Free The Deal by Tony Drury Page B

her health is good.”
    “And Amanda lives in St. John’s Wood?”
    “Yes. She’s a fitness fanatic and works out every morning. She’s dedicated to City Fiction. She reads many of the proofs we receive and, as I say, she travels.”
    “Sounds like Miss Perfect.”
    “You might learn something then!” teased Alistair. “Though definitely not about men.”
    “What do you mean by that?” Sara was surprised at Alistair’s indiscretion.
    “She gets herself in a mess with men – but I never said that.”
    Alistair handed the waiter his credit card. Their lunch was coming to an end.
    “You want two million pounds?”
    “Two million pounds.”
    “To gamble away on new titles which you hope will sell?”
    “To build our business up to a trade sale for many millions of pounds so that, in five years’ time, I can become financially free and travel the world.”
    “Well, thanks for lunch, Alistair.”
    They stood up and shook hands, before leaving the restaurant with Sara in front. She stumbled over the first of the wooden steps but quickly regained her poise. Later she sent a text message.
    “Alistair. Thanks. Please email me 500 words on the impact of eBooks on your business. Sara.”
    Dr. Lucy Harriman had found the day’s surgery rather wearing. Perhaps it was, in part, a reaction to the previous day’s drama. Lucy had been in the main office looking for a file when she heard a receptionist taking an incoming call. She indicated that she would talk to the caller. She had already heard enough to have concerns. She listened to the worried mother explaining that she was on her own and her daughter was unusually listless and had been unwell for over a day. In answer to Lucy’s question she said there were no signs of a rash.
    Lucy had decided, on pure instinct, to visit and asked that her patients be advised that there would be a delay in their appointments that morning. She’d reached the house in less than ten minutes and found the mother in the driveway.
    “There’s a rash!” she’d shouted as Lucy reached her. She’d run into the house and asked the mother for a glass. Her fears were confirmed when she placed it over the rash and the marks remained visible. She’d wrapped the child in a blanket and picked her up.
    “We need to get her to hospital now. It’ll be quicker if I take her myself.”
    She’d carried her to the car and put her on the back seat, fastening a seat belt around her.
    “Close up the house and come to the hospital as soon as you can,” Lucy had said.
    She’d reached Ealing General Hospital in eight minutes. She’d parked in the A & E entrance, picked the child up out of the car and rushed in to the desk. She’d said to the receptionist that she was a doctor from Whiteoaks Practice and she thought the child had meningitis. After she was satisfied that the child was being cared for, she’d returned to the surgery and resumed her duties.
    Later that afternoon she’d received a call from a doctor at the hospital who confirmed that they had started antibiotics immediately and the child was now out of danger.
    “Rather impressive, Dr. Harriman, if we may say so. It’s so difficult to diagnose in young children.”
    That day, the man with the eczema had returned and Lucy managed the situation badly. The skin condition was worse and she’d suggested that she should refer him to a consultant. However, she’d added, “unless there is anything else you think I should know about?”
    The patient asked what she might have in mind.
    “Perhaps there are other matters troubling you?” she had suggested.
    “Like what?” he’d asked. He’d then added that this was his third visit and if the doctor hadn’t got all the information she needed to make a correct diagnosis it might be better if he did see a consultant.
    It was, however, the mid-morning couple that had really tested her. In many ways she regretted reading Kate McCann’s book. The story of the disappearance of Madeleine