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Guilt at the Garage

Page 20

by Simon Brett


  ‘Sure.’ He’d answered on the third ring. ‘Does this mean you’ve rethought your reaction to my therapy centre idea?’

  His voice was still deep and intimate. Consoling, seductive. Jude wondered why she’d ever been fooled by it. Wondered why she had ever found it – or indeed him – attractive.

  ‘Yes, I have thought more about it,’ she replied coolly. ‘And I really wonder whether the area needs a place like that when we’ve got the Magic of Therapy Centre so close by.’

  ‘I see.’ His tone of voice changed instantly. The charm was still there but there was a harder edge. ‘What’s this about, Jude?’

  ‘I went to Smalting this morning. To the Magic of Therapy Centre.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Saw your friend … colleague …? Dr Rawley.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘He diagnosed me with breast cancer.’ There was no response. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t heard from him yet. Because I assume you will be involved. In my treatment. At … what? Five hundred pounds a session?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I think you know what I’m talking about, Jeremiah. Bill Shefford. Do you deny that you treated Bill Shefford?’

  ‘Of course I don’t deny it.’

  ‘You never mentioned it in our conversations.’

  ‘And do you know why? Bill particularly didn’t want anyone to know he was ill. And if he had wanted people to know about it, there’s no way I would have told you.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Oh, come on, Jude. You, of all people, should know the answer to that. A fellow healer? You know about client confidentiality.’

  That stung. But Jude riposted quickly. ‘Did you know that Bill Shefford kept a diary?’

  ‘You’re making that up. He wasn’t the kind to keep a diary.’

  ‘Well, he did, and I have it. Dates of all your sessions.’ That bit was true. ‘And detailed descriptions of what went on at those sessions, how he felt after those sessions, chronicles of his every mood swing.’ That bit wasn’t true.

  Jeremiah seemed somehow to suspect as much. ‘You’re making this up, Jude.’

  ‘I am not.’ Time to pull out her trump card. ‘There wasn’t only Bill Shefford.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘There was also Jodie Flint.’

  ‘We need to meet,’ said Jeremiah brusquely.

  ‘I agree. Come to Woodside Cottage. Seven o’clock this evening.’

  TWENTY-SIX

  Jude knew the risk she was taking but her anger outweighed the fear.

  It had already been dark a couple of hours by seven o’clock when, prompt to the minute, the doorbell rang. She was unsurprised to see that Jeremiah was accompanied by Dr Rawley.

  ‘Do come in. Sit down. Can I offer you anything?’

  Both shook their heads as they sank into her rug-shrouded sofa.

  The doctor spoke first. He seemed to be the senior partner in their business. ‘I did not expect to see you again so soon, Mrs Nicholls.’

  ‘Don’t call me “Mrs Nicholls”. Call me “Jude”.’

  ‘Very well. Jude … I gather from Jeremiah that you have been making accusations against us.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I would say, from the legal point of view, that’s a very risky thing to do.’

  ‘“From the legal point of view”? That’s rich, coming from you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I think there’s a law against diagnosing people with cancer when they haven’t got it.’

  ‘Are you talking about yourself? And your rather shabby bit of play-acting this morning? I’ll have you know that the treatment recommended by me, with Jeremiah’s healing assistance, has had remarkable successes.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘Some of our patients have had a completely clean bill of health at the end of it.’

  ‘No cancer in their bodies?’

  ‘No cancer in their bodies,’ he confirmed.

  ‘Hardly surprising when they didn’t have any when they started the treatment, is it?’

  ‘Jude—’

  ‘And when did you decide their treatment was complete – that they were cured? When they got suspicious about what you were up to? Or just when their money ran out? There’s no way round it. You two are a pair of quacks, playing one of the oldest con tricks in history.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re really in much of a position to say that, Jude.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Touch of the pot and kettle. Making an appointment with a doctor on the pretence of having breast cancer when you haven’t got it is … well, certainly immoral. I think a good lawyer might be able to prove it was criminal.’

