Free The Betrayal of Trust by Susan Hill Page B

anyone – she would have made that a joke. Gallows humour. But sitting alone at the small desk with her chequebook in front of her, and all the papersthey had sent, the rows of printed facts, it was not a joke. Not funny. It was not possible to be flippant. She did not have to pretend to herself or put on a brave face. On the contrary, it seemed important not to do so.
    The truth. That was all she had to hold on to and she must hold fast.
    The truth.
    The truth was that it cost a lot of money, but what else would she spend it on if she didnot write this cheque?
    A care home. Far more expensive.
    A live-in help.
    Not so expensive but absolutely out of the question. She had considered the idea of a nursing home or whatever else might be available and had found that there were indeed some things to be said in its favour as well as many against. There was nothing in favour of a live-in help. Some people might prefer it to moving intoa home, but this house was so much her centre, almost her life, not just a roof and four walls. She could never share it with a stranger however discreet and pleasant.
    Every time, she came back quite smoothly to where she was now, at her desk, in front of the wad of papers from Bene Mori, their website on her computer, her chequebook and pen.
    The clinic put out everything in German so that youhad to search for an English version. At first Jocelyn had used the auto-translation but that had converted some of the information into nonsense. Eventually, she had found ‘English’ written small, in a list of technical information at the bottom. She had downloaded the brochure and printed it off. She read it thoroughly several times before sending a cheque for ‘membership’ and a request for the‘Restricted’ information.
    After it had arrived, she had a new lock fitted on her desk drawer, and put the key inside the battery section tube of a broken electric toothbrush.
    Penny had not phoned or been to see her, but that morning an email had come from her.
    It has taken me these few days even to write this, I have been so shaken and upset. I wonder if you had any idea what effect your requestwould have. To be invited to supper by your mother, only to be told that she has an incurable illness is a shock, but at least you did tell me, when you might have tried to keep it to yourself. But how could you calmly sit there and not only say that you planned assisted suicide, but ask me to go with you, to be that ‘assistant’, that ‘companion’? Some daughters – or sons – might bring themselvesto do it, though I really don’t know how. It made me sick even to think of it. The other objection, which I’m pretty sure didn’t occur to you, is that I am a criminal barrister and what you propose to do is against the law here, though not in Switzerland. But accompanying someone, in the full knowledge that they intend to commit suicide on arrival at this clinic, is a criminal offence and althoughto date charges have not been brought, or if brought have been dropped, a member of the Bar would be struck off immediately if they undertook such an action. Did you know that?
    I am too upset to write more now but please, Mother, please reconsider. You will have every help of any other kind from me as you face this wretched illness but never that. Never, ever that. Put all this from your mind.

    My case has another couple of days or possibly three but as soon as it’s finished I’ll come and see you. There will have been time for you to think and we can talk more calmly with this nonsense out of the way.
    Much love, P
    Nonsense.
    Jocelyn looked calmly at the papers.
    For legal reasons we do not give you the precise address of our clinic until just before you depart. You will be sent alldetails and also instruction of friendly hotels to stay at before and then of suitable taxis for your journey. You should not take any taxi, only these.
    Our clinic is set in rural surroundings with beautiful tranquil woodland