From a Safe Distance

by Bishop, Julia

  24

  Dr Conway

  Max noticed that the combination of seeing Jack Marshall and Sandra’s imminent return made Helen more than usually anxious. She focused on her appearance, despite her exhaustion. The day before, Max had gone to Vee’s inquest, which was pretty wearing, then he had worked on the Vee report and his own notes late into the night. But at the moment, Helen was obviously in need of reassurance.

  ‘Max, you don’t think this top is too low-cut, do you?’

  ‘You look fine, darling, as always. I just wish I could be there to see Jack with you, but it’ll be OK; there’s no need to worry.’

  Helen gave Max her helpless child look and he wondered what kind of man Jack was to inspire such apparent fear. Max drove her to Squaremile. It made sense to use one car when they were both in on a Tuesday, even though it meant he had about an hour and a half before his first appointment. He parked round the back of the Day Hospital and staff lounge, where there was some outdoor seating.

  He sat on one of the worn leatherette benches in the staff lounge with a coffee. This lounge must be due for a facelift, he thought, as he noticed the ubiquitous magnolia was peeling round the doorframes and under the windowsills. A group of metal-framed chairs had been arranged round each of the two large tables, one at each end of the room. The black padded built-in seating stretched in two arcs under the windows, giving the impression of eyebrows, with the tables as eyes. These were the meanderings of a tired mind. There were other tables and chairs, next to other windows. Where the bridge of the nose would be, to his left, stood a huge plant resembling a palm. But what had once been considered good design was now shabby and in need of some tlc. Max was alone except for the bar staff, clattering crockery and cutlery.

  A length of brown carpet, sunk into the floor, extended from the admin. block offices at one end to the Day Hospital at the other, dividing the seating area from the bar. The office he borrowed every week was the first on the right in the Hospital.

  Jack Marshall appeared, heading towards the admin. offices. Max had only met him once, briefly, before today. They were about the same age, but Jack still had a full head of hair, which is more than Max could say, and a lean physique, suggesting he had once been a runner. His bearing was such that Max guessed he had been in the Forces. Max stood up.

  ‘Ah, Dr Greenwood. I’m seeing your wife this morning.’ His Birmingham accent hadn’t registered last time, but this was their first proper conversation.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Max.

  ‘She’s a very attractive woman,’ he smiled. ‘You should be careful!’

  Max smiled back. ‘I know. I’m a lucky man.’

  Jack went on his way. Max decided to go next door, to the borrowed office, to do some paperwork, but he was preoccupied with the Project and his concern over Helen. His desk was under the window, and a movement outside caught his attention. A little way off, Jack Marshall was talking to a woman in her late forties or so, with short fair hair, whose body language was very controlled; no doubt she was aware that people might be watching. Then Jack raised his arm to indicate that they should go indoors. Max moved aside quickly as they approached the entrance to the right of his window. He could hear their voices but couldn’t make out any words. They went through the staff lounge to Jack’s office and Max eased across in his seat.

  He realised it was time for his patient, and looked up just as she was arriving with a care assistant. Half an hour later, after arranging a follow-up appointment, the care assistant wheeled her away. Max came out of the office as the woman he had seen outside with Jack was making her way back along the brown carpet, still talking to him.

  ‘I know it’s not good, Sandra, but you’ll have to tell them – .’

  ‘– Oh, look, Jack, they won’t say anything … ’

  ‘Hello again, Dr Greenwood.’ With a nervous laugh, Jack interrupted what was clearly a very private conversation. ‘Have you met our Health and Safety Officer, Sandra Wheatley?’

  Sandra smiled. ‘You must be our weekly psychiatrist.’

  ‘That’s right. Well, I’d better be on my way, if you’ll excuse me.’

  Helen had decided she should see her GP, without telling Max. Her appointment was at 11.30, after Jack. Having brought the spare car keys, she drove the three miles to the village, hoping she would be back in time to meet up with Max for lunch.

