The Watchful Eye

by Priscilla Masters

  ‘It’s very unfortunate that you prescribed opiates and sleeping pills after planting the seed in her mind that she was terminally ill.’

  There was not a trace of sympathy in the pathologist’s voice.

  So Daniel had enough to worry about to make him forget about the threats from Arnie.

  It was Sammy Schultz who collared him on the following afternoon, looking uneasy and serious. For no reason at all Daniel’s heart did a little flip.

  ‘Sammy?’ he said.

  His partner was holding a piece of paper in his hand, held at arm’s length as though he wanted no part of it.

  ‘Umm, can we go into my room?’

  Daniel felt the same way as when he had thrown a snowball at a school window and the headmaster had found out who it was and summoned him to his office for a caning. Meekly, he followed his partner into his consulting room and felt a further snatch of alarm when Sammy Schultz closed the door very deliberately behind them.

  ‘I don’t know how to say this, Dan,’ he said.

  Daniel gave a humourless laugh. ‘Spit it out, Sammy,’ he suggested. ‘That’s the best way.’

  Sammy sucked in a deep breath. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’

  Daniel sat.

  ‘We’ve had a complaint.’

  Daniel frowned. ‘What sort of complaint?’

  Sammy Schultz was practically wringing his hairy hands. ‘Oh, Dan,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe a word of it. Not a goddam word.’

  ‘What sort of complaint?’ Daniel repeated quietly.

  ‘The very worst sort.’

  Daniel waited silently for the axe to fall.

  Sammy couldn’t even look at him. ‘Sexual harassment,’ he muttered. ‘Inappropriate examination. Intimate fondling.’

  ‘What?’ He was so shocked it was all he could do to stop himself from grabbing the letter out of Sammy’s hand.

  He didn’t need to. Sammy handed it to him, a look of intense sadness – almost grief in his manner.

  ‘I know things have been difficult since Elaine left.’

  Daniel was horrified. ‘What are you saying?’

  He scanned the piece of paper twice. It was badly written, in childish writing with numerous spelling mistakes but there was no mistaking the accusation.

  ‘I toeld the doctor I ad a pain in my tummey. E got me to liey down in a littel cubikcle with nuthing on and he tuched me up. All over. He’s a perv and I don’t want him for my doctor no more.’

  It was signed Chelsea Emmanuel (Miss).

  Sammy’s eyes were on him, waiting for an explanation.

  ‘I take it you have examined the young lady in question recently?’

  Daniel nodded.

  ‘Surely you had a chaperone?’

  ‘She refused one. She said she didn’t like the practice nurses so I asked Marie to wait outside the door. By the time I got into the examination room Chelsea was starkers.’

  Sammy looked resigned. ‘You should have insisted, Dan. The girl is only fourteen years old.’

  It was on the tip of Daniel’s tongue to point out that Chelsea was no innocent. She was a sexually precocious tart. But that wouldn’t help his cause so he listened meekly to his partner.

  ‘This may cost you dearly, Dan. And it’s terribly bad for the practice – particularly on top of the little Struel girl’s death. In a small town like Eccleston it doesn’t do to gather such publicity. I take it we’re still waiting for the verdict on that.’

  Daniel nodded. And they didn’t even know the full facts that surrounded Maud Allen’s suicide.

  He felt very alone and very afraid. It was hard to disentangle these events. He stood up, his resignation on the tip of his tongue but Sammy Schultz slapped his shoulder in a sudden display of bonhomie. ‘Weather the storm,’ he said, ‘but I advise you to contact the Medical Defence Union.’

  The Medical Defence Union were helpful – sympathetic even – but he couldn’t mistake the underlying seriousness of their tone.

  ‘Well, Doctor,’ they said, ‘this is unfortunate,’ before they advised him to write down his recollection of the entire consultation, exact times, words said, precise examination details. They asked him to fax his computer records through and his personal details. He heard a distinct and regretful ‘Hmm’ when he said he was divorced.

