The Bloodline Will

by A B Morgan

  ‘I thought most consultants saw private patients as well as NHS ones,’ Lorna said. ‘Standard practice for topping up their over-inflated incomes, I understand.’ She strode through the door to the pub, held open for her by Konrad. ‘I’m not convinced they can use NHS beds in NHS hospitals though. Surely that’s what private hospitals are for.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ Konrad replied, waving a greeting towards the welcoming bearded figure behind the old oak bar.

  ‘Usual?’ Rob the landlord enquired, waving a pint glass in the air. ‘And a glass of red for Lorna?’

  ‘Yes please, Rob, and four of us for dinner in about an hour if you can squeeze us in. Low calorie options for the Ribbles.’

  ‘Low calorie indeed… Pull the other one, Kon,’ Rob said, shaking his bristled jowls and grinning at what he clearly considered a ludicrous statement. ‘Low calorie… I should cocoa.’

  Konrad and Lorna took a seat far away from the bar area.

  ‘At first I drew a blank,’ Konrad said. This was true. He’d found nothing of consequence about Dr Sandra Yellnow until he explored the claims on her CV that she’d graduated from a certain University Hospital in Canada. He put in a call to their records department on the pretext of requiring confirmation of qualification.

  ‘“I’m sorry, Mr Neale”, – they said –, “but we’ve no record of this person obtaining a doctorate in that year at this University. Do you have the right name?” But I’d been thorough, Lorna. Really thorough.’

  Konrad had checked the details from the General Medical Council. Sandra Yellnow was registered in the UK as a practicing psychiatrist and had done so for fifteen years. She’d worked as a locum for a number of years prior to that in other psychiatric units around the UK, mostly in East Anglia.

  ‘I said to the fellow, “I’ll check the details of her maiden name and get back to you”.’ Konrad sipped his beer and inclined his head further toward Lorna. ‘I’d already thought of that. Yellnow is her maiden name. She’d married twice, divorced twice but never changed her professional name. I checked that too.’

  ‘So, a blank then,’ Lorna sighed.

  ‘No. Just as I was about to hang up, he found something. There was a record for a Sandra Yellnow, but not for psychiatry. She has a bachelor’s degree in psychology attained in 1995. She commenced a medical degree course in the subsequent academic year but failed to complete it.’

  ‘How far from passing the course was she? Do their records say?’

  ‘Not in detail, but the records did show that references have never been requested by anyone in the UK - until now that is. Apparently, they like to keep up with their alumni and take a note of such requests.’

  Sitting in the window seat of The Valiant Soldier, Lorna blinked rapidly, craning her neck towards Konrad. ‘Are you sure that’s what he said?’

  ‘Yes, I thought you’d want to be the first to know.’

  Raising a hand to her forehead, Lorna’s voice became tight and querulous. ‘So, she obtained falsified certificates? She registered with the GMC using fake Canadian paperwork that nobody bothered validating? And she’s practicing as a forensic consultant psychiatrist. How is that even possible?’

  ‘That’s what I’m hoping you’ll find out,’ Konrad said, smoothly leaning in to kiss her cheek.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Rumbled

  Ella looked stunned. ‘So, I was right? Sandra Yellnow is not a real psychiatrist. That explains why she once insisted on making me have blood tests for lithium levels when I haven’t been on the stuff for years.’ She stared hard at Lorna. ‘I must’ve really rubbed her up the wrong way when I complained, because that’s when she changed my diagnosis to schizophrenia. She does that with nearly everyone in here. She’s a charlatan. I knew it. What happens now?’

  ‘That is an excellent question,’ Lorna replied, opening her briefcase and carefully re-filing the papers she’d just shown to Ella. They sat facing each other in a boxy side-room at St Cuthbert’s. She’d lain awake the previous night, worrying how she was going to break the news to Ella.

  ‘Keep it under your hat, not a word to anyone.’ Preparing for the reaction to her next revelation, Lorna sucked in her cheeks. ‘However, displacing her could take some time to achieve; weeks, maybe months. Perhaps longer if the Hospital Trust and the Department of Health can keep it under wraps until there’s a proper inquiry. You won’t be surprised to hear that Konrad has leaked information to a member of the hospital board, anonymously. He pretended to be a concerned relative and re-spun the information you gave me.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Ella said, sitting back. ‘I’m quite shocked. At the very least I thought he’d get in on the act. Make a TV programme about it.’

