The Birthday Girl (6 page)

'I think it fair to say that we would be happier if we had more collateral,' Nelson said. 'But CRW isn't exactly rich in unencumbered assets, is it?' He looked at Freeman like a prosecutor grilling a hostile witness.

'There's the land we own near Annapolis,' Anderson said, trying to take the heat off Freeman.

Nelson shook his head. 'Undeveloped. I'm surprised you didn't sell it years ago.'

Freeman felt as if he had to defend himself, even though THE BIRTHDAY GIRL 41 Nelson had made a valid point. 'It was where my father-in-law built his first factory. He kept it for sentimental reasons long after the buildings were demolished.'

Nelson smiled. 'You won't believe how many times I've seen sentimentality ruin a perfectly good business. Managers can get too attached to a workforce or a product and they fail to take die necessary steps to safeguard their business.' He bent over the table, his body as tense as a sprinter waiting for the starter's gun. 'Being a good manager is like being a surgeon. You have to recognise when the body is unhealthy, and you mustn't be afraid to cut to save the patient. Better to lose a leg than have the patient die.'

Freeman looked at his watch. 'Is there anything else we have to discuss?'

Nelson and Walter exchanged looks. There obviously was something else. It was Walter who spoke first. 'Tony, don't take this the wrong way, but the bank feels that until you're through this period, it might be better if we had a representative on your board.'

'A representative?' Freeman repeated.

'Namely myself,' Nelson said.

'Let me get this straight,' Freeman said. 'We have to report to you each month, and you want a seat on the board?'

'In a purely non-executive capacity,' Nelson added. 'You'll still be running the company. I'll just be ...'

'Interfering ...' Anderson interrupted.

'... keeping an eye on things. Looking out for the bank's interests,' Nelson finished. 'I hope you'll come to see me as an asset to your management team.'

'Do we have a choice?' Freeman asked, but he could see from the look of anguish on Walter's face that he didn't.

'I understand the board meets next Thursday at three o'clock,' Nelson said. 'I'll see you then.'

Freeman felt like a schoolboy being dismissed from the headmaster's presence. He felt his cheeks flush involuntarily and his stomach churned. There was nothing he could say, nothing that would be productive anyway. He stood up and picked up his briefcase. Nelson leapt to his feet and extended 42 STEPHEN LEATHER his hand. Freeman felt like turning his back on the young banker but he knew that would be childish. He shook hands with the man, and Anderson did the same. On the way out of the office, Walter patted him gently on the back like a relative at a funeral, wanting to reassure him that life went on, no matter how bad things looked.

Anderson said nothing as they rode down in the elevator and the silence continued as they walked towards the car. 'What do you think?' Freeman said eventually as he opened the car door.

'About the boy-wonder banker?'

'Yeah.' Freeman slid into the car and opened the door for Anderson.

'We're caught between a rock and a hard place,' Anderson said as he climbed into the car and slammed the door shut.

'But at least they're not closing us down,' Freeman said.

'Yeah. But I don't like the idea of Nelson watching our every move.'

'You never know, he might be a help,' Freeman said. He started the Lumina and drove to the car park exit.

'He's barely out of college,' Anderson protested. 'What the hell could he know about running a business? Especially a business like ours.' He slammed his hand down on the dashboard.

'Yeah, I know what you mean,' Freeman agreed. 'But I don't see that we've got a choice. I think you should start looking for alternative sources of finance. See if any of our other banks will take over First's loans. Maybe see if we can bring in new money.' Anderson pulled a face as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. 'Yeah, yeah, I know,' Freeman said. 'But I can dream, can't I?'

Mersiha ran her fingers through the magazines on the table, looking for something, anything, worth reading. She picked up a copy of People magazine and flicked through it. She couldn't concentrate on the photographs of movie stars and television personalities and after a few minutes she threw the magazine back on the table. She looked at her watch. It was exactly five THE BIRTHDAY GIRL 43 o'clock, the time her session was due to start, and Dr Brown was usually punctual to the point of obsession. She wondered if he was having trouble with one of his patients. An unstable teenager threatening suicide, maybe. A middle-aged woman professing her undying love for the psychiatrist, offering him her heart and soul if he'd only take her there and then on the office floor. Mersiha smiled at the thought. Dr Brown was an unlikely lover, a small, chubby man with a receding hairline and small, baby-like lips.

