Help Out House by Jeff Hawksworth

Help Out House

Jeff Hawksworth

Published by AS-Publishing

Copyright © 2014 Jeffrey David Hawksworth

All Rights Reserved

United Kingdom
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Sample from Help Out House

Doctor Augustus Breck had little time for the likes of this woman and her daughter on their clandestine mission. Clearly wealthy and almost certainly using false names, they offended him.  If he was a betting man, which he wasn’t, he would wager that one or even both had a dose and didn’t want the family physician to learn about it. There were times, he thought, when a street drunk had more integrity.

He could demand to see ID of course, but instead he would charge a chunky fee that would help treat half a dozen of his usual patients, the folk that these two would regard as being on the wrong side of the tracks and colour bar.

Without saying anything he gestured for them to sit down. The adult was clearly the most nervous and therefore, probably, the one with the infection.

April began to shake again. This man was showing the sort of disdain they had seen in Aiden's eyes when he intercepted their departure from the house. He had asked where she was going and what her arrangements were with just enough authority to verify his role as watchdog and spy, but they were ready for it. April pointed to Cindy’s car on the drive and said casually, we’re trying somewhere new today and treating Chrissy to a few things. If you would like to follow on we’ll be at the Cameron Village Mall over in Raleigh, otherwise we’ll see you at teatime.

She climbed into the front passenger seat and as soon as she heard the rear door close murmured, “Just drive Cindy, we’ll talk in a minute.”  Her friend glanced at her and saw the shaking. ‘Christ’, she thought ‘What am I getting myself into?’

Once they had travelled a mile or so Chrissy leaned forward and passed a piece of paper over Cindy’s shoulder. It bore an address, “That’s where we need to go first, then we’ll go to the mall for lunch.” She didn’t need to mention the probability of having Aiden check on them.

Back at the house Aiden made a telephone call and after a brief exchange was told to stay where he was, on balance it didn’t seem likely that they were going to do anything stupid since all three knew what the consequences would be.

Now, in the consulting room the black doctor waited silently as Chrissy took her mother’s hand and squeezed, “Go on mom, this is step one.”

April straightened her back and looked at Breck with all the steel she could muster, “I am an alcoholic and I need to find help, discreetly. Very discreetly. My husband mustn’t know, at least not yet.”

Breck said, “So that’s why you’re not seeing the family physician and you’ve chosen a black doctor in a poor part of town instead. No doubt we would be the least likely candidates he would check.” He admitted with a shrug, “Sound logic I suppose and God knows, I have to deal with a lot of alcoholism here.

He was still irritated and continued with his pitch, “I can recommend the help centre down at the All Saints church, if you don’t mind the stench of stale sweat and the certainty of fleas.”

Chrissy sat open-mouthed, stunned by his rudeness but her mother understood what was eating him. The whole place was clean but as run down as the area they had just driven into and she guessed a significant number of people paid little or nothing for his care. By contrast, he was now speaking to someone dressed in clothes that probably cost more than most of his patients earned in a month. He didn’t even try to mask his dislike of her, or rather people like her and looked set to end the visit right then, something April couldn’t allow to happen, for Chrissy’s sake.

Without conscious thought she allowed her instincts to take over, “Doctor, my real name is April Haddon and this is my daughter Chrissy.  I am married to Senator Grant Haddon and I am an alcoholic. I’ve been drunk often enough, and for long enough to hide from the things I couldn’t face. Things like being forced to have sex with a stranger, threats on my life and the repetitive raping of our daughter.” She turned to Chrissy and apologised, “I’m so sorry honey, I didn’t mean for that to come out.”

It was time for Breck’s jaw to drop. Eventually he addressed the girl, “How old are you Miss Haddon?”

She hung her head and he barely caught the word, “Twelve.”

He sat back in his chair and this time his tone was entirely different, “I think you’d better start at the beginning.”