  He spent an hour gathering information on the consultation from the computer and composing his fax to the MDU and left the surgery with a burning feeling of indignation. He didn’t need anyone to tell him how potentially serious this could be. No matter that he knew he was innocent. It wouldn’t make any difference to anyone else – not the townsfolk, his patients. The allegation was enough.

  He felt dejected, defeated and helpless, paralysed because there was no way to fight back. He felt a sudden fury against her. It struck him then that he had lost his one ally – Maud Allen – who had believed in him. She had abandoned him when he could have done with her.

  As he walked along the High Street he felt paranoid. He felt people were watching him because he realised that if Sammy Schultz had his doubts, then how much more so would all these other people who knew him only slightly – as a doctor – and not as a man?

  His partner should trust him. Surely? Sammy knew him better than his patients did. He’d known Elaine and Holly. Their families had once mingled. And he thought him capable of deriving sexual satisfaction from touching up that grubby little…?

  He walked on, meeting no one’s eyes. He knew now what it was like to walk down the High Street, feeling conspicuous because all eyes were on him.

  As he stepped down the street the words of the Medical Defence Union rep rang in his ears: ‘No chaperone, Doctor? Her word against yours. We suggest you don’t continue to see female patients alone but insist on a chaperone being present at all physical examinations. For your own protection, Doctor. At least until this mess is sorted out.’ Brief pause. ‘And, as you know, these matters can take some time.’

  Daniel felt unbelievably paranoid. The eyes were on him.

  As luck would have it Arnie suddenly planted himself in front of him.

  Daniel held his breath.

  ‘You’ve bin touchin’ up a little kid, haven’t you?’

  So – the news had spread. Mouthy little Chelsea had told her story, gained an audience. Of course – now he worked it out – Chelsea Emmanuel and Vanda Struel were friends. He’d seen them a couple of times together, strolling down the street, Anna-Louise in her pushchair, watchful and wary as ever. Sharing her experience with Vanda was as good as putting it in the cards in the window outside the Post Office. Arnie was taking his revenge. And already Daniel sensed that the town would swiftly polarise – those who believed her story and the others who would surely trust him? He felt an air of desperation.

  It was all conspiring against him. More. What chance would there be of having custody of Holly with all this hanging over him? Mistaken diagnoses and now this.

  He felt terribly tired and depressed. His life was unravelling in front of his eyes and he was powerless to stop it.

  The policeman had finished his stint of night duty and was vigorously digging the garden, working manure into it with real gusto. Guy was watching him from the shelter of the rim of trees. With Brian working as lookout he couldn’t enter today but he’d be back again and again. One of these days the house would be empty again. And then…

  He smiled. Just knowing the power he held over them was enough.

  Brian stopped digging for a moment, straightened up and looked around. The neighbouring gardens were empty. Everyone was out at work. He scanned the field which appeared empty. He stood very still for a long moment, staring out towards the lake and wondered. Was he imagining a movement in the trees or was it the wind, teasing him by lifting branches and dropping them again, whispering tunes in the rustling leaves? He wasn’t sure but now when he resumed his digging he had a cold feeling down the back of his neck and knew that it was from that line of dark trees that eye
s had observed him. Not only him but Claudine and Bethan too.

  Wednesday, 10th May – evening

  Distracted by all the events of the past weekend and work, Daniel had almost forgotten about his date with ‘M’. The pub he’d chosen was in Stone, a market town five miles away: far enough to trust he would not be recognised. It was an old-fashioned place, near the canal. He’d been there a couple of times with Elaine, in their early, settling years in Staffordshire, in happier days, when they had still been convinced this would be their joint and permanent home. She’d grumbled, he remembered, at the house white wine, making a face as though she was being given vinegar.

  He settled himself with a pint of beer, in a corner seat, facing the door. He could spot the mysterious woman the moment she walked in and decide. He had a great belief in physical attraction forming relationships.

