Therapy (6 page)

Does that answer your question?

Viktor realized with detachment that he was talking out loud. This time Ida von Strachwitz, the journalist from
Bunte
, was his imaginary listener. He was supposed to email her with the answers in two days’ time.

Viktor's laptop made a noise that reminded him of an ancient coffee machine spitting the last drops of water into the filter. He decided to delete the last few lines. To his surprise, he discovered that there was nothing to delete. The sum of thirty minutes’ work was a single sentence, which had no obvious connection to the question.

The gulf between not knowing and knowing Is the difference between life and death
.

There was no time for Viktor to expand on what he had written because a moment later the telephone rang. No one had called the house since his arrival. The shrill ring and raucous echo shattered the tranquillity of the beach house and made him jump. He let it ring four times before he picked up the heavy receiver of the black dial
phone. Like most things in the house, the old-fashioned machine had belonged to his father. It was positioned on a low table next to the bookcase.

‘I hope I'm not disturbing you.’

Viktor suppressed a groan. He had been half-expecting her to call. At the sound of her voice, the dizziness returned along with the sore throat and other symptoms of his cold.

‘I thought we reached an agreement, Ms Glass?’

‘Sorry,’ said a small voice in reply.

‘Aren't you supposed to be leaving this morning? What time is your ferry?’

‘That's why I called. I can't go.’

‘Can't go?’ Viktor looked to the ceiling in irritation and noticed a few cobwebs in the corner. ‘Listen, Ms Glass, we went over this yesterday. You're in remission at the moment and you're well enough to catch a ferry. I want you to go to Berlin and make an appointment with Professor van Druisen. I'm afraid I—’

‘I can't,’ said Anna quietly. Viktor guessed the reason before she had time to explain.

‘It's the ferry. Today's sailings have been cancelled because of the storm. I'm stuck.’

8

He sensed it as soon as he hung up the call. There had been something in her voice. It gave him the impression that she had arranged the storm with the express intention of interrupting his work and sabotaging his efforts to lay the past to rest. She had sounded as if she had something to tell him, something so important that she had gone to the trouble and expense of coming all the way from Berlin – and yet she had omitted to mention it yesterday for reasons best known to herself. She hadn't said what it was, but he knew with absolute certainty that she was prepared to stay on the island until she got it off her chest. Fearing that she would arrive at any moment, he decided to have a shower and get dressed. In the bathroom, he dissolved a couple of aspirin in some water and gulped them down on an empty stomach. He could feel the pressure building behind his eyes, a sure sign that a migraine was on its way. Under normal circumstances he would have taken a couple of painkillers at the first hint of trouble, but flupirtine made him sleepy, and he wanted to have his wits about him when his unwelcome visitor arrived.

As a result, he felt bunged up but not drowsy when a
growling Sindbad alerted him to Anna's arrival. It was early afternoon.

‘I was out for a stroll and I saw the light in the parlour,’ she said brightly when he opened the door.

Viktor frowned. Out for a stroll? Only the most dedicated dog owners would venture out in weather like this. It wasn't raining heavily, but the perpetual drizzle was miserable enough. And Anna, in her expensive cashmere suit and high-heeled shoes, was hardly dressed for the conditions. The walk from the village took at least fifteen minutes and the potholed track was flooded already. But Anna's pumps looked as pristine and elegant as ever. And, in spite of the absence of umbrella and headscarf, her hair was perfectly dry.

‘Dr Larenz? Is this a bad time?’

Viktor realized that he had been staring at her mistrustfully.

‘Yes, I mean, no, I . . .’ he stuttered. ‘Forgive me. I wasn't expecting visitors and I've come down with a bit of a cold.’

He remembered what Halberstaedt had told him. It made him doubly reluctant to invite her in.

‘Oh.’ Anna's face fell. ‘I'm sorry to hear it.’

Out to sea, a flash of lightning streaked across the sky, bathing the cottage in sudden light. It was followed by a low roll of thunder. The storm was getting closer. Irritated, Viktor realized that he could hardly close the door on his troublesome guest. Good manners dictated
that he put up with her company, at least until the worst of the weather was over.

