Uprising

Chapter Thirty-Six

Lavender Close, Wallingford

The next morning, 8.03 a.m.

‘You again,’ Gillian Hawthorne snapped as she recognised the Detective Inspector’s voice on the other end of the phone.

‘I’m sorry to call so early, Mrs Hawthorne.’ Joel’s voice sounded ragged and weary, as though he hadn’t slept all night. ‘I was checking on Kate.’

‘Kate’s fine. She’s asleep.’

‘Nothing wrong?’

Gillian frowned. ‘I told you, she’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with her at all. Now please go away and stop calling us.’ She put the phone down. Bit her lip and chewed on a fingernail.

She wasn’t about to let that Solomon man know just how anxious she really was about her daughter. It hadn’t taken Gillian a second look at Kate that morning to tell she was very sick. Her sleeping face was drawn and strangely pale. The skin was becoming almost translucent, so that the veins in her temples and her neck were disturbingly visible. Gillian had shuddered. Her daughter looked like a corpse.

Moments after talking to Joel Solomon, Gillian picked the phone back up and dialled Dr Andrews’s number.

Bill Andrews had been the Hawthorne family’s private physician since Kate had been a baby. The kindly old doctor was almost like an uncle to her, and he sounded deeply concerned when Gillian called him at home and described the symptoms.

‘Don’t try to bring her to the clinic. Let me come and take a look at her.’

Gillian was watching at the window as his car pulled up in the drive a little while later. She met him at the door.

‘Thanks for coming, Bill.’

‘How is she?’

‘I’m terribly worried.’

At exactly 8.45 a.m., Jeremy Lonsdale’s Gulfstream jet left the tarmac of a private airfield in Surrey and climbed steeply into the overcast sky. Its crew of three had received hurried instructions from their employer to set a course for Russia, carrying with them the strange cargo delivered to the airfield by chopper. It appeared to be nothing more than a heavy crate, seven feet long, edged with steel — but whatever was inside was a secret closely guarded by Mr Lonsdale as well as by the two taciturn and intimidating men in dark suits who had clearly been hired to stay glued to its side at all times. The two men had barely spoken to anyone, and when the crew did overhear them conversing quietly between themselves, it was in some Eastern language they didn’t understand. But Mr Lonsdale had said no questions, and that was good enough for them.

Lavender Close, Wallingford

8.47 a.m.

‘Hello, Kate,’ Dr Andrews said as Gillian showed him into her daughter’s bedroom.

Kate was burrowed under the covers. At the sound of his voice, she peered suspiciously over the edge of her duvet.

‘It’s dark in here,’ the doctor said, glancing at the drawn curtains.

‘She has to have them like that. She can’t seem to stand the light.’

‘Let’s see.’ Dr Andrews walked over to the window and opened the curtains a crack. Kate let out a loud moan and retreated quickly back under the duvet as a shaft of sunlight cut across the room and hit her in the face.

Dr Andrews raised his eyebrows at the reaction. He closed the curtain and went over to sit on the edge of Kate’s bed.

‘May I?’ He turned on the bedside lamp. ‘Your mother tells me you’ve been getting bad headaches. Is that right?’

Kate didn’t reply.

‘That’s all right. You don’t have to answer.’ He gently peeled the duvet off her.

‘I’m not going to hurt you, Kate,’ he said as she protested feebly. ‘I just want to have a quick look at you, so we can make you—’

He stopped mid-sentence when he saw the marks on the girl’s neck.

‘So we can make you better,’ he finished. He gently moved her head so he could study the strange lesions up close. Slipping a thermometer into her mouth, he noticed how pale her lips were and shook his head curiously.

Gillian Hawthorne stood back with her arms crossed as he examined Kate in silence. When he’d finished, Kate huddled back deep under the duvet, making small groaning sounds.

Dr Andrews turned to Gillian. ‘Has she been off her food lately?’

‘Not until she fell ill. She eats like a horse. It’s a wonder she stays thin.’

‘No food fads, diets? She hasn’t become a vegan or anything?’

‘Nothing like that at all. She’s a perfectly normal girl.’ Gillian shot a look at her daughter. ‘Or at least, she was.’

The doctor heard the tone of her voice but chose to ignore it. ‘She’s displaying symptoms of anaemia. Her heartbeat is rapid and a little irregular. Her fingernails show signs of iron deficiency. She’s weak and she’s getting headaches. Has there been any change in her menstrual cycle?’

‘We don’t really talk about that. As far as I know, nothing.’

He nodded. ‘I’ll prescribe iron tablets, and that should get her going. In the meantime you need to get her to eat plenty of red meat, maybe some liver.’

‘I’m not taking fucking iron tablets, you old piece of shit,’ Kate’s voice hissed from under the covers. ‘And the only liver I’ll eat is yours, you bastard.’

There was a stunned silence in the room. Dr Andrews had seen it all in his years as a medical practitioner, but something in the girl’s voice and the way she was peering at him over the bedclothes sent a shiver down the back of his neck. He’d known this child all her life. Knew her as a sweet, charming, happy and warm personality. But now her eyes were hard and cold.

Gillian Hawthorne exploded. She strode over to the bed and started shaking Kate violently. ‘You apologise for that! You hear me?’

Dr Andrews took her arm. ‘Gillian—’

‘I know what’s going on. It’s that Maddon boy. He’s the one who’s done this to you.’

‘Calm down, Gillian. She needs to rest. I think we should leave her.’

The doctor was pensive as he shut Kate’s bedroom door and ushered her mother down the stairs. Gillian was flushed and agitated as she made tea in the kitchen. The doctor pulled up a chair at the pine table, frowning to himself. He took a bottle of pills from his pocket and unscrewed the lid.

‘What’s that?’ she asked, handing him a cup of tea.

‘Not for her, for me.’ He popped two in his mouth and washed them down with his drink.

‘Are you all right, Bill?’

He smiled. ‘I get a little tired sometimes. My heart. I’m fine, though. Let’s talk about Kate. What are those lesions on her neck?’

‘I don’t know. I took them to be lovebites. God knows what—’

‘I’d say that unless she’s been getting lovebites from a Rottweiler, we’re looking at some other cause. In fact, I’m more than a little concerned about them. Has Kate been seeing anyone?’

Gillian let out a snort. ‘You mean boys? Just that worthless degenerate from next door.’ She told him what she knew about Dec’s arrest, the drugs, the visit from the police the following morning.

‘I wish you’d told me these things earlier,’ the doctor said. ‘Apart from the physical symptoms, Kate’s behaviour strongly suggests that she’s been severely traumatised. The drugs are a significant concern. We might also have to investigate the possibility of an aggravated date rape. That could explain the injury to her neck. Which means I’ll have to do a full examination.’

‘She hasn’t been raped, Bill.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I just know.’

He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Gillian, but that’s not enough. And I’ll also have to notify the police.’

‘Bill, no, please. I can’t have the police involved in this. My family—’

‘You may not have a lot of choice, Gillian.’

‘Look, please, Bill. Can’t we just do whatever tests are necessary first, to find out what’s wrong with her before we start—’

‘Creating a scandal?’

‘I want what’s best for Kate,’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t want this out in public until we’re absolutely sure.’

Dr Andrews looked at her long and hard. ‘Fine. Then I’m going to book her into the clinic as quickly as I can. Then we can start to try to figure this out.’