Prey to All Read Online Free PDF

Behave better around your father and both would be less severe.’
    He was scribbling on his prescription pad. Deb couldn’t believe he didn’t feel the heat of her fury.
    ‘Now, take this to the dispensing nurse outside and give your father two of these tablets at night.’
    ‘What are they?’ Deb demanded.
    ‘I beg your pardon?’ He sounded as outraged as if she’d asked him to take off all his clothes.
    ‘I want to know what you’re prescribing.’
    ‘I don’t have time for this. It’s an antihistamine. It should help the skin condition.’
    ‘Has he had this particular one before? They’ve none of them worked, you know.’
    ‘Make sure he doesn’t drive while he’s taking the tablets.’
    ‘You really are irresponsible, aren’t you? You have no idea of the conditions in which my parents are living. My father hasn’t been able to drive for the past two years. I have a good mind to report you to the General Medical Council.’ She didn’t wait to see how he would take that. She had to get back.
    She leaned over his desk and grabbed the prescription pad out of his hands, ripped the top sheet off it, checking that it was signed, and stormed out to give it to the dispensing nurse.
    The nurse took the sheet of paper, staring at Deborah in disgust. Echoes of the argument must have reached even this far from Dr Foscutt’s room. Deb waited, her hands pushed deep into the jacket pockets so that they couldn’t do any damage, while the nurse spent a quite unnecessary amount of time checking the prescription, finding the box of pills, sticking a typed label on it, and making notes in a file.
    ‘There, Mrs Gibbert. And next time please make an appointment. The doctor simply cannot have this kind of interruption. Nor can the patients who have bothered to make appointments.’
    Deb didn’t trust herself to answer.
    As soon as she got home, she gave her father the first two pills and set about cleaning his bedroom and giving the commode a much needed scouring. That done, she allowed herself the rare luxury of sitting at her mother’s bedside for half an hour talking quietly about the children. Then she went down to the kitchen, rolled up her sleeves and set about making something soft enough for her father to eat for supper and interesting enough to tempt her mother. Having felt her thinness, Deb thought they must have been missing a lot of meals.
    The washing-up took her beyond her father’s usual bedtime. Working to his barked instructions, she pulled apart the drawing-room fire and put a guard in front of it, looking apologetically over her shoulder towards her mother, who smiled reassuringly. Deb then turned out the reading light on his table, and folded up the rug he liked to have over his knees in spite of the fire.
    By the time she’d helped him up the stairs and gone through the whole ghastly ritual of persuading him to take all his pills with the glass of juice he demanded, even though she was sure it was going to make his ulcer worse, she was too tired to do anything but fall into her own bed. She knew her mother was more than capable of getting herself into bed.
    The next two days went better. On Saturday night Deb managed enough sleep to put in the effort necessary to create a proper conversation at breakfast.
    She was repaid when they started talking to each other again and occasionally even laughed. Feeling better as soon as she heard the blessed sound, she settled them in the drawing
room with the newspaper and set about making a proper Sunday lunch, as they liked.
    She really thought she’d be able to go home that evening as she’d originally planned, and phoned Adam to say she’d do her best to get back before he was in bed, but if not she’d sleep in the spare room so as not to wake him.
    ‘How’s it going, Deb my darling?’ he asked, with all the gentleness she needed.
    ‘Not too bad actually. Not now. They’re even being quite nice to each other this morning.’
    ‘I hope it