Free A Broken Family by Kitty Neale Page B

looked surprised by her outburst, but then said, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I am.’
    ‘Then don’t accuse me of fussing when I’m just trying to make sure you don’t do too much before you’re fully recovered.’
    ‘I shouldn’t have said that, and I’m sorry,’ Thomas said, apologising again.
    Mollified, Celia said, ‘You’re forgiven, but I don’t want you to go out on Saturday night. I’ve invited the Willards to dinner and as Melissa is coming too, it would be nice for her to have someone of her own age to talk to.’
    ‘I’d rather go out with Amy.’
    ‘You’ll have seen Amy for two nights by then, and as I’ve already told Melissa that you’ll be here, it would look very rude if you went out.’
    ‘You could invite Amy too.’
    Celia was appalled and made an excuse. ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that. It would upset the numbers, and the dining table only seats six.’
    ‘But …’
    ‘Thomas,’ Celia interrupted, doing her best to look upset, ‘I’m really looking forward to this dinner party, so please don’t ruin it for me.’
    ‘Oh, all right. I suppose I can see Amy on Sunday.’
    ‘Thank you, darling. Now, what would you like for breakfast?’
    ‘A boiled egg would be nice.’
    Celia went through to the kitchen, smiling that she had got her own way.
    At eleven o’clock, Phyllis at last took her turn to see the doctor. There had been quite a lot of people in front of her when she’d arrived, and at first she’d been tempted to leave, but the walk to the surgery had worn her out so she’d sunk gratefully onto an empty seat.
    ‘How are you, Mrs Miller?’ the doctor asked, indicating a chair to the side of his desk while taking out her scant notes.
    Phyllis wasn’t surprised that there was little for him to read. She was rarely ill and couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Dr Trent. ‘I’m not feeling too well. I fainted recently, and I feel tired all the time.’
    ‘Have you any other symptoms, shortness of breath, chest pains?’
    ‘No, nothing like that.’
    He leaned forward to pull down her lower eyelid and then said, ‘You may be anaemic. Take off your coat and top please. I’ll examine your chest.’
    Phyllis felt embarrassed, but did as Dr Trent asked. When she was ready he turned to look at her and frowned. ‘You look severely underweight. Have you got a cough and if so, have you coughed up any blood?’
    Startled, Phyllis wondered if he thought she had tuberculosis. Her voice trembled as she replied, ‘I haven’t got a cough, so no.’
    Nevertheless he put his stethoscope to his ears and moved round to her back, telling her to breathe in and out naturally. He did the same at the front, removed the stethoscope and then pinched the skin on her forearm between his finger and thumb. ‘Get dressed and sit down again, Mrs Miller.’
    Phyllis found her hands shaking so much that she had difficulty fastening her buttons. Tuberculosis, no please, not that, she inwardly prayed.
    At last she was dressed and as she sat down again Dr Trent said, ‘Your chest is clear, but you’re anaemic and from what I can see, severely undernourished.’
    ‘I … I haven’t got TB?’
    ‘No, Mrs Miller, we can rule that out. However, I’m concerned about your weight. Have you got a problem with your digestion, pain when you eat?’
    ‘No, I haven’t.’
    ‘Any vomiting or diarrhoea?’
    Once again Phyllis said no, and Dr Trent leaned back in his chair, studying her for a moment, before saying, ‘Mrs Miller, are you actually eating anything?’
    ‘Yes, yes, of course.’
    ‘Well, clearly not enough,’ he said. ‘You look like you’ve been deliberately starving yourself. That isn’t the case is it?’
    ‘Of course it isn’t,’ she said indignantly.
    ‘Is it that you can’t afford to eat properly?’
    ‘Well, I must admit I’ve been a bit short lately, but things have changed and I’ll have a bit more money now.’
    ‘I’m glad to