Louisa George - The Secret Art of Forgiveness - A feel good romance about coming home and moving on

‘I’m fine.’ He shook his wrist away.

‘Well, you don’t look pale or anything, but what happens when those tablets kick in? You’ve had a double dose. Well, that’s… that’s also called an over dose. Blimey, I’m going to phone the doctor and see if we can get an appointment this morning.’

He frowned at her. ‘Stop fussing, I’m right as rain.’

‘Fussing? Fussing? You’ve taken too many tablets, Judge. It’s all I can do to stop myself phoning 999. I’m ringing the surgery for immediate advice. And I’m going to ask what the tablets are for, at any rate, seeing as there’s apparently nothing wrong with you. Why do you have a selection of pills if you’re perfectly fine?’ He wasn’t fine, she knew that. Everyone knew that. But the stress of a possible overdose was making her say and do the wrong things.

He, on the other hand, was quite calm and reasonably alert. ‘You know, you’re quite bossy at times.’

‘Good.’ She ushered him out of the room. ‘Get a different shirt on and meet me here in five minutes. I’ll call the surgery.’

And please, please be okay.

***

‘Judge Evans, are you happy for Emily to be here with you?’

The doctor was only doing his job, she supposed, but what a ridiculous question. ‘Given he walked in with me we can safely deduce he is.’

Dr Shepherd – yes, indeed, to her dismay this was the same doctor as twelve years ago – greyer, flabbier but just as efficient and slightly officious – leaned over to The Judge and raised his voice. ‘Eric, is it okay with you that Emily is here with you today?’

He doesn’t have a hearing problem , she wanted to say. But thought better of it. She didn’t think he’d take suggestions on behaviour from the woman who’d thrown up all over his shoes after he’d hauled her out of a ditch.

Eurgh. The memories were coming thick and fast, followed hot on their heels by mortification. Still, more than a decade later, she could ride over that, couldn’t she? She had to, for The Judge’s sake.

The Judge looked up from his close examination of his fingers and peered at Emily and smiled. Again. ‘This one? Here? Yes, why not? Let’s get on with it, I have things to do, man.’ They both breathed out a sigh of relief.

‘So, Emily rang and said you’d taken some tablets?’

Emily waited for The Judge to say something, anything, but he didn’t, so she bowled right on ahead. ‘I didn’t actually see him take them. I don’t know he took them for sure, but some are missing and he’s the only suspect. So, I need you to check him over. I’ve got the box here.’ She held out the evidence. ‘Exhibit one. You see Wednesday and Thursday are empty.’

The doctor looked at the empty compartments and nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘I want to make sure he’s okay, obviously. But also, I’d like to know what the tablets are for and whether he needs them all. Is there anything to help him put on weight? And he’s been complaining about lower back pain. Actually, I’ve made a list –’

Dr Shepherd held up a hand. ‘Okay. One thing at a time. Taking an extra dose is nothing to worry about, but you were right to bring him in. I haven’t seen him for a while. Tamara usually just requests a repeat prescription.’

‘Well, I think he needs assessing.’

The doctor’s smile frayed at the edges. ‘It’s good that everyone in the family wants to be involved – but having this kind of conversation with each one of you separately will take its toll; particularly on me and all my other patients waiting for appointments.’

Feeling a little chastised, Emily grimaced. ‘Yes, I see. I’m sorry to bother you, but he did take too many tablets so I thought that might be a medical emergency. And, Tamara isn’t here and I’m feeling a little in the dark.’

‘It’s okay, Emily. I understand why you’re worried. But there’s no need to be. The orange pills are to help with the memory and he’s on a low dose – so taking too many of those won’t harm him. The white ones are just a mild diuretic. He’s been on them for years. He seems quite his normal self, no ill effects. Although he may spend a lot more time in the bathroom than normal today.’ Once he’d had a good prod of The Judge’s ankles he said, ‘Eric, I need to test your urine. Here’s a bottle, can you go and do a sample for me? Toilet’s across the corridor. I’ll call Angela in to give you a hand.’

‘No need. No need. I can manage perfectly well.’ The Judge took the bottle and shuffled to the door.

Emily waited until he was out of the way then couldn’t hold in her thoughts any longer. ‘Geez, he’s only sixty-nine. Look at him.’

‘It’s a nasty disease.’

‘Nasty? It’s bloody awful. It’s humiliating and cruel. I can’t get my head around it, to be honest. Most of the time he’s pleasantly confused but able to function. At night he’s been worse – it’s like a switch has been flicked. And I’m embarrassed to say, sometimes I feel as confused as him.’

‘That’s understandable.’

‘And he looks dreadful. I barely recognised him. The hair’s not helping. I’m going to take him to the hairdresser’s after lunch.’

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