Ten

IA voice said:

“Drink this.”

Norma was shivering. Her eyes had a dazed look. She shrank back alittle in the chair. The command was repeated. “Drink this.” This time shedrank obediently, then choked a little.

“It’s—it’s very strong,” she gasped.

“It’ll put you right. You’ll feel better in a minute. Just sit still and wait.”

The sickness and the giddiness which had been confusing her passedoff. A little colour came into her cheeks, and the shivering diminished. Forthe first time she looked round her, noting her surroundings. She hadbeen obsessed by a feeling of fear and horror but now things seemed to bereturning to normal. It was a medium-sized room and it was furnished ina way that seemed faintly familiar. A desk, a couch, an armchair and anordinary chair, a stethoscope on a side table and some machine that shethought had to do with eyes. Then her attention went from the general tothe particular. The man who had told her to drink.

She saw a man of perhaps thirty-odd with red hair and a rather attract-ive ugly face, the kind of face that is craggy but interesting. He nodded ather in a reassuring fashion.

“Beginning to get your bearings?”

“I—I think so. I—did you—what happened?”

“Don’t you remember?”

“The traffic. I—it came at me—it—” She looked at him. “I was run over.”

“Oh no, you weren’t run over.” He shook his head. “I saw to that.”

“You?”

“Well, there you were in the middle of the road, a car bearing down onyou and I just managed to snatch you out of its way. What were you think-ing of to go running into the traffic like that?”

“I can’t remember. I—yes, I suppose I must have been thinking of some-thing else.”

“A Jaguar was coming pretty fast, and there was a bus bearing down onthe other side of the road. The car wasn’t trying to run you down or any-thing like that, was it?”

“I—no, no, I’m sure it wasn’t. I mean I—”

“Well, I wondered—It just might have been something else, mightn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it could have been deliberate, you know.”

“What do you mean by deliberate?”

“Actually I just wondered whether you were trying to get yourselfkilled?” He added casually, “Were you?”

“I—no—well—no, of course not.”

“Damn’ silly way to do it, if so.” His tone changed slightly. “Come now,you must remember something about it.”

She began shivering again. “I thought—I thought it would be all over. Ithought—”

“So you were trying to kill yourself, weren’t you? What’s the matter?

You can tell me. Boyfriend? That can make one feel pretty bad. Besides,there’s always the hopeful thought that if you kill yourself you make himsorry—but one should never trust to that. People don’t like feeling sorry orfeeling anything is their fault. All the boyfriend will probably say is, ‘I al-ways thought she was unbalanced. It’s really all for the best.’ Just remem-ber that next time you have an urge to charge Jaguars. Even Jaguars havefeelings to be considered. Was that the trouble? Boyfriend walk out onyou?”

“No,” said Norma. “Oh no. It was quite the opposite.” She added sud-denly, “He wanted to marry me.”

“That’s no reason for throwing yourself down in front of a Jaguar.”

“Yes it is. I did it because—” She stopped.

“You’d better tell me about it, hadn’t you?”

“How did I get here?” asked Norma.

“I brought you here in a taxi. You didn’t seem injured—a few bruises, Iexpect. You merely looked shaken to death, and in a state of shock. I askedyou your address, but you looked at me as though you didn’t know what Iwas talking about. A crowd was about to collect. So I hailed a taxi andbrought you here.”

“Is this a—a doctor’s surgery?”

“This is a doctor’s consulting room and I’m the doctor. Stillingfleet, myname is.”

“I don’t want to see a doctor! I don’t want to talk to a doctor! I don’t—”

“Calm down, calm down. You’ve been talking to a doctor for the last tenminutes. What’s the matter with doctors, anyway?”

“I’m afraid. I’m afraid a doctor would say—”

“Come now, my dear girl, you’re not consulting me professionally. Re-gard me as a mere outsider who’s been enough of a busybody to save youfrom being killed or, what is far more likely, having a broken arm or afractured leg or a head injury or something extremely unpleasant whichmight incapacitate you for life. There are other disadvantages. Formerly,if you deliberately tried to commit suicide you could be had up in Court.

You still can if it’s a suicide pact. There now, you can’t say I haven’t beenfrank. You could oblige now by being frank with me, and telling me whyon earth you’re afraid of doctors. What’s a doctor ever done to you?”

