Presence of Mind (13 page)

‘Don't worry, darling. I'll see he relaxes! I'm the best brow-stroker in the county!'

With a strained smile I turned from the phone to see Mark Staveley coming up the drive with a bunch of flowers in his hand. I opened the door quickly.

‘Hello, Mark. I'm awfully sorry, but Briony isn't awake yet'

‘It doesn't matter. Perhaps you'd give her these, with my love.'

‘Thank you, she'll be delighted. Will you come in for a moment?'

‘If I'm not disturbing you.'

He followed me through the sitting-room and out cm to the terrace. The white wooden bench was warm in the sunshine and he sat down beside me, pushing aside the morning paper.

‘Mrs Tenby ‘Yes?'

He flushed. ‘I believe Mum told you I was a bit worried about Briony.'

‘Yes, she did.' I waited, nerves stretched.

‘She turned up in Scotland, I believe.'

‘That's right, near Glasgow.'

‘I felt that perhaps you ought to know that when she had these – spells, she talked with a faint Scottish accent.'

There was silence, while I waited desperately for the beating wings of panic to subside. ‘I just need to rest a wee while.' Sickly I remembered the effect those words had had on Lance the other evening. But why? Was this Scottish accent connected in some macabre way with Briony's being found near the flat in Rutherbrae? My brain shied sharply away from the first inklings of a possibility which surely couldn't be a possibility at all. Into the lengthening silence came birdsong and the distant shrill barking of a dog.

Mark said anxiously, ‘Mum did explain, about what I call her “going away”?'

‘Yes.' I moistened my lips. ‘But apart from the shrimps she didn't give me any details.'

‘I didn't tell her all that much. I really only wanted her to pass on the warning to you.'

‘I appreciate that. Can you – could you give me any details now?'

‘It's hard to tie down, really. Sometimes I'm not even sure when it's happening because the change is barely noticeable. That is, the – other personality is so like her own. The shrimp business was the most outstanding evidence I had. But sometimes, when we're in a café having tea, she does quick, lightning little sketches of people at the next table on a scrap of paper. They're incredibly good. And – once – she seemed to think I was someone else, too.'

‘How do you mean?' My voice sounded cracked.

‘She called me “Jamie”.'

After a moment, I said, ‘Anything else?' The flood of wild, thankful relief which swamped me brought home to me that I was closer than I had imagined to suspecting the impossible. But there could be no possible connection with ‘Jamie'.

‘Nothing concrete. It was a succession of little things.'

‘When was the first time you noticed this?'

‘Again, it's hard to say. I mean, she's always been – volatile, hasn't she? At first I just thought it was a sudden change of mood, then gradually I began to realise that there were times when she didn't remember what we'd been talking about from one “mood” to the other. And eventually I was forced to accept the fact that there were times when she actually seemed to be – a different person.'

I noted dispassionately that his hands were gripping the boards of the bench, his knuckles gleaming white against the brown skin.

I told myself I needed all these details to report to Max, but the effect was agonisingly like prodding a particularly sensitive tooth. ‘And about how long do these spells last?'

He moved awkwardly. ‘They vary. Sometimes it happens so quickly I've hardly had time to register the change before she's – back. I think the longest was about forty-five minutes.'

‘But she behaves quite rationally during that time?'

‘Oh yes, except that sometimes she seems to be continuing some conversation I don't remember starting. But there's never anything that anyone watching from a distance would notice.'

‘Mark?'

Briony's voice behind us made us both jump guiltily and for a moment I wondered how long she'd been standing there. Mark moved quickly towards her and took hold of her hands. I said steadily, ‘Would you like anything to eat, dear?'

‘No thank you, just coffee.'

‘I'll ask Mrs Rose to bring it out here, and some for Mark. If you'll excuse me I'll go out and do the shopping now. I just wanted to wait until you were awake.'

Mark led her gently to the bench and I went inside, passed on the request to Mrs Rose and collected my bag and shopping list. Jack Gifford was working in the front garden, on his knees near the lily pond. He got stiffly to his feet as I backed the mini out of the garage and stood to one side while I reversed and turned towards the gate. As I drove slowly alongside, he touched his ancient cap. ‘Glad you've the little lady safe back again, missis.'

