The House of Vandekar (12 page)

‘She's fine,' Alice answered. ‘Nanny's given notice, by the way, and Fern's going to the village school till I find a governess.'

She didn't give him time to protest before she made an excuse and rang off. ‘Classified information my foot,' she said out loud. ‘If you won't tell me, I'll find out some other way.' And then she snapped her fingers in impatience. Of course. Dr Ferguson would have the details on his medical records. And those were right under her nose at Ashton.

The doctor's office was kept locked at night and when he went off duty during the day. But in the housekeeper's room there were duplicate keys to all the rooms in the house. The doctor's office was a storeroom on the ground floor near the old butler's pantry. All she had to do was get the key and look up Nicholas Armstrong's file.

It was 3 a.m. and she hadn't been able to sleep. Dr Ferguson kept his records in a green metal filing cabinet. Alice opened the door to the office with the duplicate key, locked it behind her and began to go through the A's. There were only three Armstrongs and then she found what she wanted. Nicholas François Armstrong, age twenty-eight, admitted to Princess Mary's Hospital suffering from malnutrition, exhaustion and clinical depression as a result of torture while in Gestapo custody. A lot of medical terms she didn't understand. All nails removed from both hands. She shuddered. Severe psychosis induced by trauma. Alice read those terrible sentences over and over. Bald statements of fact which condemned Nicholas François Armstrong to a life sentence.

They'd certainly tried at Princess Mary's. Drugs, electroconvulsive therapy. He had just retreated further to escape them.

Ashton was his last chance, a gamble that a change from the secure environment of a hospital might jolt him into self-awareness. Hospitals where the windows were meshed as a precaution against suicide were the same to him as the cell in the Avenue Foch. She paused, and suddenly realized that she was trembling. She knew the Avenue Foch from pre-war trips to Paris. A lovely wide boulevard lined with trees, mansions masquerading as town houses. She'd been to smart parties in the Avenue Foch. Now one of those lovely old houses had been turned into a torture chamber … If Armstrong didn't respond at Ashton, then he would return for further treatment at Princess Mary's with a view to long-term stay in a civilian mental hospital.

Alice closed the file and put it back. He was responding but not fast enough. Not nearly fast enough to escape the fate closing in on him. A shake of the head, a movement in response to her approach – they wouldn't save him. She had to make a breakthrough before those critical three months were up. She had to help him, no matter what the risk. Either way, he had nothing to lose.

She spent the rest of the night awake, thinking what she could do. There was a clue in that report, and it was nearly dawn when she realized what it was. ‘Jolt him into self-awareness.' That was it. Bring him face to face with the terror he was trying to escape. And not by letting him sit in self-imposed silence, cut off from the world. She didn't wait until her usual teatime visit. She went to the Spencer room that same morning. As she went in she met the sister.

‘Good morning, Mrs Vandekar. We weren't expecting you until this afternoon.' It was phrased as a question and a pleasant smile went with it, but Alice noticed a glint in her eye. They felt she was spending too much time with this one man, and her persistence was becoming a reproach to the nursing staff.

‘I've decided,' Alice said, ‘to come more often. Thank you, Sister,' and she walked into the room and closed the door.

He was sitting in his chair in the same position by the window. She had an idea. Everyone spoke to him in English. For the past few months he'd been hearing the same words in the same language and refusing to respond. ‘We'll try French,' Alice said to herself. ‘We'll see what that does.' She was fluent, although Hugo mocked her strong American accent.

She took her place beside Armstrong and again she laid her hand on his arm.

When she spoke to him he jumped. ‘Of course, this is your second language, Nick. How stupid, I should have thought of it before. That's why you went to France, isn't it? You could pass as a Frenchman.' She moved closer to him. ‘It was a wonderful thing to do,' she said softly. ‘You were very brave. You've got to be brave now. And I'm going to help you. I'm going to talk to you about France.'

That evening she went to find Lily. She was flushed and her eyes were wide and bright with excitement. Lily looked at her and felt a funny pang of alarm. She'd never seen her with that look. Never.

‘Sit down, madam' Lily said. ‘I'll make you some tea'.

