The Vows of Silence Read Free Page B

to press for them to take the sabbatical in Australia, the one who had extended it from the original six months. The one who had been loath to return. “But at least we’ve come back to find that, at last, the role of the GP is getting more recognition.”
    “You mean double the money for half the work. No nights, no weekends, no bank holidays. Jolly nice—I take your point.”
    Cat groaned. “Si, this is an area where angels fear to tread. We’ve had so many arguments about it we’vemade a pact: Chris and I don’t discuss the new GP contract.”
    Cat had always been bitterly opposed to agencies covering nights and weekends for the practice, other than on a locum basis to give her and Chris an occasional rest. She had come back ready to do battle to retain her right to visit her own patients out of hours, only to discover that not only was Chris against their taking that work back in-house, but so was every other GP in the area. It was impossible for her to do out-of-hours by herself and so, resentfully, she had had to concede defeat.
    “For now,” she had muttered. “But I’ll find a way. I hate leaving my patients to the mercy of some doctor flown in from abroad at huge cost to cover a few nights here or even worse, someone on call from fifty miles away. It isn’t safe, it isn’t right, it is also over-stretching the ambulance service and over loading hospital A & E and it is not conducive to patient welfare and peace of mind.”
    But the arguments over it had become too angry.
    She and Chris had agreed to go back to work and accept the status quo, focusing on catching up with changes and reacquainting themselves with patients, staff and all the routine of a busy surgery.
    “Seen a lot of Dad?” Cat asked now.
    Simon made a face. “Took him out to a pub lunch a couple of times. Dropped by, but he was often out. I hate going to Hallam House now.”
    “I know you do, but with us away and no Mum he needed you a lot more.”
    “Not so’s you’d notice. I took flowers up to Martha’s grave on her anniversary. I rang Dad—thought we could meet up. He wasn’t in. He never mentioned it. I don’t think he’s thought about Martha since she died. Or about Mother come to that.”
    “That’s unfair, Simon.”
    “Is it?”
    Simon had been close to Martha, their handicapped sister, close to Meriel, their mother. Their deaths had been two blows from which he knew he had not recovered and probably never would.
    It was easier for Cat. She had Chris, she had three children and she had escaped to Australia.
    Escaped? He looked at his sister now, curled in the sagging kitchen armchair with her legs under her, holding a glass of wine. She looked well. But to call it an escape—for her—was wrong. He knew that if Chris had not pushed, she would never have left Lafferton. Cat was like him, a home bird. She seemed entirely settled and content to be back in the farmhouse.
    Simon closed his eyes, stroking Mephisto until the cat’s purr was like the throbbing of an engine. He realised exactly how miserable his months without the sanctuary of this house and this family had been.
    He let out a deep sigh of contentment.

Four
    She didn’t have time to look around and take anything in—the people sitting at tables or standing near the bar—because as she went inside he was there, saying, “Helen? Yes, of course you’re Helen. Let’s get out of here, it’s packed, this was a thoroughly bad idea.”
    And he took her elbow and guided her through the door. Outside it was a warm September evening. Dark. The Old Ship was strung with fairy lights.
    It had taken ten days. She had sent him her details, received his, sent a voicemail message, got one back. It felt right. She was comfortable.
    Phil had suggested they meet at this pub in the centre of Lafferton. She hadn’t known it, but both Elizabeth and Tom had said, “Oh, that place is OK. You’ll be fine there.” So here she was.
    “Let’s get right out of Lafferton.