Presence of Mind (20 page)

‘No!' she whimpered, but his slow voice counted inexorably up to five.

‘Now you are twenty years old. How old are you?'

‘Twenty,' she repeated obediently. Then that dreadful cry again: ‘But I don't want to die!'

Tears were streaming down my face. Max said gently, ‘Time is passing. Some years have now passed. What is your name?'

‘Briony.' It was a strangely child-like voice.

‘How old are you?'

‘I'm seven and a half, and Daddy's taking me to the pantomime tomorrow!'

I put a hand to my mouth against the threatened rush of nausea.

‘You are growing older, Briony. You're twelve – fourteen – sixteen. Now you're seventeen and eight months. How old are you?'

‘Seventeen and eight months.' It was her normal voice. ‘You're going to wake up now, but only for as long as it takes you to get into bed because you're still very, very tired. Now – one – stretch. You are beginning to wake up. Two – another stretch. Now you're awake. Three.'

Briony sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes, looking round her in bewilderment. ‘I should be at school.'

I turned away to hide my streaming face. Max said matter-of-factly, ‘You weren't feeling well so someone brought you home. Bed's the place for you, young lady. Your mother will help you upstairs and you will then sleep deeply for several hours.'

While he waited downstairs, I supported her poor drooping little body up the stairs to her room and helped her undress. She was too drowsy to ask questions. I picked up her diary from the top of the desk, and as I turned to the door I saw she was already asleep.

Max had come upstairs and was waiting on the landing. Without a word I handed him the diary and he read it swiftly. ‘Events appear to be accelerating, do they not?'

I started to speak but suddenly without warning my body was shaken by a series of vicious paroxysms which rattled my teeth and weakened me so drastically that I should have sunk to the floor if Max had not caught hold of me. ‘I was expecting tins. That is why I came upstairs.' Gently he steered me through to my own bedroom.

‘I can't – stop – shaking!' I juddered. ‘Please – help me!'

‘It is reaction, that is all. You have been under a continuous and increasing strain and the body will only take so much before it rebels. Relax now. There. Close your eyes and breathe deeply as I tell you. In – out. In – out. That's better.'

The hypnotic quality of his voice soothed me and gradually the merciless buffeting ceased and I lay back exhausted. ‘I'm so terrified she might hurt herself in some way.'

‘She won't do that. After all, she's perfectly conscious on one level and well able to look after herself. The only danger is that she'll wander off again and we won't know where she is. If s beginning to look as though the only way to prevent that is hospitalisation.'

I struggled frantically into a sitting position, but he gently pushed me back. ‘You're not fit to discuss it now. Also, it is time your husband started to face up to his responsibilities instead of leaving you to shoulder them alone.'

I said listlessly, ‘Ailsa Cameron was a real person. She must have been the girl he was so much in love with.'

‘That is undoubtedly a complication. The visit of this friend yesterday confirmed it?'

‘Yes. Max, I can't send her away.'

He smiled reprovingly. ‘You make it sound like selling her into slavery. It would only be for a limited time.'

‘How limited? You said sometimes these cases last for years.'

‘But you must see,' he insisted gently, ‘that you will have no peace of mind if she is free to do as she pleases. Now that the initial break-through has occurred, such take-overs will become progressively easier and therefore more frequent.'

‘I can look after her at home.'

‘Perhaps, if she is sufficiently sedated and has regular therapy. But what of the strain on yourself – and your marriage?'

I said in a whisper, ‘Either way, our marriage is probably over. Without Briony there'd be nothing to hold it together.'

He put one of his large hands over mine. ‘Poor Ann,' he said gently. ‘You continually underestimate yourself and between them, they're pulling you apart.'

‘I suppose Lance will have to be told. I don't think it will come as much of a surprise.'

‘He has been protected too long and at your expense.'

I said helplessly, ‘I won't know what to say.'

‘Would you like me to tell him?'

‘Oh Max, would you?'

‘Of course. As her psychiatrist it is my duty to do so.'

‘He won't be able to come with us tomorrow, I'm afraid. He'll be at college.'

