The young woman sitting in the chair next to Eve’s, kept sniffing. She had a sleeping toddler sprawled on her lap and was flicking through a magazine, not pausing long enough to actually read any of the articles: flick, sniff, flick, sniff. Eve’s hands itched to reach across and rip the magazine out of her fingers and throw it across the room.
‘Sam Hughes?’
A boy got up from a chair in the row in front and followed the nurse out of the waiting room.
Sniff.
Eve sighed deeply and shifted away slightly, crossing her legs so that she was facing the other way.
Sniff.
‘Oooh, look at this! Custard tarts with raspberries.’ Flora was sitting on her other side, her head buried in a copy of BBC Good Food. ‘I haven’t had a custard tart in years! Do you like custard tarts, Eve?’
‘Not really, Mum,’ said Eve.
Sniff.
She ought to say something. She was too British when it came to stuff like this, afraid to make a scene. She should just come straight out with it and ask the woman to go and blow her bloody nose. Or, better still, pull some tissues from her own bag and hand them over, her actions speaking so much louder than any words. Unfortunately, she had no tissues; she’d used the last one earlier this morning to wipe the remains of Daniel’s breakfast off his school jumper when she dropped him at the gates, scrubbing so hard she’d left a patch of white fuzz across the burgundy wool.
‘I don’t know why they use figs in cakes,’ Flora was saying. ‘I don’t like figs, I never have done. Those little pippy bits get stuck in your teeth.’
Eve kept her eyes on her book. She’d been reading the same sentence over and over for the last few minutes, unable to concentrate, but unwilling to put the book down in case it encouraged Flora to chat even more. She was being mean, but felt so tired this afternoon.
‘Now that’s a useful little thing,’ Flora said, holding the magazine closer to her face. ‘A kitchen tap that gives out boiling water so you don’t need to boil a kettle. Eve, have you ever seen anything like it? How clever.’
‘Yes, Mum, most new properties have them.’ She must stop snapping, it wasn’t fair. She forced herself to look up and smile. ‘You’re right, I’m sure they must be very useful.’
Flora was studying the magazine intently again, so Eve allowed her eyes to drop back down to her book. This place always made her feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t just the smell of it – disinfectant blended with floor polish and a base note of vomit – it was the awkwardness of being in a room full of people who might have cancer, depression, asthma or just a tickly cough, but who all needed help and support.
Ironically, this was the sort of place where Flora’s slightly odd behaviour shouldn’t matter; these people were strangers, why should she care if they were listening to their conversation and passing judgement on the quirkiness of a little old lady? But, to Eve’s shame, it did matter. She hated knowing that people were staring as Flora chatted away to herself. She sensed some of them shifting uncomfortably in their seats as her mother’s thin, wobbly voice rang out across the waiting room.
‘La, la, la, laaaa…’
‘Mum,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t sing here.’
‘All is calm, all is bright…’
‘Mum, please?’
Flora turned, her brow furrowed. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Please don’t sing in here.’
‘Why not?’
‘There are other people trying to concentrate on what they’re doing. It’s a bit antisocial.’
Flora snorted. ‘So what? I am practising my carols! La, la, laaaaa – virgin mother and child…’
The door opened at the far end of the room and one of the doctors stuck his head around it. ‘Mrs Glover?’
‘That’s us. Come on, Mum.’ Eve bundled her book into her bag and took Flora’s arm to help her up from the seat.
‘Here,’ said Flora, turning to the overweight man sitting next to her and pushing the magazine into his hands. ‘You’d better have this. It’s all about food – you obviously like a bit of that.’
They hadn’t seen this GP before, which wasn’t surprising. The surgery was oversubscribed and Eve knew that two of the regular doctors had left recently, their places taken by locums. It was hard enough to get through to a human being on the main phone number, let alone ask to be seen by a specific doctor. But having waited ten days for this appointment, she really didn’t care who they saw.