“Nothing. Nothing has been done to me. But I’m afraid that they might—”

“Might what?”

“Shut me up.”

Dr. Stillingfleet raised his sandy eyebrows and looked at her.

“Well, well,” he said. “You seem to have some very curious ideas aboutdoctors. Why should I want to shut you up? Would you like a cup of tea,”

he added, “or would you prefer a purple heart or a tranquilliser? That’sthe kind of thing people of your age go in for. Done a bit yourself in thatline, haven’t you?”

She shook her head. “Not—not really.”

“I don’t believe you. Anyway, why the alarm and despondency? You’renot really mental, are you? I shouldn’t have said so. Doctors aren’t at allanxious to have people shut up. Mental homes are far too full already. Dif-ficult to squeeze in another body. In fact lately they’ve been letting a goodmany people out—in desperation—pushing them out, you might say—whojolly well ought to have been kept in. Everything’s so overcrowded in thiscountry.

“Well,” he went on, “what are your tastes? Something out of my drugcupboard or a good solid old-fashioned English cup of tea?”

“I—I’d like some tea,” said Norma.

“Indian or China? That’s the thing to ask, isn’t it? Mind you, I’m not sureif I’ve got any China.”

“I like Indian better.”

“Good.”

He went to the door, opened it and shouted, “Annie. Pot of tea for two.”

He came back and sat down and said, “Now you get this quite clear,young lady. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Norma Res—” she stopped.

“Yes?”

“Norma West.”

“Well, Miss West, let’s get this clear. I’m not treating you, you’re not con-sulting me. You are the victim of a street accident—that is the way we’llput it and that is the way I suppose you meant it to appear, which wouldhave been pretty hard on the fellow in the Jaguar.”

“I thought of throwing myself off a bridge first.”

“Did you? You wouldn’t have found that so easy. People who buildbridges are rather careful nowadays. I mean you’d have had to climb uponto the parapet and it’s not so easy. Somebody stops you. Well, to con-tinue with my dissertation, I brought you home as you were in too muchof a state of shock to tell me your address. What is it, by the way?”

“I haven’t got an address. I—I don’t live anywhere.”

“Interesting,” said Dr. Stillingfleet. “What the police call ‘of no fixedabode.’ What do you do—sit out on the Embankment all night?”

She looked at him suspiciously.

“I could have reported the accident to the police but there was no oblig-ation upon me to do so. I preferred to take the view that in a state ofmaiden meditation you were crossing the street before looking left first.”

“You’re not at all like my idea of a doctor,” said Norma.

“Really? Well, I’ve been getting gradually disillusioned in my professionin this country. In fact, I’m giving up my practice here and I’m going toAustralia in about a fortnight. So you’re quite safe from me, and you can ifyou like tell me how you see pink elephants walking out of the wall, howyou think the trees are leaning out their branches to wrap round andstrangle you, how you think you know just when the devil looks out ofpeople’s eyes, or any other cheerful fantasy, and I shan’t do a thing aboutit! You look sane enough, if I may say so.”

“I don’t think I am.”

“Well, you may be right,” said Dr. Stillingfleet handsomely. “Let’s hearwhat your reasons are.”

“I do things and don’t remember about them…I tell people things aboutwhat I’ve done but I don’t remember telling them….”

“It sounds as though you have a bad memory.”

“You don’t understand. They’re all—wicked things.”

“Religious mania? Now that would be very interesting.”

“It’s not religious. It’s just—just hate.”

There was a tap at the door and an elderly woman came in with a teatray. She put it down on the desk and went out again.

“Sugar?” said Dr. Stillingfleet.

“Yes, please.”

“Sensible girl. Sugar is very good for you when you’ve had a shock.” Hepoured out two cups of tea, set hers at her side and placed the sugar basinbeside it. “Now then,” he sat down. “What were we talking about? Oh yes,hate.”

“It is possible, isn’t it, that you could hate someone so much that youreally want to kill them?”

“Oh, yes,” said Stillingfleet, cheerfully still. “Perfectly possible. In fact,most natural. But even if you really want to do it you can’t always screwyourself up to the point, you know. The human being is equipped with anatural braking system and it applies the brakes for you just at the rightmoment.”

