So, she rang through to the Magic of Therapy Centre in Smalting and made an appointment that afternoon to see Dr Robert Rawley.
‘So, it’s the right knee, is it, Mrs Seddon?’ he asked.
The Magic of Therapy Centre operated from a converted – and presumably deconsecrated – church. Smalting was a small seaside village to the west of Fethering. Its residents thought they were socially superior to Fethering’s. Mind you, Fethering’s thought they were socially superior to Smalting’s. But Smalting didn’t have a cultural excrescence like the former ‘council housing’ of the Downside Estate within its boundaries, so its residents reckoned that settled the argument.
Dr Rawley was a long thin man, dressed in a black shirt and black jeans. Carole preferred her doctors in sports jackets like the ones at Fethering Surgery. But then what could you expect from practitioners who embraced alternative as well as traditional medicine?
Carole had not yet taken her knee to the proper doctors. She knew what would have happened if she’d gone to Fethering Surgery. She almost definitely wouldn’t have secured an appointment with the one doctor she trusted there – and whom she used to think of as ‘her doctor’. She would instead have been fobbed off with some eleven-year-old trainee, who would have looked at her knee and referred her to St Giles’s Hospital in Clincham for an X-ray. Whose inconclusive results would take weeks to arrive back at the surgery. And when they did arrive, the surgery would forget to tell her and she’d have to ring them.
She wasn’t expecting anything very different going private at the Magic of Therapy Centre, but she reckoned the expense was justified as part of her investigation in Bill Shefford’s death.
With a view to having her knee examined, she had worn a skirt rather than trousers and, in spite of the cold weather, no tights. Just socks under her sensible shoes. She didn’t relish the indignity of having to take any clothes off.
Once she had confirmed that the right knee was the one causing her problems, Dr Rawley asked her to stand and move her foot in various directions, first with shoes on, then without. She had to tell him which positions caused pain, and he noted the result on an iPad.
Next, as requested, she lay down on the treatment couch while he felt and manipulated the offending limb, once again noting the movements which made her wince.
He asked her to get off the couch and take a chair. Then he announced, ‘I would say it is definitely arthritis.’
This was far from good news for Carole. The word ‘arthritis’ carried such heavy connotations of age and decrepitude. She didn’t think she was old enough to be even distantly associated with the condition.
‘Presumably,’ she said, ‘your diagnosis could be confirmed by an X-ray?’
‘It could be,’ Dr Rawley agreed, ‘though it would be a waste of effort to take one.’
‘Why?’
‘Because, as you observed, it would only confirm what I’ve just told you. What is causing the pain in your knee is arthritis.’
‘I’m sure, if I’d gone to my usual doctor, he would have recommended having an X-ray taken.’ She didn’t mention the unlikelihood of her actually getting an appointment with her usual doctor.
Dr Rawley shrugged. ‘That would have been his decision, and I am not about to question the decision of a fellow practitioner. It is my view, however, that an X-ray is unnecessary and a waste of expensive resources.’
‘Oh.’
‘And, incidentally, I think I would be justified in asking, if you so favour the methods of your usual doctor, why aren’t you at their surgery consulting them? Why have you come to see me?’
This was too direct a question, and one for which Carole had not really prepared an answer. She replied evasively, ‘I’ve had your services recommended to me.’
‘That’s good. From a satisfied customer?’
To say ‘No’ would sound stupid. She wished she hadn’t started off down this particular track. So, she said, ‘Yes.’
‘May I ask who?’
She was stuck with it now. ‘Bill Shefford.’
There was a momentary silence before Dr Rawley said, ‘Well, I’m glad he was a satisfied customer. Before … what happened to him.’
‘Very sad.’
‘Yes.’ The doctor seemed to feel that enough had been said on that subject. ‘So, the question I’m sure you want to ask is: What do we do about it?’
‘What do we do about what?’ asked Carole, whose mind had been developing other scenarios.
‘Your knee.’
‘Ah. My knee. Yes.’
‘That is, after all, why you came to see me.’ Again, a small silence. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ Carole moved into realist mode. ‘Well, there’s no cure for arthritis, is there?’
‘There are many treatments that can alleviate the symptoms.’
‘Yes, I’m sure. But there’s no cure.’
‘Never say never.’ Dr Rawley grinned thinly. ‘There’s a lot of research going on at the moment, so a cure might be possible at some point.’
‘When you say “research”, do you mean research into new drugs? Or alternative therapies?’
‘I was referring to alternative therapies. Drugs have their place in medicine, but doctors rely too much on them. I only prescribe drugs when I have exhausted all other possibilities.’
‘Oh,’ said Carole. ‘And in my case, for arthritis, what other possibilities are there?’
‘Acupuncture can be very effective.’
‘I’m sure,’ said Carole, unconvinced. ‘For pain relief?’
‘And general well-being.’
That got one of Carole’s ‘Huh’s. ‘Any other suggestions?’
‘Your manner suggests to me that you don’t believe in “healing”.’
‘That’s very observant of you.’
‘You mean I’m right?’
‘You are.’
‘It’s not my place to comment on your opinions. I will simply say that I have seen spectacular results achieved by the work of healers.’
Carole was about to say that she lived next to one but curbed the instinct. This was her bit of the investigation. Leave Jude out of it for the time being. Instead, she observed, ‘It seems to me that healing is an area that attracts a lot of charlatans.’
‘That is sadly true,’ said Dr Rawley.
‘So, how do you know how to get a good healer? One who’s interested in your welfare rather than your cash?’
‘It’s a difficult area, as you say. You can go online and find websites for thousands of them. All with glowing testimonials. But it’s very easy to forge testimonials online. About the only way you can guarantee to find a good healer is by word of mouth. Recommendation from someone who’s benefited from their treatment.’
‘Hm.’ Carole took a risk. ‘I’ve heard, through a friend, of one practising round Fethering … called Jeremiah. Do you know him?’
‘We have met. I hear very good reports of his work. I’m sure, if you don’t warm to the idea of acupuncture …’
‘Which I don’t. The idea that you can cure one part of the body by sticking needles into another part of it is—’
‘Yes, thank you, I’ve heard all of the popular arguments against acupuncture. Many times. All I’m saying is that someone like Jeremiah could give you effective treatment for your knee. Certainly relieve the pain. Would you like me to give you his contact details?’
‘No, thanks. I can get them through my friend … if I were to decide to go down the route of consulting a healer …’
‘Which, your tone of voice suggests, is very unlikely.’
‘Perhaps.’
Dr Rawley stood up. ‘Well, I think that probably concludes our consultation, Mrs Seddon. I have given you a diagnosis of what is wrong with your knee. I have given you a couple of suggested treatments … which do not seem to fill you with enthusiasm. If you could settle up with the receptionist on the way out, that would be fine. I would normally say also sort it out with her if you want to book further appointments, but in your case, I don’t think that is going to happen. Is it?’