The Consequences of Fear by Jacqueline Winspear (the best electronic book reader TXT) 📗

previous efforts had come to naught, given not only her passion for her work—the psychiatric care of those who had suffered a profound, debilitating emotional and psychological shock—but the fact that an abundance of energy rendered her indefatigable also made her something of a nuisance for family, friends and neighbors during any extended period of relaxation. Stepping into a kiosk, Maisie drew an address book from her black bag, lifted the receiver and pushed the requisite number of coins into the slot, then waited for her call to be answered. Pressing button A directly she heard a voice on the line, Maisie made her request.

“Good afternoon—may I speak to Dr. Masters, please?”

“Right you are, caller, just one moment.” A series of clicks followed as the hospital operator put through her call.

“Masters!” An exasperated sigh followed a greeting that reminded Maisie of MacFarlane.

“Hello, Dr. Masters—Elsbeth. It’s Maisie Dobbs here.”

“Maisie! Good lord! Breath of fresh air before I completely lose my mind—though I suppose I’m in the right place if I mislaymy faculties. What can I do for you, Maisie? I’m sure this isn’t a social call.”

“If I could get over to your office within about half an hour, would you see me?”

“Drat! I’ve patients until this evening, and then I have to dash as soon as I’ve seen my last patient—a very difficult man—hegets what I call the sundowner seizures, though when I was a child in East Africa, a sundowner seizure was what my fatherappeared to experience when our house boy was late coming in with the gin and tonics!” Masters’s throaty laugh echoed downthe line. “Anyway, time is tight because my nephew is home on leave for only a couple of days, and I really must see him withhis wife and the children while I can. I am so sorry—but look, I’ve a moment or two now. How can I help? Can I telephone youback? It sounds as if you’re in a telephone box.”

“Would you? Here’s the number.” Maisie gave the number, replaced the telephone receiver and picked it up again as soon as it began to ring.

Elspeth Masters’s voice was filled with concern. “Right, what’s troubling you, Maisie? I can hear urgency in your voice.”

“It’s about a child. I really would love your advice,” said Maisie. She went on to describe Freddie Hackett witnessing a murder,and his home circumstances, together with the news she had learned earlier from Caldwell.

“Hmmm.” Maisie imagined Masters twitching her lips from side to side, something she would do when considering a problem. “Hmmm.Well, you’ve come to the right place, but I don’t know that my colleagues can do the right thing for your Freddie.” She paused.Maisie waited, knowing Masters was considering all options and the best advice to offer. “Right, here’s what I would suggest,”said Masters. “As you know, one of our doctors—William Moodie—pioneered child psychiatry here, though you may remember Dr.Dawson, who started the children’s clinic. Moodie went on to open the London Child Guidance Clinic—unfortunately, they hadto move out to Oxford when war was declared. I’ve worked with both of those men, so I have some knowledge to impart. Now,the problem I see is that Freddie isn’t suffering any of the symptoms our doctors are used to observing—he’s not having seizures,he doesn’t have obvious nervous tics, digestive problems or aberrant behaviors such as biting, hitting, screaming, hair-pulling,that sort of thing. And we don’t want him to be weighed and measured before anyone even speaks to him—plus these stories ofhis are not troubling to the extent that the school has seen fit to refer him to the clinic. The schools are being vigilantat the moment, especially with some children returning quite upset from evacuation. So, no, we don’t want to put him throughthat. We just require some indication of his level of what I would call ‘psychological wounding.’”

“According to his mother, he is scratching his arms, sometimes until they bleed, so that’s one thing. Otherwise, how do we do make an assessment regarding his psychological wounding?” asked Maisie. “What do you think? Will you see him?”

“Children are so different in their response to the world around them. Yes, I can identify certain traits—and when I bringout my collection of trinkets from Africa, that can always get the young mind off the fact that I’m a doctor. But I thinkyou would be better served by someone really up on the latest research with regard to what goes on in a child’s mind—and yourFreddie is an interesting case.”

“Why do you say that, Elsbeth?”

“Because he’s had to take on the work of an adult—he’s a little man, Maisie. A troubled little man, and I feel so desperatelysorry for him.”

Maisie thought she heard a catch in the psychiatrist’s voice.

“Now then, I don’t want that boy to be intimidated by being brought to a hospital, but I think it would be good to get aninitial assessment, so I’m going to ask Alice Langley to get in touch with you.”

“Is she a doctor?”

“No, but she’s one of the best nurses I’ve ever worked with. Alice was a sister here in the child guidance clinic and sheworked alongside Moodie and also Dr. Rosalie Lucas, and as you know, here at the Maudsley, nurses have been at the forefrontof testing patients and drawing up psychiatric assessments. She’s up on all the latest research, and is a wonder with children—nospring chicken, I might add, and for the past few months she’s been at home with her daughter’s two youngsters because theyare now in her care. I daresay she will be back to work soon, even if it’s only for one morning shift—we need her—but shewanted to get the children settled. The eldest has just started school and the neighbor will look after the younger one.”

“What happened to her daughter?”

“She was killed in a daylight bombing raid, while the children were being looked after by the neighbor. Poor girl was just walking along the street, having waited in line for ages for a loaf of bread. Then barely two days later, Alice’s