Presence of Mind (12 page)

I don't remember much about the meal. Anti-climax had settled over me with a suffocating pall and I was tired to the point of disintegration. The succession of sleepless nights and all the turmoil of the waking hours lay heavily on my eyelids. I had the greatest difficulty in stifling my yawns. The only incident during dinner that does remain in my mind is Briony's sudden query: ‘Didn't we come here once with Mac?'

The glass in Lance's hand jerked violently and a red stain spread down the front of his jacket. I asked as naturally as I could, ‘Mac who? I don't remember being here before.'

Lance said nothing at all. After a moment Briony replied, ‘I must have dreamt it. It just suddenly seemed to ring a bell.' We both looked at Lance but he didn't meet our eyes. The pulse was beating insistently in his temple. Soon after that we went upstairs. I had intended to have a bath but was now so sleepy I decided to postpone it till the morning. I was already in bed and Lance was brushing his teeth in the bathroom when Briony, barefoot and in the nightdress I'd brought for her, came through to our room.

I sat up. ‘What is it, dear?'

She said in a small voice, ‘Can I sleep in here, with you? I'm frightened of being alone, in case I – go away again. I can sleep on a chair or anything, just as long as I can stay.'

Lance said firmly, ‘You're certainly not sleeping in a chair, and nor is anyone else. If you want to stay here you can have my bed and I'll use yours.'

‘But I don't want to turn you out – Daddy.' Only I seemed to register the slight hesitation before his name.

‘Nonsense. Now in you get and straight off to sleep. We've a busy day again tomorrow, travelling home.' He looked across at me. ‘Good-night, Ann. Sleep well.' He closed the bathroom door behind him. Briony looked at me.

‘Sorry, Mother.'

‘It's all right, darling. I'm happier keeping an eye on you, anyway.' And Lance was obviously relieved to be away from both of us for a few hours. She bent down to kiss me and climbed into the adjacent bed. I reached up to switch off the light and blessed darkness at last brought an end to the chaotic, turbulent day.

I woke the next morning to the unfamiliar sound of footsteps overhead and the muted hum of heavy traffic. Alongside me Briony still slept heavily. For a while I lay reviewing the still unsolved problems which surrounded us and eventually, when it was obvious sleep would not return, I went through for my postponed bath. Above the running water I thought I caught the sound of voices from behind the door leading to Lance's room, and after my bath I tapped on it and went in. He was sitting up in bed reading
The Scotsman
, a cup of tea on the table beside him.

‘I thought I heard sounds. How did you sleep?'

‘So-so.' He laid down the paper. ‘Is Briony awake?'

‘She wasn't when I came through for my bath.'

‘I've just been on to the police again, to see if they could tell us any more than she could.'

‘And did they?' I closed the door softly behind me.

‘Not a great deal. Apparently she approached a policeman in the street early yesterday afternoon and told him she didn't know where she was or how she'd got there. She was in what they called a “distressed condition”. He radioed for assistance and they came in a police car and took her back to the station. That was when they phoned you.'

‘Was she near your flat?' I asked with studied casualness.

His face twitched slightly. ‘Yes, just in the next road. The shop she described sounds like the one where we used to get some of our supplies.'

‘It could only have been coincidence, though, couldn't it?'

‘Search me. Ann, what are we going to do about her?' Anxiety was strident in his voice. ‘There must be something seriously wrong.'

‘I know.' I sat on the edge of the bed. ‘I can't think why she came here when she was so against coming to Scotland. Could the art school have any particular significance for her?'

If the idea had not been so ridiculous, I would have sworn that the expression which flickered in his eyes was sheer naked fear. ‘How could it?' His voice was almost unrecognisable.

‘I don't know, except that she seems to have become interested in painting herself, and since she thinks so much of you, she might subconsciously have decided to come here herself.'

‘I suppose it's just possible. The thing I find most unnerving is that she came all this way
without knowing it.
'

‘Yes.' I couldn't elaborate on the half-formed thoughts which fluttered so distortedly in my mind. I said with an effort, ‘Possibly the severity of the headaches brought on some kind of amnesia and her subconscious just took over. To understand that, we'd have to consult a psychiatrist.' I held my breath, and as I'd expected his reaction was swift.

