The Real Fantasy

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘So all she needs to do is have a blood transfusion, and make sure she doesn’t ever eat broad beans again. And her children shouldn’t either,’ Matthew said with satisfaction.

  ‘I doubt if they would,’ April said, wrinkling her nose. ‘Broad beans are disgusting! No self-respecting kid would eat them.’

  ‘I’d better check. Could I have her phone number?’

  She rang Mrs Dickenson and asked her if she’d eaten broad beans recently, and was told that yes, she had. Bingo! Arrangements were made for her to go to hospital for a transfusion, and then Linsey hung up.

  ‘Are you coping?’ Matthew asked her softly.

  ‘Oh, yes. I’ve cured a woman of a life-threatening disease and condemned a man to death. Things are just peachy.’

  His smile was gentle. ‘That’s general practice for you, Linsey. How about a tutorial tonight, after surgery?’

  ‘You’re on duty,’ April reminded him.

  He groaned. ‘Right, well, how about coming out with me now on my rounds and we can do it as I drive?’

  ‘I’ve got the emergency surgery.’

  He looked at April. ‘How many?’

  ‘Three.’

  ‘I’ll share them. Are they here yet?’

  ‘Two are.’

  He winked at Linsey and stood up. ‘Come on, Dr Wheeler. Hi-ho, hi-ho.’

  The emergency case she saw was quickly and easily dealt with: a child with obvious otitis media, a middle ear infection that was making him vomit, giving him a raised temperature and generally making him feel thoroughly unwell. The eardrum was still intact but quite inflamed, and she prescribed an antibiotic syrup for the little lad, handed the scrip to his mother and sent them on their way.

  Now for the last one, she thought, only to find that Matthew had taken the third patient already and she was free.

  He came out a few moments later, bag in hand, and they left promptly.

  ‘Tell me about your surgery,’ he said as he turned the car out of the drive and headed for the first call.

  ‘Oh, it was pretty much of a non-event except for Mr Joiner and his back pain.’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid that’s probably not good news,’ he agreed. ‘We might be wrong.’

  ‘And pigs fly,’ she said heavily. ‘He said he’d rather have the electric chair than a lengthy prison sentence.’

  ‘Let’s just hope he doesn’t end up on death row for years. Lots of cancer sufferers do exactly that.’

  ‘Maybe he’ll be lucky one way or the other.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Matthew handed her a stack of notes. ‘Here. The first call is to Mrs Simms—you remember we saw her at the hospital yesterday. I want to make sure she’s all right. Then there’s a routine visit to an elderly man who can’t make it to the surgery. He’s finding the heat a bit much at the moment, according to his son. We’ll see if there’s any need to admit him. Then Mrs Arkwright, who’s booked for a hip replacement tomorrow and just wants to chat about it.’

  ‘And you’ll visit her, just for that?’ Linsey asked, incredulous.

  ‘Of course. She’s housebound, scared to death and I can reassure her and take away some of that fear. That’s why I’m here. Why are you here?’

  She smiled. ‘I just didn’t realise there was still time to reassure. In hospital it’s all so fast—in, out, ten minutes for this procedure, five for that, forty minutes for another. You lose touch with what it’s all about.’

  Matthew’s laugh was wry. ‘Believe me, it’s easy. to lose touch in general practice, too. Anyway, I want to make sure she’s fit enough before she goes in. There’s no point in unsettling her if the anaesthetist is going to find she’s unfit at the starting line.’

  Mrs Simms was well enough, happy to be back in her own home, and although she was still very breathless when she arrived at the door Matthew assured Linsey that for Mrs Simms that was quite normal.

  ‘She’s not very well, is she?’ Linsey said thoughtfully as they left.

  ‘No, but a lot of our elderly patients aren’t.’

  ‘How can she cope at home alone?’

  He shrugged. ‘She can’t. She has help with shopping and meals on wheels and she has a home help from social services once a week, but otherwise she muddles along. We keep an eye on her and others like her.’

  So he was an old softy too, Linsey thought, and smiled inwardly. That was what continuity did for you, of course.

