Free Mr Scarletti's Ghost by Linda Stratmann Page A

opinion.’
    ‘But thus far,’ she admitted, ‘I have heard only good of you.’
    ‘You are too kind.’ He hesitated. ‘Miss Scarletti, if you do not mind my commenting, I can see that you are suffering some pain.’
    Mina frowned. She had no objection to anyone mentioning either her appearance or its consequences; the thing she could not abide was the offer of false hope.
    ‘I am sorry if I have distressed you,’ he said, ‘but I am very familiar with the presentation of scoliosis . There is an ache which starts in the shoulder from the strain placed upon the muscles – just – if you will permit me –’ he reached out and touched her shoulder with his fingertips, ‘just here.’
    With some surprise Mina was obliged to acknowledge that he had touched the exact spot from which the pain was spreading.
    ‘I trust you will not be offering me a cure?’ she said wryly.
    ‘The man who claims he can correct the curvature in your spine is either ignorant or a charlatan,’ he assured her. ‘But what I can offer is relief for the pain in your back. My sister Anna attends to the lady patients, and would, I know, wish to see you. I promise you that there will be no metal braces, no plaster of Paris waistcoats, no narcotic mixtures and above all no knives.’
    Mina was not yet willing to admit this to be a serious conversation. ‘And she will not tread on my spine and wrap my arms about my head and make my joints crack?’
    ‘Only if she deems it necessary,’ he said solemnly, and Mina realised that he was teasing her. He produced a card, wrote something on the back with a pencil, and handed it to her. ‘That is my promise that if you present yourself at my establishment, you will receive your first treatment gratis,’ he said. ‘Please do come, I know you will feel the benefit.’
    Mina did not look at the card; she looked at the man. ‘I will,’ she heard herself say.

Five
    I nevitably, and to a degree monotonously, Mina was often told by well-meaning folk about wonderful ‘cures’ for her condition. Often, she was not directly addressed; rather the subject was introduced into a general conversation at which she was present, but it was always very clear that the information was being imparted for her benefit. Sometimes these messages would be passed to her mother, who was expected to impose her wishes on Mina as if her daughter was not a sensible adult able to make her own decisions. On other occasions, Mina would be quietly taken aside and advised in an embarrassed whisper to try Brill’s tepid sea-water baths for ladies, or drink Dr Struve’s German mineral waters. Each of these helpful advisors was under the impression that she – and it was usually a she – was the very first person ever to make such a suggestion.
    Mina was also regaled with stories of the wonder cures of the past such as Dr Dean Mahomed’s Indian medicated vapour baths and hot and cold douches, which had been vouched for by nobility and even royalty. Dr Mahomed had died almost twenty years ago, and his establishment on the King’s Road, whose walls had once been ornamented with murals of richly dressed Moghul Emperors and displays of the abandoned crutches and spine-stretchers of his delighted customers, had fallen into disuse. Only last year it had been demolished for yet another hotel. It was Dr Hamid who was now considered to be Dr Dean Mahomed’s natural successor in the provision of oriental medicine, and Dr Hamid who, with some apprehension, Mina was about to visit.
    The doctor did not command a large property, but it occupied a good position on the seafront where Manchester Street met the Marine Parade, close to the site of Mr Brill’s original bathhouse, a rounded protuberance that had once encroached on to the Grand Junction Road and had gone by the unflattering name of Brill’s Bunion.
    There were thankfully no bunions or indeed any unsightly signs and posters on Dr Hamid’s bathhouse; it was a simple square building