believable principles – convincing, engaging and plausible to even the least scientifically minded of readers.”
Alex Hammond
for Cornerstones Literary Consultancy
“Pleasingly readable … The immediacy granted by the first-person voice and the present tense lends a sense of intimacy to the narrator / reader relationship.”
Anna South
for The Literary Consultancy
John Thornton
Ars longa, vita brevis – the art is long, life short – wrote the ancient Greek physician, Hippocrates. And the task has become even harder since then, as the explosion of medical knowledge dwarfs the modern increase in life expectancy.
As a busy consultant gastroenterologist and helping to raise three sons, there was no time to test some of my ideas about the diseases I encountered, let alone my wish to write novels. When I retired, I decided that one of these ideas: the possible cause of pancreatic cancer and gallstones, needed to be shared and have made it a theme (along with the capriciousness of disease) of my novel, Under Control. It’s an emotional rollercoaster but ultimately, an uplifting story.
A second novel, Hot Air – he thought he was saving the planet, now he’s not so sure – will follow soon.
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