Read Online 1990 by Wilfred Greatorex - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Wilfred Greatorex
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this alleged chest condition...'
'She has bronchial asthma!' Vickers interrupted, trenchantly.
'Do please control yourself, Doctor Vickers. We are trying to be fair.' The Chairman was elderly and would have preferred the sanctuary of wig and gown to protect him from young upstarts like this. 'One expert witness has told us that your child's condition is not serious and can be treated just as well here as anywhere else.'
Alan Vickers sat rigid, trying impossibly to appear objective. 'The expert witness is a medical officer in the Public Control Department,' he pointed out. 'He has a vested interest. My child would be better off in California.'
'And so would you. You'd be at least five times better off in salary,' the chairman stressed, obviously finding the other's demeanour personally offensive.
Vickers glanced at his counsel, who rustled some papers, but said nothing.
He turned back to the chairman, desperately, 'I thought this was an Ombudsman's Court. I thought it was to protect personal freedom.'
'Within the law, Doctor Vickers,' came the pompous reply. 'Don't forget that this country saw you through your education as a doctor. And you signed an agreement to work for at least ten years here after qualifying.'
'But Mary wasn't even born when I signed that!' he blurted out.
Delly Lomas had heard it all before. The trouble with grass roots work was that it was all so monotonously repetitive. She idly scanned the room. A small section of the court was reserved for the public, a few chosen from the social security list. There were also twelve places for the media. All were filled and, among them, she was cheered to see Kyle.
He caught her eye and returned her wink. At least that could mean an amusing lunch.
The chairman had gone into a ceremonial whispered huddle with the man and woman on either side of him. All three were mature and tamed by years in the civil service. Their verdict was a foregone conclusion.
'We have immense sympathy with you, Doctor Vickers. We believe, however, that your child's ill-health does not constitute grounds for the issue of an exit visa to you. We are prepared to grant your child a visa, so that she may be treated in a more congenial climate...'
'And break up my family?' the doctor shouted.
'We remind you that you signed form P17 and we must reject your appeal....This court will resume at two-thirty.'
Kyle saw Alan Vickers' face crumple momentarily, before the man wheeled round and left the room. People began to scrape back their chairs and move out, and Delly Lomas found her way to his side.
She looked glossy and alive against the drab background. He had intended to follow Vickers, but now he stopped.
'What brings you here? Seeing the balls and chains are properly put on?' he teased her.
'Come off it, Kyle. You don't like it any more than we do when anti-social people try to dodge paying their debt to this country.'
'He did have a bit of a case,' Kyle responded, easily.
'An excuse, no more. You're surely not going to splash this all over page one tomorrow?'
'Inside page,' he reassured her, without rancour. 'Twelve lines. That's all they're worth these days.'
'If that.'
'And I don't want your heavy mob after me.'
'Don't. You'll have me in tears,' she mocked. 'Nobody orders you what to print.'
'No, they just bend our fingers back as we try to type.'
She laughed, showing strong, even teeth. Everything about her was somehow seductively challenging. Her small-breasted, long body, her clever, sophisticated face. Dangerous, he thought to himself.
'Anyway, you're on our side most of the time,' she was saying.
'Till you get above yourselves,' he commented.
They had moved out of the court and, almost guiltily, he saw Alan Vickers standing in the corridor with his wife and small daughter. The family looked tired and beaten. The two men regarded each other, betraying nothing except a mysterious interest, which did not escape Delly Lomas.
'Don't tell me you swallowed his
'She has bronchial asthma!' Vickers interrupted, trenchantly.
'Do please control yourself, Doctor Vickers. We are trying to be fair.' The Chairman was elderly and would have preferred the sanctuary of wig and gown to protect him from young upstarts like this. 'One expert witness has told us that your child's condition is not serious and can be treated just as well here as anywhere else.'
Alan Vickers sat rigid, trying impossibly to appear objective. 'The expert witness is a medical officer in the Public Control Department,' he pointed out. 'He has a vested interest. My child would be better off in California.'
'And so would you. You'd be at least five times better off in salary,' the chairman stressed, obviously finding the other's demeanour personally offensive.
Vickers glanced at his counsel, who rustled some papers, but said nothing.
He turned back to the chairman, desperately, 'I thought this was an Ombudsman's Court. I thought it was to protect personal freedom.'
'Within the law, Doctor Vickers,' came the pompous reply. 'Don't forget that this country saw you through your education as a doctor. And you signed an agreement to work for at least ten years here after qualifying.'
'But Mary wasn't even born when I signed that!' he blurted out.
Delly Lomas had heard it all before. The trouble with grass roots work was that it was all so monotonously repetitive. She idly scanned the room. A small section of the court was reserved for the public, a few chosen from the social security list. There were also twelve places for the media. All were filled and, among them, she was cheered to see Kyle.
He caught her eye and returned her wink. At least that could mean an amusing lunch.
The chairman had gone into a ceremonial whispered huddle with the man and woman on either side of him. All three were mature and tamed by years in the civil service. Their verdict was a foregone conclusion.
'We have immense sympathy with you, Doctor Vickers. We believe, however, that your child's ill-health does not constitute grounds for the issue of an exit visa to you. We are prepared to grant your child a visa, so that she may be treated in a more congenial climate...'
'And break up my family?' the doctor shouted.
'We remind you that you signed form P17 and we must reject your appeal....This court will resume at two-thirty.'
Kyle saw Alan Vickers' face crumple momentarily, before the man wheeled round and left the room. People began to scrape back their chairs and move out, and Delly Lomas found her way to his side.
She looked glossy and alive against the drab background. He had intended to follow Vickers, but now he stopped.
'What brings you here? Seeing the balls and chains are properly put on?' he teased her.
'Come off it, Kyle. You don't like it any more than we do when anti-social people try to dodge paying their debt to this country.'
'He did have a bit of a case,' Kyle responded, easily.
'An excuse, no more. You're surely not going to splash this all over page one tomorrow?'
'Inside page,' he reassured her, without rancour. 'Twelve lines. That's all they're worth these days.'
'If that.'
'And I don't want your heavy mob after me.'
'Don't. You'll have me in tears,' she mocked. 'Nobody orders you what to print.'
'No, they just bend our fingers back as we try to type.'
She laughed, showing strong, even teeth. Everything about her was somehow seductively challenging. Her small-breasted, long body, her clever, sophisticated face. Dangerous, he thought to himself.
'Anyway, you're on our side most of the time,' she was saying.
'Till you get above yourselves,' he commented.
They had moved out of the court and, almost guiltily, he saw Alan Vickers standing in the corridor with his wife and small daughter. The family looked tired and beaten. The two men regarded each other, betraying nothing except a mysterious interest, which did not escape Delly Lomas.
'Don't tell me you swallowed his
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