‘Since you've taken the trouble to drop by, I suppose you'd better come in for some tea,’ he said reluctantly. Anna jumped at the offer. She was smiling again and Viktor thought he glimpsed a look of triumph on her face. She reminded him of a small child whose pestering had been rewarded with a bag of sweets.

She followed him into the sitting room where they resumed their positions of the previous day; Anna, legs crossed elegantly, on the couch and Viktor with his back to the window by the desk.

‘Help yourself to tea.’

He raised his cup and nodded towards the teapot that was sitting on the mantelpiece over a tea light.

‘Thank you – maybe later.’

Viktor's sore throat was markedly worse. He took a large gulp of Assam tea. The bitter taste was more pronounced than last time.

‘Are you feeling all right, Dr Larenz?’

She had asked him the same question yesterday. It bothered him that she seemed to see straight through him. He was the psychiatrist, after all.

‘I'm fine, thanks.’

‘You haven't smiled since I got here. I hope I haven't done anything to incur your displeasure. I had every intention of catching the ferry, believe me. I wasn't to know that the service would be suspended.’

‘Did they tell you when the boat will be back in action?’

‘They said forty-eight hours. Twenty-four at a push.’

Knowing my luck, she'll be here for a week
, thought Viktor, who remembered being stranded on Parkum with his father for at least that long.

‘Maybe you could give me another consultation, seeing as I'm here,’ she suggested boldly, smiling her gentle smile.

She wants to get something off her chest
.

‘Another consultation? Ms Glass, I'm not your therapist. Yesterday was an informal chat, nothing more. A patch of bad weather won't change my mind.’

‘Fine, then let's keep talking. Yesterday's chat really helped.’

She wants to tell me something and she won't stop bothering me until I hear her out
.

Viktor held her gaze for a few seconds and gave in when he realized that she was determined not to look away.

‘All right, I suppose we can chat . . .’

Let's finish whatever it is that you've started
, he added to himself.

Anna leant back happily on the couch and proceeded to tell Viktor the most appalling story of his life.

9

‘What are you working on at the moment?’ he asked to get the ball rolling.

He had woken up that morning with a question on his mind.
Who will she bring to life next?

‘I don't write fiction anymore. Or at least, not what most people would understand by fiction.’

‘How would you describe it?’

‘These days I only write about myself, so
autobiography
, I suppose. It kills three birds with one stone: it allows me to indulge my literary bent, it gives me a way of coming to terms with my past, and it rules out the possibility of fictional characters coming alive and driving me crazy.’

‘I see. Then tell me about your most recent breakdown – the one that culminated in your admission to the Park.’

Anna took a deep breath and folded her hands as if in prayer.

‘Very well. The last character who came to life was the heroine of a children's book. A modern fairy tale.’

‘Can you tell me about the plot?’

‘It centred on a little girl called Charlotte. A delicate
slip of a thing with angelic blonde hair – the sort you see on commercials for biscuits and chocolate. You know the type.’

‘As hallucinations go, I can think of worse.’

‘True. Charlotte was a darling. People found her adorable. Her father was the king and they lived in a palace on an island.’

‘How did the story start?’

‘With a quest. One day Charlotte fell ill – seriously ill.’

Viktor, who had been preparing to take another sip of tea, replaced his cup on the desk. Anna had his full attention.

‘She lost weight, became frail and sickly, and was struck down by all kinds of mysterious infections. One by one, the king consulted every doctor in the kingdom, but no one knew what was wrong with his daughter. It wasn't long before the royal couple were frantic with worry. Meanwhile, poor Charlotte was declining by the day.’

Viktor was so absorbed that he forgot to breathe.

‘One day she decided to take charge of her own destiny. She ran away from home.’

Josy
.

In spite of his best efforts, Viktor caught himself thinking about his daughter.

‘I beg your pardon?’ said Anna, puzzled.

Viktor ran a hand nervously through his hair. He
must have spoken out loud. ‘Nothing. I didn't mean to interrupt. Carry on.’