‘No, thank you! I'm not having any of those pseudo-psycho fellows messing about with her. Burton's a sound man, he'll know what to do.'

‘He did mention psychoanalysis himself,' I began diffidently. ‘When?'

‘The last time we saw him, after she'd passed out. He couldn't find any orthodox medical reason for the attacks. All the tests and X-rays they did last month were negative.'

‘I thought no one knew the causes of migraine?'

‘I doubt if migraine as such could lead to actual amnesia.'

‘It might. Anyway, she was due to see Burton again this week, wasn't she? We'd better have him round as soon as we get her home.'

The door from the bathroom opened behind me and Briony stood there rubbing her eyes. ‘I thought you must have gone down for breakfast.'

I stood up. ‘Not without telling you, but now you're awake we might as well all get dressed.'

‘Briony –' The note in Lance's voice halted us and we turned back. ‘Has anything like this ever happened before? To a lesser degree, of course, but – things happening without you being aware of them?'

Remembering what Jan had said I waited anxiously, but her reply was vague and indecisive. ‘I don't think so, though sometimes things do seem rather blurred when I look back. I suppose everyone finds that.'

We neither confirmed nor denied it. I suspected that few people ‘went away' when out for the evening, meanwhile managing to bypass a very real allergy. But perhaps allergies were basically ‘in the mind' and the one who took over from Briony simply hadn't been aware of her antipathy to shrimps. Would that be sufficient lack of stimulus for her body not to react? Only Max Forrest could answer me.

I thought increasingly of Max throughout the tensions of the long journey home. Briony was subdued but I was actually more worried about Lance, whose persistent pallor made him look drawn and ill. Did he perhaps have some inkling what all this was about, something that was so grotesque he did not dare to begin to accept it? It began to look as though he too was in need of analysis.

It was almost four when we eventually reached home. Briony was exhausted and while I helped her undress and get into bed, Lance phoned Dr Burton. He promised to call at the house before evening surgery. The sketches which had had such an effect on Lance lay neatly on top of the desk in Briony's room where I had laid them.

‘Did you do these, darling?' I asked casually as she was brushing her hair. She glanced across, hesitated, then looked up at me.

‘I – think so. That's one of the things I'm a bit hazy about.'

‘They're extremely good. I just wondered why most of them seem to be of the same girl, and who she is?'

‘I don't know who she is,' she answered slowly, staring at her reflection in the glass as she continued her steady brushing. ‘At first I think I was attempting a self-portrait. It was really just a means of finding out whether I actually did have any talent in that direction. I – sat down here at the dressing-table and started to draw my reflection.' She frowned a little. ‘I don't know quite why it turned out like that. And after that first time, it seemed as though I had to go on drawing the same face, from different angles.'

‘Have you any idea,' I asked softly, ‘why you called this one “Self Portrait 1958”?'

She stopped brushing. ‘No,' she whispered after a moment.

‘It was rather a curious thing to do,' I persisted gently. She twisted on the stool to face me.

‘But it
was
supposed to be a self-portrait originally. I suppose that's why I wrote it. As for the date, it was probably just a slip of the hand – a five instead of a seven.' From the intensity with which she held my eyes, I sensed that she was willing me to accept this.

‘I see,' I said casually, turning to replace the sheets on the desk. ‘The one of the house is very good, too.' I could actually feel some of the tension drain out of her. Now was not the time to broach with her the possibility of seeing Max. She was still reeling from the traumatic discovery that there were two whole days of her life she had no way of accounting for.

Dr Burton was calm and reassuring, managing to give the impression that nothing very out of the ordinary had happened. He read the note from the Scottish police doctor and nodded agreement. ‘I think it would be wise to continue the sedation for tonight as well. If I write out a prescription, perhaps Mr Tenby could take it to the chemists before they close.'