‘I don't want tea,' Alice said. ‘I've got something wonderful to tell you. Lily, I think he's going to be all right!'

Lily didn't need to ask who she meant. She never talked about anyone else these days.

‘Why?' Lily stared at her. ‘What's happened? Has he said something?'

‘Yes,' Alice announced. ‘That's what he said. “Yes.” It's the first word he's spoken in God knows how long. I talked about holidays, places I'd stayed and people we knew, and then I'd drop in something special, something I knew he'd recognize. He didn't like it. He looked so upset and disturbed at times, poor darling, I couldn't go on. So I went back to talking about the opera and the races and that sort of nonsense. And then it was time to go, Lily, and I said what I've said every single time, almost out of habit. “Shall I come tomorrow?” And he said, “Yes.” That was all.
Oui
. Oh, I could have died, I was so thrilled.'

‘What did you do, madam,' Lily asked. ‘What ever did you do?'

Alice clasped her hands. ‘Nothing. Nothing at all. I just behaved as if it was the most normal thing in the world. And then I went and found the nurse on duty, it was a new one on the corridor, and told her to tell Dr Ferguson. Lily, I feel like a million dollars tonight!'

‘And so you should,' Lily agreed. ‘I have always said if anyone can help that poor soul, it'll be you.'

Alice said, ‘I'm suddenly tired. I've been on top of the world and now I could just drop. And I haven't been up to say good night to Fern. I'd better go or I'll have that old hag's reproachful looks tomorrow. God I can't wait for her to leave!'

‘She says she won't leave her little darling until she sees there's someone responsible to take over,' Lily said. ‘And she's worked that child up over going to the school with me till she cries all the way there!'

Alice said firmly, ‘Shut up, Lily, stop making trouble. I know you hate her. I'll go upstairs and say goodnight. And I wouldn't mind a nice strong martini waiting for me when I come down.'

Nanny was sitting by the fire, knitting something long and navy blue. She was always knitting for sailors. She got up rather slowly and said, ‘Oh, Mrs Vandekar, Fern's in bed. It was so late we thought you weren't coming.'

‘I'll put my head round the door anyway. Fern? Are you asleep?'

‘No, Mummy.' There was a slight whine in the voice these days which always irritated her. She went into the bedroom. Her daughter lay flat under the covers, still as one of her own dolls. She had wide dark eyes like Hugo's and they watched her mother warily. Alice came over and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘I've come to kiss you good night,' she announced. ‘Then you must be a good girl and go to sleep.'

‘Yes, Mummy.'

‘Did you have fun today?' God, can I do with that martini, Alice thought. But I'm so happy. So happy. Just one little word in a rusty voice. I've never heard him speak before in all this time …

‘I hate it, Mummy,' she heard the child say, and came back to reality. ‘They don't play with me. Do I have to go?'

Alice looked down and saw the tears brimming and the turned-down little mouth that never roused her pity. ‘Yes, you do,' she said. ‘You can't just quit on something because you don't like it. You've got to try with people, Fern. The children are shy, that's all. They'll get to know you and you'll get to know them. It'll be good for you.'

‘Nanny says they're rough and nasty,' Fern whispered.

‘Oh, does she?' Alice said quietly. ‘Well, you listen to what I tell you. Never mind what Nanny says. You're going to school in the mornings and you'll learn to play with the other children. You've been stuck in this ivory tower up here for long enough. Now I've got to go. Good night, darling. Sleep well.' She bent and sealed the child's forehead with a brisk kiss.

Fern didn't lift up her arms or move. She stared at her mother's back as she walked out and closed the door. Nanny was leaving. Fern had cried and cried when she told her, and then poor Nanny had cried too. Her mother was too busy looking after the young men in the house to care about her own dear little girl, Nanny had declared in a bitter monologue which Fern could hear. And that jumped-up maid of hers, dragging the poor child down to that dreadful village school full of common children. She was sure some of them had nits in their hair, and Fern would catch them. She had fine tooth-combed the long dark hair every night, and Fern wondered in horror what she was looking for.