‘Thank you, Jack.'

The roads were busy as always on a Saturday morning. I had to park some distance from the surgery and walk the rest of the way. The letter was waiting for me as promised in the prescription box. It was addressed firmly to Dr Max Forrest, with a string of initials after the name. Fleetingly I was tempted to open it myself, but it would all be in medical terms, meaningless to me. In any event, Dr Burton had freely admitted that he didn't know what was wrong; I would learn nothing from any spying.

Lance saw the tight yellow rosebuds as soon as he came home and raised his eyebrows interrogatively.

‘Mark brought them,' I answered quietly.

‘He didn't waste much time, did he?'

‘I think he's genuinely fond of her. I wish you wouldn't always be so critical of him. At least he's not scruffy like some of the boys. Lance –' I spoke quickly, really only trying to lead him away from the thorny subject of Mark. ‘Did we ever know anyone called Jamie?'

At first, when he didn't reply, I thought he hadn't heard. His back was towards me and I couldn't see his face. I was about to repeat the question when he answered in an odd, breathless voice, ‘I did, once. In another existence. Why do you ask?'

‘How do you mean, another –?'

‘
I
said why do you ask?'

He turned then, and my mouth went dry at the sight of his ashen face.

‘Mark mentioned it,' I stammered, completely off my guard. ‘He said Briony sometimes calls him that.'

‘Calls
him
Jamie?' I nodded and he gave a harsh laugh. ‘Well, well!'

I said with difficulty, ‘Lance what is it? You look terrible. Is there –'

‘I'm not surprised.' He went quickly to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a neat whisky, draining it in one gulp. As I watched fearfully he poured another. ‘Has it ever occurred to you that I might be insane?' he inquired conversationally. I don't think he expected a reply. Certainly he didn't get one. He had moved over to the picture and was standing in front of it while he sipped his second drink. The door opened and Briony came in, still pale but more like her old self.

‘Oh, you're both back. Is lunch ready? I didn't have any breakfast and I'm quite hungry now.' Lance hadn't turned and she went over to him, slipping one arm round his neck. ‘Admiring my picture?' she asked.

He turned so suddenly that she took a quick step backwards, her eyes widening at his expression.

‘
Your
painting?' The words seemed jolted out of him.

‘I – I only meant it's my favourite.'

‘Yes.' He visibly pulled himself together, rubbed a hand over his face and drew a deep breath. ‘Yes, of course.'

I said precariously, ‘How was Paul today?'

‘Paul? Oh – physically not so good, poor lad. His mother said it was one of his bad days. However, the painting session helped to take his mind off it.' He finished his drink and set the glass down with a little click. ‘Let's eat then, shall we? Stella's coming at two-thirty.'

‘You're not seeing Mark this afternoon, are you?' I asked Briony in a low voice.

‘No, he has a cricket match. In any case, I feel too lazy to do anything but rest today.'

‘Good. We'll have a quiet afternoon together, then.'

She and I were in the garden when Stella arrived, her thick corn-coloured hair tied back with a ribbon. ‘Earth Mother reporting for duty!' she announced. ‘And please use your influence on that man to let me have my hair done on Tuesday or I shall go completely mad.' She paused, looking down at Briony. ‘You okay, love?'

‘Yes thank you, Mrs Pomfrett.'

‘What was the idea of frightening us all like that?'

Lance came round the shrubbery from the studio. ‘Hello, Stella. I thought I heard you.'

‘Good grief, Lance, what have you been doing to yourself? If anything you look worse than Briony!'

Lance smiled tightly. ‘I'm older than she is and anxiety takes more of a toll.' They walked together round the bank and out of sight. Briony spread out a rug and lay face down on it, cushioning her face in her arms. For a long time neither of us spoke. An aeroplane moved lazily over the blue arc of the sky like an outsize bee, its throbbing hum a part of the summer day. I thought Briony was asleep, but she said suddenly, ‘Mother, you remember that film we saw last Sunday?'