  He sneaked a surreptitious glance at his wristwatch. Ten minutes past eight. She was late.

  Maybe she wouldn’t come at all. It was perfectly possible that she’d lost her chirpy confidence and was going to stand him up.

  What humiliation – to be stood up on an Internet first date at the age of forty.

  This was worse than his real first date – at the age of sixteen with a classmate he’d always fancied. Like many first dates it had been excruciatingly awful, the pair of them blushing and tongue-tied.

  Fortunately, he mused, subsequent dates had been worlds better.

  The door opened and a woman walked in, glancing around as she did so. She was wearing a shiny black Mac with the collar pulled up and had long, shining, straight brown hair.

  So far so good.

  The woman scanned the bar and he had an impression of a lot of black make-up around the eyes, red lips and a certain vague familiarity that he had met this woman before.

  Her eyes reached him. She smiled. He drew in a deep breath. Oh no. This couldn’t be happening. Not on top of all the other sheer awfulness. It was a mirage. ‘Hello, Daniel,’ she said, walked straight up to him and sat down in the seat opposite.

  It was Marie Westbrook, his own practice nurse, and he felt as acutely embarrassed as on that very first dreadful date.

  ‘I did wonder,’ she gave a self-conscious smile, ‘if it would be you and then I thought, no, it couldn’t be. Too much of a coincidence.’

  He stiffened and wondered how he could get out of this one.

  She looked very different from when she was at work. For a start her hair was always pinned up in a sort of plastic bulldog clip thing. She wore no make-up. And her clothes. At work she wore the regulation navy blue dress and sensible shoes. But as she slipped her coat off he caught a glimpse of a generous cleavage, a short leather skirt, stiletto shoes and a great deal of jewellery. She flashed her teeth at him and he tried to focus above her breasts, onto the swinging silver earrings.

  ‘Well,’ she said archly, ‘aren’t you going to buy me a drink?’

  He gaped at her.

  She crossed her legs, deliberately revealing a shapely thigh.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’m here now. We may as well make the most of it. No point just going home.’

  There was something desperately brittle in her voice and manner. Daniel’s embarrassment was replaced by sympathy.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘Red wine,’ she said, ‘please.’

  He was glad to escape to the bar and make his plans. What the hell was he going to do now? He didn’t want to go out with the practice nurse. It could only lead to further difficulties. And yet. He turned to smile at her from the bar. There was nothing wrong with her. She was in her early thirties, more than passingly attractive.

  The truth hit him like a thunderbolt. He simply didn’t fancy her. Why not? Because he fancied Claudine. And as he had decided when he had parked himself facing the pub door, physical attraction is all.

  Therefore the evening would be a waste of time, as would any subsequent dates with anyone except…

  The barman was waiting.

  ‘Pint of Titanic and a red wine.’

  ‘Large or small?’

  ‘Small,’ he said then felt instantly guilty. ‘No, make it a large.’ The barman grinned at him.

  Daniel fished out some money and reflected. It would just about finish his reputation: divorced, wrong diagnosis, allegations of sexual harassment in the surgery, failing to find out what was wrong with the Struel child, having an affair with the practice nurse and the fixation in Brian Anderton’s mind that he was trying to bonk his wife. It was hard to believe that a few short weeks ago he had felt practically unassailable.

  ‘Six pound thirty, please.’

  He handed over the money and weaved through the tables back to his seat.

  ‘Thanks,’ Marie said and flashed another smile at him.

  He didn’t know where to start. Chat up and small talk never had been his strong point.

  Luckily she was not tongue-tied. ‘I know you’re divorced, Dan,’ she said.

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I’m not actually divorced. Separated. In fact Mark and I have been apart for years but we’ve never quite got around to severing the knot.’

  ‘Children?’ he managed.

  ‘No. We started falling apart within months of being married. It would have been folly to have started a family. I was only twenty-nine when we split up. Lots of women aren’t even married by then – let alone have children. I sort of hoped that I could make a fresh start but…’ She took a long draught of the wine, ‘the years start slipping by.’

