He looked like a Joe, too. Bright and friendly and approachable. ‘She’s not a refugee, exactly,’ I explained to him, once we’d dispensed with the usual pleasantries and I’d given him the lowdown on why Adrianna had come to us. ‘She’s been in the country a while now, as far as we know – albeit under the radar – and she’s by all accounts Polish, which makes her an EU national obviously. But she’s not well. Hasn’t been right since she came to us. She spends most of her time sleeping, and lives off little more than coffee and paracetamol. And she’s definitely feverish.’
Joe nodded. ‘Any vomiting?’
I shook my head. ‘Not that I know of. I’m sure not, in fact. I’m a bit of a sleuth like that,’ I added, grinning. ‘You get to be in my line of work. So I’m pretty sure I’d know if she had been sick. And no light sensitivity, either. And no rash, as far as I can see. Though I have actually managed to see very little of her.’ I spread my hands. ‘So it might be nothing – well, nothing more than a mild virus, anyway. Or she might just be exhausted – she probably is. Or depressed – that was my other thought. And then it’s just occurred to me that it might simply be that time of the month and she’s too embarrassed, or doesn’t have the language to tell me. It’s so hard when you don’t speak the same language, isn’t it? And there was no way in the world I’d be able to coax her down to the surgery …’
‘So the surgery has come to her,’ Joe the GP reassured me, grinning back at me as he hefted his heavy case. ‘Though I must confess I don’t speak much Polish myself. I was trying to think of a some words in the car on the way over – I do have a few Polish patients, so I’m not entirely clueless. I know “Polski”, of course – much use that’s going to be – and “czemu”, which means “why”, and “nie rozumiem”, which is Polish – or so I’m told – for “I don’t understand”.’ He laughed as he shrugged off his jacket and began rolling up his shirt sleeves. ‘Which both come up quite a lot, as you can imagine. But which aren’t going to be a whole lot of use to us, are they? But that’s okay. Let’s take a look at her. That’s the main thing. Check her over. Upstairs, I presume?’
‘Upstairs,’ I confirmed, leading the way up the stairs. ‘And, doctor, I’m so sorry if it’s something and nothing and I’ve got you here on a wild goose chase.’
‘Oh, think nothing of it,’ he said, smiling. I decided I liked Dr Joe.
Adrianna was back in bed again when I pushed the bedroom door fully open, having noted the welcome development that at least she had left it ajar. She was a small S shape under the covers, curled up with her head facing the wall, and her hair, which was obviously still wet from her bath, gathered up inside a turban of towel.
‘Sweetie,’ I said softly as I entered, ‘are you awake?’
Clearly yes. She turned over to face me with a wan smile. Then saw the doctor behind me and stiffened.
‘It’s okay,’ I soothed. ‘Now, I know you don’t think you need to see a doctor, but you’re not well, and I’m afraid I don’t agree. So here he is …’
I trailed off then, conscious both of the anxiety on her face and the fact that she probably only understood one word in four. If that. Which made my twittering pretty pointless. It made me suddenly remember watching a foreign film with Mike one evening. It was subtitled but something went wrong with the TV while we were watching and the subtitles disappeared. It was a strange experience watching something and trying to follow the plot, when all the time the background sounds of people talking in a different language actually put you off what was happening.
‘Hello, Adrianna,’ Joe said brightly, stepping round me. ‘I’m Joe. I’m a doctor. And I hear you’re feeling poorly. I’ve come to see how you’re doing. Is that okay?’
He didn’t seem to care that she could barely understand him. And he probably had a point, because some things are universal, aren’t they? His bright but brisk tone was saying it for him well enough. And though I knew she probably couldn’t understand many of the actual words, Adrianna shuffled herself up to a sitting position and made her own feelings known by pulling the duvet up to her chin, her eyes darting mistrustfully between the doctor and me. It was a reaction that only heightened my sense of her anguish and dislocation. Where were her parents? Where were her loved ones? Why was she so far from home?
I remained in the doorway, nodding encouragement and watching as the doctor said ‘May I?’ and then plonked himself down at the edge of the single bed. Adrianna pulled her legs up even further.
‘Polski?’ Joe said, placing his bag down by his feet and opening it. Adrianna nodded, her eyes following his every movement.
‘And not much English?’ Joe continued. ‘So we’ll have to do our best with each other, won’t we? So, what I’m going to do is take your temperature –’ He pulled an ear thermometer from his bag. ‘You’ve seen one of these?’
The gesture he made with it was obvious enough, and Adrianna nodded.
‘I’d like to use this to take your temperature. In your ear,’ he explained, indicating his own. ‘Like this. Is that okay?’
Adrianna nodded again, albeit reluctantly, and allowed the doctor to place the thermometer in her ear, pulling the towel off as she did so and letting her hair coil down her back.
‘Well, it’s certainly up,’ Joe said, after the machine beeped its answer. ‘High, but not dangerously so. So, most importantly, how do you feel?’ he asked Adrianna, making gestures as he did so. ‘Do you feel sick?’ He indicated this using two fingers. ‘Any stomach pain?’ Rubbing his own and pulling a face. ‘Does your head hurt?’ He pressed his hand to his temple and groaned. ‘Dizzy?’ He made a brief spinning motion with his hand. ‘How about your chest?’ he asked finally, placing a hand across his own chest and coughing.
To all of which, Adrianna, looking scared and suspicious, performed a series of equally clear responses. Head shakes, emphatic ones, to each enquiry. No. ‘I am tired,’ she said finally. ‘I am okay. I am tired.’
‘Perhaps because you’re sick, Adrianna,’ Joe persisted. He made another gesture, placing his palms together and raising them to his cheek. ‘To be so tired. Not good. So I need to examine you …’ He reached down again, to uncurl a stethoscope from his bag. ‘Check your chest. Check your stomach. Check your skin for any rashes …’
‘Should I leave you?’ I asked, conscious of Adrianna’s right to privacy. Her gaze shifted to me immediately, even though I doubted she understood what I’d said.
Joe looked at her enquiringly, then back again at me. ‘I’m sure you can st–’ he began.
‘But I am fine,’ Adrianna said again. She clutched the duvet even closer to her chin, as if to underline the point.
‘It’s nothing to be afraid of,’ Joe said reassuringly, placing the ear buds in his ears. ‘I just need a little listen of your chest and back with this. That’s all. Nothing to worry about. But if you’d like Casey to leave us …’
‘No touch!’ It came out almost as a shriek, making me jump. Like a noise made by a cornered, frightened animal.
Which, in effect, was what she was. At least, in her mind. ‘Sweetheart, it’s okay,’ I said. ‘You’ve nothing to fear, I promise. The doctor just wants to –’
‘No