  Lorna treated Ella to a conspiratorial smile. ‘No doubt he will, given time. He’s already got the new intern checking out the facts and figures on fraudulent medical practitioners and organisations behind production of fake certificates and academic papers.’

  Lorna’s visitor’s badge proclaimed that her name was Lorna Yates and that she was an independent advocate.

  The first time she’d met up with Ella at St Cuthbert’s, exposure of her real identity had been a close-run thing. As soon as she’d entered the room, it was clear Ella recognised her as Konrad’s wife. Conversely, it had taken Lorna a second or two to realise that the woman in front of her was the Ella Fitzwilliam she’d last seen a couple of years previously. At a wild guess, since then, Ella must’ve used food as a crutch, because she’d expanded from a fulsome woman to someone who’d given up on herself.

  Following Ella’s fate with dogged interest, Lorna was at her trial, in the public gallery, and once or twice she thought Ella had spotted her there. Now Lorna was genuinely interested in understanding Ella’s circumstances and how best to help her appeal formally to the Home Office. She’d done her homework too. She knew about section thirty-seven and had a basic understanding of the restriction order put in place by the Crown Court. Remarkably, Ella had taken the news about Dr Yellnow with good humour, so far.

  The next disclosure was not so easy to explain.

  ‘I’ve pulled some favours, and this will come down to a legal finding. As I understand it, if your original section papers were signed by Dr Yellnow, which they were, and she has no authority to sign them…’ Lorna smiled then pulled her lips tight, as if nervous.

  ‘Then I’ve been illegally detained,’ Ella said, finishing Lorna’s unspoken words. Seemingly overwhelmed at the thought of freedom, she raised a hand to redirect a tear. ‘Will I be transferred to prison to complete my sentence?’

  ‘Not if I can help it,’ Lorna snapped. ‘No way.’

  ‘What?’ Ella cried out. ‘But if I stay here, they can keep me indefinitely.’

  ‘No, they can’t. The section can’t stand if she’s a fraud. But there’s a catch.’

  Ella exhaled through flared nostrils. ‘What catch?’

  ‘Sandra Yellnow has begun the process of applying for your discharge.’

  ‘She has? Are you sure?’

  ‘Positive. They told me when I put in a request for an independent review by the commission.’

  ‘But this means, if she’s exposed as a fraud, I could lose my chance of being discharged.’

  ‘It’s a risk,’ Lorna said. ‘But either way we can support you.’

  This wasn’t going at all well. Having handed out the tantalising promise of freedom, could she deliver? And if not, would Ella give up? She rummaged in her briefcase again and brought out a leaflet.

  ‘Also, for whatever reason, you weren’t made aware of your rights under your section when you were transferred here. Take a look at this pamphlet. Seen one before?’

  ‘No, but then again I probably didn’t have two feet firmly on the planet at the time, and the hideous drugs make you lose the will to fight. It’s pretty pointless to try to prove this, the staff will just say I can’t remember.’

  Lorna shook the pamphlet in the air like a flamen
co fan, wanting to waft hope into Ella. ‘There’s no record in your notes to say that anyone read you these rights. No proof. Another reason for challenging your detention, you see?’

  Ella snorted and shook her head. ‘I see, but it won’t make any difference.’

  ‘Also,’ Lorna continued, ‘your original diagnosis of bipolar disorder bodes well for arguing for your release and for monitoring in the community instead. Under the right treatment, you’re perfectly able to maintain mental stability. There’s no need to lock you up. Although you’ll probably be given some sort of probation arrangement or community treatment order, I would imagine.’

  Ella muttered her thanks, giving no sign of positivity about her future. ‘What about the others?’ she asked.

  Across the table, Lorna put in greater effort to send out a message of good cheer. It occurred to her, that if she let Ella down, there could be a hefty price to pay.