“You make it sound so ordinary,” said Norma. There was a distinct over-tone of annoyance in her voice.

“Oh, well, it is quite natural. Children feel like it almost every day. Losetheir tempers, say to their mothers or their fathers: ‘You’re wicked, I hateyou, I wish you were dead.’ Mothers, being sometimes sensible people,don’t usually pay any attention. When you grow up, you still hate people,but you can’t take quite so much trouble wanting to kill them by then. Orif you still do—well, then you go to prison. That is, if you actually broughtyourself to do such a messy and difficult job. You aren’t putting all this on,are you, by the way?” he asked casually.

“Of course not.” Norma sat up straight. Her eyes flashed with anger. “Ofcourse not. Do you think I would say such awful things if they weren’ttrue?”

“Well, again,” said Dr. Stillingfleet, “people do. They say all sorts of aw-ful things about themselves and enjoy saying them.” He took her emptycup from her. “Now then,” he said, “you’d better tell me all abouteverything. Who you hate, why you hate them, what you’d like to do tothem.”

“Love can turn to hate.”

“Sounds like a melodramatic ballad. But remember hate can turn tolove, too. It works both ways. And you say it’s not a boyfriend. He was yourman and he did you wrong. None of that stuff, eh?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. It’s—it’s my stepmother.”

“The cruel stepmother motif. But that’s nonsense. At your age you canget away from a stepmother. What has she done to you besides marryingyour father? Do you hate him too, or are you so devoted to him that youdon’t want to share him?”

“It’s not like that at all. Not at all. I used to love him once. I loved himdearly. He was—he was—I thought he was wonderful.”

“Now then,” said Dr. Stillingfleet, “listen to me. I’m going to suggestsomething. You see that door?”

Norma turned her head and looked in a puzzled fashion at the door.

“Perfectly ordinary door, isn’t it? Not locked. Opens and shuts in the or-dinary way. Go on, try it for yourself. You saw my housekeeper come inand go out through it, didn’t you? No illusions. Come on. Get up. Do what Itell you.”

Norma rose from her chair and rather hesitatingly went to the door andopened it. She stood in the aperture, her head turned towards him inquir-ingly.

“Right. What do you see? A perfectly ordinary hallway, wants redecorat-ing but it’s not worth having it done when I’m just off to Australia. Now goto the front door, open it, also no tricks about it. Go outside and down tothe pavement and that will show you that you are perfectly free with noattempts to shut you up in any way. After that, when you have satisfiedyourself that you could walk out of this place at any minute you like, comeback, sit in that comfortable chair over there and tell me all about your-self. After which I will give you my valuable advice. You needn’t take it,”

he added consolingly. “People seldom do take advice, but you might aswell have it. See? Agreed?”

Norma got up slowly, she went a little shakily out of the room, out into—as the doctor had described—the perfectly ordinary hallway, opened thefront door with a simple catch, down four steps and stood on the pave-ment in a street of decorous but rather uninteresting houses. She stoodthere a moment, unaware that she was being watched through a laceblind by Dr. Stillingfleet himself. She stood there for about two minutes,then with a slightly more resolute bearing she turned, went up the stepsagain, shut the front door and came back into the room.

“All right?” said Dr. Stillingfleet. “Satisfied you there’s nothing up mysleeve? All clear and aboveboard.”

The girl nodded.

“Right. Sit down there. Make yourself comfortable. Do you smoke?”

“Well, I—”

“Only reefers—something of that kind? Never mind, you needn’t tellme.”

“Of course I don’t take anything of that kind.”

“I shouldn’t have said there was any ‘of course’ about it, but one mustbelieve what the patient tells one. All right. Now tell me about yourself.”

“I—I don’t know. There’s nothing to tell really. Don’t you want me to liedown on a couch?”

“Oh, you mean your memory of dreams and all that stuff? No, not par-ticularly. I just like to get a background. You know. You were born, youlived in the country or the town, you have brothers and sisters or you’rean only child and so on. When your own mother died, were you very up-set by her death?”

“Of course I was.” Norma sounded indignant.

