Go Not Gently

CHAPTER SEVEN

Dr Chattaway used an end terraced house for his surgery. Plastic chairs were arranged around the walls of the room. On a table in the centre were copies of People’s Friend, National Geographic and Woman’s Own. The waiting room was full. No intercom here. The doctor stuck his head round the door every few minutes and asked for the next patient. People shuffled along each time.

Gradually we moved around the room and finally we reached the inner sanctum. Dr Chattaway motioned to chairs and settled behind his highly polished desk. It was huge; they probably had to dismantle it to get it through the doorway. On the wall were framed diplomas and a photograph of Dr Chattaway in cap and gown.

‘Miss Donlan,’ he grinned, ‘how are you? I haven’t seen you for a while.’ His accent blended Indian consonants and Mancunian vowels.

Agnes explained why we’d come. He listened politely, rolling a thick fountain pen between his fingers and frowning slightly. When she’d finished he nodded once.

‘Of course I no longer have Mrs Palmer’s notes. As you know, I treated Mrs Palmer for the fall, the shoulder, and that was mending fine, but she was keen to move into sheltered accommodation. I didn’t see her again, she transferred to Dr Goulden. I’m sorry to hear she’s so poorly.’

I asked him if Lily had ever shown any signs of dementia.

She hadn’t. But neither had she had any acute illness that could have led to dementia-like symptoms. He recommended that we ask Dr Goulden to make sure there was no adverse reaction to drugs she was prescribed. ‘It’s a common enough problem,’ he said. ‘All drugs have side effects and sometimes switching to another similar drug can bring great improvements. I must say I am surprised that she is so ill. I would agree it seems very sudden and if she were my patient I would be reviewing the drugs very carefully.’

As Dr Goulden claimed he was.

There was nothing else he could tell us. I drove Agnes home and she invited me in.

We sat in the front room, peaceful and homely. It still had the original fireplace with its ceramic tiles showing dog roses and rosehips, and a picture rail ran round the room. Agnes had decorated in warm colours, gold and peach and a spicy brown. She lit the coal-effect gas fire and we pulled our chairs up close. From somewhere else in the house a clock chimed, a sound from the days before time was measured in bleeps and digital displays.

‘Is that it, then?’ She looked into the fire.

‘You can always get a second opinion – about Lily’s condition now. I think you should consider that. Or a transfer. See about her changing back to Dr Chattaway, perhaps? Talk to Charles about it, he might need to make the request.’

She nodded then turned to look at me. ‘And you. What do you think?’

‘I’m not a doctor,’ I objected.

‘But you have an opinion?’ Her dark eyes glittered.

‘I don’t know. I don’t like Dr Goulden but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know his job. I can’t make a medical judgement, and the whole thing seems to hinge on that. Maybe it just happened more quickly for Lily, maybe the drugs do need looking at again like Dr Chattaway suggested. Either way there’s not much I can usefully do at the moment. You need more medical help, not a private investigator.’

Agnes turned away, looked back at the flames. ‘I can’t believe I was wrong,’ she murmured. ‘Stubborn. How much do I owe you?’

‘I can send you a bill.’

‘I’d rather settle it now.’

‘There’s only really the doctors’ visits, a bit of research. Fifty pounds will cover it.’

She left the room. Came back with the cash. I took the bills and folded them into my bag. ‘Thank you.’ I wanted to apologise but I didn’t know what for.

On the doorstep she laid her hand on my arm. ‘Thank you. For listening. It didn’t turn out as I hoped but it helped to have someone taking it seriously.’

‘Take care,’ I said. ‘If anything else crops up you know where I am.’

As I walked away disappointment tightened my throat. If only it could’ve turned out differently. I thought it was all over then.

And we all know what thought did.

It was only ten forty-five and Tuesday was one of the days that Jimmy Achebe had asked me to watch Tina. I drove back to the office, checked my answerphone and mail and collected the camera. I’d invested in a powerful zoom lens which meant I could get shots of people without being under their noses. Nevertheless I still felt completely exposed whenever I used it. It was beyond me how anyone could fail to spot the strange woman parked in the car snapping away with a funny-looking camera. But to date no one had come up and knocked on the window to ask me my business. The zoom meant I could furnish my clients with the proof they wanted of lies told and trust betrayed.

Before leaving I rang Jimmy Achebe’s home number. No point in staking out an empty house. Tina answered the phone.

‘Hello,’ I said, ‘is that the travel agent’s?’

‘You’ve got the wrong number.’

‘Oh, sorry.’

I stopped to buy a trendy sandwich and a drink on the way across to the Achebes’. Levenshulme – where the biscuit factory sweetens the air. I drove past the address Jimmy had given me. An ordinary terrace. Door leading straight on to the street. A quiet road. One where a strange car parked too long would have the nets twitching. I parked up on the main road where I could see down the length of their street if Tina appeared.

I’d finished my posh butties (avocado, cream cheese and chives) and my drink. I was parked near the Antique Hypermarket, full of stalls dealing in furniture, fixtures and fittings. The sort of place you could get original fireplaces like Agnes’ among the Victorian hatstands and chaise longues. I’d tagged along when my friend Diana had got old chimney pots there for her back yard. I divided my attention between Tina’s street and the comings and goings of the antique dealers.

It was one thirty when she came out. The photo I had was a good likeness. She was short and slight. She walked down to the main road and turned left towards the shops. Once she’d passed the bus stop I slipped my camera in my bag, left the car and followed her at a safe distance.

Tina bought fresh milk and bread, a chicken, vegetables. She called in the hardware shop and browsed and did the same in a cheap and cheerful clothes shop. Then she walked back home.

Some you win, some you lose.