The Shadows in the Street Read Online Free PDF Page B

Hello I’m Dr Deerbon. Come in.’
    She was worryingly thin, pale with dark hollows under her eyes, bad skin. Her denim jacket, short skirt and trainers were not adequate for the bitter weather outside, but her children were well wrapped up.
    The screen showed the record of her last visit, two years before, and to Chris.
    The consultation was straightforward enough – both children had the winter vomiting bug, the boy an ear infection as well. The young woman got up.
    ‘Thanks, Doctor, thank you. I’m sorry. I know I didn’t have a proper booking, thanks. Say thank you, Frankie, you got medicine to make you better, go on …’
    The boy looked unhappy and turned his head away.
    ‘Frankie …’
    ‘Don’t worry. He’s feeling rotten. Keep him indoors and warm, won’t you?’
    The girl heaved the now sleeping toddler onto her other arm and opened the door.
    ‘Abi …’
    She glanced round. It was a child’s face, a prematurely old child, anxious, wary, masked in worldliness. But a child.
    Cat remembered.
    ‘Are you looking after yourself? I know how it is when your children are ill … Are you eating properly?’
    ‘I’m fine, I haven’t had it, can’t afford to, can I? Anyway, it’s the kids get these bugs, it’s all around them. He goes to a playgroup, he got it there.’
    ‘You need to look after yourself as well, Abi.’ She glanced at the white bare legs. ‘Keep warm.’
    Her eyes were defensive. ‘I’m fine. Thanks anyway, Doc.’ She sailed out, head up, the boy hanging on to her hand. Cat looked at the address. How had she got here? It was a good mile’s walk from the bus route. She would have to get the child’s medicine, trail home.
    And it had been her, Cat was sure, crossing the road at the traffic lights, looking out for punters. Where had the children been then?
    Bronwen’s instinct had been right. Cat needed to have Abi Righton on her radar.
    And the others, she thought, going through to the receptionist’s office. Because there were others, too many others, on the streets, at risk.
    ‘We don’t know the half,’ she muttered. Bronwen nodded, understanding, keeping her counsel.
    Cat went back to her room, Abi Righton’s notes were still up on the screen. They were sparse enough. Both children had been born in Bevham General and she had moved to her present address in the same month in which she last visited the surgery, when Chris had prescribed an antibiotic for a chest infection. She had attended the antenatal clinic once only, the mother and baby clinic for immunisations, but not otherwise. It was a thin record but probably not one to ring any alarm bells. All the same, Cat picked up the phone.
    ‘Lynne? It’s Cat Deerbon. Can I just run a name past you?’
    Lynne had been the practice health visitor for over nine years, until the team had been split up. She now worked with the other community nurses out of the social services department, her workload doubled, her colleagues fewer and mainly young and inexperienced.
    She came back to the phone. ‘Abi Righton doesn’t ring any bells with me and there isn’t anything on the SS register about her or her children. What’s worrying you?’
    ‘Nothing specific … just a hunch.’
    ‘Usually worth following.’
    ‘I know.’
    ‘I’ll make a note. I would say I’d call and see her but random visits for no reason aren’t part of the job any more. How are you?’
    ‘Fine,’ Cat said. She wanted to mean it, did not want what Judith had once called a ‘widowhood conversation’.
    ‘You?’
    ‘Counting the days.’
    ‘Sorry?’
    ‘I’m taking early retirement – didn’t you know? Can’t stand it any longer. Let’s meet sometime. I have to go but I’ve flagged up Abi Righton on my system.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    Another one the NHS could ill spare, Cat thought, closing down her computer. Another reason for looking hard at where she herself stood. She picked up her list of visits. Once, she would have spent three hours or