  She sought Ella’s eyes. ‘It’s very good of you to think about the other patients, but each case will be judged on its own merit. As far as I know, there are only three of you here where this fully applies. For now, we worry about you. The others will get legal representation, and eventually Dr Yellnow will face the consequences of her massive fraud. The GMC will most definitely need to review its vetting procedures for overseas doctors, and, as sure as eggs is eggs, my husband will make a documentary about it. All’s well that ends well, as they say.’

  A heavy silence descended as Ella adjusted to the news. ‘So, I could leave here, go to a poxy hostel in the back of beyond to wait out my days, and hope no one recognises me as I get progressively fatter on unsuitable medication because some psychiatrist dictates what I can and cannot do. Not much to look forward to is it?’

  It pained Lorna to hear how alone in the world Ella was feeling. ‘I’m certain it won’t come to that. What about your friends and family?’

  Ella wrinkled her face. ‘My friend Ada has visited a few times; she writes, she phones, she understands.’ Ella smiled at the thought. ‘And I get the odd call from Mal who still visits me, daft bugger. You remember Malik, don’t you? He sends me presents now and again, little luxuries and the like.’

  Lorna perked up at the sound of Malik Khan’s name. She hadn’t liked him immediately when they’d first crossed paths because he was one of the most annoyingly cocksure private investigators Lorna had ever met. And out of habit he called women ‘luv’, which infuriated her no end. It wasn’t an endearing well-rounded ‘love’ but a cropped common term sounding almost like ‘lav’. He came across as flashy and fly.

  Fortunately, Lorna was wise enough to see past Mal’s showy exterior, and it wasn’t long before his true gentle nature showed, especially when Ella’s mental health exploded into disaster. He’d stuck by her when lesser men would’ve scarpered at the first sign of insanity.

  Lorna held high hopes that he and Ella would one day find a way to make their friendship blossom into a forbidden star-crossed romance worthy of a place in any novel. Ella must have seen the joy in Lorna’s eyes at the very mention of him.

  ‘You can forget that idea,’ she said. ‘He’s a friend. A lovely and generous soul who doesn’t deserve to be saddled with a bonkers biddy like me for the rest of his days. I made it clear he should bugger off and get a real life.’

  ‘Oh, Ella. He adored you.’

  ‘Maybe, but what good would it do to keep the poor man dangling. Anyway, apart from Mal and Ada, there’s no one. My family, what there is of it, disowned me several years ago. I’ll spare you the tragic details. They live abroad.’

  ‘Yes, I remember,’ Lorna replied.

  Ella closed her eyelids, taking time to reopen them. Lorna slumped in her seat, sadness pulling downwards at the corners of her mouth and Ella caught her expression. ‘Don’t give me your pity,’ she said with an ironic laugh. ‘I don’t want it. Being in here is not as bad as it seems, you know. I get three meals a day, routine, I sing in the choir, I’ve done distance learning courses, I’ve no worry about bills, and nobody turns a hair if I act strangely. I’m the sanest one in here.’

  Ella looked ruefully towards a small window high in the wall. ‘If I do ever get out of here, I could always go knocking on Abigail Nithercott’s manor house door. If I get stuck for somewhere to doss down, I could call her up, and we could continue our chat about genealogy.’

  Unable to disguise her shock at this statement, Lorna’s jaw slackened as she tried to take in what Ella was saying. ‘Did you say Abigail Nithercott?’

  ‘Oh, yes. You can tell Mr Neale what a good girl I’ve been. I got to know Abigail more than he ever thought possible. She talked to me quite a lot, and so did those private nurses, and I have to say the woman is as nutty as a fruitcake. A complete screwball. Not wired to the moon, but most definitely psycho. And as for that other Nithercott, well… I’m a lot wiser about him.’ Ella leaned forward and clasped her hands together. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to ask me about her, but so far you’ve kept up your act very well, Mrs Neale. I’m impressed.’

  ❖

  Three hours later, Lorna screeched to a halt in her VW Golf. Konrad, one hand in the pocket of his pinstriped suit trousers, was chatting in a relaxed fashion to a fellow passenger at the pick up and drop off zone outside the station in Lensham. He raised his rolled newspaper to acknowledge her arrival, before tucking it under his arm, shaking hands with the man and reaching for the handle of the car door. ‘Thanks, love, that was quick. Saved me getting a cab. What’s up? Still upset about Mr Jinx?’