As Lance took the form and left with it, I wondered whether the doctor had deliberately removed him in order to have a private word with me. Sure enough, on the way downstairs he began quietly, ‘The last few days seem to have been a severe strain on your husband, Mrs Tenby. Understandable, of course, but –'

I said quickly, ‘He's working very hard to complete some paintings required for an exhibition. The worry about Briony on top of that –'

“Yes, I see.' We had reached the foot of the stairs and he paused. ‘Have you thought any more about psychoanalysis?'

I met his eyes. ‘Would you recommend it, doctor?'

‘Frankly, yes. I'm at a loss to explain these attacks and there's the chance they might recur with increasing frequency.'

I said hesitantly, ‘My husband isn't very happy about the idea.'

‘Nevertheless, I'm afraid we've now reached the stage where I don't feel I can accept full responsibility for your daughter's well-being. She needs more specialised help than I can give her. You mentioned Dr Forrest. I would strongly advise you to let him see her as soon as possible.'

‘Obviously I have no alternative,' I said quietly.

‘Good. If you call at the surgery tomorrow morning there will be a letter for you to take to him. There's no need to wait until then to make an appointment, though.'

‘I'll phone straight away,' I promised, and saw his relief. As soon as he had gone and before Lance returned, I hurriedly dialled the Bury number. Max's secretary answered the phone.

‘It's Mrs Tenby speaking. Would you please tell Dr Forrest that I'm extremely worried about my daughter and would be grateful if he could see her as soon as possible?'

‘Is your daughter a new patient, Mrs Tenby?'

‘Yes.'

“Have you a note from your own doctor?'

‘I shall have tomorrow, yes.'

‘Hold on a moment, please.'

Then Max's voice in my ear. ‘Mrs Tenby? I was expecting to hear from you. The girls tell me your daughter has not been at school.'

‘She disappeared for two days. She's no idea what happened during that time.'

‘I see.'

‘How soon can you see her?' Dr Burton's anxiety had infected me and I was now desperate to take her to Max at the earliest opportunity.

‘I haven't really a free appointment on Monday, but –'

‘Oh, please!'

‘Very well, Mrs Tenby. If you can bring her along about four-thirty I'll see her then. In the meantime, try to relax.'

I had just replaced the receiver when Lance's car turned into the gateway. With a heavy heart I watched him get out and walk towards me. I had only become aware of his antipathy towards psychiatrists since his confrontation with Max last Sunday. I wondered uneasily if his vehemence was in part a fear of what analysis might reveal. But what terrible secret could he possibly imagine that Briony might be hiding?

The sedation had not worn off by the time Lance and I had our breakfast the next morning. ‘You're going into Rushyford as usual?' I asked anxiously.

‘Of course. Paul looks forward to his lessons.'

‘But you need a rest today as much as Briony does.'

‘I'm afraid I shall have to manage without it.'

Out in the hall the telephone rang and he went quickly to answer it. ‘Yes? Oh, hello, Stella. Yes, thank you, she's fine. A little tired but otherwise none the worse. It's kind of you to ring. By the way, I'm sorry I had to cancel the sitting. You couldn't possibly manage to come along this afternoon, could you? I really can't afford to get any more behind at this stage. As you know I didn't make much progress last time you were here. Are you sure? If you don't mind it would be a great help. About two-thirty? Thanks very much. I'll see you then.'

He put his head round the door. ‘I presume you heard that?'

‘Yes.'

‘I really must get on with the exhibition work. This week's been a complete write-off, one way or another. Now don't start making objections, Ann! You know painting relaxes me – I'll be perfectly all right. Do you want a lift into Rushyford?'

‘No thanks, I'll stay at home till Briony wakes.'

‘Right. See you at lunch time.'

At ten o'clock Cynthia phoned, and I repeated all the reassurances Lance had given Stella. Cynthia said hesitantly, ‘You'll hardly want us on Sunday, I imagine?'

‘Oh yes indeed, business as usual!' I tried to keep my voice light. ‘If you don't come Lance will insist on working, and quite honestly he can't keep going much longer at the pace he's forcing.'