Two

INTRODUCING AMY LEATHERAN

I don’t pretend to be an author or to know anything about writing. I’m doing this simply becauseDr.?Reilly asked me to, and somehow when Dr.?Reilly asks you to do a thing you don’t like torefuse.

“Oh, but, doctor,” I said, “I’m not literary—not literary at all.”

“Nonsense!” he said. “Treat it as case notes, if you like.”

Well, of course, you can look at it that way.

Dr.?Reilly went on. He said that an unvarnished plain account of the Tell Yarimjah businesswas badly needed.

“If one of the interested parties writes it, it won’t carry conviction. They’ll say it’s biased¹ oneway or another.”

And of course that was true, too. I was in it all and yet an outsider, so to speak.

“Why don’t you write it yourself, doctor?” I asked.

“I wasn’t on the spot—you were. Besides,” he added with a sigh, “my daughter won’t letme.”

The way he knuckles² under to that chit of a girl of his is downright disgraceful. I had half amind to say so, when I saw that his eyes were twinkling. That was the worst of Dr.?Reilly. Younever knew whether he was joking or not. He always said things in the same slow melancholy³ way—but half the time there was a twinkle underneath⁴ it.

“Well,” I said doubtfully, “I suppose I could.”

“Of course you could.”

“Only I don’t quite know how to set about it.”

“There’s a good precedent⁵ for that. Begin at the beginning, go on to the end and then leaveoff.”

“I don’t even know quite where and what the beginning was,” I said doubtfully.

“Believe me, nurse, the difficulty of beginning will be nothing to the difficulty of knowinghow to stop. At least that’s the way it is with me when I have to make a speech. Someone’s got tocatch hold of my coattails and pull me down by main force.”

“Oh, you’re joking, doctor.”

“It’s profoundly serious I am. Now what about it?”

Another thing was worrying me. After hesitating a moment or two I said: “You know, doctor,I’m afraid I might tend to be—well, a little personal sometimes.”

“God bless my soul, woman, the more personal you are the better! This is a story of humanbeings—not dummies⁶! Be personal—be prejudiced—be catty—be anything you please! Write thething your own way. We can always prune⁷ out the bits that are libellous afterwards! You go ahead.

You’re a sensible woman, and you’ll give a sensible commonsense⁸ account of the business.”

So that was that, and I promised to do my best.

And here I am beginning, but as I said to the doctor, it’s difficult to know just where to start.

I suppose I ought to say a word or two about myself. I’m thirty-two and my name is AmyLeatheran. I took my training at St. Christopher’s and after that did two years maternity⁹. I did acertain amount of private work and I was for four years at Miss?Bendix’s Nursing Home inDevonshire Place. I came out to Iraq with a Mrs.?Kelsey. I’d attended her when her baby wasborn. She was coming out to Baghdad with her husband and had already got a children’s nursebooked who had been for some years with friends of hers out there. Their children were cominghome and going to school, and the nurse had agreed to go to Mrs.?Kelsey when they left.

Mrs.?Kelsey was delicate and nervous about the journey out with so young a child, so MajorKelsey arranged that I should come out with her and look after her and the baby. They would paymy passage home unless we found someone needing a nurse for the return journey.

Well, there is no need to describe the Kelseys—the baby was a little love and Mrs.?Kelseyquite nice, though rather the fretting¹⁰ kind. I enjoyed the voyage very much. I’d never been a longtrip on the sea before.

Dr.?Reilly was on board the boat. He was a black-haired, long-faced man who said all sorts offunny things in a low, sad voice. I think he enjoyed pulling my leg and used to make the mostextraordinary statements to see if I would swallow them. He was the civil surgeon at a place calledHassanieh—a day and a half ’s journey from Baghdad.

I had been about a week in Baghdad when I ran across him and he asked when I was leavingthe Kelseys. I said that it was funny his asking that because as a matter of fact the Wrights (theother people I mentioned) were going home earlier than they had meant to and their nurse was freeto come straightaway.

He said that he had heard about the Wrights and that that was why he had asked me.

“As a matter of fact, nurse, I’ve got a possible job for you.”

“A case?”

He screwed his face up as though considering.

“You could hardly call it a case. It’s just a lady who has—shall we say—fancies?”

“Oh!” I said.

(One usually knows what that means—drink or drugs!)Dr.?Reilly didn’t explain further. He was very discreet¹¹. “Yes,” he said. “A Mrs.?Leidner.

