Doctor On The Brain (16 page)

Edgar Sharpewhistle was standing in the main hall of St Swithin’s, talking to Tulip Twyson and looking gloomy. ‘I can’t go ahead with it.’

‘But you
must
, Edgar.’

‘It’s impossible. I’m shattered. Confused and totally demoralized. If I got in the television studio now, I wouldn’t have the IQ of a village idiot. I’ve been trying out my mind with a very simple test – just using the alphabet backwards and forwards alternately, to get the numbers to multiply and divide successively, you know. But I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. I’m going to withdraw and say I’ve got jaundice, or something. Let someone else win the thousand quid. It just isn’t worth it.’

‘Edgar, this is pure defeatism.’

‘That’s fair enough, then, isn’t it? I’ve just been defeated. I thought I had a wife and family. Now I find I haven’t either. Never did have, if it comes to that.’

She put her arm through his. ‘But Edgar, you’re not sorry, really?’

‘Of course I am.’

She smoothed his tie. ‘Your pride may be dented, but surely that’s eminently repairable? Listen – you were going to marry Muriel because you thought she was having your baby. Right?’

‘It was the correct thing to do, wasn’t it?’

‘Of course it was, Edgar dear. Very honourable. But if you knew then what you know now – that there was a slip-up in the lab, rather than in the bedroom – would you have been quite so enthusiastic?’

Sharpewhistle scratched his right ear. ‘Nice girl, Muriel.’

‘And the dean’s daughter. But had she not been his daughter…and dear Muriel is just the teeniest, weeniest bit bossy, isn’t she?’

‘She’s got a forceful personality, certainly. Might push a feller about.’

‘My dear Edgar,
I
could tell you some things about Muriel and her forceful character.’

‘Go on?’

‘I know her intimately, don’t forget.’ Tulip started to walk him down the main corridor. ‘I don’t think a man of your brilliance would have liked scraping away on the second fiddle to
her
.’

‘Well…perhaps not.’

‘You’re well out of it, if you ask me. Now you thank your lucky stars for the escape, and apply yourself to winning the
IQ Quiz
.’

He shook his head slowly. ‘I just couldn’t do it. In my present state, I’d be the laughing stock of the studio.’

‘Think of the honour of St Swithin’s.’

‘Balls to the honour of St Swithin’s.’

‘Think of your fellow students.’

‘Why should I? They’ve never been particularly nice to me, not all the time I’ve been here.’

‘I think they have, Edgar – compared with how they’ll behave if you scratch from
IQ Quiz
. You must at least make an effort. Just think of all that money they’ve put on you.’ Sharpewhistle looked thoughtful. ‘And just think of what we told you yesterday lunchtime in the common-room. Or would you really relish a Guinness enema? Some men are so peculiar these days.’

‘Perhaps…perhaps I will have a try.’

‘That’s the spirit.’

‘I tell you what. I’ll withdraw from the exam for the hospital gold medal. That’ll ease the strain. Muriel can win it. I hope she likes it,’ he said sourly. ‘But I shan’t win the quiz show. Not in my present state of mind. I’m inconsolable.’

‘I bet you’re not.’

‘I am. Inconsolable.’

‘Do you think, Edgar, that
I
might console you?’

He stopped, looking at her blankly.

‘I fancy you, Edgar, you know. It’s nice to think of all that brain-power behind it. Besides, I’d just love to help you spend that thousand quid.’

‘You mean, Tulip, you’d–’

‘You can take me out tonight. The other two girls in my flat are away.’

He nodded violently.

‘But you’ve got to promise, Edgar – you’re going to win that quiz.’

‘Tulip, I can feel my IQ rising already.’

‘By the way, Edgar love, have you thought of using a deodorant – ?’

They jumped aside, as Sir Lancelot bore down on them at a trot.

He hurried through the main hall, past the plate-glass doors, down the front steps and across the courtyard. He looked neither right nor left, ignoring greetings from staff and students. He had to find himself on the calm banks of the river as soon as possible, or he felt he would blow up. Life was becoming outrageously complicated at St Swithin’s. Besides, there now seemed no prospect of anyone coming to look after him and cook his dinners, ever.

He opened the front door of No 3. He stopped. Something was different in the hall. The table had been out of place, the carpet rucked, there had been sheets of yesterday’s papers over the floor. Now all was tidy, dusted and gleaming with furniture polish. A subdued tinkle came from the dining-room. He pushed open the door.

