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Ivy’s tears had awakened him; normal tears, a natural reaction to the pain in her hands. As usual, she remembered nothing of the nightmare and was willing to accept Bill’s explanation of the accident with only one question.

‘If I burned them on the radiator, going to the bathroom, how come I didn’t wake up?’

‘Because we put ointment on quickly, and burns only hurt later on.’

‘Oh, yes,’ she remembered. ‘Like when I got sunburned on the beach last summer.’ Though terribly hurt and feverish, she still managed to bring a smile to her lips, a smile of acceptance, of a willingness to start the day off on a positive, hopeful note.

Janice, however, awakened into a vacuum.

Mute, unresponsive, unapproachable, she went through her morning chores as if she were a wind-up toy. Neither Ivy’s complaints nor his own gentle probings seemed to get through to her.

‘Sorry to have kept you so long.’ Dr Schanzer’s voice came back on the line. ‘It seems Dr Wyman won’t be coming in for the rest of the week. But Dr Perez, who was interning here at the time, may have some memory of the case.’

‘Well, may I speak to Dr Perez?’

‘Hold on, please.’

The first hint of apathy showed when he told Janice of his decision to scrub the trip to Hawaii - that he’d sooner quit than go without them. Her response was to make none. Then, when he asked if her silence signified that she wished him to go, she still said nothing, simply continued squeezing oranges. Finally, and with some heat, he asked her what the hell it was she wanted him to do? To which she replied, ‘I think you should go.’ The words were fine, but the spirit behind them left much to be desired. When he suggested they keep her and Ivy’s tickets in abeyance, to be used the moment Ivy’s temperature eased off, she said, ‘Okay.’ Again, the content of the reply was acceptable, but not the force and feeling behind it. When he asked her if she was afraid to be left alone, afraid that Hoover might annoy her or that Ivy might have a relapse, she said in the same bland, listless tone, ‘Why should I be afraid? The majesty of the law will protect me against Hoover, and Dr Kaplan’s suppositories will help me with Ivy.’

It was at this point that he felt the need for some fresh air. He suggested they both meet with Dr Vassar later in the morning and make immediate arrangements to get Ivy back into therapy, to which Janice replied, ‘If you wish.’ And that was it. The sum and substance of their morning dialogue - the totality of their exchange.

‘Hello, this is Dr Perez speaking; to whom do I speak?’ The voice was thin; the accent South American.

‘My name is William Templeton, Dr Perez. Our daughter, Ivy, was a patient of Dr Vassar’s some years ago…’

‘Dr Vassar died two years ago…’

‘Yes, I know, Doctor, but there are some questions I would like to ask you since I understand you were at the clinic during the time my daughter was being treated.’

‘Please ask…’

‘First, I’d like to know, do you still have Dr Vassar’s records pertaining to my daughter’s case?’

Dr Perez answered without hesitation, seemingly without thinking.

‘Yes, we are a group practice at Park East, and all physicians’ case records are kept in a master file room. That would include Dr Vassar’s case records as well.’

‘Might I have access to those records?’

‘Yes, you must sign a request for them, and we will be happy to turn them over to any other physician.’

‘That’s another thing I want to discuss, Dr Perez. My daughter’s problem has recurred, and we have no other physician at this time. Would it be possible for you to take on this case?’

‘Yes, it is possible. One moment, please.’ There was a short pause during which Bill heard Perez breathing. ‘Mr Templeton?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I have here a space in my book on December 14, at one o’clock…’

‘No, Dr Perez, perhaps I haven’t made myself clear. My daughter is quite ill; she requires attention immediately…’

‘Then it would be impossible for me to take your daughter’s case. Perhaps another doctor in the clinic might do it.’

‘Fine, fine. My wife and I would like to come to the clinic this morning and make some kind of arrangement. Whom do we see?’

‘Dr Schanzer would be the person to see.’

Bill then called Janice and told her that Dr Vassar had died and she asked, ‘What from?’

‘I don’t know,’ Bill said peevishly. ‘I didn’t think to ask. What the hell’s the difference?’

‘None, I suppose,’ was her reply. The apathy persisted, deep-grained and enduring.

