mother said you hadn’t been feeling well.’
She turned away, avoiding eye contact. ‘Yes. I’ve got a headache now. Who’s that with you?’
‘Dr Pearce. She’s going to be with the practice for a year. May I have a look at you?’
She turned back again. ‘Can’t you see me?’
At first Abbie thought she was being cheeky, but then realised she had interpreted Leo’s remark quite literally.
‘Yes, but I need to look at your eyes and ears and throat with an instrument, and measure your blood-pressure with another, and then perhaps ask you some questions about your diet.’
‘I’m not on a diet.’
‘The food you eat every day is your diet. We talk about being on a diet when we really mean a reducing diet.’
‘Oh.’ She turned away again. ‘All right.’
‘Could you come over here?’
She stood, her movements wooden, and walked over to him. He looked into her eyes with the torch, then checked her ears and took her blood-presssure and temperature.
‘You’re a bit hot.’
‘It’s sunny.’
‘No, inside. You’ve got a raised temperature — I think you might have a mild virus that’s making you feel ill. May I feel your neck and under your arms?’
She nodded, and he kept his touch to the minimum. Even so, Abbie could see her shrinking.
‘Your glands are up — I think you might have glandular fever. Have you had a sore throat recently?’
‘You did have one last week,’ her mother put in, and Maxie nodded again.
‘It was very sore — it still hurts.’
‘May I see?’
He shone his torch down her throat and nodded.
‘Yes, it looks like a mild case of glandular fever, for which the treatment is rest, rest and more rest. Early nights, not too much activity, and take things easy for a while — maybe even a month. OK?’
Her mother nodded and smiled. ‘OK. I had it when I was sixteen, so I can remember what it’s like. We’ll have to have some early nights, I think.’
Leo smiled, but Maxie turned back to the piano. ‘I don’t want to rest. Goodbye, Dr Chandler.’
She began to play again, loudly, and her mother shook her head and led them out into the hall, closing the door.
‘She really ought to rest, you know,’ Leo said seriously.
‘I know. I’ll do what I can, but she’s better off playing the piano than working herself up into a steaming tantrum over it until she collapses with exhaustion.’
‘Does she do that?’ Abbie asked, amazed that the calm, almost monochromatic child they had just witnessed could throw a tantrum.
Mrs Clarke rolled her eyes. ‘Does she ever! You’ve seen her, haven’t you, Dr Chandler?’
‘Oh, yes — it’s spectacular. She’s only calm when she’s getting her own way, but she’s as stubborn as a mule. Any attempt to coerce her and she flips. Still, you manage her very well.’
The mother shrugged. ‘I don’t really. We achieve a sort of peace by letting her do things her way. Anything else is cataclysmic! It took some time to learn how to deal with her, and years after that before I could undo the harm I’d done with hugs and cuddles and abortive attempts at discipline.’
Leo nodded. ‘The school seems to have helped.’
‘Yes — me as much as her. It gives me a break from her but the holidays are just as difficult as ever.’
Leo laid a large, comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. ‘You’re doing a grand job — don’t lose heart.’
The mother gave them a weary smile. ‘Thank you. It helps to hear it.’
As they drove away, Abbie turned to Leo and shook her head. ‘How does she cope?’
‘How does anyone cope? There but for fortune and all that.’
‘Why didn’t you take a blood sample to check for mononucleosis?’
He shot her a grin. ‘Because Maxie doesn’t like needles, and when Maxie doesn’t like something she says so — loudly! Anyway, there’s no point. Whatever she’s got, a few weeks of taking it easy will knock it on the head, and if it doesn’t we can deal with it then. Now, we’re going to see the rest of my patients, and on the way back to the surgery we’re going to pick up some lunch and eat it by the river.’
‘Um — do you need me with you?’
He glanced at her, his eyes twinkling wickedly. ‘Well, now — there’s need, and there’s need. What’s the problem?’
She gave a tiny snort of disbelief. ‘Apart from you? I have things I ought to be doing — I’ve got an antenatal clinic this afternoon and I wanted to go through the notes, and then there are prescriptions I should be signing and letters to write and ——’
‘I’ve done your prescriptions and I’m doing your antenatal clinic this afternoon, so you’ll have plenty of time to sit down with Peggy and do the letters. Anything else?’
‘Yes,’ she said, furiously embarrassed. ‘I need the loo.’
He chuckled. ‘Trust a woman. Why didn’t you go ——?’
‘Don’t! Don’t say it! Don’t say a word!’ she exploded. ‘How was I to know you planned a day-long expedition? Anyway, you didn’t give me time!’
‘It’s all that coffee you had for breakfast when you should have been on your way to work,’ he teased.
‘I didn’t have time,’ she repeated tightly.
‘You amaze me.’ He shot her a wink. ‘Can you hang on ten minutes? Our next call is in the hospice.’
She subsided huffily. ‘I should think so.’
‘I hope so — don’t want my upholstery ruined.’
She glared at him. ‘I think you’re a few years too late to worry about that!’
He tutted gently. ‘I don’t know — why are you so determined to insult my car? Anybody would think you didn’t like me.’
She glared at him again. ‘Anybody would be right,’ she muttered.
Without warning he swung the car off the road and screeched to a halt in a lay-by. Abbie was flung forward and grabbed the dashboard automatically, her heart pounding.
‘Sorry
