Questions of Trust A Medical Romance - By Sam Archer Page 0,49

well as the local electoral roll, but was unsurprised that the woman wasn’t listed. Nevertheless, the street on which the woman lived had been mentioned, presumably with her consent, in the article the Pember Valley News had published. Chloe drove to the street in question and learned the location of the block of flats in which Ms Jones lived from the occupier of the third house she approached. Once at the block of flats, and not seeing the name Sabrina Jones over any of the buzzers, Chloe pressed the buttons randomly until somebody answered.

‘I’m here to visit Sabrina,’ she said.

‘Wrong flat, love,’ the man said. ‘You want number six.’

So Chloe thumbed the buzzer for flat number six, and waited.

It was Wednesday afternoon. The story had broken that morning in the Pember Valley News and as expected the paper had milked it for all it was worth, making it the lead on the front page under the screaming headline SHOCK OF DOC OCTOPUS. The subheading read: His Hands Were All Over Me, Claims Tearful Local Beauty. And the accompanying photo showed a woman in her thirties with crudely dyed blonde hair, her face red and puffy from crying, gazing pitifully out at the camera.

The article was spread over three pages and relayed Ms Jones’s account in lurid detail. According to her, she’d been a registered patient at the practice for just a month, having recently moved to Pemberham. One evening three weeks ago – tellingly, she claimed she couldn’t remember exactly when – she’d received a visit from Dr Carlyle, who said he was following up on a visit she’d made to the practice a few days earlier with a bad back. She had seen the other doctor, Dr Ben Okoro, at that visit, so she was surprised that Dr Carlisle came round. After assuring him that her back was better, Ms Jones began to feel uneasy about Dr Carlisle, since he showed no signs of intending to leave. He’d sat next to her on the sofa and put his arm round her, and when she’d tried to get away and told him in no uncertain terms that she wanted him to go away at once, he had groped her intimately. Only when she screamed and threatened to call the police did he back off and depart.

Since then, said Ms Jones, her life had been a nightmare of fear, shame and guilt. She couldn’t sleep, was overeating, was sinking into depression and could barely concentrate at work. Too scared at first of the repercussions of accusing a well-known and powerful man like the local doctor, she’d decided now to come forward so that other women wouldn’t have to suffer the same treatment.

Ms Jones had approached the newspapers rather than going to the police, she said, because she didn’t want any legal fuss, didn’t want Dr Carlisle to be prosecuted. All she wanted was for his conduct to be exposed so that he was forced to apologise, which would allow Sabrina to move on and try to pick up the pieces of her life once more.

Chloe read and reread the interview with growing incredulity and disgust. The woman’s story was so blatantly flimsy it beggared belief. No dates or times were provided, not even approximate ones. Sabrina Jones didn’t reveal why she hadn’t complained in confidence to the manager of the GP practice. Predictably, the paper’s interviewer didn’t press her on any of the details she gave. And there was no attempt in the article to suggest that Dr Carlyle might have anything to say on the matter.

Chloe knew she had to work quickly. The Pemberham Gazette was published on a Monday and so there were five days to go, enough time for Simon, the paper’s staff reporter, to take a more measured approach and interview both Ms Jones and Tom about the matter. Ms Jones would be expecting somebody from the Gazette to visit her, and while Chloe wasn’t representing the paper herself and had no intention of lying outright, she had no qualms about Ms Jones jumping to the wrong conclusion and assuming she was there on official Gazette business.

A voice crackled over the intercom: ‘Yes?’

‘Ms Sabrina Jones? My name’s Chloe Edwards. I’m a journalist. You might have read my column in the Pemberham Gazette?’

‘Oh yeah. Right. Come on up.’

As easy as that, Chloe thought with a grim smile. She waited for the door release to sound and then pushed her way in.

Flat number six was one floor up. The