‘In any event that would not be wise. It would interfere with Briony's treatment and I would not be able to give the matter the time it needs. Also, I feel that as things stand we should not wait even until tomorrow. He is bound to enquire about her as soon as he returns, and it would be asking too much of you to have to dissemble again.'

‘He won't be back this evening until about nine o'clock.'

‘That is excellent. If I may, I'll come about that time myself and we can have a full discussion. Now, I'm reluctant to leave you in this condition but I really must get back to the surgery. I dropped everything to come here, and I have some patients waiting.'

‘Of course. I'm so sorry, I'd forgotten.'

Despite his protest I insisted on going downstairs with him. ‘Till this evening, then,' he said, with his stiff little bow.

‘Till this evening. And thank you again for coming so quickly.' As the door closed behind him, Mrs Rose came out of the kitchen, her fingers pulling at her apron. I said abruptly, ‘Please, Mrs Rose – please – don't ask me anything. Not now.'

‘But I just –'

‘I can't talk at the moment.' I turned blindly and pushed my way into the sitting-room. For a second I didn't register that the room was not empty. Then, just as the trembling weakness reclaimed me, I saw someone standing by the window. It was Edgar.

‘Mrs Rose said you were upstairs with the doctor and asked me to wait in here. What's the matter, Ann? Are you ill?'

I said rapidly, ‘Please don't ask me any questions. I don't want to think at all. Don't make me. Please don't make me.' I put my hands over my ears as though by doing so I could blot out my own thoughts, and as I started to sway I was again caught before I could reach the floor. Edgar's arms, surprisingly strong, carried me across to the sofa, where he sat cradling me like a child as I lay jerking and shaking against him. I knew, of course, what would happen. I think I almost wanted it – it was a part of the analgesic my tormented body craved. In any event, when his mouth found mine I was ready for him, clinging tightly and returning in full measure the passion of his kisses. In a blurred way I accepted even then that he was only a Lance-substitute, but at least he seemed to want me, as my husband, in love with his dream of the past, had never done.

‘Well!' he said shakily, when lack of breath had forced us apart, ‘How do we follow that?' His finger stoke the line of my jaw with a gentleness that bordered on reverence. I did not reply. I was drugged with his kisses and blessedly held apart for a brief space from the necessity of facing what had to be faced.

He went on softly, ‘You can't have any idea how long I've wanted to do that. I'd have made a move sooner but until lately you seemed reasonably happy.' He smiled into my blank face with infinite tenderness. ‘I can hardly believe this is really happening.'

I said breathlessly, ‘I'm using you, Edgar. You do realise that, don't you?'

‘You can use me all you like, if using is the same as needing. Don't look so worried, darling; it's not as though we're hurting anyone. Neither Lance nor Cynthia care enough to be hurt.'

The truth of his words stabbed into me, but my involuntary gasp of pain was lost as his face came down again to mine. I knew I wasn't being fair. I was perfectly well aware that I would never allow myself the luxury – and it would have been a luxury – of a full-scale affair with Edgar. All I needed was the soothing assurance of his love. A little later, already ashamed of my selfishness, I tried to explain but he put a finger on my lips.

‘Let's not have any heart-searching, my love. I'm not asking for the moon.'

‘But I must be completely honest,' I insisted miserably. ‘The whole trouble is that I still love Lance.'

‘I know that. If you didn't, you wouldn't be so vulnerable. For that matter, I suppose that deep down I still love Cynthia, too, but beating one's head against a brick wall begins to pall eventually. If I seem philosophical it's only because I've had longer to come to terms with it.'

I sat up slowly, belatedly aware of the fresh complications I had created. Suddenly, unreasonably, I wanted him to go. He seemed to sense my change of mood and accept it. Gently he put me aside and stood up.

‘Well, I mustn't overstay my welcome.'

‘Edgar –'

‘Yes, darling?'

‘Thank you.'

He smiled wryly. ‘It was a pleasure, and I mean that most sincerely.'

‘Bless you.' I put my hands on his shoulders and kissed him, gently this time. That tempestuous half-hour had given me a much needed breathing space and I was now able again to take up my life.