‘I took the liberty of assuming you’d be lunching at home today, Sir Lancelot,’ said Miss MacNish, wearing her usual cornflower blue overall. ‘I thought you’d care for one of my cheese souffles to start with, followed by some grilled kidneys and tomato. And I’ve made an apple pie.’

‘You’ve come back,’ he exclaimed.

She looked surprised. ‘Back? Oh, yes, Sir Lancelot, I
was
away for a couple of nights, I suppose. I’ll repay you from my days off.’

He stood stroking his beard. ‘I am of course delighted to see you…Fiona.’

‘Thank you, Sir Lancelot. It’s always agreeable to be appreciated.’ She went on laying the table.

‘Where are the cats?’ he asked suddenly.

‘The cats’ home, Sir Lancelot. I felt they could be better looked after by professional keepers. They are very complicated cats.’

‘I’m sure that was very wise of you. I expect that home could do with some cash? I’ll send them a substantial donation, in fact, I might mention them in my will.’

‘You are very kind and generous, as always, Sir Lancelot.’

‘May I take it that you found your previous employment…or should I say, the company in which you spent your two days’ holiday, not entirely congenial?’

‘Dr Bonaccord and myself, sir, are not speaking. Neither is Mrs Tennant.’

‘Yes, these psychiatrists are most unreliable and inconsiderate people. Wanted meals at irregular hours and screamed if the soup was cold, I shouldn’t wonder?’

‘That I should not object to, Sir Lancelot. It would be part of my employment. But what I will not stand is immorality.’

‘But my dear Miss MacNish! Surely you went to No 1 with your eyes open? Everyone in St Swithin’s knows Bonaccord’s living with his secretary in the fullest and most enjoyable sense of the word.’

‘I knew that, sir, of course. I can be broad-minded, sir, as broad as anyone. Though I must say, some of the things you see and hear these days make you wonder. But there are
some
things, sir, which I think are going too far. Too far altogether. Look, sir–’ She felt in her overall pocket. ‘I was dusting round her desk earlier this morning… I wasn’t prying, or anything, sir, but she said it was always locked to keep inquisitive people out, so I tried it, just idly, sir, and it wasn’t locked properly, it just opened in my hands like that. And what do you think I found inside? Just look at this photograph.’

Sir Lancelot took it. His hand trembled. ‘Good God! This is the most outrageously indecent thing I’ve seen in my entire life.’

‘I thought you’d say as much, sir.’

He tapped the photograph against his beard, filled with a sudden thought. ‘Miss MacNish, you must admit that this sort of reprehensible antic must be stopped. It most certainly can’t be allowed to continue in a respectable area like Lazar Row. Property owned by the hospital, too. I really feel it my duty, not only as a colleague of Bonaccord’s at St Swithin’s, but as an ordinary citizen, to take this up with him. He must be made to see the error of his ways.’

She looked doubtful. ‘I shouldn’t like him to know how you came to possess the photograph, sir.’

‘Miss MacNish, I would only be doing my duty – an unpleasant duty, indeed a quite nauseating one – by confronting Bonaccord with this. I only ask you to accept it was your duty to collect this evidence and pass it to me.’

‘Well… Aberdonians are not ones to flinch from doing their duty, sir.’

‘Capital. I’m sure that’s very noble of you. Bonaccord will, of course, by now have found it missing and realized anyway you’d walked off with it as a little keepsake. I think I’ll call on him straight away. He usually works at home on Thursday mornings.’

‘Would you care for tripe and onions for your dinner tonight, sir?’

‘I was going fishing, but I shall stay specifically to eat them.’

‘You are very kind, sir.’ Miss MacNish set a fork carefully in place. ‘It almost kills me, sir – the thought of your being looked after by another woman.’

Sir Lancelot strode briskly the few yards to No 1. Gisela Tennant opened the front door. ‘Oh! I suppose you’ve come for Miss MacNish’s things?’

‘As far as I am aware, she has moved back lock, stock and barrel. I hope you found her satisfactory, in her somewhat brief tenure of office?’

‘No. I didn’t find her satisfactory at all. She was arrogant and insolent. And her taste in food was appalling. Jam roly-poly and tripe. Ugh!’

‘I’m sorry she didn’t suit. Is Dr Bonaccord in? I have another matter I am anxious to discuss with him.’

‘He’s busy writing a paper for
Psychological Medicine
.’

‘Then I must interrupt him.’

She looked annoyed. ‘Surely you could put it off till later?’