'Are you okay, kiddo?' Katherine asked.

'Sure,' she replied, reaching for another magazine.

'What are you smiling at?'

Mersiha shrugged. 'Nothing. Just happy, I guess. Can we get ice-cream after this?'

'Sure, kiddo.' Katherine went back to reading a dog-eared copy of Vanity Fair. Mersiha studied the door to Dr Brown's office. In the three years she'd been attending weekly sessions at the psychiatrist's office, she'd never seen one of his other patients. There were two doors to his inner sanctum: one led to the waiting room where she was sitting with Katherine, the other opened on to a corridor that led to the car park. It was a simple system, but it worked: arriving and departing patients never met.

'Katherine,' Mersiha asked, 'how much longer do I have to do this?'

'Do what?'

'Come to Dr Brown's. It's a waste of time. And money. Think of the money you'd save if I stopped coming.'

Katherine looked at her as if considering the offer, then shook her head. 'When Dr Brown says there's no need for you to come any more, then you can stop.'

Mersiha flopped back in her chair and pouted. 'But I'm going to be sixteen in two weeks.'

'No buts. And don't worry about money. This isn't a matter of how much it costs, it's whether or not it's good for you.'

'It's a total waste of time.' Mersiha folded her arms and glared at the door to Dr Brown's office as if daring him to come out.

Katherine looked across at Dr Brown's receptionist, a heavyset matron who could be a harridan or sweetness and light, depending on the state of her relationship with her live-in lover, a burly steelworker who wasn't averse to knocking her around after he'd had a few drinks too many. Today she was in a good mood and she smiled sympathetically at Katherine. 'Can I get you a cup of coffee, Mrs Freeman? Dr Brown shouldn't be too long.'

Katherine shook her head. 'No thanks, Nancy.' Before Katherine could go back to reading her magazine, the intercom on Nancy's desk buzzed.

'Okay, Mersiha, Dr Brown will see you now,' the receptionist said.

'Great,' Mersiha said under her breath as she pushed herself up from the sofa.

'Be nice,' Katherine warned, but Mersiha had already slipped into the inner office.

Dr Brown was sitting behind his huge oak desk as usual, almost dwarfed by his big leather chair. Mersiha reckoned he used the oversized furniture to compensate for his lack of stature, but in fact it had the opposite effect - it served only to emphasise what a small man he was. 'Hiya, Dr Brown,' she said. 'How are you today?' It hadn't taken Mersiha long to realise that the quickest way out of the psychiatrist's office was to be pleasant. The more she smiled, the more she seemed anxious to answer his questions, the sooner he'd tell her that the session was over and that he'd see her the same time next week.

'I'm fine, Mersiha. Sit down, why don't you?' Mersiha flopped down on to one of the two grey sofas by the window. Dr Brown waited until she was sitting before he got up from his own seat and walked around the desk. 'How's school?' he asked.

'Mainly Bs,' she said. 'I got an A in chemistry, though.'

'It's still your best subject?'

Mersiha nodded. 'Chemistry and art. Pretty eclectic, huh?'

Dr Brown nodded. 'How are you sleeping?'

Mersiha shrugged laconically. 'Okay, I guess.'

'Dreams?'

'Sure. Everybody dreams.'

Dr Brown smiled. Mersiha smiled back. She'd grown to enjoy the verbal jousting with her therapist, though she knew it was important not to antagonise him too much.

'I meant bad dreams. Nightmares.'

'Some,' she admitted. 'But not as much as before.'

'What about sleepwalking?'

Mersiha smiled sweetly. 'If I walk when I sleep, I wouldn't know about it, would I?'

Dr Brown smiled back with equal sweetness, but his eyes glittered like wet pebbles. He walked over to a floor-to-ceiling bookcase and picked up a wooden figure and took it over to the sofas. He handed it to her as he sat down. 'Have you seen one of these before? It's a Russian doll. They call it a matrioshka.'

Mersiha held the smooth wooden figurine and studied it. It was a peasant woman with a green and red shawl around her shoulders, big black eyes and scarlet lips. It was in two pieces that seemed to be screwed together. It felt heavy, as if it was solid. 'Sure. I had one of these when I was a kid. It's pretty.'