  Dr Conway was a small, dapper man of about forty, his jet black hair brushed with grey at the temples. Dark, intelligent eyes shone from under his thick brows.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Greenwood. Take a seat. We don’t see you in here very often! What can I do for you today?’

  ‘I’m a bit worried.’ To her surprise, she found it difficult to admit she had a problem, now she had the chance to do so. She had always been fairly healthy and far more concerned with helping other people through their difficult times and health problems. ‘I’ve been having terrible headaches.’

  ‘How often?’

  ‘They’re getting more frequent – nearly every day, or part of a day now, in fact.’

  ‘And when did they start?’ Dr Conway sat back in his chair, watching her and listening intently.

  ‘Oh, about two months ago, I suppose.’

  ‘What does your husband think? Did he get you to come here?’ He chuckled. ‘I know what health professionals are like when it comes to seeing doctors.’

  ‘He doesn’t know. That is, he knows I get headaches, but not how bad they are. So far I’ve managed to control myself so that … He doesn’t know I’m seeing you today, although I think he might be starting to get worried.’

  ‘Are the headaches worse in the morning, or later in the day?’

  ‘Oh, first thing in the morning, there’s no doubt! I have to have painkillers ready by the bed or I can’t get up.’

  ‘Do you have any other symptoms?’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Dizziness, clumsiness, ataxia, nausea, for example?’

  ‘I have noticed that I’m more clumsy lately. I keep dropping things, spilling drinks, that kind of thing. I keep getting pins and needles in my right hand. Max won’t let me wash up nowadays. And some days I have to take an afternoon nap, which I never used to do. My eyes just won’t stay open if I’m not at work.’

  ‘Right. I see.’ Dr Conway glanced at the reference books on the shelf above his desk.

  ‘What do you think it is, doctor?’

  ‘There are a few possibilities. Is there any hereditary illness in your family?’

  ‘Not that I know of. Can I ask … ?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Is there something wrong with my brain? Like a tumour or something?’

  ‘Hmm. We can’t rule it out. I’m going to refer you for tests, including an MRI scan. In the meantime, I’ll prescribe you a stronger painkiller.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He printed off the prescription and filled in a form.

  ‘Here. Have the blood test today – the nurse should still be there.’ Helen made to get up, but he went on: ‘Before you go, Mrs Greenwood, I’d like to make two recommendations. One, that you don’t drive and two, that you talk to your husband. The one will necessitate the other. But things would be made easier anyway if you discuss it at this stage.’

  ‘Rather than wait for some worse news, you mean?’

  ‘Well, yes. But more importantly, he is your husband. I’m assuming that your relationship is good?’

  ‘We’re fine.’

  ‘Well, he’s there to support you. You don’t have to deal with everything on your own. He would come to you if he had a problem, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘I expect so. But you make it sound so easy!’

  ‘OK. You can drive back up to the Centre, but not after that. Come and see me again when you’ve had the tests: the scan appointment should come through quite quickly, and we’ll take it from there.’

  Luckily she was able to park the car in the same space, although there was still the cha
nce Max had missed her. It was a blustery day at the end of March, sun alternating rapidly with cloud. One moment the café tables nearby were gleaming, too bright to look at, the next they were a dull grey. Groups of people came and went. Max and Helen, meeting for lunch, sat indoors by the window with their trays.

  ‘You’re miles away!’ said Helen. ‘Don’t you want to know, then, how it went with Jack?’ She had given him the chance to ask, but now his time was up.

  ‘Sorry dear. How did it go?’ Max felt a surge of excitement, in spite of everything.

  ‘It was … interesting.’ She looked left and right. ‘I don’t want to go into too much detail here, but he said … ’ She waited for a screaming child to be taken out, then watched Max unwrap his sandwiches. She said she couldn’t face anything to eat. She leant forward, confidentially. ‘Jack said he had every confidence in Sandra, even though he admitted there had been one or two complaints from other staff which is why, he says, she was moved off the house. I said I wondered why Sandra hadn’t been demoted or disciplined, rather than promoted.’

