Presence of Mind (8 page)

For a moment time stopped completely. Then, without consciously moving, I was kneeling beside her, gently turning her head aside. Her face had been buried in the soft deep pile and I honestly think I was surprised to find her still breathing. Scrambling to my feet, I pulled and tugged frantically at the window catches, staggered on to the terrace and, gripping the stone balustrade until it bit into my fingers, I called Lance.

Urgency must have permeated my voice, because he appeared round the bank of shrubbery almost at once. ‘What is it? What's the matter?'

‘Briony's fainted. Hurry!' and I turned and stumbled back inside. He was with me almost by the time I reached her again. He said rapidly under his breath, ‘Oh God, God, God!'

‘She's still breathing,' I said foolishly.

‘So I see.' Gently he scooped his arms underneath her and carried her to the sofa. ‘You telephone the doctor – tell him it's an emergency. I'll stay with her.'

I didn't question his instructions. He was always the one Briony wanted when she was ill. Even as a baby waking in the night, it had been for him that she cried.

I returned from the phone to find him kneeling beside her chafing her limp hand. Her breathing was rapid and shallow and there was still no sign of returning consciousness.

‘She should never have gone to school today,' Lance said accusingly.

‘I tried to stop her. You heard me.'

‘I should have waited and brought her home with me.'

Briony stirred slightly and gave a little moaning sigh. Her eyes flickered for a moment, then opened and stared blankly up at Lance's face. He lifted her hand and brushed it with his lips. ‘It's all right, darling – all over now.'

‘What happened?'

‘I don't know. We found you on the floor. You probably fainted.'

There was a puzzled look on her face that I didn't care for. I moved forward and smoothed the hair back from her forehead. ‘Is your head still bad, darling?'

‘No, no I'm fine. I just need to rest a wee while, that's all.' She closed her eyes and turned her head away slightly. Rest a wee while? What a curious – I suddenly became heart-stoppingly aware of Lance's rigidity. He was still kneeling, staring down at the girl as though he could X-ray her mind with his naked eyes. For a moment I was convinced he was going to pass out as well. I gripped hold of his shoulders.

‘Darling, what is it? Are you all right?'

There was no response and I shook him frantically. His glazed eyes came up to my face without recognition. ‘Lance! Help me to get her upstairs before the doctor comes. Can you stand?' I held his arm and he stumblingly got to his feet, swaying slightly. ‘Had you better sit down for a moment? It's been a shock –'

‘A shock,' he repeated expressionlessly. And laughed. Somehow the sound was itself shocking. Visibly he braced himself and after a moment lifted Briony off the sofa. ‘I'm all right. I can manage her.'

She gave a little sigh and nestled her head under his chin. I saw his teeth fasten involuntarily in his lip.

In the hall we came face to face with Mrs Rose. ‘Is something wrong, sir? I heard Mrs Tenby call.' Her voice trailed away as her widening eyes fastened on Briony.

‘She fainted,' Lance said briefly, making for the stairs. ‘It's all right, we've phoned for the doctor.' He kicked open her bedroom door before I could reach it and laid her down on the bed. Then he turned and faced me. ‘It's after six. Where have you been?'

‘At Cynthia's, playing bridge.' Ridiculous to feel so guilty. I added gently, ‘Relax, darling, she's breathing normally now. The doctor will tell us what to do.'

But Dr Burton was not much help. ‘As I said before, Mrs Tenby, there doesn't seem any serious cause for these attacks. Girls of her age often have fainting spells, you know. Fortunately the rug cushioned her fall, so we haven't the added complication of concussion. Was she out in the sun at the weekend? In this country people never treat it with the respect it deserves. “Mad dogs and Englishmen,” you know, but in large doses it can be lethal, even here.'

Lance stayed up in the bedroom with Briony and on the way downstairs I said softly, ‘I've just learnt that she seems to have bouts of amnesia as well, doctor. I'm really rather worried about it.'

He frowned. ‘What happened exactly?'

Stumblingly, keeping an ear open for Lance, I repeated what Jan had told me on Friday afternoon.