  Mr Briggs, the elderly man with arrhythmias who was suffering with the heat, was another case. He lived with his son, and so Matthew left him there with oxygen and instructions to the son to buy him a fan and close curtains and open windows to let the air circulate but keep the sun out, and to call if there was any deterioration in his condition or if he complained of any chest pain.

  ‘Why didn’t you admit him?’ she asked.

  ‘Because he gets very confused if he goes anywhere different, and when he comes home he’s often incontinent. He goes into Milhaven every now and then for respite care so that his family can have some time off, and when he comes out the stress is much worse. They told me last time they don’t think they’ll bother again.’

  ‘Could they get a carer to come in so they can go away?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘Financial pressures. The old boy hasn’t got any money, and his son’s job isn’t any great shakes. It’s the daughter-in-law I feel sorry for. She’s trapped there with a man she’s not even related to who is terminally difficult to get on with, and she’s getting carer’s syndrome. It’s a worry. I can tell you, after what I’ve seen I’d never live with my children.’

  She shot him a laughing look. ‘What children? Is there something else you’re not telling me?’

  He grinned. ‘Figure of speech. If I get like that they’re better off unborn.’

  ‘What do you mean, if? You’re surely difficult enough now, aren’t you?’ she teased.

  ‘How did I end up with you?’ he asked, pretending to be affronted. ‘Legs with attitude.’

  She spluttered with laughter. ‘I am not.’

  ‘You are. Right, here’s Mrs Arkwright’s house. We’ll go and explain about her hip replacement, and then we’ll head back to the surgery.’

  It was a small bungalow beginning to show signs of neglect, and Linsey guessed that the owner was gradually becoming less and less able to deal with it. Matthew rang the bell and Mrs Arkwright opened the door after an age.

  ‘Oh, Doctor! How good of you to come. Do come in,’ she said in a remarkably firm voice, and hobbled back towards her chair, leaning heavily on her walking frame.

  She dropped into the chair with a grimace of pain, and then carefully put her leg up on a stool and lay back, wincing. ‘Oh, dear. Just give me a moment,’ she said.

  ‘They’re not doing it before time, are they?’ Linsey murmured.

  ‘Absolutely not. Better now, Mrs Arkwright? I understand you’re having your op tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘And I have to say it’s not a moment too soon.’

  ‘No. How have you been since I saw you last?’

  ‘Very well. I know everybody else is complaining about the heat, but frankly it suits me. All those years in India must have conditioned me, I suppose, but I find I can cope with the heat and my leg hurts so much less.’

  ‘Let me just have a listen to your chest and take your blood pressure while I’m here, can I? Then I’ll be able to send you off with a clean bill of health.’

  Linsey watched as he checked their patient over and declared her fit as a flea and ready for anything.

  ‘So, what will they do, again? I’m sorry to be such a nuisance but I do worry about it. How will I cope afterwards?’

  ‘You’ll be fine. First of all they’ll admit you and check you over, just as I have, and then they’ll draw on your hip to make sure they operate on the right one, and take you down to Theatre. The operation takes about an hour, and then you’ll wake
up back in your bed feeling probably a lot better than you have for ages.’

  She chuckled. ‘I hope so. Oh, I do hope so. So, what exactly do they do?’

  Matthew whipped out a pad of paper and sketched a thigh bone and the hip joint, and explained where the bone would be cut, the new ball fitted on the end and the new socket cemented into place, and he showed her where she would have stitches and how long the incision was likely to be.

  ‘You’ll be walking easily within a week, and home as soon as you can get about with sticks. You’ll have to be careful not to bend too far and not to turn that leg certain ways—they’ll show you that. It’s just that the joint support is a bit fragile for a month or so and has to have time to heal. Once it has, you should be feeling better than you have for years. Now, who’s going to come and look after you at first?’

  ‘I’ve got a home help coming—one of those carer agencies are sending a lady to live in for a week. I thought it made sense.’

  Matthew agreed, and after a few more moments they let themselves out. They were just pulling away when the mobile phone warbled.