  ‘I think a good lawyer,’ Jude snapped back, ‘would have a much easier job proving that diagnosing someone with breast cancer when they haven’t got it is criminal.’

  ‘I haven’t diagnosed you, Jude. I am awaiting the results of a blood test.’

  ‘Which I bet will be negative now. Anyway, since when has a simple blood test been an adequate proof that someone has cancer?’

  ‘I am afraid, Jude, that you do not have nearly as much medical knowledge as I have. New techniques are being developed every day. I know a lot more about them than you do. And I know that I have done nothing illegal in your case.’

  ‘Possibly not. Yet. But let’s put my case to one side. I only came to see you this morning as a means to an end. And, so far as I’m concerned, the exercise worked very well. I got the information I wanted. And that information does not concern me. It concerns Bill Shefford. And particularly the circumstances of his death.’

  Jeremiah looked rather nervously at his colleague, but the doctor was unfazed. ‘I can guarantee that neither of us had anything to do with Bill Shefford’s death. He died in an accident at his place of work. Neither Jeremiah nor I have ever even been to that garage. As I say, we could not possibly have had anything to do with his death.’

  ‘But suppose he committed suicide?’

  ‘That’s pure speculation on your part.’

  ‘Would you feel any guilt if he had committed suicide?’

  ‘Why should I feel guilt?’

  ‘It was you who diagnosed him with cancer. If he received the same approach from you as I did this morning, then I would think it very unlikely that he even had cancer in the first place.’

  ‘That again is speculation. And probably slander. I don’t deny that I diagnosed cancer in Bill Shefford. I stand by that diagnosis. And since he has now been cremated, there is no way of proving whether or not he did have the disease.’

  ‘But you signed the death certificate that allowed him to be cremated.’

  ‘That is normal medical practice. In a case of unexpected death, if the deceased has not seen a doctor in the previous fortnight, there has to be a post mortem. I had seen Bill Shefford in the fortnight before his death, because I was treating him for cancer. His family had no wish to involve the police or set up any form of enquiry. It was therefore entirely legitimate for me to sign the death certificate.’

  Jude should have anticipated that Dr Rawley would have all of his arguments so neatly in a row. She was beginning to feel as though she was on the back foot. She tried again. ‘After you’d diagnosed the cancer, do you deny that you put Bill Shefford on a course of treatment with Jeremiah?’

  ‘No, of course I don’t deny it. And are you criticizing me for that? Ooh, be very careful, Jude. You’re on dangerous ground here, aren’t you? Are you saying that Jeremiah’s a charlatan? It’s a very small step from that to saying that all healers are charlatans, nothing more than snake-oil salesmen. And then you wouldn’t be exactly backing up your own so-called profession, would you?’

  For a moment, Jude ran out of steam. Jeremiah took the opportunity to join the conversation. ‘You said you had in your possession a diary written by Bill Shefford …’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘In which he writes down all of his thoug
hts about his cancer and its treatment …?’

  ‘Yes,’ she lied.

  Jeremiah looked back at his senior partner and the doctor took over the reins again. ‘I think you’d better give us that diary, Jude. If you do that, then we’ll be prepared to forget all about this whole business … your making false accusations against us, the risk of slander. I think we’re offering you a good deal, Jude.’

  ‘You are in no position to be offering me a deal of any kind!’ Driven by sheer anger, Jude’s energy was returning. ‘I’m innocent in all of this. You’re the ones who caused the death of an innocent man and destroyed a happy marriage!’

  Infuriatingly, Dr Rawley wagged a finger at her. ‘Now be careful. That definitely is slander!’

  ‘I don’t care! What I’d like to talk about now is the dietary supplements you foisted off on to Bill Shefford.’

  ‘Dietary supplements?’ The two men exchanged anxious looks, then the doctor asked, ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Do you deny that you recommended him to buy supplements? You were talking about me going on them only this morning.’