‘That does put rather a different complexion on things,' he admitted as I came to the end. ‘It might be an idea for her to see a psychiatrist.'

I stared at him fearfully. ‘You think there's something seriously wrong after all?'

‘No, Mrs Tenby,' he repeated patiently. ‘I don't think anything of the sort. We've already ascertained that there's no tumour or any abnormal pressure. I'm merely concerned with getting to the root of what's bothering her, and for that a qualified psychiatrist has more means at his disposal than I have. If you like I could give you a letter –'

‘Do you know Dr Forrest?' I interrupted.

“Yes indeed, a very able man. Would you like him to see her?'

‘I'm – not sure, Doctor. May I think about it first?'

‘Of course. Naturally you'll want to discuss it with your husband. Let me know what you decide. In the meantime, see she has plenty of rest and I'd like to see her again in a couple of days.'

‘Very well. Thank you.'

I stood at the open door until his car had disappeared in the stream of homeward-bound traffic. My heart was thumping against my ribs and I felt slightly sick. Contrary to the doctor's assumption, my procrastination was not to enable me to discuss the matter with Lance, but merely to give me time to accept the inevitability of the decision. For I knew that if I did decide to take Briony to Max professionally, it would be without Lance's knowledge or consent.

That night was another sleepless one for me. My brain refused to stop its tortuous weaving round and round the events of the last few days and in particular kept reminding me of my swift instinctive prayer that evening that it would be as herself that Briony regained consciousness. Worst of all, I wasn't entirely sure that the prayer had been granted. The more I repeated to myself those first few words she had spoken, the more frightened I became. There had been something alien there, an intonation, a choice of words which surely were not Briony's. That Lance had noticed it too I had no doubt.

For the first time I was forced to face the fact that since to our knowledge she had never actually lost consciousness before, those other times when she had ‘gone away' someone else must have been standing in for her. And right on cue my brain supplied the remark of Max's which had been tantalising my memory at breakfast. ‘Most disturbances of that kind originate in the mind, perhaps by means of dual or even multiple personality.' The peal of thunder and subsequent fusing of the lights had put an end to the conversation, but what had he meant? What in the name of heaven was dual personality? And Jan's voice answered partly in my head, ‘Mark calls it “going away”.'

My eyes flew open, staring sightlessly at the dark ceiling. Could the two things really be interconnected? Was it remotely possible? Surely dual personality was just a fanciful way of describing schizophrenia? The word crawled over my mind like some hideous spider and I recoiled violently. Only one thing seemed clear to me, and that was that I had to see Max as soon as possible. I couldn't confide my fears to Lance, since I was far from happy about his own attitude. Like a mouse down a new tunnel my mind scuttled back to the frozen horror with which he had reacted to Briony's waking words that evening.

Lance and Briony – Lance and Briony. I was convinced that both of them were threatened in some subtle and horrible way and that I was powerless to help them. Tossing and turning, alternately throwing off the bedclothes and pulling them back again, I spent one of the most tormented nights of my life.

I had intended to let Briony sleep as long as possible the next morning and was completely taken aback when she appeared at the breakfast table dressed for school.

‘Darling, you can't possibly go today! If you'd only stayed home yesterday as I suggested, we might have avoided all the trouble last night.'

‘I'm quite all right now – really.' She calmly sat down at the table and poured some cereal into a bowl. She looked up and smiled as she caught my worried gaze. ‘Honestly, Mother, I promise I am. Not even a headache. I've slept it all off.'

‘But the doctor said you were to rest. I don't know what he –'

‘I
have
rested, continuously, for about thirteen hours. I'm fine now and I must go today because we're having a French test. I can't afford to miss it.'

‘Lance, you speak to her!' I demanded helplessly. He was staring at her with a yearning intentness which sent a prickle up my back.

‘You're quite sure you feel all right now?' he asked at last.

‘Yes, Daddy, really. Don't worry.'

‘Don't worry!' I repeated. ‘I come home and find you out cold on the floor and you tell me not to worry!'