Alarm signals triggered through my body, but I only said non-committally, ‘Yes?'

‘The one about reincarnation?'

‘So you all said.'

‘Do you believe in it?'

‘I don't think I like the idea very much.'

‘That's not quite the same thing. Do you think there could be anything in it?'

‘Why do you ask?'

‘Because sometimes I'm absolutely convinced I've lived before, and not all that long ago, either.'

Impossible that so fantastic a conversation should be taking place in the slumbrous peace of this summer garden. Even so, I registered that her words came as no surprise. She turned her head sideway? to look up at me.

‘The signs and symptoms they quoted in that film – most of them have happened to me.' Which explained her tension that afternoon.

‘Did you mention this to anyone?'

‘No.'

‘Not even Mark?'

‘No. I didn't dare put it into words in case it made it more true.'

‘But you have done now.'

‘Now things have progressed further, and keeping quiet isn't going to stop them.'

After a moment I said, ‘What exactly has happened, Briony?'

‘I'm not sure.' Her voice shook. ‘Sometimes from the way Mark looks at me, I think he's noticed something strange, but he's never mentioned it. I just feel certain that my going to Scotland without even knowing it is tied up with it in some way.'

I said carefully, ‘I don't quite see what amnesia has to do with reincarnation. If you
have
been alive before it must obviously have been as someone else, and whereas you might conceivably remember things, I can't see why it should lead to loss of consciousness now.'

‘No,' she said after a while, ‘you're right. I hadn't thought of that. The past shouldn't really impinge on this existence.

Then I understand even less what's been happening.' She shuddered. ‘Perhaps Rachel was nearer the truth when she spoke of possession.'

Out there in the hot sun I was suddenly as cold as ice. I said with an effort, ‘Her father didn't go along with that, though. And talking of Dr Forrest, he may well be the person to help you.'

‘Yes,' she said quietly, ‘I'd wondered about that myself.'

‘Dr Burton thinks it might be a good idea for you to see him.'

‘He's washed his hands of me, has he?'

‘Of course not, but he doesn't think he can be of enough help. As a matter of fact I've made an appointment for you to see Dr Forrest on Monday.'

She sat up, shaking the hair out of her eyes.

‘It seemed best not to waste time,' I went on in a rush, ‘But I didn't tell Daddy. He's been upset enough as it is and I don't want any more worries to interfere with his painting schedule.'

‘What time on Monday?'

‘Four-thirty.'

‘After school?'

I hesitated. ‘If you feel up to going to school.'

‘Mother, I must! I missed three whole days this week. I've a lot to make up as it is.' She looked up at me. ‘How much do they know, at school?'

‘I'm not sure, but since there were quite extensive police enquiries going on, some of them must have guessed. Just say you had amnesia. That's the truth, anyway. It might well be just the strain of A-levels.'

‘Coming events casting their shadows? I don't think so. I think the shadows over me come from events past. Is Roger coming tomorrow? He seemed to know what he was talking about. I think I'll have a word with him – on a strictly impersonal level, of course.'

‘I think it would be better to wait till you see Dr Forrest. I'm quite sure he knows more than Roger.'

‘I suppose so. Do you remember what he was saying about dual personality?'

‘Not really. It was just as the lights went out. He never finished.'

‘It sounds weird, doesn't it?'

‘Very.' There seemed to be a tight band round my head against which my temples throbbed agonisingly. When had all this strangeness settled over us? Briony's headaches had only started a few months ago, but her accurate flashes of precognition dated back to her early childhood. Perhaps the course had been set even then. Where would it end?

Briony slept and the hot sun crept round the garden. I closed my eyes, drifting in a demi-world of shapes and fancies, refusing to let my mind alight on any one long enough to unmask it and see it for what it was. Colours and forms changed constantly against my eyelids as the sun and shadows stretched and moved. I wished it were possible to lie in this warm limbo indefinitely, without the ever-hovering necessity of returning to the real world and its unreal problems.