I looked around. Near here, Danny had made love to me while I kept an anxious eye out for tractors. Near here, Finn had walked her thin body back into health and had made me confide in her. Out there, I had nearly died.
I shivered. We seemed to be making no progress; however far we walked the landscape remained unchanged. We could walk all day and the horizon would just roll away from us.
I had always thought that when people were described as being purple with rage it was a metaphor or hyperbole, but Geoff Marsh really was purple. The arterial pulsation in the neck was clearly visible and I asked him if he was all right, but he waved me into the chair in front of his desk and then sat across from me. When he spoke it was with a forced calmness.
‘How is it going?’
‘You mean the unit?’
‘Yes.’
‘The painters are just applying the final coat. And those carpets. Our reception area is looking very corporate.’
‘You make that sound a bad thing.’
‘I suppose I’m primarily interested in it as a therapeutic setting.’
‘That’s as may be. But the existence of the unit and its role in our internal economy depend on its success as a generator of funds and
I counted to ten and then I counted to ten again. When I spoke it was also with an exaggerated calm.
‘Geoff, if I didn’t know and love you as I do, I might think you were trying to insult me. Did you summon me here to give you a lecture about first principles in post-traumatic stress disorder?’
Geoff stood up and walked round his desk and sat on the corner in a posture that had probably been taught to him on a management training course.
‘I’ve just given Margaret Lessing an official warning. She’s lucky I didn’t terminate her.’
‘What do you mean, “terminate her”? What are you talking about?’
‘This trust has a strict policy on personal privacy which Margaret Lessing violated. I understand that she did so on your instructions.’
‘What is this personal privacy stuff? You’d sell copies of our records to Colonel Gaddafi if he offered money for them. What are you playing at?’
‘Dr Laschen, as you yourself insisted to me, Fiona Mackenzie was not your patient. It was quite improper of you to ask for her file.’
‘I am a doctor in this hospital and I have a right to ask for any file I want.’
‘If you read your contract and our own contract of operation, Dr Laschen, you will see that your so-called rights are based on strictly defined terms of employment.’
‘I’m a doctor, Geoff, and I will do what I think is right as a doctor. And incidentally, as a matter of curiosity, when did you start monitoring routine applications for medical files?’ I saw a hint of indecision in Geoffs expression and I realized the truth. ‘This has nothing to do with ethics, you’ve been spying on me, haven’t you?’
‘Was this file on a dead girl required as part of a course of treatment?’
I took a deep breath.
‘No.’
‘Was it in your capacity as a doctor?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Indirectly.’
‘Indirectly,’ Geoff repeated, sarcastically. ‘Can it be, is it conceivably possible, that despite my warnings, you are, on your own initiative, conducting some sort of private investigation into this case? A case, I should add, that has been closed.’
‘That’s right.’
‘And?’
‘What’s this “and”? I don’t have to answer to you.’
‘Yes, you do have to answer to me. I can’t believe this. More by luck than anything, we seem to have escaped bad publicity, and this tragic case has been closed. When I heard that you were still meddling in it, my first thought was that you had suffered a breakdown. To be frank, Dr Laschen, I’m not sure whether you require medical treatment or disciplinary action.’
I almost leaped from my chair, and stared at him, so close that I could feel his breath on my face.
‘What did you say, Geoff?’
‘You heard me.’
I reached forward and clenched the knot of his tie, firmly so that my fist pressed up against his throat. He squealed something.
‘You pompous bastard,’ I said, and let him go. I stepped back and thought for a second. There was no doubt in my mind, and I felt an immediate sense of release. ‘You’re trying to goad me to resign.’ Geoff said nothing and looked at the floor. ‘I will, anyway.’ He looked sharply, almost eagerly. This was what he had planned for, but I didn’t care. ‘Professional differences. That’s the phrase, isn’t it?’
Geoff’s eyes darted warily. Was I trapping him in some way?
‘I’ll issue a statement to that effect,’ he said.
‘You’ve probably got it in your drawer already.’
I turned to go, then remembered something.
‘Could you do me a favour?’
He looked surprised. He might have anticipated tears or a punch in the face, but not this.
‘What?’
‘Withdraw the warning against Maggie Lessing. I can look after myself, it’ll hurt her.’
‘I’ll consider it.’
‘It’s served its purpose, after all.’
‘Don’t be bitter, Sam. If you had been me, I don’t think you would have been able to deal with you any better than I did.’
‘I’ll leave straight away.’
‘That’s probably best.’
‘Has Fiona Mackenzie’s file turned up yet?’
Geoff frowned.
‘Apparently it’s lost,’ he said. ‘We’ll find it.’
I shook my head.
‘I don’t think so. I think it will stay lost.’ I thought of something and smiled. ‘But it doesn’t matter. I’ve got a drawing by my five-year-old daughter instead.’
As I shut the door, the last I saw was Geoff standing there with his mouth gaping open like a landed fish.
Thirty-Six
The estate agent looked about fourteen years old.
‘Lovely,’ he said. ‘Just lovely.’
Those were his first words as he stepped across the threshold.
‘Very saleable. Very saleable.’
