The Betrayal of Trust Read Online Free PDF Page B

thought, to etch fresh lines onto a man’s face, to add a hundred years. But it was not ‘little’, this news that he had had to bring Lowther. ‘I think,’ he said now, ‘that before long this will prove to be a relief. Sixteen yearsis a long time to wait and not to know. Anything is better than that. At least, I hope it is.’
    Simon put a hand on Lowther’s arm. Perhaps it was the last straw. He could not tell. But as he walked to his car he saw the man turn away, unable to hold back his tears.

Five
    ‘JUST LIFT UP your right arm, will you?’
    Jocelyn did so.
    ‘And the left. Fine. Now, stretch both arms out and rest them on my desk, hands spread.’ Cat looked carefully. Turned Jocelyn’s hands over one by one, and back. Touched her forefinger to the knuckles. The joints were not swollen or reddened.
    ‘Where is it most painful? Hands? Knees?’
    ‘No, no, my knees are fine.’
    ‘Have you had anymobility problems at all? Going upstairs?’
    ‘I can do that.’
    ‘Walking – stretching and bending?’
    Jocelyn hesitated. Cat Deerbon was being so thorough, so careful, but she didn’t know how much was relevant, whether to bother about …
    She said, ‘I – this is going to sound weird.’
    ‘No, go on.’
    ‘I sometimes feel as if I’m walking a bit sideways … or even shuffling. I sometimes feel – it’s as ifI’m drunk. But I almost never drink. I had a gin the other night, at a friend’s house. I can’t remember the time before that. Glass of wine at Sunday lunch? Really.’
    Cat smiled. ‘Don’t worry. Can you just walk over to the door and back again? Slowly.’
    Jocelyn got up. Walked there. Walked back.
    ‘Again. Do you mind?’
    She did not.
    ‘Tell me what happened with the radio knob. Here – try this.’Cat held out a small tablet bottle. ‘No childproof top, you just twist it.’
    Jocelyn took it. She knew what she wanted to do, was trying to do, but her hand wouldn’t cooperate.
    Cat watched. ‘Does it hurt when you try to do that?’
    ‘No. My hand just doesn’t work.’
    Cat asked about her general health.
    ‘I get tired. But I’m seventy-three. I’m bound to get tired, aren’t I? I remember my mother beingtired when she had arthritis.’
    Cat stopped herself from looking at her computer screen. It was too easy a way out. ‘Look at your patient.’ She had had it dinned into her by a consultant on her first ward rounds. ‘Look at your patient, listen to your patient. They’ll tell you what you need to know.’
    She looked at her patient. ‘You don’t have arthritis,’ she said. ‘You’re not in pain; your jointsaren’t swollen or tender to touch.’
    ‘Oh. All right,’ Jocelyn said. ‘Both my mother and my aunt had arthritis.’
    Cat waited, said nothing.
    ‘I think I can work it out for myself … I have multiple sclerosis, don’t I?’
    ‘No,’ Cat said, ‘I don’t believe you do.’
    Jocelyn was visibly taken aback.
    ‘You haven’t been wandering round the Internet, have you? I know it’s tempting, and there’s plenty ofhelpful information there, but self-diagnosis via Google is a dangerous occupation.’
    ‘No. Not really.’
    ‘Not really.’
    Jocelyn laughed. ‘So, it isn’t anything and I’m sorry I’ve bothered you, Dr Deerbon. I should have more sense at my age.’
    ‘Do you think of yourself as old? You’re only seventy-three. That isn’t old these days.’
    ‘No, but my daughter reminds me about it a lot. Perhaps that’sit.’
    ‘Well, tell her not to.’
    ‘You don’t know Penny.’
    ‘OK. You don’t have arthritis, and I’m pretty sure you don’t have MS, but you do have something. You did right to see me.’
    ‘So what is it?’
    Cat hesitated. ‘I’m not absolutely sure. I’d like you to go for an MRI scan – just to eliminate a few things really. And I’ll get you an appointment with a neurologist.’
    ‘Oh good heavens, is thatreally necessary? It isn’t troubling me much, you know. I really don’t