He had gone. I realised with a faint sense of shock that it was still only one o'clock. Almost prosaically I powdered my nose and replenished my lipstick. Then, presentable again, I went in search of lunch.

From time to time during the afternoon I went up to look at Briony, but she hardly stirred. With her hair all over the pillow and her lips gently parted she looked about twelve years old. Standing watching her sleep, the things I had discussed with Max seemed part of a macabre nightmare. Surely we couldn't really give credence to such fancies? And yet -

At seven o'clock Mrs Rose brought me some supper on a tray. I ate it in front of the television, grateful to have the time passed for me, opting out of original thought processes. And just before nine, rather earlier than I had expected, Lance came home.

He went straight to the cabinet and poured himself a whisky, holding up the bottle interrogatively. I shook my head. ‘Gordon caught his train all right.' He gave a harsh laugh. ‘I imagine it'll be at least another twenty years before he gets in touch with me again! He must have thought he'd landed in a madhouse.'

I laced my fingers tightly together. Oh Max, please come! ‘How's she been today?'

‘Briony?' I asked stupidly, stalling for time.

‘Yes,' he confirmed with heavy patience, ‘Briony.'

‘Not too good, I'm afraid.' I swallowed past the knot in my throat. ‘Actually, Jan brought her home at lunch time,'

He frowned. ‘Jan did? How -?'

‘She found her in the High Street, she said.'

What the hell was she doing there?'

‘I don't know. She – she was – amnesic's the word, I suppose.'

‘One of them,' he said heavily, emptying his glass.

‘How did the talk go?' I asked quickly.

‘All right. There was a very involved discussion on the merits of Valmier and Férat – somewhat above my head, I'm afraid. It's not a form of art that appeals to me at the best of times. Ann – what are we going to do about her?'

I was saved from the necessity of replying, but not in the way I would have chosen. The door opened suddenly and Briony stood there. Except that it wasn't Briony. She said accusingly, ‘You told me –' and then caught sight of Lance. Her face blazed with sudden radiance. ‘Jamie! Oh Jamie, it's been such a long time!'

I had one glimpse of Lance's white face, frozen with horror, before she hurled herself across the room and into his arms, covering his face with kisses. My mind was a pulsating void, blessedly powerless to inflict any further shockwaves. Then, with the suddenness of an explosion, Lance's immobility shattered.

‘Get her away from me! Ann! For God's sake
get her away
!' He was fighting almost maniacally to free himself but she clung to his arm with the strength of desperation. Still in the grip of paralysis I could only sit and watch the horrific gyrations of their struggle. Salvation came to us in the shape of Max. Neither Lance nor I made any move to help him, but within minutes he had led the trembling, incoherent girl out of the room. I was still incapable of moving, but Lance spun round and strode out of the french windows. I assumed he'd go to the studio as he always did in times of crisis, but perhaps he realised his legs would not have supported him that far. At any rate he merely leaned against the stone balustrade, head down like a wounded bull, while he fought for the air his lungs seemed incapable of taking in.

Max reappeared, dishevelled and breathing heavily. ‘Do you still imagine you can nurse her at home?'

At the sound of his voice Lance turned and came back into the room. Without a word he poured a glass brimful of brandy and handed it to the doctor. His face was as white as chalk, bruised with livid marks about the chin and mouth from the onslaught of Briony's kisses. Detachedly I wondered whether I was going to pass out. Max said sharply, ‘Get your wife a brandy, too.'

Lance handed me a glass without meeting my eyes. I took a sip and felt the liquid rip like fire down my throat and into my churning stomach. He said to Max, ‘How did you get here? Did Ann rub a magic lamp or something?'

‘I was coming anyway. We arranged it this morning.' And in answer to Lance's raised eyebrows, he added, ‘When I had to hypnotise Briony back to the present.'

Lance's teeth fastened convulsively in his lip. He said hoarsely, ‘She was Ailsa, wasn't she?' His voice rose. ‘Are we all going mad? I thought black magic was only a lot of eyewash, but –'