Page 2 of The Truth Will Out
“I’ll call an ambulance,” Vanessa said.
“Another drain on NHS resources, when I’ve already told you what’s wrong with your mother and written her a prescription.”
“I’m entitled to get a second opinion. My mother is suffering. The trouble with you doctors is that when people get to a certain age, you write them off. Well, not on my watch. I intend to make sure she’s treated properly. Mum isn’t one to fake illnesses. Look at her, she’s suffering and deserves the best care she can get.”
“She has received such care. I’m sorry you feel she hasn’t. Do what you need to do. The doctors at the hospital will tell you the same thing. There are a number of bad infections going around at the moment, but if you’re not prepared to take my word for it, then there’s little I can do to change your mind. I’ll see myself out.”
“Well, I never. Your bedside manner is totally lacking, Doctor. I’ll be writing a complaint about this visit.”
He raised his eyebrows and left the room without saying another word. On his way downstairs, he paused to listen. He heard Mrs Evans pleading with her daughter not to make a fuss.
“Don’t be so ridiculous, Mum, you’re in a right state, and he couldn’t give a toss. I’m not having it.”
“I don’t want the hassle, dear. Can you get my prescription for me and let this be the end of it?”
“You’re impossible, Mum. You have the right to be treated decently by the doctor.”
He continued his journey down the stairs and left the house, making sure he banged the door on the way out.
Bloody people! They think us doctors haven’t got anything better to do than be at their beck and call every day.
Robert got back into his car and drove towards home. Halfway there, at a narrow point in the isolated road, his car was struck from behind. He hadn’t even noticed the van approach him. He slammed on the brakes and stormed out of the vehicle. The driver was staring at him, holding his gaze but refusing to leave his van.
“What do you think you’re doing? You bloody moron, didn’t you see me?”
The man stared straight ahead, ignoring him. Robert moved to the front of the van and took a photo of the numberplate, then returned to the driver’s door. It sprang open, knocking him backwards into the hedge.
“What are you doing? There’s no need for you to be angry. You struck me, remember?”
The man, with muscles that would put a bouncer to shame, glared and marched towards him.
Robert’s gut twisted. He hated any form of confrontation. He held his hands up in front of him. “Listen here, I don’t want any trouble. Hand over your insurance details and then we can both be on our way.”
The man’s lips parted into a snarky grin. “That’s all there is to it, is it, mate? Wrong. I’ve got other plans for you.”
Robert saw the man’s fist coming. He tried to dodge it but failed. He was knocked out cold.
Robert opened his eyes,not recognising his surroundings. He tried to sit up, but the restraints across his naked chest, along with the extra ones around his wrists and legs, made it impossible for him to move. “What the hell is going on here? Hello, where are you?”
He surveyed the room. It was larger than average, with old rusty shelving along one wall. Most of the ceiling was thick with mildew. He found the smell, another one he detested, atrocious, and it didn’t take long for him to start sneezing. The snot trickled down each side of his face. He had no way of wiping it, not with his hands bound. He was strapped to a metal table.
What the fuck is going on here?
His stomach rumbled. He didn’t have a clue how long he’d been there, or how long he’d been unconscious. Straining an ear, he couldn’t detect any movement outside the room.
Where the hell am I? What does this bloke have planned for me?
He lay there, staring at the ceiling for what seemed like hours until, finally, someone entered the room. But it wasn’t the man who had knocked him out. Had he been a hired hand sent to abduct him? The man wore a mask. He was about a foot shorter than the goon who had rammed his car and assaulted him.
“What’s the meaning of this? Let me go now, and I promise I won’t go to the police.”
The man laughed. “You won’t get the chance.”
“What do you mean? What are your intentions?”
“You helped yourself, didn’t you?”
“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