Her mother was horrible, she thought, blinking back her tears and glaring at the closed door. She was being cross with Nanny. She could hear their voices in the night nursery. Poor Nanny, being sent away. I hate her, the child thought, and then slid down in the bed in guilty fear at the enormity of thinking such a wicked thought. I wish Daddy was here. He wouldn't make me go to that school.

‘Mrs Vandekar, I hope you won't take this the wrong way.'

Alice crossed one leg over the other. She regarded Dr Ferguson with a slight smile and a cold eye. ‘Of course not. Why should I?'

‘You've done invaluable work,' he began. ‘All the chaps here are devoted to you. Nobody could have done more, apart from turning your house over to us so generously. But I'm afraid Flight Lieutenant Armstrong is in a different category to the others. I'd like to talk to you about him.'

‘I thought you might,' Alice said. She lit a cigarette. ‘Please go ahead.'

He cleared his throat. She was tireless and devoted to the men in his care. But with Armstrong she was exceeding her brief.

He had to be tactful but firm. He sensed that she wasn't going to be easy. ‘He's a special case,' he said. ‘Mentally wounded, if you like. He's the first patient in this category to come here, and I have to say I wasn't happy about it from the start. But he's got quite influential friends in his branch of the Service, which doesn't seem to follow normal RAF rules. He needs expert medical help. I'm afraid your visits seem to be upsetting him.'

‘Dr Ferguson,' Alice said coldly, ‘When Flight Lieutenant Armstrong came here he hadn't spoken a word to anyone since his escape from France. He has actually
talked
to me. You know that.'

‘He's said the odd word certainly. That's a great tribute to your patience and persistence. But it seems you're trying to probe into his past experiences. Am I right in suggesting that you're trying to get him to relive them?'

Alice looked sharply at him. ‘I didn't know your nurses listened at the door,' she said.

He reddened, but there was no denial. ‘Let me try to explain.' He resented her rudeness but he was still trying to be polite. ‘Armstrong was practically catatonic when he was brought into Princess Mary's. You know what that means, I'm sure.' She nodded. He went on, ‘He wouldn't respond to any stimulus. Some rather severe treatment helped that, but he is still very precariously balanced. His refusal to communicate is a safety valve. It's amazing that you've got him to speak the odd word. There might just be some hope for him in the long term. But you are taking a risk with his sanity, Mrs Vandekar. I know it's from the best motives, but I must ask you to stop. Stop your visits, just for the timebeing.'

‘You're saying I'm doing him harm?'

‘I'm afraid so. You're meddling with something you don't understand. He could collapse completely, and all the work done in hospital would have been wasted.'

‘I understand one thing,' Alice said. ‘He's hiding from the world because there's something he can't face. You've done nothing to help him. He should be in a ward, not isolated from other people. He needs human contact, not some nurse bustling in and out again. And that's what I've given him.' She paused – nothing she said was having any effect. And she couldn't let him know she'd seen his files.

‘He needs time,' Ferguson said. ‘He's not ready to face anything yet.'

Time, as Alice knew, was what Nick Armstrong had not got. But she couldn't say that either.

‘He will never be ready,' she tried once more, ‘unless there's someone there to take him by the hand and hold it tight when the crunch comes. I believe I am that person.'

His face was set like stone. ‘I'm afraid I must insist,' he said. ‘Your visits must stop. The nursing staff have noticed how disturbed he is. I've seen evidence of it myself. I'm sorry, Mrs Vandekar, but my patient's welfare comes first.'

He stood up to end the conversation. Alice didn't move.

‘What happens if he asks for me?'

‘He won't,' Ferguson said. ‘He won't notice. He's looking inward, protecting himself.'

‘If you're wrong and he does,' she persisted, ‘you'll tell me? You'll let me see him?'

‘Yes. I promise you. But don't delude yourself. It won't happen.'

Alice got up, stubbed out her cigarette. ‘Very well. I'll stay away. But you've promised.'

‘I have indeed,' he said. ‘Thank you for being so understanding.' He thought she looked as if she might break down in tears. He didn't want that – it would be most embarrassing.