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‘Hello, there, mate.’
No response.
‘I’m a doctor, my name’s Euan Scott. What can I call you?’
Nothing.
‘Have they given you a cup of tea?’
The man raised his head slightly. Somewhere there was the flicker of acknowledgement that Euan was looking for. ‘Lisa...’
Lisa nodded. ‘And a bacon sandwich?’
‘Thanks.’ Euan gave her a broad grin and turned his attention back to the man in front of him. ‘You’re in luck. They do a pretty respectable bacon sandwich here.’
It took ten minutes of gentle cajoling before George gave up his name. Ten more before he would allow Euan to touch him so that he could examine him. Euan was patient, and respectful, talking to George as if he were a private patient paying hundreds of pounds for his time.
‘You’re a soldier, then?’ When Euan had opened George’s heavy overcoat, something had caught his eye and he gestured towards a dirty medal ribbon pinned onto his plaid shirt.
That seemed a touch too much like conversation for George and he glared at Euan.
‘Regiment?’ Euan tried again. ‘Army number?’
George seemed to straighten and he muttered a reply. Euan wrote the numbers down on the pad that lay on the desk. ‘Sam, can I have my stethoscope, please?’
Right. Stethoscope. Must be in the bag at her feet. Sam tugged at the zip and found what he needed, stepping forward to hand it to him.
For a moment George’s eyes focussed on her, and Sam realised suddenly that he was probably only in his thirties. Perhaps she should say something or hold out her hand. Perhaps not. Euan was wearing surgical gloves and she probably shouldn’t let George touch her. She felt the back of her neck redden.
‘That’s great. Thanks.’ Euan met her gaze and nodded. ‘Can you see if you can find some antiseptic wipes in there?’
‘Right. Antiseptic wipes.’ She stepped back again, feeling both relieved and guilty. George was one of the invisible men, the ones who were ignored by the world in general. Even when she’d been jolted out of her own little world, and had stopped to buy a magazine or give coffee or food to someone in need, she’d always been too afraid to make eye contact.
Euan wasn’t afraid. She could see it in his body language, the way he dealt with George. He was a man, not just a bundle of dirty clothes. He finished his examination and ushered both Sam and Lisa out of the room.
‘There’s evidence of sustained alcohol abuse. I’ll call one of the ex-servicemen’s charities, see if they can help.’
Lisa nodded. ‘Right. Can I leave it with you?’
‘Yes. Give me ten minutes.’
* * *
‘So someone’s going to come and pick him up?’ Sam was sitting in the front seat of Euan’s car, wondering whether it was her imagination or not that the smell of stale liquor seemed to have followed them out of the police station and down the road.
‘Yes. They’ll get him a bed for the night, and if they can hold onto him he’ll get the treatment he needs. It looks as if he has some kind of psychiatric problem, maybe delayed PTSD. Maybe something else entirely.’
It didn’t seem much of an answer, but Sam knew that it was the best that Euan could give. Both he and Lisa had done their best for George. She tried to comfort herself that at least he was in the hands of the right people now.
‘What’ll happen to him?’ she asked.
‘I honestly don’t know.’
* * *
And so the day continued. People turned up at the clinic, wanting medical help or needing just to talk. Euan moved from one case to the next, seemingly tireless, but by the end of the day Sam was mentally and emotionally exhausted.
The next two days weren’t much better. Euan had given her exactly what she’d asked for, allowing her to shadow him without prying into her own thoughts and feelings about what she saw. She was alone and rudderless, trying to make sense of things that couldn’t be rationalised or explained. Sam was beginning to think that she should have been more careful about what she’d wished for.