  ‘There are lots of medicinal supplements on the market,’ said Rawley calmly. ‘Just go online and you’ll find any number of them.’

  ‘And what about supplements that are guaranteed to cure cancer?’

  ‘All kinds of ridiculous claims are made online. Miracle cancer cures have always been out there for the gullible.’

  ‘And what about your own miracle cancer cure? Those supplements marketed through “VADJ Trading”?’ To whom, of course, Bill Shefford had been paying thousands of pounds. And whose web address she and Carole had logged on to this afternoon.

  ‘How do you know about that?’ demanded Jeremiah.

  There had been a sudden change in the two men’s demeanour. She had struck a chord. Both looked uneasy, almost paranoid.

  ‘It’s all,’ said Jude, ‘in Bill Shefford’s diary.’

  ‘I think,’ said Dr Rawley, rising silkily to his feet, ‘that that’s even more reason why you should hand the diary over to us.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jeremiah, also rising. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Somewhere safe,’ said Jude.

  She was amazed by the speed with which they moved. Suddenly, Jeremiah had grabbed her from behind, his large arms immobilizing hers, and Dr Rawley stood in front of her, with a medical scalpel in his hand.

  ‘Where is it?’ he hissed.

  ‘It’s … it’s not here.’

  ‘Oh, I think it is.’ He raised the scalpel till she felt its touch against the soft flesh beneath her jaw. Not yet a pinprick but capable of being so much more.

  ‘Hand it over, Jude!’ Jeremiah’s voice was rough now, featuring no finesse, no seduction, just cruelty.

  ‘It’s not here. Really. I’m telling the truth.’

  ‘Then where is it?’

  ‘I gave it to my neighbour for safe-keeping.’

  Rawley looked at Jeremiah. ‘Is that likely?’

  ‘Yes. The pair of them work together all the time.’

  ‘Shall we go next door and get it?’ asked Jeremiah.

  ‘No,’ said Jude. ‘Carole won’t let you in.’

  ‘Then how do we get it? I’m sure you know the answer.’ The scalpel made a tiny jab. Jude felt it pierce her skin.

  ‘If I ring Carole, she’ll bring it round.’

  ‘Oh yes? More likely you’ll say something to warn her and she’ll run off with it.’

  ‘Would you feel happier if I texted her instead?’

  ‘All right. So long as you let us see what you put in the text.’

  At least they had to release her so that she could use her mobile. But Dr Rawley still had his scalpel out. And a tiny droplet of red showed at its end.

  ‘ALL FINE HERE. COULD YOU BRING THE DIARY ROUND?’

  The two men approved the content and Jude sent the text. To Carole’s old mobile.

  It seemed to take forever for Carole to arrive. The two men allowed Jude to sit, but they were restive, moving threateningly around her sitting room. The doctor had not put away the scalpel.

  And when the doorbell finally rang, he grabbed her arms behind her back and once again held the weapon to her throat while Jeremiah opened the door.

  Which was just as well, because the police whom Carole had summoned when she got the prearranged text signal were able to see the precise nature of the threat being made to Jude.

  And, even if they hadn’t seen it live, they would have seen it later in the recording that Carole’s new mobile had been making from the mantelpiece from the moment Jeremiah and Dr Rawley had arrived at Woodside Cottage.

  She’d certainly cracked making the video work.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  A couple of days later, Carole was walking with Gulliver on Fethering Beach when she heard heavy footsteps running up behind her. She turned to see a breathless Adrian Greenford.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked, without enthusiasm.

  ‘I … Gwyneth said I’ve got to say something to you.’

  ‘I don’t think I really want to hear anything from you.’

  ‘No, please, Carole. She’ll really make me suffer if I don’t say it.’

  ‘“Make you suffer”?’

  ‘That’s what she does, Gwyneth. She makes me suffer. She makes me do things for her. It’s because … you know, with the woman in Ilkley … I hurt Gwyneth so much. That’s why she’s confined to the wheelchair. She’s making me suffer for what I did. And then I fell in love with you and—’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ said Carole, now really angry.

