Anastasia Kruger, MD

Paul Kelly

Description

This fantastic new eBook from well-known author Paul Kelly will make an excellent addition to any fiction-lover's digital shelf. Featuring strong characters and plots which draws you into Kelly's worlds, reviewers have been recommending his titles for years. This latest addition to his catalogue of successes is sure to be another winner.

Sujets

• Sagas

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 31 octobre 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783333714
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
‘ANASTASIA KRUGER, MD.’
A Fiction Drama
By
Paul Kelly



Publisher Information
‘Anastasia Kruger, MD.’
Published in 2013 by Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
Copyright © Paul Kelly
The right of Paul Kelly to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.



Chapter One
“I’M SORRY YOU’VE HAD TO WAIT SO LONG, MRS.KRUGER, the professor has been unavoidably delayed, but he is free to see you now. Will you come this way please?”
Anastachia followed the young receptionist into the psychiatrist’s consulting room, removing her tight fitting gloves as she went and tucking them into the outer pocket of her handbag.
“Rather cold this morning, don’t you think?” the receptionist added as she watched the client’s reaction and closed the door behind her to leave Anastachia with the psychiatrist, but it was not the cold that had made her keep her gloves on during the twenty minutes or so she had to wait... she had simply forgotten to remove them in her anxiety.
“Good morning, Mrs.Kruger. So pleased to see you and I’m sorry for the delay. Some of my patients will not go away when I have completed the consultation, you know... and I’m sure it has nothing to do with my popularity,” Robert Southfield laughed as he made his last remark...
Anastachia smiled and assured him that she understood and that there had been no inconvenience...
“That is most kind of you... Now will you please sit down... here, beside me if you don’t mind... and can I offer you some tea... or coffee perhaps?”
Anastachia sat down but declined the offer of refreshments as she crossed her legs and unbuttoned her full length coat.
“Oh allow me please. I had forgotten how warm it is in here with the central heating. It is so cold outside,” he said as he took Anastachia’s coat and hung it on a large oak stand near the door.
“Now, Mrs. oh may I call you by your Christian name please?”
She smiled again; a rather weak attempt this time.
“Yes of course... My name is Anastasia, but everybody calls me Stachie,” she replied softly and the psychiatrist raised his eyebrows.
“What an unusual name... Not at all like mine... I’m plain Robert Southfield... Bob to my friends. Would you like to call me Bob?”
She nodded and smiled again, feeling that her face muscles had got fixed... It was the last thing she felt like doing... smiling to anyone, but he was trying to be kind... even if she wished he would get on with it ...
“You are of German extraction, I understand,” he said, glancing through some papers on his desk and pressing the button on his tape recorder.
“Austrian... not German,” she emphasized.
“Married... of course... Mrs. er... Stachie.”
Yes she thought, but not ‘of course’ ... as she answered his question.
“For the past six years,” she said softly.
“Six, did you say?”
“Yes, six ...”
He smiled broadly and studied his tape recorder to ensure that it was working properly.
“May I ask your date of birth?”
Stachie sighed and her breath came in short spasms.
“I was born in 1924 November 3 rd , I am thirty-eight,” she said,
“Are you a housewife, Stachie?”
She looked away from him and stared out of the window.
“No, like you Bob ...I am in the medical profession.”
Again he raised his eyebrows and tried to straighten the strands of hair that ran vertically across his bald pate...
“A doctor?” he enquired enthusiastically.
“A neuro-surgeon,” she answered. “I followed my father’s profession. He was also a neuro-surgeon in our home town of Innsbruck.
“And you studied in Austria?”
“Yes... firstly in Vienna and then in Linz.”
“Very interesting... I don’t think I have actually met a lady neuro-surgeon before. I am privileged,” he gushed and Stachie blushed a little, but she couldn’t understand why, as she was used to such like comments from her peers. Perhaps it was just that Bob Southfield seemed a little more genuine than the rest... or maybe, she thought she was getting more used to the flattery and it didn’t affect her any more. Whatever the reason, she brushed the compliment off hSiggy-heartedly.
“It is not so uncommon nowadays. Women it seems are getting into all the professions,” she added and looked at Bob Southfield to see if he approved of her attitude or not but he gave no indication of his personal views from his demeanour as he carried on scribbling some notes on a pad and looking at his recorder.