  Linsey answered it. It was April at the surgery, sounding a bit flustered.

  ‘There’s a young woman here who wants to see a woman doctor—she seems quite shaken up but she’s adamant it has to be a woman, and Rosie Farmer’s on her half-day. I wonder if you could come back, Dr Wheeler?’

  ‘I’ll check. Hang on.’ She turned to Matthew and repeated the message, and a quick frown creased his brow.

  ‘Does she say what it’s about?’

  Linsey checked. ‘No. No idea, but she’s looking distressed.’

  Matthew sighed, checked the mirror and spun the wheel. ‘Tell her we’re coming back. So much for that nice pub lunch I had in mind!’

  ‘I’m Linsey Wheeler. Won’t you come in and sit down?’

  The young woman came into the consulting room, her eyes wide and watchful. She perched on the edge of the chair and looked as if she was about to run away. Her knuckles were white where she was gripping her handbag and Linsey could see that she was very badly traumatised. She looked clean—too clean. Scrubbed.

  Linsey had a very bad feeling.

  ‘Will you tell me your name?’ she probed gently.

  Grey eyes turned to her. ‘Clare,’ she said in a harsh whisper.

  Linsey nodded. It was a start. There had been no hesitation, so she was confident it was the woman’s real name. ‘Can you tell me what’s happened to frighten you, Clare?’

  Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Linsey could see her casting around for the words, but nothing seemed to be able to make it past her lips.

  Finally her eyes closed and she let out a shuddering sigh. ‘It was awful,’ she whispered. ‘He followed me. I was going home—about midnight. I had to get my car from the car park. I heard these footsteps getting closer, and then he just—’

  She broke off, biting her knuckle. Linsey gave her time, then prodded again gently. ‘What, Clare? What did he do?’

  ‘He dragged me into the bushes, and he—Oh, God, it was sick. He was so foul—I’ll never be clean again—’

  She broke down, her shoulders convulsing, but no sound came out. Linsey crouched beside her and put her arms gently round her. ‘Shh, Clare, you’re safe. It’s all right.’

  The woman lifted her head. ‘But I’m not! How do I know I haven’t caught something really awful?’

  Linsey moved back to her chair but kept her hand on Clare’s. ‘Clare, did he rape you?’

  Her eyes squeezed shut and she shuddered, then nodded slightly. ‘It was disgusting. I can’t get the smell of him off me...’

  Linsey squeezed her hand. ‘Have you been to the police?’

  Her eyes widened and she snatched her hand back. ‘No! No, I can’t. I’ll have to see him and testify, and I can’t—’

  ‘All right. Clare, it’s all right. Will you let me look at you—just to make sure he hasn’t damaged you in any way?’

  Clare bit her lip, then nodded. ‘OK. But just you. No police.’

  ‘All right. But first, would you mind if I talk to a colleague? It’s his practice, and I’d like him to know what’s going on.’

  ‘He’ll call the police.’

  ‘No, he won’t. I promise you, he won’t.’

  ‘In here, then, so I can be sure he doesn’t.’

  ‘All right.’ Linsey picked up the phone and asked for Matthew. ‘Could you come in for a moment?’ she asked him.

  Seconds later there was a tap on the door and Matthew came in.

  ‘Dr Jarvis, this is Clare,’ she said. ‘Clare, do you mind if I tell him what you’ve told me?’

  Clare shook her head, and Linsey ran quickly through the story, then checked with the shaken girl that she agreed.

  Again she nodded.

  Matthew leant back against the wall of the surgery, keeping his distance physically so that he didn’t frighten her. ‘Clare, I know you don’t want to go to the police, but I’ve done some work with them in the past as a police doctor. Now, because I’ve done this I know the procedure for rape victims, and I know what samples and so on are needed.

  ‘If I were to tell Dr Wheeler what to do, would you allow her to take all those samples? We could send them to the lab with an explanation of what had happened and the information that you didn’t want to press charges at the moment, and they could examine the evidence and put it all on file. That way, if you ever changed your mind it wouldn’t be too late.’