  ‘How did he respond to that?’

  ‘He wasn’t prepared to explain; he just said there were other issues involved.’

  ‘But I thought you were going to try and arrange a proper hearing, for our report.’

  ‘I was, but other things got in the way.’

  ‘What about Vee? Did you talk about her?’

  ‘He maintains Sandra did all she could to help her – .’

  ‘– I can’t understand it!’

  ‘Sssshh! Keep it down Max!’

  Max tried to control himself, managing not to thump the table. ‘But it’s staring him in the face! The woman should be sacked!’

  ‘I know that, you know that, but Jack Marshall knows something else.’ Helen looked annoyed.

  ‘Helen, I met Sandra today.’

  ‘What! She’s not due back at work until Thursday.’

  ‘She came in to see Jack, and it seemed like an urgent discussion.’

  ‘Huh, getting their stories straight, I expect.’ Helen stared out into the sunlight.

  ‘Sorry … have I missed something here? What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Oh Max! You’re such an innocent! Don’t you realise they’re having an affair?

  Jack’s known for, well … ’

  ‘Ah. That would explain a lot.’ Max paused, embarrassed.

  Helen leant over again, whispering, delighting in the scandal. ‘I must tell you this! I practically caught them at it one day in Alder office! When I went into the house it was quiet as the grave. I knocked on the office door and suddenly I heard a lot of movement within, and Sandra’s flustered voice saying something like: “Yes, that’ll be fine, thanks Jack. Come in!” I had to smile. Anyway, Max, that’s the reason I didn’t want to hand the report over to Jack in the first place, or arrange the big meeting through him.’ Helen sat back in her seat and spoke normally. ‘We’ll take it to the top, OK?’

  They were able to get an initial appointment with the Chief Executive a week later. But Max wanted to know why Helen refused to drive anywhere. Saying she didn’t feel well was enough for the first couple of times, but then Max began to get worried. She realised she couldn’t prolong his agony and had to come clean. He gave her the chance.

  ‘Helen, I came to find you after I’d seen my patient on Tuesday, but you weren’t in the House and the car had gone. Where were you?’

  ‘I had an appointment with my GP. Come for a walk with me, Max, your favourite walk. We can get to the far end and back before it’s dark now.’

  But in the middle of putting on her boots, she was suddenly overwhelmed. Tears burned her eyes; the whole story came out. Max took her in his arms and held her for a long time.

  25

  Dick Montgomery

  Dick Montgomery’s secretary opened the door to his office. Brigadier Richard Montgomery, who was in his sixties, made himself comfortable in his large leather chair. He wore a tailored suit and spoke with a cut-glass accent. His bearing, like that of Jack Marshall, betrayed his military background, but this time there was definitely the added ingredient of public school. His tie bore an unusual symbol. Helen, once again without Max, sat in an ordinary chair.

  ‘You say you have a complaint about a member of the senior management, Sandra Wheatley.’

  ‘My husband and I have prepared a report, Mr Montgomery,’ said Helen, placing a copy of the document, in its red cover, on the desk in front of him. She went on, a little less confidently, as Dick had not yet reacted to the report. ‘It gives examples of Sandra’s conduct and we think it deserves your attention.’

  There was a pause, during which Dick Montgomery picked up a fountain pen and breathed heavily once or twice, apparently deep in thought. Helen thought he had an air of sadness which he was trying to conceal.

  ‘Why did you come to me first with this and not to Mr Marshall?’

  ‘I did see him first, but the questions raised are sufficiently serious to bring the matter to you myself, rather than wait indefinitely for “procedure” to take its course.’

  ‘And can you tell me what, precisely, is your husband’s involvement in this affair? He is not a full-time employee here, after all.’

  ‘Sir, Vee Gates, who used to work here, was his patient. He has evidence to suggest that Sandra’s attitude towards her was a contributory factor in Vee’s suicide.’

