TRIGGER 2 - extract

 

Majda smiled to herself as she put the phone down. And subconsciously she repeated the words, Esme's words, "Yes yes of course I want to help. Just count me in. Anything you need from me, or for me to do, its fine. I just want what's best for Lulu." Oh yes she would do that alright. Actually, Doctor Shaheen had already counted the mother of Lulu in. She looked down at the file again. Flicked through a few pages as though she were double checking details. Back and fore between pages - the medical notes. How had this woman managed to get medical notes? It was a question that begged to be asked by anyone who might have been on the outside looking in. There may have been a case for her to take a look at the general medical history of the family - if she had taken on Lulu through legitimate means that is. Even then, getting Esme's full notes would have been above and beyond. But the file that Majda had on her desk was a complete file. Anything that could have been in their about Esme, either that was available in the public domain, internet searches and the like, AND information not in the public domain such as medical, and habits, private lives and suchlike were in this file. To all intents and purposes this was a complete and total file. Anything not in this file was not worth knowing.

Majda sat back, and pushed her head back into the headrest of the leather desk chair she was sitting on in her study. It was like she was deep in thought. There was the tiniest smile across her attractive red lips. It was like she didn't have a care in the world. Like all she might have had any concerns about were that this plan of hers would fall into place with a flawless perfection. Flawless like her complexion. She looked at her diary. She didn't need to, she just did. She would get Esme in the next day. If what she was feeling was right then Doctor Majda Shaheen was going to get two for the price of one as it were.

Esme didn't know why she could feel goosebumps on the back of her neck. It was as though someone were blowing, very gently on the hairs there. Right there. She hadn't been expecting to hear back from Majda Shaheen so quickly. If the truth was known she had been hoping that she wouldn't need to go see her at all. She reasoned, it was all good, positive that the doctor had taken time out to call her personally. She hadn't particularly liked what she had heard. It had unsettled her. The implications as to Lulu's sexual 'disorder' for want of a better word. The whole telephone conversation had unsettled her. And she had been a little grateful to hear that click that ended the call. But she had sat in the same position for what seemed like a long time after that call trying to figure out what the hell that conversation had been all about. Not the content but the whole thing. She had hung up her own phone thinking that 'nah she won't call back. She won't want to meet me, which is just as well because I don't want to be hassled with all that.' Like the "Yes yes of course I want to help. Just count me in. Anything you need from me, or for me to do, its fine. I just want what's best for Lulu." was all for show. That she didn't mean it at all. That the good doctor could do her stuff the way she did it, and she would send the cheques covering the cost. But anything deeper, like any deeper involvement, or inclusion, nah she didn't want that. In a way she could feel better about herself, having got a friend to get Doctor Majda on board. That was her 'bit'. She had done her bit. Fuck the rest of that shit.

She had been like in a world of her own. That dreadful telephone call was done and dusted and she had reached for the bottle of wine. Esme had always thought it a rude thing, to open a bottle of wine and not finish it. That was something that she had always thought with a little smile. Alluding the fact that the bottle had to be finished, it would be rude not to. It made her chuckle. But she hadn't even taken her first gulp and her cell phone rang again. She'd almost fallen off that kitchen stool. "Esme its Doctor Majda, I have a time slot in my diary for tomorrow afternoon, 2pm. Why don't you come see me then? I don't see any point in delaying it, or making it too far into the future?" She had caught Esme on the back-foot again really. And her tone - she wasn't asking if that would be convenient she was suggesting that tomorrow would be the day. That there was no alternative on offer. "Oh, oh well, yes ok, sure. Why not?" had been all that Esme could come up with. Majda had smiled. She listened to people a lot. Listened to what they said and how they said it. Listen to tones and little nuanced changes of dictation. She was enjoying Esme's discomfort. Over the years Majda had worked with people from all walks of life and from all sides of town. The bad parts, the good parts, the wealthy and the poor. She had learnt a lot that had stood her in good stead for her chosen path in life. She had come across mothers like Esme to. Ones who didn't really bother, or couldn't be bothered with their kids too much. Oh they made all the right noises, said all the right things but she knew what they meant. And the thing was that these mothers really do come from all walks of life. The good the bad, the rich and poor. But Majda recognised other things in voices as well. She recognised someone who was troubled themselves. It wasn't unusual for a teen who was troubled in some way or other to have a parent, or both parents who had mental health and emotional issues as well. Esme had that tone about her. Yes she said the right things and she made the right noises but there was something. What her notes and what her file didn't contain, Majda would bring out. She would dig and dig and she would bring it all out.