  ‘Without identifying me?’ she said at last.

  ‘Absolutely. We’d tell them only what you permitted us to.’

  She chewed her lip, then nodded. ‘He might do it again. They might catch him, and he could be punished.’ She swallowed. ‘Yes, all right.’

  ‘What about the clothes you were wearing last night?’ Linsey asked. ‘Have you still got them?’

  She nodded. ‘In the bin. I threw them out. I could keep them, just as they are.’

  ‘Or let us have them. That might be better.’

  She nodded again. ‘OK. And—can I have an AIDS test?’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ Matthew told her. ‘If we can recover a semen sample, then it can be screened for HIV and hepatitis. You won’t need a test.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  He nodded. ‘Certain.’

  ‘All right.’

  Matthew sat at the desk, careful to keep well away from Clare, and wrote Linsey out a comprehensive list of instructions.

  Then he left, and she conducted the necessarily very intrusive examination as gently and quickly as she could. There was a lot of bruising all over Clare’s body, and Linsey made a note of each bruise, especially those that looked like fingers digging into her arms and thighs. She had a few minor internal lacerations, and as she was already engaged in a sexual relationship with her boyfriend, it indicated to Linsey just how violent an attack it must have been.

  She found herself growing more and more angry, and had to force herself to be dispassionate.

  Finally the swabs and samples were all collected, including nail scrapings and specimens of Clare’s own hair to compare with any that might be found on her clothes.

  ‘We might need a sample from your boyfriend if you’ve had intercourse recently, to differentiate,’ Linsey told her, but Clare’s eyes widened.

  ‘No! I can’t tell him! He mustn’t know! He’ll say I’m dirty—’

  Linsey let her cry for a while, then gave her a little hug. ‘Fancy a cup of tea?’ she offered gently.

  Clare nodded. ‘I’m taking a lot of your time.’

  ‘That’s all right. I’ll leave you to get your things back on while I make the tea. In fact, if I give you some paper and a pen, why don’t you sit and write down everything you can remember—about him, the place, the nature of the assault—anything at all—and then sign it, so that if you decide to press charges you’ve got it all written down while it was fresh?

  ‘And,’ she added, ‘
you might also find it helps you to work it all out of your system if you put it down on paper. Try it. It always works for me if I’m really upset about anything.’

  She left Clare dressing and went into the kitchen. Matthew was there. He pushed a cup of tea towards her.

  ‘OK?’ he asked.

  ‘She may be, one day. What a bastard. I was going to take her a cuppa.’

  ‘I’ll make some fresh. Get all the samples?’

  She nodded. ‘She had internal lacerations. What kind of a brute was he?’

  ‘Where do you want me to start?’ Matthew said flatly. She could tell by the very lack of expression that he was as angry as she, and it was comforting.

  ‘Do you think she’ll go to the police?’ Linsey asked him.

  ‘I have my doubts. It’s traumatic enough without having to go over it again and again to the pedantic satisfaction of the judicial system.’

  ‘But he won’t be caught unless she does.’

  Matthew shrugged. ‘It might be a one-off. It’s quite possible it’ll never happen again. There hasn’t been anything in the news.’

  ‘And perhaps his other victims have also kept quiet,’ she said softly.

  ‘Um—can I come in?’

  They looked up and saw Clare hovering nervously in the doorway. ‘Of course,’ Matthew said easily, and stood up, offering her his chair.

  He went round the table, made her some tea and pushed it towards her. ‘How are you feeling now?’

  ‘Better. I think—perhaps I should go to the police. You could be right. Maybe this is happening to lots of people.’ She scooped her long blonde hair back away from her face and Matthew breathed in sharply.

  Her neck was bruised—a circular bruise as if the man had tried to strangle her.

  ‘Yes, Clare, I think you should go to the police. The next victim might not be so lucky.’

  ‘What a day.’

  Matthew snorted. ‘So much for our tutorial session. I’m on duty now—damn.’

  Linsey gave a little half-smile. ‘I could feed you again—something easy? A stir-fry?’