‘So Charlotte set off on a quest to find the cause of her illness. I suppose you could call it a parable. A little girl refuses to give up hope and sets off into the big wide world on her own.’

No
, thought Viktor.
This can't be happening
. His mind ground slowly to a halt. It was the same feeling of paralysis that he had experienced in Dr Grohlke's clinic; the same catatonic numbness that had accompanied him every single day of his life until he had decided to call off the search for Josy.

‘Are you sure you're all right, Dr Larenz?’

‘Pardon? Oh, sorry . . .’ He stared at the fingers of his right hand which were drumming nervously on the antique mahogany desk.

‘Forgive me, I should stop drinking so much tea. But tell me more about Charlotte. How does the story end? What happened to her?’

Where did Josy go?

‘I don't know.’

‘Surely you know how your own story ends?’ he asked roughly. The question sounded more aggressive than he had intended, but Anna seemed unperturbed.

‘I told you before, Dr Larenz, I never got past the first few chapters. And that's why Charlotte came after me. It's how the nightmare started.’

Nightmare?

‘What do you mean?’

‘Charlotte was the last of my characters to come alive. What we experienced together was so stressful that I broke down completely. That's when I was admitted to the Park.’

‘Let's back up a little. Tell me exactly what happened.’

Viktor knew he was breaking the rules. It was too early for the patient to discuss the trauma, but he simply had to know. Anna bowed her head and stared at the ground. He persisted, but this time more gently.

‘When did you first see Charlotte?’

‘About four years ago in Berlin. It was winter.’

November 26
, thought Viktor.

‘I was on my way to the shops when I heard an awful noise: screeching tyres, the crunch of metal on metal, splintering glass. It sounded like a car accident. I can remember thinking “I hope no one's hurt”, then I turned round to see a girl in the middle of the road. She was rooted to the spot. The crash was obviously her fault.’

Viktor sat rigid in his chair.

‘Suddenly, as if she could sense I was there, she turned round and smiled at me. I recognized her right away. It was Charlotte – the little girl from my book. She ran over and took me by the hand.’

Such frail, thin arms. So delicate
.

‘My mind seemed to shut down. On the one hand, I knew Charlotte wasn't real; she had to be a delusion. On the other, she was standing right beside me. In the end, I
had to believe the evidence of my eyes. So I followed her.’

‘Followed her? Which way? Where did she go?’

‘Why? Does it make a difference?’ asked Anna, blinking in confusion. She seemed put out.

‘Not in the slightest. I'm sorry, go on.’

Anna cleared her throat and stood up. ‘If you don't mind, Dr Larenz, I'd like to take a break. I know I pressured you into this conversation, but I thought I was ready, and I'm not. The hallucinations were extremely traumatic. It's not easy for me to discuss them.’

‘I understand,’ said Viktor, managing to sound sympathetic even though he was desperate for her to carry on. He got to his feet as well.

‘You won't have to worry about me bothering you again. With any luck, the ferry will be up and running tomorrow.’

No!

Viktor tried feverishly to think of a reason for making her stay. He couldn't allow her to leave the island, although that was exactly what he had made her promise to do.

He hovered awkwardly in the middle of the room. ‘One last question: what was the book called?’

‘I hadn't decided. I only had a working title:
Nine
.’

‘
Nine
?’

‘Charlotte was nine years old when she ran away from home.’

‘Oh.’

Younger than Josy
.

Viktor was surprised at himself. He had come very close to believing Anna's story. In fact, he had almost hoped that her delusions were somehow connected to the truth.

He took a few steps towards her and realized that his symptoms were getting worse. The aspirin had done nothing to get rid of his migraine, his temples were still throbbing, and his eyes were watering. Anna was standing in front of him, but her contours were blurred, as if he were seeing her through a glass of water. He blinked, his vision cleared a little, and when he looked again, he saw an expression on her face that he couldn't quite decipher. Then it came to him: he and Anna had met before. He knew her from a long time ago, but he couldn't put his finger on when or how. It was like recognizing an actress but not knowing which characters she played or what she was called in real life.