If I Should Die (Joseph Stark) Read Online Free Page A

have reviewed his notes in detail, prepared, planned. In theory he shouldn’t have to cover too much old ground. In theory.
    So much for theory, he thought an hour later. Few people leave you with a true impression of imbecility, but Dr Hazel McDonald made his head throb. It was like wading through treacle or, worse, like talking to a wall – every statement echoed back at you with a question mark on the end, every fact queried, every frustration seized upon. Nothing went in, nothing. He had a dreadful feeling the next session would start where this had and get no further.
    And it was past lunchtime. If they were just honest about appointment times he’d have been able to eat beforehand. He didn’t like being hungry. Army life was regular except when it wasn’t, teaching you to associate regular meals with safety and rest. Selly Oak and Headley Court had reinforced the point by associating mealtimes with respite from torture and, despite what people might say, food in the army and in hospital was plentiful and nutritious. It didn’t matter if you liked it, you ate it: fuel, fuel, fuel, for fighting or healing, shovel it in. All was well when the food came like clockwork. Right now his stomach told him all was not well. The thought of speaking to that woman again made him feel all the more sick.
    He found what passed for a sandwich in the hospital canteen and spent the cab ride back dispelling the unpleasant thoughts rattling around in his head. Talking of which, he ought to phone Margaret Collins. He couldn’t keep his head in the sand for ever. There didn’t seem much way he could hope to avoid what was coming and she deserved to hear it from him first.
    Fran made a point of peering at the wall clock when Stark reappeared well after lunchtime, but said nothing. He didn’t apologize; if this was how long his appointments were going to take, better she got used to it now. It wasn’t as if she’d given him anything else to do.Ptolemy and Peters had offered to show him more that afternoon and evening and, with apparently no plan for him, Fran waved her consent wordlessly as she took a call.
    This tour covered more of the borough, all the way out to Abbey Wood and Thamesmead, with its iconic riverside Flat Block Marina, immortalized by the film
A Clockwork Orange
, returning to Greenwich town by the evening. Around pub closing a call came over the radio requesting response to trouble brewing at the Meridian pub.
    Ptolemy picked up the handset. ‘Control. Car Eleven responding, ETA two minutes.’
    The Meridian turned out to be one of those chain McPubs popping up in every town like aggressive weeds, strangling traditional pubs. Trouble had already brewed, boiled and spilt over. Outside, two groups were posturing and yelling abuse at each other.
    Both sides fell back at the arrival of the blue lights. Ptolemy and Peters leapt out and strode into the gap. The shouting and posturing barely diminished as they tried to make themselves heard and establish coherence if not order. Out of uniform Stark hung back by the car, ready to assist if required.
    Perhaps it was situation normal at this establishment. A big doorman peeped out to observe the blue lights and ducked back inside, content to have pushed his mess out for someone else to clear up.
    The more aggressive group was led by a gobby chavette, hair scraped back in a council face-lift, big hooped gold earrings, mauve velour tracksuit and the latest must-have accessory: a gold clown on a gold chain. She was incensed about something. Her eyes were wild and there was saliva on her lips as she spat startling vitriol. It was only when she paused for breath that he recognized her. The infamous Nikki Cockcroft from the assault files. Others too. Stark couldn’t recall names but this was them, including Kyle Gibbs, hovering near the back. Stark’s eyes rested on Gibbs. It took a second to work out why but then he had it – Gibbs had one hand in a pocket.
    There was only one