‘What can I do for you today?’ asked the man. He was possibly half Eve’s age with untamed curly brown hair and a fresh face showing no signs that he’d experienced much of life.
‘It’s a six-monthly check-up,’ said Eve, irritated at the need to explain. ‘To assess whether my mother is still on the right medication?’
He swung round and started reading the notes on his computer, tapping his finger on the desk. ‘Ah, yes. I see. Excellent. Right then, Mrs Glover, can you tell me what medication you’re currently taking?’
Flora stared at him, confused.
‘Do you remember any of the names?’
‘Oh no, dear, not at all,’ she said. ‘They’re all in Latin.’
He grinned at her. ‘You’re right, that was a silly thing to ask. How about the way it’s making you feel. Would you say your anxiety levels are generally better now than they were a few months ago?’
Flora shrugged.
He looked questioningly at Eve.
‘Well, there have been a lot of changes over the last six months,’ she said. ‘My mother is now living in a care home and the move wasn’t easy. It took her a while to get used to being somewhere new, and to settle there.’
He nodded. ‘That’s not surprising. How about your motivation, Mrs Glover? Do you have plenty of energy?’
‘Well, dear, I don’t really know about that.’ Flora turned to Eve and rolled her eyes. ‘Why is this boy asking all these questions? We ought to be getting back because it’s nearly time for the tea trolley. I don’t want to be out too long.’
Eve put a reassuring hand on her arm. ‘It will be fine, I’ll get you back in time, don’t worry.’ She turned back to the young GP. ‘I think there are increasing memory problems. I was wondering if it might be possible to repeat some of the tests my mother had earlier in the year? The previous doctor we saw suggested he might alter the medication if the current dose didn’t seem to be as effective.’
The young man nodded and started scribbling something on a pad on the desk in front of him. ‘We can certainly do that. I’ll need to book your mother in for a longer consultation, though I’m afraid I can’t do that today.’
‘I want to go home now, Eve,’ whispered Flora, grasping her sleeve with her fingers.
‘But why can’t you do any of the tests now?’ asked Eve. ‘Just a couple of the quick ones? It seems crazy not to, since we’re here.’
The doctor shook his head and turned back to the screen. ‘This is only a single appointment: six minutes.’
‘Eve, I need to go to the toilet!’ said Flora. ‘I need to go now.’
‘Okay, Mum. Listen – doctor – when I called to make this appointment, I specifically said it was to have these tests done. The woman said she’d book us a double slot to give us enough time?’
‘Eve!’ wailed Flora. ‘I don’t like this place.’
The young doctor was tapping something into his screen. ‘Make another appointment outside at the desk,’ he said, not turning back towards them. ‘We’ll run through it all properly next time.’
Eve grabbed her bag, slamming it against the side of the desk as she stood up. What a waste of time. She could stand her ground and refuse to leave? This fresh-faced young doctor had no idea what a struggle it had been to get Flora along to this appointment today: her mother had been worried when Eve told her she would need to leave the home, nervous about even getting into Eve’s car for the first time in weeks. Not only that, but it wasn’t exactly easy for Eve to get time off from work. This whole visit had been planned and scheduled and they were here now, so why couldn’t they just get on with it?
‘Let’s go home, Eve.’ Flora was crying, her hands shaking in her lap. ‘I don’t like this place.’
Eve glared at the doctor, but his back was still turned. She helped her mother out of the chair and they went towards the door.
‘I don’t want to miss the tea trolley,’ Flora was saying. ‘They might have Hobnobs today.’
‘Don’t worry, Mum, we’re going back.’ Eve linked her arm through her mother’s as they walked out through the waiting room. The woman with the sleeping toddler was still sitting there, flicking rapidly through the pages of yet another magazine. She sniffed loudly as they walked past her chair.
‘For goodness’ sake!’ said Flora, turning to stare and dragging Eve to a halt. ‘Young lady! Stop sniffing, get a tissue and blow your bloody nose!’