Husband’s an American—an American Swede to be exact. He’s the head of a large Americandig.”

And he explained how this expedition was excavating¹² the site of a big Assyrian citysomething like Nineveh. The expedition house was not actually very far from Hassanieh, but itwas a lonely spot and Dr.?Leidner had been worried for some time about his wife’s health.

“He’s not been very explicit¹³ about it, but it seems she has these fits of recurring¹⁴ nervousterrors.”

“Is she left alone all day amongst natives?” I asked.

“Oh, no, there’s quite a crowd—seven or eight. I don’t fancy she’s ever been alone in thehouse. But there seems to be no doubt that she’s worked herself up into a queer state. Leidner hasany amount of work on his shoulders, but he’s crazy about his wife and it worries him to knowshe’s in this state. He felt he’d be happier if he knew that some responsible person with expertknowledge was keeping an eye on her.”

“And what does Mrs.?Leidner herself think about it?”

Dr.?Reilly answered gravely:

“Mrs.?Leidner is a very lovely lady. She’s seldom of the same mind about anything two dayson end. But on the whole she favours the idea.” He added, “She’s an odd woman. A mass ofaffection and, I should fancy, a champion liar—but Leidner seems honestly to believe that she isscared out of her life by something or other.”

“What did she herself say to you, doctor?”

“Oh, she hasn’t consulted me! She doesn’t like me anyway—for several reasons. It wasLeidner who came to me and propounded¹⁵ this plan. Well, nurse, what do you think of the idea?

You’d see something of the country before you go home—they’ll be digging for another twomonths. And excavation¹⁶ is quite interesting?work.”

After a moment’s hesitation¹⁷ while I turned the matter over in my mind: “Well,” I said, “Ireally think I might try it.”

“Splendid,” said Dr.?Reilly, rising. “Leidner’s in Baghdad now. I’ll tell him to come roundand see if he can fix things up?with?you.”

Dr.?Leidner came to the hotel that afternoon. He was a middle- aged¹⁸ man with a rathernervous, hesitating manner. There was something gentle and kindly¹⁹ and rather helpless about him.

He sounded very devoted²⁰ to his wife, but he was very vague about what was the matter withher.

“You see,” he said, tugging²¹ at his beard in a rather perplexed²² manner that I later came toknow to be characteristic of him, “my wife is really in a very nervous state. I—I’m quite worriedabout?her.”

“She is in good physical health?” I asked.

“Yes—oh, yes, I think so. No, I should not think there was anything the matter with herphysically. But she—well—imagines things, you know.”

“What kind of things?” I asked.

But he shied off from the point, merely murmuring perplexedly: “She works herself up overnothing at all .?.?. I really can see no foundations for these fears.”

“Fears of what, Dr.?Leidner?”

He said vaguely²³, “Oh, just—nervous terrors, you know.”

Ten to one, I thought to myself, it’s drugs. And he doesn’t realize it! Lots of men don’t. Justwonder why their wives are so jumpy and have such extraordinary changes of mood.

I asked whether Mrs.?Leidner herself approved of the idea of my coming.

His face lighted up.

“Yes. I was surprised. Most pleasurably surprised. She said it was a very good idea. She saidshe would feel very much safer.”

The word struck me oddly. Safer. A very queer word to use. I began to surmise²⁴ thatMrs.?Leidner might be a mental case.

He went on with a kind of boyish eagerness.

“I’m sure you’ll get on very well with her. She’s really a very charming woman.” He smileddisarmingly. “She feels you’ll be the greatest comfort to her. I felt the same as soon as I saw you.

You look, if you will allow me to say so, so splendidly healthy and full of common sense. I’m sureyou’re just the person for Louise.”

“Well, we can but try, Dr.?Leidner,” I said cheerfully. “I’m sure I hope I can be of use to yourwife. Perhaps she’s nervous of natives and coloured people?”

“Oh, dear me no.” He shook his head, amused at the idea. “My wife likes Arabs very much—she appreciates their simplicity²⁵ and their sense of humour. This is only her second season—wehave been married less than two years—but she already speaks quite a fair amount of Arabic.”

I was silent for a moment or two, then I had one more try.

“Can’t you tell me at all what it is your wife is afraid of, Dr.?Leidner?” I asked.

He hesitated. Then he said slowly, “I hope—I believe—that she will tell you that herself.”

And that’s all I could get out of him.

 

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