‘But that was yesterday,' she replied patiently. ‘
Please
don't fuss, darlings. I know you're thinking of what's best for me, but you know I have got a bit of sense and if I really didn't feel up to going today I wouldn't. And I promise to ring if I do feel ill.'

‘I'll run you down anyway,' Lance said, preparing to stand up.

‘No, there's no need. It's not one of your college days and the fresh air will blow the last of the cobwebs away.' She finished her orange juice and rose from the table. ‘I hope you get off to a good start with Mrs Pomfrett.'

‘Oh hell!' Lance said under his breath. ‘Is it today she's coming?'

I watched Briony leave the room with a sinking of my heart. ‘I really don't think she should go.'

‘Short of locking her in her room, there doesn't seem to be any way to stop her. Is there any chance of putting Stella off, do you think?'

I smiled, trying to dismiss my uneasiness. ‘Not now she's cancelled her hair appointment! Have you decided how you want to portray her?'

‘Vaguely. I brought a few clothes back from the modelling box at college. Peasanty things – blouse, apron, full skirt – you know the kind of thing.' He rubbed a hand across his eyes. ‘I couldn't feel less like starting a new picture. In fact, I don't feel like working at all.'

‘Well, you never do much at the first sitting, do you? It's just a question of getting to know the person behind the face.'

‘But I already know Stella. And anyway this isn't a portrait in the strict sense. I visualise the composition as a field – corn growing or something – and the figure of this country girl sitting gazing out across it.' He flashed me a brief smile. ‘It worked, didn't it? You managed to reawaken my interest. Thanks. All right, I'll suffer Stella as arranged and if the worst comes to the worst doodle the hour away.' He paused and suddenly reached out to pat my hand. ‘Try not to worry about Briony. She'll be all right.'

I sat staring after him, my eyes stinging with tears. The brief, instinctive gesture touched me even if there was no more in it than a passing desire to comfort.

The morning wore on. Stella duly arrived and made her way round to the studio. An hour later she reappeared, tapping at the french window of the sitting-room. I went to let her in. ‘How did it go?'

‘Search me! We sat in silence most of the time. I'm stiff as a board from trying to keep still. Any chance of a coffee?'

‘Yes, it should be here any minute. I asked Mrs Rose to put a cup out for you.'

‘You know, for all the work the blasted man did today, I could have had my hair done after all!'

‘Poor Stella, that really is a deprivation isn't it? When's your next sitting?'

‘Friday at the same time. Ah, coffee! Salvation!'

When Stella had gone I strolled across the garden to the studio. Lance was leaning back in his chair staring out of the window. The canvas in front of him contained a few charcoal lines which uncannily suggested Stella's profile.

‘Still not in the mood?'

‘Afraid not. Was she bored stiff? I couldn't even rouse myself to talk to her.'

‘You told me not to worry about Briony,' I reminded him quietly.

He didn't meet my eyes. ‘I must admit I'm not very happy about her blacking out like that. There's no way of knowing how long she'd been lying there. If she went in straight after school it could have been over an hour.'

‘Dr Burton says a lot of girls her age have fainting fits. He's seeing her again tomorrow, to check that everything's all right.' And if it wasn't, I thought, I would have no choice but to see Max. The night's urgency had mitigated slightly and once more I was aware of putting off contacting him. ‘Are you coming back for lunch or staying here?'

‘Oh, I'll come. There's no muse to interrupt today.' He stood up and stretched. ‘What are you doing this afternoon?'

‘Nothing special. I don't seem able to settle to anything today.'

He smiled, putting a careless arm across my shoulders. ‘Poor little mother hen!'

‘You know you're just as worried yourself.'

‘Is there any point in ringing the school to make sure she's all right?'

‘She'd never forgive us. Anyway, she promised to phone if she wasn't. Work might be the best thing for her – take her mind off it.'

After lunch I sat out in the deck chair again and rather to my surprise fell asleep in the warm sun. I only awoke properly when Mrs Rose brought out the tea tray at four-thirty.

‘Goodness, is it that time already? Is Miss Briony home?'

‘Not yet, ma'am, but I thought I'd better not hold back your tea any longer.'