'How long have you been coming to see me, Mersiha?' Dr Brown asked, holding out his hand for the doll.

Mersiha shrugged and passed it back to him. 'Two years, I guess.'

'It's more like three,' Dr Brown said as he set the doll down on the table. 'Imagine that's you,' he said.

Mersiha sighed theatrically, but Dr Brown flashed her a warning look. He was serious. 'Okay,' she said.

Dr Brown tapped the doll with the flat of his hand. 'It's hard outside, it looks solid. When you first came to see me three years ago, that's what you were like. Hard. But the hardness doesn't go right through. As you know, it comes apart. Try it.'

Mersiha twisted the two halves. They separated easily. Inside was another figure, slightly smaller but in a different paint scheme. It was also in two halves. She moved to pull them apart, but Dr Brown held up his hand to stop her.

'That's the stage we've got to, you and I. During the conversations we've had, I've come to know a little bit about what goes on inside your head, your thought processes. But you've only told me so much.'

He nodded at her, encouraging her to pull the second doll apart. She did as he wanted. Now there were three dolls on the table. 'But as you can see, there's more to be discovered inside the second shell. And it goes further than that. Keep on going.'

Mersiha unscrewed the third doll. There was a fourth inside. And a fifth inside that. By the time she'd finished there were seven dolls standing on the coffee table in front of her. Only the smallest was solid. Dr Brown picked it up and held it between a finger and thumb. 'This is you too. This is the real you, at the heart of all the shells.' Mersiha stared at the wooden doll. The face seemed to be staring back at her with wide eyes. 'You've surrounded yourself with shells, Mersiha. You've protected yourself by putting layers and layers on top of your real feelings.'

Mersiha pulled her eyes away from the doll. Dr Brown was giving her his earnest smile, trying to put her at ease. It looked artificial and his eyes were as cold as the painted eyes of the Russian doll. 'I'm not doing it deliberately,' she said.

'No, I know that,' the psychiatrist said. 'It's a defence mechanism. You're frightened of being hurt again because of what happened to you when you were younger. That's why you find it difficult to make friends. You've told me that yourself, haven't you? You've lots of acquaintances, but no real friends. Perhaps you're worried about letting people get close to you.'

'I love my dad,' she said. 'And Katherine.'

Dr Brown smiled, and this time there was more warmth in it. 'I know you do. And they love you. And you know they'll always love you. No matter what you do.'

'I guess,' Mersiha said. She knew that the psychiatrist was trying to get some show of emotion from her. She concentrated on the blinds on the window behind him and counted the slats. Once, soon after she'd started the Wednesday afternoon sessions, Dr Brown had almost made her cry until she'd seen something in his eyes, a look that made her realise that he had wanted her to break down. She'd only been thirteen at the time but she'd vowed that she'd never give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Her tears would be his trophies.

'Why do you think you don't have many friends?'

'I don't meet many people I want to be friends with.'

'Even at school?'

Mersiha snorted. 'Especially at school.'

'What do you mean?' Dr Brown asked.

'They're just kids,' she said.

He smiled. 'They're your age,' he said quietly.

Mersiha thought for a while before answering. 'They haven't been through what I've been through.'

The psychiatrist studied her for a few seconds. 'Would you like to tell me about it?'

Mersiha stared at the blinds, still counting. Twenty-six. Twenty-seven. 'No,' she whispered. 'No, I don't think so.'

Mersiha sat in the front passenger seat of Katherine's Toyota Corolla. It was an automatic and still had its new-car smell, despite the half-filled ashtray. The car had been a birthday present from her father, but Katherine seemed to treat it with contempt. It hadn't been washed since the day it had arrived outside their house, wrapped in a huge red bow. There was a paint scrape on the rear left side and the back seat was covered with old magazines.

She sighed and leant back, pushing her hands against the roof of the car. The time she spent alone in the car while Dr Brown briefed Katherine was often worse than the counselling sessions themselves. It didn't seem fair. Mersiha wished that psychiatrists had the same sort of client confidentiality code that priests and private detectives had. Katherine insisted on the post-session chats with Dr Brown, despite Mersiha's protests and pleadings. In a way Mersiha was glad, because it gave her an added incentive to keep her secrets locked deep inside. There was no way she would open up to Dr Brown if he intended to tell all to Katherine.