‘I think not. By the way, Mrs Tennant, were you ever married?’

She stared at him, She bit her lip. ‘Go on up.’

Sir Lancelot knocked on the door of the study and walked straight in. The psychiatrist looked up in irritation. ‘If you are suffering another acute phobia about cats, Lancelot, I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with it until this evening. I’m extremely busy. It’s bad enough, suffering emotional scenes from your housekeeper – who, I might add, is a hysteric of quite severe degree…’ Sir Lancelot flourished the photograph, keeping a tight hold on it. ‘You got that from Miss MacNish,’ Dr Bonaccord said furiously.

‘Exactly.’

‘She stole it.’

‘Well, you stole Miss MacNish in the first place.’

‘I’ll have her prosecuted.’

‘You won’t, you know.’

Dr Bonaccord fell silent. He stared again at the photograph in Sir Lancelot’s fingers. ‘Well?’ asked Sir Lancelot.

Dr Bonaccord shrugged his shoulders. ‘It is surely only our little aberrations in behaviour which make the human race at all interesting?’

‘You think so, do you? I wonder what a criminal court would think?’

The psychiatrist looked alarmed. ‘It wouldn’t come to that, I hope? I mean, you wouldn’t…or would you? Come, Lancelot! Don’t be hard on us. After all, it’s a harmless vice, if vice it is at all.’

‘
I
think it’s a vice, and so do all decent people, Bonaccord. I should say that even a good many people, whom I myself would
not
think of as decent, would shy away from your particular behaviour. Hippies, drug addicts and the like. They’d ostracize you. You are the lowest of the low.’

Dr Bonaccord looked at him imploringly. ‘But if anything came out…it would be the end of my career…’

‘I should imagine that would be among your minor troubles.’

‘Lancelot…apart from this…this little failing surely you’ve always thought of me, and of Gisela, as perfectly upright, honest, well-integrated persons? Can’t I appeal to your better nature? Don’t you see how terrible it would be for her, not just for me, if this was blazoned in the public press?’

‘The fact that you are a psychiatrist might make the public think it all perfectly excusable.’

‘You’re always making cheap jokes about psychiatrists.’

‘I’m sorry if they upset you. Well, I’ll bid you good morning, Bonaccord.’ He pocketed the photograph. ‘I can get a taxi to Scotland Yard.’

‘Lancelot–’

He turned at the door. ‘Yes?’

‘I’m deeply sorry. And ashamed. Honestly, I am.’

‘This is a rather sudden rush of contrition to the heart, isn’t it?’

‘It’s you, Lancelot, You’re such an upright, honest, completely
straight
man, it shames me.’

He grunted. ‘I don’t believe you, Bonaccord, but I’m prepared to be merciful. I’ll keep my mouth shut.’

‘I knew a man of your own inner kindness–’

‘On one condition.’

‘My position is such that I can only ask you to name it.’

Sir Lancelot perched on the edge of the desk. ‘A few days ago, Dr Frances Humble, MP, offered you the post of vice-chancellor of Hampton Wick University.’

Dr Bonaccord nodded nervously. ‘That is correct.’

‘You turned it down.’

‘That, too, is correct.’

‘Have you a pen, or a ballpoint? Good. Take one of those sheets of writing paper. I wish you to write to Dr Humble at the House of Commons.’

‘But what have I got to say?’

‘I can save you the trouble of composition “Dear Dr Humble–” Go on.’ The psychiatrist started to write. ‘“I must have been mad to refuse the Hampton Wick job. I accept it with enthusiasm–”’

‘Lancelot! I can’t.’

‘You can.’

He hesitated. He wrote the letter. He signed it in silence.

‘Thank you, Bonaccord. I shall address the envelope and deliver it by hand myself. I’m sure you’ll be very happy at Hampton Wick. It will be very stimulating, to have so many young, active minds round you all the time. And doubtless your…your secretary will prove a charming hostess during those dreary old sit-ins the students keep conducting in the vice-chancellor’s private quarters. Good morning.’

‘Here – the photograph.’

‘I shall keep this, if I may, until Monday morning, when the official announcement will be made about Hampton Wick. I should not like to expose you to the temptation of back-sliding. Then you shall have it back, on my word of honour. In a sealed envelope.’

Sir Lancelot opened the door. Gisela was standing immediately outside. He gave her a courtly bow. As the front door shut behind him, she went into the study.

‘You heard, I suppose?’ said the psychiatrist dully.

‘Every word. Which photo was it?’