“You’re much too fond of saying of course, Miss West. By the way, Westisn’t really your name, is it? Oh, never mind, I don’t want to know anyother one. Call yourself West or East or North or anything you like. Any-way, what went on after your mother died?”

“She was an invalid for a long time before she died. In nursing homes agood deal. I stayed with an aunt, rather an old aunt, down in Devonshire.

She wasn’t really an aunt, she was Mother’s first cousin. And then myfather came home just about six months ago. It—it was wonderful.” Herface lighted up suddenly. She was unaware of the quick, shrewd glancethe apparently casual young man shot at her. “I could hardly rememberhim, you know. He must have gone away when I was about five. I didn’treally think I’d ever see him again. Mother didn’t very often talk abouthim. I think at first she hoped that he’d give up this other woman andcome back.”

“Other woman?”

“Yes. He went away with someone. She was a very bad woman, Mothersaid. Mother talked about her very bitterly and very bitterly about Fathertoo, but I used to think that perhaps—perhaps Father wasn’t as bad as shethought, that it was all this woman’s fault.”

“Did they marry?”

“No. Mother said she would never divorce Father. She was a—is it anAnglican?—very High Church, you know. Rather like a Roman Catholic.

She didn’t believe in divorce.”

“Did they go on living together? What was the woman’s name or is thata secret too?”

“I don’t remember her last name.” Norma shook her head. “No, I don’tthink they lived together long, but I don’t know much about it all, you see.

They went to South Africa but I think they quarrelled and parted quitesoon because that’s when Mother said she hoped Father might come backagain. But he didn’t. He didn’t write even. Not even to me. But he sent methings at Christmas. Presents always.”

“He was fond of you?”

“I don’t know. How could I tell? Nobody ever spoke about him. OnlyUncle Simon—his brother, you know. He was in business in the City andhe was very angry that Father had chucked up everything. He said he hadalways been the same, could never settle to anything, but he said hewasn’t a bad chap really. He said he was just weak. I didn’t often see UncleSimon. It was always Mother’s friends. Most of them were dreadfully dull.

My whole life has been very dull….

“Oh, it seemed so wonderful that Father was really coming home. I triedto remember him better. You know, things he had said, games he hadplayed with me. He used to make me laugh a lot. I tried to see if I couldn’tfind some old snapshots or photographs of him. They seem all to havebeen thrown away. I think Mother must have torn them all up.”

“She had remained vindictive then.”

“I think it was really Louise she was vindictive against.”

“Louise?”

He saw a slight stiffening on the girl’s part.

“I don’t remember—I told you—I don’t remember any names.”

“Never mind. You’re talking about the woman your father ran awaywith. Is that it?”

“Yes. Mother said she drank too much and took drugs and would cometo a bad end.”

“But you don’t know whether she did?”

“I don’t know anything.”…Her emotion was rising. “I wish you wouldn’task me questions! I don’t know anything about her! I never heard of heragain! I’d forgotten her until you spoke about her. I tell you I don’t knowanything.”

“Well, well,” said Dr. Stillingfleet. “Don’t get so agitated. You don’t needto bother about past history. Let’s think about the future. What are you go-ing to do next?”

Norma gave a deep sigh.

“I don’t know. I’ve nowhere to go. I can’t—it’s much better—I’m sure it’smuch better to—to end it all—only—”

“Only you can’t make the attempt a second time, is that it? It would bevery foolish if you did, I can tell you that, my girl. All right, you’venowhere to go, no one to trust; got any money?”

“Yes, I’ve got a banking account, and Father pays so much into it everyquarter but I’m not sure…I think perhaps, by now, they might be lookingfor me. I don’t want to be found.”

“You needn’t be. I’ll fix that up for you all right. Place called KenwayCourt. Not as fine as it sounds. It’s a kind of convalescent nursing homewhere people go for a rest cure. It’s got no doctors or couches, and youwon’t be shut up there, I can promise you. You can walk out anytime youlike. You can have breakfast in bed, stay in bed all day if you like. Have agood rest and I’ll come down one day and talk to you and we’ll solve a fewproblems together. Will that suit you? Are you willing?”

Norma looked at him. She sat, without expression, staring at him; slowlyshe nodded her head.