Dark Undertakings by Rebecca Tope Page B

spent a few minutes completing the notes on his computer, and sifting through accumulated papers on his desk. Susie would have coffee ready for him promptly at ten forty-five, and then he’d have to go out on the home visits. Wednesdays were generally relaxed, though less so than Thursdays. People didn’t fall ill on a Thursday, for some reason. Probably because the weekend was in sight, and to waste it being ill would be very bad planning. One or two accidents, children with mysterious fevers, but mainly midweek was a time for catching up with paperwork. Which reminds me , he said to himself. I’d better get those crem papers for Jim Lapsford over to Daphne. She’ll be chasing me, otherwise .
    Susie hovered over him while he filled in the medical papers in the general office, sipping his coffee. ‘Myocardial infarction, eh?’ she said, reading over his shoulder. ‘Last seen five days before death.’ She sucked in a sceptical breath.
    Doctor Lloyd sighed. ‘Don’t start that again, Susie. I’ll be glad when the blasted man is safely cremated. Why doesn’t anybody believe me?’
    ‘Who doesn’t believe you? I only said—’
    ‘The Registrar phoned me just now. Didn’t feel too happy about it. Stupid woman. The whole thing is bureaucracy gone mad, if you ask me.’
    She tutted sympathetically. ‘Well, you’d better ask Ginnie Parton to do Part Two then.’
    ‘Why?’ He looked up at her, pretending innocence. ‘What’s special about her?’
    ‘Come on,’ she widened her eyes at him, and he noticed that she was no less pale today than she had been yesterday. If she hadn’t been speaking so accusingly to him, he’d have asked her whether anything was the matter. As it was, she elaborated her point, before he could fully acknowledge his concern. ‘She’ll sign anything, sight unseen. It’s a disgrace, if you ask me.’
    ‘Not my problem, is it? She wouldn’t thank me for telling her how to do her job. Actually I was going to ask her, anyway. I don’t think I can face any more hassle over this chap. Anyone would think somebody had murdered him. Since I’m entirely satisfied that they didn’t, I’m sure I did the right thing.’
    ‘I like entirely satisfied . That has a very convincing ring to it. Now, here’s your list for home visits. You could drop in and look at Mrs Sinclair’s foot, as well.’
    ‘I only saw her on Monday.’
    ‘I know. But you’ve got loads of time, and she’s so miserable, poor thing. It would be a good deed. And who knows – she might drop dead in the night like Lapsford, and then you can do her papers without any qualms, as well.’
    ‘Susie! That’s going too far. If you’ve got something you want to say, then spit it out, without all this sniping. Are you saying Lapsford should have gone for a post-mortem? Do you want me to throw everything into reverse, and call in the Coroner? Do you?’ He leant towards her, intimidatingly, his eyes full on hers. She backed away from him.
    ‘You don’t have to shout at me,’ she sniffed, and without warning, burst into tears. ‘I’ve got enough trouble without you bawling me out,’ she wept. ‘I was only joking about the papers. I didn’t mean anything.’
    Briefly he closed his eyes. ‘I’m sorry I shouted. Do you want to tell me about this … trouble? I’ve got plenty of time.’
    She shook her head, and grabbed a tissue from the box that sat permanently on the windowsill. ‘Just the usual—’ she mumbled. ‘Bother with the boyfriend.’
    ‘Well he ought to know better,’ said Dr Lloyd, firmly. ‘He doesn’t know when he’s well off.’
    She shook her head again, with despairing emphasis. ‘You don’t understand ,’ she said. ‘It’s totally the other way round.’
    ‘Ah,’ he nodded, with complete incomprehension.
    She flapped a hand at him, and applied the tissue again. ‘Go and do your good turn,’ she told him. ‘Mrs Sinclair’s foot, remember.’
    With some relief, he went to collect