‘I made an appointment to see the head of the clinic at ten thirty. Do you think Carole would be willing to stay with Ivy?’

‘I’ll ask,’ she said.

‘We can have lunch afterwards. I don’t have to check in at Kennedy till two fifteen.’

‘Fine.’

*

The anteroom of the Park East Psychiatric Clinic had undergone a few minor alterations but essentially corroborated the image Bill had held in his memory for seven years. The wall of un-draped windows exposed the same lovely knoll of park, although the trees then were as yet untouched by snow. The character of the paintings on the opposite wall had, however, made the transition from European Impressionism to American Modern, relying heavily on Nolan and Robert Indiana.

Five people were seated in the anteroom when Bill arrived at ten forty-five. Janice was not among them. He gave his name to the receptionist and was told to be seated. At eleven o’clock Janice had still not arrived. Bill was considering calling home when a young, pretty girl appeared at the far end of the room and addressed herself to the entire group.

‘Mr Templeton?’

Bill followed her down a corridor to a long, windowless room containing a large conference table with more than a dozen chairs ranged around it. A file folder had been placed on the table.

The girl smiled at him and said, ‘Dr Schanzer’s schedule is quite tight this morning. He hopes to be able to pop in from time to time to talk with you.’

When the girl left the room, Bill took off his outer coat and placed it over the back of a chair. He loosened his tie somewhat, as the room was oppressively warm. His eyes gravitated to the legal-size manila folder with the word ‘Templeton’ boldly printed in black ink on the tab. It seemed thinnish to Bill, considering the time Dr Vassar had spent with them: those multiple in-depth family and individual sessions, held either in her office or at the apartment, some lasting as long as five hours, depending on the need and circumstances.

Bill stared at the folder and wondered what Dr Vassar had discovered about them; what secrets that sharp, intuitive brain had managed to ferret out; what conclusions she had come to concerning Ivy’s strange and terrible illness that she hadn’t shared with them. He had only to open the folder and look.

His fingers extended to the manila cover and stopped. The German woman’s wide, formal face and deep, penetrating eyes seemed to float above it.

Bill slowly drew back the cover.

The top sheet was a scrap of yellow, lined paper with strong handwritten notations. The writing had a foreign character about it; some of the letters such as the S’s and L’s were difficult to make out. She even wrote with an accent, Bill thought, as he slowly picked out the words.

Differentiation of disturbances of consciousness of epileptic origin from those of psychiatric origin is frequently very difficult - there is no prior history of epilepsy in this case - no temporal lobe disturbances indicated through physical examinations …’ And below it, the name ‘Cullinan, 555-7751.’

Cullinan had been the doctor who had run electroencephalo-graphic tests on Ivy just prior to her treatment at the clinic.

The next page was written on the back of a letter, a circular listing psychiatric pamphlets for sale. It seemed that Dr Vassar made her notes on anything that came to hand.

‘Hysterical phenomenology—???’ was the question written across the top. And then a longer paragraph below:

Patient shows symptoms of somnambulistic state. Parents describe movements as being in response to the manifest content of the dream. The meaning may be an escape from the temptations of the bed; however, this would be unusual in the case of a child not yet three. Yet possible - since parents report child possesses ability to portray images and carry out complex actions during dream state…

And below it: ‘Will arrange to be present during next seizure.’

*

Bill remembered the call he made to Dr Vassar that night seven years before. It was two in the morning, and he wondered if he should disturb her, but she answered the phone on the first ring and said in a clear alert voice, ‘I will come.’ She arrived soon after and spent the entire night with Ivy, alone, behind a closed door. There were many such nights that followed in the next year.

Bill quickly skipped over two scraps of paper, each containing the brief notations ‘See Kretschmer’ and ‘See Janet,’ and came to a small, thin notebook with a pebbled cover of imitation leather. It was a diary, an eyewitness account of her sessions with Ivy during the seizures, written in a fast, shaky hand, as though she had made the notations as the actions were happening. The first entry was dated 18/1/67, and read:

Purposive action … trying to get out … touching things and pulling back as though they were hot … complicated motor actions … strange … bizarre … most uncommon at this early age … at times during spell she seems to be shrinking back from things not visible to anyone else … tries to climb over the back of a chair - and succeeds! Appears well coordinated and shows a degree of muscular coordination and skill of an older child. (Test subject’s ability to climb over chair during wakened state.) She tries to reach the win-dowpane, then pulls her hand back whenever she is about to touch it … then reaches for it again, in continuous dramatic posturing episodes … accompanied by weeping, fretting, trembling … babbling … ‘Hothothotdaddydaddy—’ Seizure continued until five twenty at which time subject succumbed to exhaustion and fell into feverish sleep. Body temperature: 103.6 degrees.

