From a Safe Distance Read Online Free PDF Page A

there. Max was aware that the conditions in the pub were not right for asking advice nor, for that matter, for talking at all. The noise was tremendous, so subtlety would have been impossible. And in the end, he wasn’t sure if Simon was the right person. He decided to bide his time; he’d said enough.
    Simon put his large hands on the table as he spoke, one each side of his pint glass. ‘I know what it is. You’re worried because you feel guilty. Am I right, or am I right?’ He lifted his head, nodded slightly with certainty and gave Max a quizzical look. Then, lowering his voice and leaning towards his colleague, serious for once: ‘Hey! You mustn’t let guilt about her suicide eat you up! It happens.’ He was almost gentle. ‘Have you got a date for the inquest?’
    â€˜No, not yet.’
    He drew back, both arms out in front of him on the table. ‘When did she die?’
    â€˜September.’
    â€˜So it can’t be far off. Then you can start to forgiveyourself.’ Simon folded his arms and went on, ‘Now then: are you going to read this book, because I think, my friend, that if you do, you’ll find out what she was on about, what she wanted you to do. And from what you’ve told me, I would guess that it has something to do with that Squaremile place.’
    Simon was making it all sound so straightforward, Max thought.
    â€˜But Max, if I’m right, it boils down to whether you want to take on what could be a difficult job, tackling an established organisation. Personally, I wouldn’t want to know, but I didn’t know Vee the way you did. Seriously though Max, there are other things to consider: your marriage, your reputation – your health, even. And do you intend to do Vee’s bidding, whatever it may be, on your own?’
    Max shook his head and finished his pint.
    Simon continued. ‘There are practicalities. ‘Oh, come on, Max! Admit it! It’s guilt pure and simple. Do you really want to let guilt take you down this unknown road?’
    Max had had enough. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here. I can hardly hear myself think. I didn’t think it would be this busy in here. What’s more, you’ve worn me out.’
    Simon laughed out loud. ‘Time to move on, Max. Time to move on.’
    If he decided to speak to Simon again about Vee, he would see him the next day, and the conditions would be better. The office at the Porteblanche Unit could be draughty, especially at this time of year, but at least it was quieter than the pub. Max didn’t get as many external phonecalls as he used to, but some were still put through to him, such as the occasional invitation to give a talk to some self-help group or other. He didn’t have so many patients to see either, in or out, now the majority had been reassigned. He had, however, reviewed the young man with the hole in his jumper who’d come in the other day; he’d calmed down, but was still resentful at having been sectioned.
    Max heard his colleagues leaving one by one, and thesound of a vacuum cleaner in the corridor. A particularly strong gust of January wind blew and the lights went out. The hospital generator kicked in after a few seconds. The door was ajar; hearing someone cough outside, he guessed who was there.
    â€˜Come in!’
    â€˜Working late again?’ Simon came in, smiling.
    â€˜Hmm. Simon. What is somebody of your age doing hanging around draughty psych departments after hours? Haven’t you got a home to go to?’
    Simon was slow to answer. ‘Well no, actually. It was repossessed. The recession and all that.’ He looked uncharacteristically vulnerable.
    â€˜Oh, I’m sorry. That was tactless of me.’
    â€˜You weren’t to know. My son and I are dossing down at my brother’s for the time being, but it’s difficult because I don’t like to be in the way too much and cramp his style: