‘Zoe? She’s one of our nurses but. . .’
‘Is she in today?’
‘No. We were expecting her. I hope she’s not ill.’ That’s the first assumption these days, thinks Nelson. Not skiving off.
‘Was she in yesterday?’
‘Yes, and she left at the usual time. Five thirty.’
‘Is there anyone I can talk to about Zoe?’ says Nelson.
‘You’d better talk to Dr Patel. She’s our senior partner.’ The receptionist looks scared now.
Dr Rita Patel looks too young to be a senior partner, but Nelson is used to that now. She’s a slight woman with black hair pulled back into a severe ponytail. Her eyes, above her mask, are dark and watchful. She’s wearing blue scrubs which makes Nelson think of hospitals.
‘They’re the easiest and most hygienic option,’ says Dr Patel. ‘I don’t think I’ll go back to wearing ordinary clothes even after all this is over.’
‘Must be a tough time for you.’
‘It is,’ says the doctor. ‘We’re doing lots of telephone consultations but there are some patients we really need to see. And I worry about the people at home who need medical help but are too scared to ask.’
‘Scared of coming in?’
‘Scared of wasting our time,’ says Dr Patel. ‘But people still get cancer in a pandemic.’
It’s a very lowering thought. Nelson explains that he’s looking for Zoe.
‘She hasn’t come in today,’ says Dr Patel. ‘We’re a bit worried about her.’
‘How long has she worked here?’
‘Only since February but she’s a very good nurse. We all like her.’
‘I believe Zoe Hilton was once called Dawn Stainton,’ says Nelson.
Dr Patel gives him a very straight look. ‘Yes, she was. A very distressing time for her.’
‘She told you about the case?’
‘She was completely straight with us. She was found not guilty and the real perpetrator was caught and charged. Zoe was cleared to practise by the General Medical Council.’
‘And you’ve no idea where she could be today?’
‘No. As I say, we’re a bit worried.’
When Nelson stands up to go, Dr Patel surprises him by saying, ‘Is there any news of Cathbad?’
‘No,’ says Nelson. ‘I’m going to ring Judy, his partner, in a few minutes.’
‘Tell her we’re all thinking of him,’ says Dr Patel. ‘I do his yogic breathing exercises every night.’
Chapter 32
How long now? It must be morning although there’s no change to the light in the room. Or, rather, the dark in the room. She doesn’t wear a watch any more. She always has her phone with her. The loss of it feel like an amputated limb. She misses it, that comforting rectangle full of people. Even if she couldn’t reach anyone, she would have a torch, she could play a game, read a book on the Kindle app. But all she has are her thoughts and these are not pleasant companions.
Last night he brought food and water, two biscuits and an apple. He pushed it through a grille in the door so, once again, she didn’t get to see his face.
‘A nice slimming meal,’ he said, before closing the metal flap.
