‘It’s ridiculous, Kieron, you’re the Chief and you’re behaving like one of the Indians. You haven’t had a decent night’s sleep for nearly a week, you’re trying to do your own job and the job of half your CID. I’m surprised you aren’t out with the fire crew manning a hose. What are you trying to prove?’
He had come in just after nine the previous night, grey with exhaustion, poured himself a small whisky, and fallen asleep on the sofa so deeply that after trying to rouse him several times, Cat had brought a blanket and a pillow and made him as comfortable as she could before going upstairs. He had not stirred until after seven, when she was putting on the kettle. Now he was back in the kitchen, having showered, shaved and changed.
‘It’s Saturday,’ Cat said. ‘I want to go somewhere.’
Kieron looked doubtful. ‘I need –’
‘No. You don’t need. You need to spend a day with your wife and without your phone.’
‘No, I can’t –’
‘Yes. I will have your phone and I will look at whoever is calling, if and when they do, and if it’s the station, take a view.’ She reached for his hand. ‘Listen, I do understand, you know. Three major fires on your patch, terrible damage – though thank God no human casualties – and the buck stops with you. But not every minute of every day and half of every night, darling. What use are you to anyone if you let yourself get as exhausted as this? I want your company for a few hours. Let’s get out into the country and walk – it’s not wet, it’s not hot, it’s perfect. We can drive up to Starly and take the path up to the top. And never mind you, I need the exercise as well.’
Kieron was silent for a moment. ‘I’ll do you a deal,’ he said.
‘Sounds ominous and if it’s “just let me pop into the station first”, the deal’s off before it’s on.’
‘OK, what about, just let me call in first?’
‘Hmm. If I time the call and you agree to let me take the phone from you if I hear you say “I’d better come in”.’
‘That’s a big ask. What if the cathedral has been set alight, or the Eric Anderson Comp, or –’
‘Then we will rethink. But they aren’t going to be.’
‘Deal.’
He put his hands on her shoulders. Cat closed her eyes.
‘And …’
Kieron groaned.
‘I want a good lunch out. Not just a sausage roll.’
‘Have you tried getting a sausage roll in the gourmet pubs round here?’
The day was perfect for walking and so they took a longer route. Sitting on top of Starly Hill they could see the cathedral tower rising from the flatlands below, the silver curve of the river, the fields of sheep, looking as if someone had taken handfuls and scattered them. Their eerie cries came up on the breeze. But there was nothing eerie about the day or the mood.
I am happy, Cat thought. I was certain I could never be so again, that a general feeling of well-being was the most I could hope for after Chris died. I would have settled for that.
But I am happy.
She put her hand on his. ‘Was that the phone?’
She had been as good as her word and taken his mobile from him. It was safely in her jeans pocket and on ‘vibrate’.
‘No.’
‘You would tell me.’
‘I would.’
Kieron lay back on the grass, hands behind his head.
‘In any case, from up here you’d see the smoke.’
The Oak was another place that had changed hands. It had been old-fashioned, rather dark and uninviting.
‘You used to wonder if they fried a batch of chips first thing then just refried them through the day.’
‘Not any more apparently.’
‘I wonder if Luke’s partner has taken this over as well.’
The pub was brighter, smarter, cleaner, with a new menu.
‘And new prices,’ Cat said. It was early for lunch and they were alone apart from a couple of smartly dressed women having cocktails at the bar. The old Oak would not have known what a cocktail was.
‘Has my phone rung? I ought just to check.’
Cat gave him a look. ‘Half a pint of prawns and a peashoot and feta salad.’
But they could talk without danger of being overheard and she had his attention because she had his phone.
‘Luke’s proposal,’ she said now. ‘I need your take on it because I’ll have to let him know soon if I’m on board or not.’
Kieron took a long draught of his beer, and sat back. He was a good listener – like her brother, Cat thought. Two cops.
‘You know enough about my job to know that I’m not happy and that general practice is in a mess. Not enough doctors, too many retiring or leaving and not being replaced, an ageing population so more appointments needed, no real time to establish an ongoing relationship with your patients, too much form-filling and box-ticking, too much interference from too many layers of management. Result, dissatisfied public, who can’t get a GP appointment for weeks and burnt-out doctors who no longer find their work fulfilling. Luke’s idea is to address this by looking at it in a new way. The idea is that three GPs band together and form a practice. If the whole thing works, others would join but three to begin with. We would cover a geographical area – he hasn’t worked out the precise logistics but certainly the whole of Lafferton and the surrounding villages within a ten-square-mile radius.’