  ‘What’s up?’ Lorna replied. ‘I’ll tell you what’s up, and it’s got nothing to do with my cat.’ The words were forced through gritted teeth, and the speed at which she drove him towards home, through the lanes, ensured that Konrad knew he was in for a grilling. She was seething.

  ‘Well?’ he asked. ‘What’ve I forgotten now?’

  Words escaped her, but the anger and bitterness at discovering his deceitful scheming finally erupted as tears. Barely able to see, she pulled over in a lay-by, unable to continue the journey safely.

  ‘Weeks I’ve been visiting for. Hours of my time spent with commissioners, solicitors, hospital managers and Ella. And every time you asked me how things were progressing, I assumed you were interested in seeing that supercilious doctor exposed as a fraud. Just this once, I thought you cared about what happened to the victims.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Oh, yes? Then explain to me why you failed to mention one thing about Abigail Nithercott being at St Cuthbert’s. Not once did you say she was the private patient you saw there.’

  Lorna hammered on the steering wheel. ‘You didn’t need to interfere or ask me to spy for you because Ella was already a willing intelligence agent. She thinks I was sent to secure her release and that of her fellow patients, in exchange for information on the Nithercotts. She says you are going to champion a call for legal reforms to the forensic part of the Mental Health Act, for pity’s sake.’ She ran out of puff and stared at him through reddened eyes. ‘Is that true?’

  ‘In a way, yes. But I promise I never let on to Ella that I recognised Abigail Nithercott. She must’ve known who she was and … she’s a bright girl.’

  ‘We are in such a lot of deep smelly stuff now, Kon. Both of us,’ Lorna wailed, waving her hands in his face like a mad karate expert. ‘I took a massive risk taking on her case and hoping to God no one made the connection between you and me. Ella kept the conflict of interest to herself and was wise enough to see I truly wanted to help her, but no one will believe that. Not now.’

  Lorna gasped in despair as she jabbed punches into the air, inches from her husband’s chin. ‘How could you?’

  ‘What did you expect? I saw her, Lorna. Abigail Nithercott as large as life, knitting like a demon, in that hospital. You know me, I can’t help it. Any chance to dish the dirt on the Nithercotts and I’m like a rat up a drainpipe.’

  ‘It’s a rat trap baby, and we’ve been caught,’ Lorna lamented. ‘Wit
h a bloody injunction in place, how could you have been so stupid?’

  ‘No, honestly—’

  Lorna could take no more of the pressure building in her head. She exploded at Konrad, infuriated beyond the point of reason. ‘Get out! You can walk the rest of the way home.’

  But he didn’t make a move towards the door handle. He didn’t argue with her. Stymied, she glowered at him and made a shoving motion with both hands. Despite this, he remained resolutely in the passenger seat.

  ‘Don’t you want to hear why it’s so important?’ he asked calmly. He turned his shoulders to see her clearly with his left eye. The pupil was enlarged, enticing her to listen. ‘Don’t you want to know what Logan Peplow said to me in his interview that makes me convinced that Abigail Nithercott is his stalker?’

  CHAPTER NINE

  Watching and baiting

  Several weeks earlier, the first interview with Logan Peplow had gone far better than Konrad expected. Although the poor man looked a little flustered when he’d first arrived, it was mostly down to concierge George’s over-enthusiastic welcome.

  Apparently, George struggled to string a sentence together such was his dramatic reaction to the sight of Logan Peplow being escorted to the lifts by the security guard. According to a colleague, he had pranced from behind reception to take over from Abdul the security officer who had conceded without protest and returned to monitoring the entrance to Marriot and Weston’s; the block where Channel 7 had its offices. Konrad spent much of his time there when he was in London, using some of the smaller studios and editing suites.

  When Logan and Kat emerged from the lift onto the third floor main corridor, Konrad was struck by the sheer physical size of the man, and then by the conspicuously younger woman at his side. Unfortunately, by now George had lost sight of acceptable behaviour and was practically rubbing his head on Logan’s upper arm, ogling.