  ‘No, I did. From the first moment I saw you, I just knew. But Gwyneth knew too, and she made me do the things …’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘The unpleasant things.’ Carole still looked puzzled. ‘Like leaving the notes … going along the alley behind our house, going into your garden and …’ He swallowed uncomfortably. ‘And smashing the glass on your car.’

  ‘You did all that?’

  ‘Yes. Gwyneth made me.’

  She looked at him, this pathetic man, locked into a marriage whose psychological depths she did not wish to plumb, and thought that, often, there was a lot to be said for divorce. Not, of course, that Gwyneth Greenford would ever allow her husband such an easy way out.

  And what made the whole scenario even more ghastly was that Adrian Greenford clearly got some kind of charge out of the situation.

  ‘Goodbye,’ said Carole. ‘Come along, Gulliver.’

  Woman and dog strode over the sand in the direction of High Tor.

  Rhona Hampton died soon afterwards. Shannon, who’d always ‘loved her Mum to bits’, was devastated. Jude went to the funeral. So did Red, who had reacquainted himself with the old woman in her final weeks. A month or so later, he started taking Billy Shefford with him on Sunday fishing trips.

  Malee, cheated of her husband’s real revised will, spent a lot of money with solicitors, reinstating its provisions. It took a long time, but Shefford’s Garage finally became the property of Billy Shefford. He began trying to negotiate with Nissan about the possibly of making it into a dealership for them. They weren’t very interested.

  His wife Shannon, meanwhile, kept saying it was all pointless because soon people wouldn’t be allowed to use cars, thus giving the planet a chance of survival. She thought it very unlikely that either of their sons would want to go into the garage business when they grew up.

  Until the change to a dealership came – and there was a strong suspicion it never would come – Shefford’s continued as it always had. The elderly residents of Fethering appreciated that Billy Shefford would pick up their cars and return them when they required servicing. And that they could get filled up with fuel without getting out of their cars.

  Frankie continued working at Shefford’s as she always had. And continued changing her hair colour every month, accumulating new perforations and different unsuitable men.

 
; Once the business of the garage had been sorted, Malee returned to Thailand. Carole heard the news some months later on the village grapevine. She felt a moment of guilt for not having been back in touch with the woman, but it soon passed. Carole Seddon wasn’t any more racist than any other middle-class Englishwoman of her age and background.

  Fethering could be very cruel to people who didn’t fit its templates.

  Tom Kendrick continued, subsidized by his mother, to do very little.

  Karen and Chrissie did actually move to Hebden Bridge, where they continued to be blissfully happy.

  The court proceedings against Jeremiah and Dr Rawley, in the way of the English law, took a long time to reach fruition.

  The threatening behaviour towards Jude was the unequivocal charge that could be brought against them. The police had witnessed it and there was confirmatory video footage of the attack.

  But the false cancer cure they were peddling through VADJ Trading on the Internet came into a grey area of international law which is still not adequately policed. They were made to take down their web presence but it was very difficult to find proof of the actual harm that they had done.

  And, of course, their main crime, the misleading diagnosis and treatment which had led Bill Shefford to take his own life … well, that could never be proved.

  It was a very unsatisfactory outcome, particularly for Carole and Jude. Dr Rawley was given a three-year sentence and Jeremiah, who had not actually used a weapon, eighteen months. There was a move to have the doctor struck off by the General Medical Council, but it was discovered that he had been many years before. Since then he’d been operating illegally under a variety of names, in the USA and Australia as well as the UK. When suspicions built up in one locality, he just moved on to another under a new identity. And presumably Jeremiah moved at the same time. Their cynical scams had been going on for a long time.

  After serving probably half of their prison sentences, the two of them would all too soon be out in society again. They would no doubt shift their theatre of operations again, but their evil practices would probably continue. The world will never lack for the gullible and the terrified, searching for a miracle cancer cure.

 

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