‘So you’d have a surgery in the town centre.’
‘No. This is the beauty of it. No surgery. No building. No office … except maybe one doctor would have an office in their house for a secretary – there has to be one – or maybe they could work from home. Not clear yet. We would be on call between us twenty-four/seven, and we would visit the patients at home. They wouldn’t come to us. We would divide the area.’
‘That’s a hell of a lot of driving.’
‘No more than doctors always did when they made house calls – visits were what happened after surgery or out of hours. Happy days.’
‘So you would be on at night and weekends.’
‘One in three at first, fewer as we grew.’
‘Do the sums work? The NHS is pretty strapped for cash.’
‘Ah. This is the nub. It wouldn’t be NHS.’
‘What, you mean private practice? I thought you were against.’
‘Chris would have divorced me for even considering it. But honestly … it has to be a better way. For some, all right, I know.’
‘How much per visit?’
‘It would work on a sub. You join and pay a monthly sum … probably around a hundred pounds per patient – paid monthly, quarterly, annually, whatever the individual chooses, by direct debit. That would cover absolutely everything except the cost of the meds.’
‘Which could be enormous.’
‘Could but usually not – most medicines we give cost less to buy than the price of an NHS prescription, unless you’re exempt. It’s an open secret. We would always recommend the NHS for emergency stuff and major illnesses – cancer treatments, cardiac bypass, all of that – so people would stay registered with an NHS practice. If you need to have your appendix out, the NHS is the only way and the best way and we’d take on all the post-op.’
Their mains came, fish pies in individual baking dishes, topped with whole prawns. The old Oak had done fish pie, supplied, like the cottage pies, by a food wholesaler and microwaved.
‘It’s another world,’ Cat said, slicing it through to let the heat rise out. The inside was thick with chunks of smoked haddock, more prawns, white fish, mushrooms, in a creamy sauce.
‘So is private medicine.’
‘I didn’t realise you were so against it. So do you think the children should have gone to state schools?’
‘No. I think there should be a choice – same with medicine. I suppose I’m testing you.’
‘It sounds like medicine for the very rich, but actually, a hundred pounds a month is a supper out or half a dozen bottles of average wine or tickets to something. Not for the poor, no, but affordable for a lot of ordinary people.’
‘It sounds as if you’re sold.’
‘No. Kieron, look, I need your take, and if I think of doing it, I need your support – well, of course I do. You’ve got to be happy. But I promise you it won’t be me out all day and all night … we can consult on the phone, by email – it isn’t always necessary to visit. Plenty of simple things can be safely diagnosed at a distance, and if there’s any doubt at all, then we go.’
‘Lot of mileage but you like driving, I know. God, this pie is good.’
The pub had begun to fill but they had a table set by the window in a corner. No one would overhear.
Kieron ate for several minutes, went and got a second beer, and pondered. He had not asked if his phone had rung since they had sat down.
Cat waited. Yes, she thought, it is the same as being with Si. He would have listened and been devil’s advocate and then sat silently, working the whole thing through before deciding. Dad would cross-question like a QC and then sum up and pronounce a verdict within seconds and never change his mind. Chris would have … No. She would never have put the idea to Chris. His disapproval of all private medicine had been absolute. They had eaten and ordered coffees before Kieron said, ‘The only thing that matters to me in all of this is that you should enjoy your job and find it satisfying again … and not overstretch yourself. It sounds to me as if this way of working would be right for you, if you think you can make it sustainable. I want to see you as much as I can or why would I have married you? But I want you to be happy and you’re pretty conscientious … If you’re sure it won’t exhaust you, I think you should do it. But it’s for you to decide, Cat – what do I know about being a doctor?’
‘You know about me.’
‘I think I’m beginning to.’
‘Of course,’ she said, ‘it may not come off. There’s a long way to go … lots of hurdles for Luke to jump. He’s a doer though
… he makes things happen, he always did.’
‘Good.’ Kieron finished his coffee, and as he did so, his phone vibrated in Cat’s pocket. Now she gave in.
‘Talking of a job being sustainable,’ Cat said.
But he was already on his feet. ‘There’s another,’ he said.