Free Leaving Everything Most Loved by Jacqueline Winspear

again.
    â€œYes, you got a bit angry. But that’s not all it was. What went through your mind?”
    â€œWell, I just want to snap, don’t I?” His voice was raised. “I just want to say, ‘Miss, I can’t do this job anymore, because I can’t keep my thoughts in my head.’ ” He pressed his fingers to his temple. “I’ve hardly done anything on that case about the missing boy, because I don’t know what to do next. I can’t remember what comes after I’ve seen people; how I’m supposed to put it all together. I look in my notebook and I panic, because I don’t know how to get from here to there. I don’t know how to join the dots anymore.” He choked back his tears.
    Maisie stood up and, as if by instinct, rubbed his back, as a mother would a child in distress. She stepped away as he regained control.
    â€œAnd what with Doreen, and the baby—the boys are getting bigger, especially young Billy—who’s a bit full of himself. Getting on for twelve he is now, and more like a walking mouth. Knows everything, all of a sudden. And what kind of father am I? Gammy leg, gammy mind.”
    â€œYou’re a very good father, Billy. Your boys look up to you—I’ve seen the respect they have for you.” Maisie paused, thinking. “Billy, I think you came back to work too soon. I think you’ve overdone it, and it’s caught up with you. Here’s what I want you to do—go home early today. Take a few weeks rest—the weather is still very nice, why don’t you get the family away down to the coast? I’ll not expect you back here until next month, or later, if you don’t feel up to it.”
    â€œWhat about the missing lad?”
    â€œI’ll deal with it. And the Pramal case. I’ll ask Sandra if she can work some extra hours here in the office.” Maisie nodded towards the telephone. “And I think you should see that neurologist again. Are you having headaches?”
    Billy nodded.
    â€œI seem to remember you saw Dr. Patchley; he was brought in by Dr. Dene after he examined you. If you like, I could find out his address and telephone number—would you like me to?”
    Maisie continued to speak with care, not only because Billy seemed so fragile, but because she had been taken to task in recent months by Priscilla, who suggested she’d overstepped the mark in helping others.
    â€œI’ll get in touch, no need for anyone else to help me with that,” said Billy. “I just need to know how to get to see him.”
    â€œI’ll find out now, before you leave—you can telephone from here if you like.”
    Maisie lifted the telephone’s black receiver and dialed Andrew Dene’s number at Guy’s Hospital, where she spoke to a clerk and scribbled the information on a slip of paper.
    â€œHere you are.” She placed the paper on Billy’s desk. “I have to nip down to collect the post. You can telephone now. Sooner rather than later.”
    Billy nodded. “Thank you, Miss.”
    Maisie stepped towards the door and left the office, but stood outside to listen before making her way downstairs. She heard Billy lift the receiver, heard him dial the number and speak to a secretary. She knew only too well that a Harley Street neurologist would cost a pretty penny. But there were ways to diminish the cost—she would make an important telephone call herself, as soon as he left to go home. And Billy would never have to know.

Chapter Five

    A ddington Square in Camberwell had seen enough years to have housed the gentry, the well-to-do, the less well off, and, indeed, those who were struggling to stay afloat in turbulent times. Its residents over the centuries reflected the shifting fortunes of an area that was once filled with successful merchants, but which nowadays was home to a mix of students, academics, the more successful market traders, the