  ‘Have you had many relationships?’

  She sighed. ‘A few. But it’s quite startling how… Oh I don’t know. It’s hard finding someone who’s the right age, lives within ninety miles, has the same sort of aspirations, interests, intelligence even. I went out with the man of my dreams for about eight months but he turned out to be married, busily cheating on his wife. I dropped him like a hot coal.’ She laughed. ‘He’s still got the nerve to ring me from time to time. To see if I’m all right.’ She made a face.

  ‘And are you – all right, I mean?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said casually. ‘I miss having a partner and I wouldn’t like to think I’ll never have children, but all things considered it’s better than being unhappily married. What about you?’

  ‘Nothing really since Elaine blew out of my life.’

  ‘No dates?’ she asked incredulously.

  He was thinking about Claudine as he shook his head.

  The evening passed strangely. He felt unreal every time he looked at her face and remembered who she was.

  She offered to buy him a drink and it would have seemed churlish to refuse. He had a half pint, thinking about the drive home. A drink-driving offence on top of everything else would finish him. She said she lived within walking distance and returned with his half and another large red wine.

  As soon as he could he stood up, wondering if he could get out of driving her home and refusing a coffee.

  In the end he decided not to offer her a lift. He had no wish to prolong the evening. The feeling of relief when he finally reached his car made him practically euphoric. He didn’t relish facing her at work tomorrow.

  Chapter Twelve

  Daniel spent the rest of the week studiously avoiding any of the public areas in the surgery: the kitchen, the coffee room, even the reception area. Instead he stuck to his consulting room like glue, hoping he wouldn’t bump into Marie. He was relatively successful at it and trusted that they could continue to work together without embarrassment. He heard nothing about either of the coroner’s cases or from Chelsea Emmanuel. And so he was in a limbo which might last a long time. The wheels of coroner’s courts grind as slowly as police investigations and are equally as thorough. Though all was quiet there would be a frenzy of police activity. This then was the calm before the storm. He knew he would face criticism over Maud Allen’s death. The suggestion of the wrong diagnosis and his resultant prescribi
ng had led to her suicide. What he didn’t know at that time was that there was another factor.

  And as for the fiasco over Anna-Louise’s death he couldn’t even begin to guess what his contribution might have been. It seemed that there had been no pathology – no hidden sinister illness. But there might have been pathology working around her which he had failed to act on.

  The Medical Defence Union also kept ominously quiet about Chelsea Emmanuel’s clumsy allegation. He just knew their lawyers would spend some time chewing over the salacious details before any action was taken.

  On the Friday evening he was delighted to receive a friendly phone call from Claudine. ‘Daniel,’ she said. ‘I am so sorry I haven’t been in touch. We have all been very busy. How is Holly?’

  ‘She’s fine,’ he said, enjoying listening to her voice with its slight accent so unmistakably French.

  ‘I felt I must speak to you,’ she continued, ‘to tell you that I don’t believe for a moment any of the things they are saying about you in the town, that you missed finding something wrong with little Anna-Louise. The Struel family are malicious. I am sure there is an explanation and that you are not to blame for the child’s sad death.’ Without realising that she was, in a way, talking about the same subject, she moved on. ‘And I was so sad when I heard about Mrs Allen. I can’t understand why she did it. She was such a – survivor. Like my grandmother, she was a brave woman and I am sad that she died like that. Oh, Daniel,’ she said, ‘and that horrible girl spreading rumours about you. It is awful. Such a small, nice town and so much happens here. I just can’t understand it that you of all people are having such a bad time. This is when you need your friends most.’

  He couldn’t but agree.

  ‘I don’t know what has happened to this town,’ she said sadly. ‘When I came here I was so happy to be away from Paris, here in England in such a pretty place, but it has changed. It was not like this when we first came here. Now…’