  ‘Ha, ha! Really?’ Dick coughed. ‘You expect me to believe that a respected member of my staff had something to do with that? How is that possible, Mrs Greenwood?’

  ‘We do want you to believe it, yes.’ Helen was fired up now and her Scots accent was in evidence. ‘Because it’s true. And that’s not all. When she was House Manager, Sandra was not really, well, managing. As you may know, I have just spent some time on Grove – .’

  ‘– Are you saying now that Ms Wheatley is incompetent, as well as driving people to suicide?’ Dick chuckled complacently and shook his head. He put down his pen and, his elbows on the desk, tapped his fingertips together.

  ‘We need you to take this seriously, sir,’ Helen asserted. ‘There are residents on Grove who appear to have been neglected.’

  ‘Now we have the dreaded word “neglect” as well. What will it be next, mass slaughter that nobody’s witnessed except you?’

  ‘With respect, sir, I don’t think you’re giving me a fair hearing.’ Helen’s annoyance was beginning to show. ‘Everybody would love to think that an organisation like this ran smoothly all the time, but the fact is that where there are people, there will be mistakes. I think you should read the report in full and make a few enquiries of your own before laughing us out of court.’

  ‘You’re wrong.’ Dick Montgomery leant forward and peered over his glasses at Helen like an ageing headmaster. ‘I do take these things seriously, Mrs Greenwood. And I intend to be fair. But you must admit these are pretty grave accusations. The Centre has been running successfully for over seventy years. I need to understand why, when you two come along, problems like this come to light. Now,’ He stood up. ‘I will read your report and I will see you again in a week’s time. On that occasion, I will invite Jack Marshall, Sandra Wheatley and a representative from the union to be present. Your husband will be there too, yes? We shall hold a formal hearing in the boardroom next door. After all, I think we’re still civilised enough to allow Ms Wheatley the chance to defend herself, wouldn’t you say?’

  26

  The Girls

  Helen hoped that those who followed her in charge of Birch and Grove would appreciate her hard work, but she knew that efficiency can be taken for granted. Grove would have its new manager in the next day or so, according to the grapevine. She was forcing herself to keep going in the meantime; the fear of not getting everything done meant she felt the need to organise Max too.

  ‘Have you rescheduled your Tuesday appointments?’

  ‘All taken care of. Hey! I’m worried about the meeting too, on top o
f everything else, but we … ’ He reached across the table and took both her hands in his. ‘We have to get through this, stay focused, together.’ Their eyes met. ‘And we’ve got Grace and Anna coming at the weekend, haven’t we? You’ll see your girls.’ He let her get on with her meal, but he had to admit he was having difficulty finishing his lasagne, even if it was home made. ‘The hardest part’s done now the report’s sent out. Thank goodness for that at least!’

  ‘I wonder what Monty makes of it. Oh, I forgot to tell you that I’ve asked that someone from Social Services be present next week, because of the neglect, you know. And for moral support, really … I faxed them the report as well.’

  ‘Right. No more shop-talk now’, said Max. ‘Let’s go for that walk we were going to have the other day.’ They abandoned the kitchen.

  ‘I can see why you like that walk so much, Max,’ Helen said as she struggled out of her boots, back in the porch afterwards. ‘Can you pass me some newspaper? And now spring’s arrived, there are loads of birds!’

  ‘They’re all looking for a mate. I’m lucky, I didn’t have to sing to get mine!’ Max laughed, realising it was the first time he’d done so for a while.

  ‘Phew! I’m glad I’m not a bird then! Narrow escape, that.’ Helen flung her arms round him.

  ‘How are you feeling today, darling?’ he asked, wanting to keep hold of her.

  ‘Not too bad. It comes and goes. It’s horrible not being able to drive, though. Perhaps Dr Conway was worried I’d have a fit or something. I don’t know.’ She broke free, not having the time to allow emotions to surface.