“You speak English very well, but I suppose you have been told that many times?” he said as she coughed lightly and excused herself.
“My husband is English, but don’t be put off by the surname. His parents were German and they came to England shortly after the war.”
Southfield nodded and rubbed the end of his nose with his forefinger.
“Have you any brothers or sisters, Stachie?”
“No... I am an only child. I think that is the reason why I was so spoiled at home and also why I followed my father’s footsteps so closely. I... .. Oh I’m sorry, I do tend to go on a bit when I talk about my father. Sorry.”
“No please... Do go on.”
“Oh, it is just that we got on so well together... Not so with my mother, I’m afraid. I adored him and admired the work he did from a very early age.”
Bob Southfield nodded, but said nothing until he had made a few more notes.
“This is your first visit here, of course,” he said without looking up from his desk, “Have you been to a psychiatrist before?” Stachie shook her head and looked at her finger nails as he continued to speak. “Now would you like to tell me, in your own words, of course, how you think I can help you?” he went on and Stachie bit her lip as she glanced at the ceiling.
“If only it were so simple, Mr. Suth... sorry, Bob.”
He smiled and settled himself more comfortably into his large red leather chair, swinging lightly to the left of his desk so that he could cross his legs. Stachie pushed her blonde hair, casually away from her forehead, revealing more fully her flawless skin and deep blue eyes that few men could help but notice. Bob Southfield was no exception. Her full crimson lips with her mouth only slightly open, showed signs of just the slightest hint of lip rouge and her lips quivered as she began to speak.
“I will try to begin at the beginning as I know this is what you would advise, but if I digress in any way, please feel free to stop me and I will try to explain. It is not always easy to explain things in the right chronological order and I know I do tend to run away with my thoughts.”
Southfield nodded sympathetically and stroked his few hair strands that had fallen down over his left ear and Stachie wet her lips as she began to tell her story.
“I was born in Innsbruck, as you already know, in 1962 on November 3 rd . A Scorpio, for what it’s worth. My mother would have had three other children, two boys and a girl, but they all died in infancy and would have been older than me. I think that is why my parents spoiled me so much... ever since I can remember. I wanted for nothing and Daddy was a famous neuro-surgeon. He encouraged me in every way to do whatever I wanted to do... but he didn’t drive me into the medical profession, you understand. That was my own choice, although I am sure I was greatly influenced by him and how I saw him as we shared our lives together”
She suddenly stopped talking at this point in her story, looking guilty as though she had already said too much, but Bob Southfield was making his notes and encouraged her to continue by cupping his left ear with his hand. Stachie grinned as she looked at her wrist watch.
“I was thinking that by this time you would be able to give me a couple of pills that would set me right,” she said, “I hate talking about myself... it all seems so bloody futile.”
Southfield stared at her for a few moments in silence as if transfixed by her honesty and waited for a few seconds before he spoke again.
“You would be surprised at how many people just love to talk about themselves, Stachie. It is so refreshing to hear you speak as you do, but I’m afraid my profession can only survive and prosper if people do talk about themselves and I listen to everything, ramifications or not.”
“I don’t know what to say to you. I mean, I don’t know what you want to know,” she said, stammering a little in her efforts to explain and Southfield uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, placing his hands together before him on his desk.
“Take your time. Talk to me freely about anything you wish.
Eventually you will know why you have come here and you will understand the need to talk about your particular problem. Don’t be afraid... we all have them... you know, problems I mean and there isn’t a family in the land without at least one skeleton in the cupboard, so fire way. I won’t be at all embarrassed or shocked... at anything you tell me, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
Stachie shifted uneasily where she sat.
“It’s my husband,” she said slowly after hesitating for some time and as Bob Southfield sat forward again in his chair, his eyes showed an understanding interest. “I could use that cup of coffee, if it’s still on offer,” she said and Southfield pressed a button on his d