Bill turned to the next entry, dated 25/1/67.

At first, subject seemed to be trying to get away from something … possible traumatic episode relating to incident of isolation … locked room? … but now movements seem to indicate less escape behaviour, less trying to get away from something than trying to go towards something … her motions grope towards things, not away from them … approach behaviour which is suddenly stopped by … imagined thermal barrier … painful … hot ‘Hothothothotdaddydaddydaddy …’ babble may relate to traumatic event experienced in the past, yet early age seems to negate this possibility … possible event relating to prenatal trauma? Difficult birth? Discuss with obstetrician. Possible event relating to very early age … stove? … fire? … possibly hot sun? … beach? … somewhere in summer where surfaces were very hot? metal frame of perambulator? … accidentally touched? … doorknob in direct sunlight might have been too hot… (discuss with parents) …

The heat in the room was becoming unbearable. Bill stood up and removed his jacket. His shirt was stained with perspiration. He folded his dark suit jacket over the back of the adjoining chair and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Then he turned the page of the diary to the next entry.

20/2/67 … results of chair-climbing test during wakened state disclosed subject unable to climb over chair successfully without falling … but within dream state is able to climb over chair and appears to show much greater creative muscular skill and coordination than one would expect in a child of two and a half … particularly striking: although the child has the typical speech pattern of a two-and-a-half-year-old, with the somnambulistic state, she appears to be talking with the enunciation and speech patterns of a much older child, perhaps five or six years of age … ‘Hothothotdaddydaddydaddy …’ display clear, precise enunciative dexterity even during rapid, staccato bursts … (Test subject’s speech competence during wakened state.)

The next page contained a brief note:

Dr Osborne, attending obstetrician, disclaims any untoward or unusual event during foetal development or birth of subject. Perfectly normal in all respects. Air conditioning in nursery normal - no record of malfunction - no accident with heat - hot glass - surgical instrument.

Bill smiled as he recalled the joyous August morning of Ivy’s birth. Janice had opted for the Read Method, without fear and without drugs. She had remained fully alert as Ivy slipped into the world at exactly 8:27.03, clocked in by Bill’s stopwatch. She was born with her eyes open and seemed fully aware of her world and the people in it. Even unwashed, her awesome beauty was clearly evident. There had been no problem whatever. Bill sighed and turned the page.

3/4/67 … results of speech-dexterity tests during wakened state disclosed subject unable to enunciate staccato word pattern with same degree of skill as within dream state … subject tends to slur words, loses ‘t’ sound altogether in rapid word stream, ‘Hothothothot …’ and has difficulty in coping with the ‘d’ and ‘m’ sounds in words ‘daddy’ and ‘mommy’ word streams …

21/4/67 … the window seems to be her main goal - an unattainable goal, the glass pane presenting a barrier of prodigious heat … the fires of hell? … attempts to approach glass unsuccessful as heat too intense … stumbles back … falls … weeps … corneal and pupillary and deep tendon reflexes are present … patient does not bite her tongue or urinate__she becomes red in the face rather than blue or white … bodily temperature increases evident whenever approach behaviour takes her to window …

Bill rubbed his eyes a moment. Drops of sweat had flowed into them from his forehead. He took bis handkerchief from him pocket and mopped his face. He then looked at his watch. It was only ten past eleven. He put it to his car to see If it hadn’t stopped. He felt certain he had been in the room longer than ten minutes. But the watch was ticking normally. He thought about calling Janice. There was a phone on n table at the end of the room. He decided to give her another ten minutes. He wondered if Hoover had tried to call the house. His eyes travelled down to the notebook, spread open before him, beckoning. He could think of no other matters to delay bis turning the page.