by K. L. Slater
The last thing I want to do is worry her, but still, it feels good to talk to someone. ‘Professor John B. Watson is an eminent psychologist at the hospital,’ I begin. ‘He has written some very important medical research papers and sits on the board. He is very well thought of by the directors of the hospital.’
Dorothy nods. ‘He sounds like an important and respected man. Have your paths crossed?’
I give a troubled sigh. ‘I have agreed he can do some kind of a study on Douglas. It’s the second session tomorrow and . . . well, the study seems quite harmless, but Dougie has been unsettled since my first visit. Fractious and gloomy.’
‘What sort of things happen in the sessions?’
‘Well, he shows Dougie a rat and some other things and makes a loud noise. It doesn’t sound much I know but it startles him and—’
‘I don’t really see the problem.’ Dorothy shrugs. ‘I’m sure the professor knows what he’s doing.’
But Douglas isn’t just one of the poor hapless rats I’ve seen caged in the labs. Douglas is my son.
You replace the journal in its rightful place on the antique oak writing desk before removing the cotton gloves and listening to the professor speak.
1920 Johns Hopkins University Hospital, Baltimore
Extract from the confidential case study diary of Professor J. Watson
OVERVIEW
The mother of Little Albert reports that the child has been rather more fractious than normal since his visit.
He appears slightly thinner but still of a mild, fairly content temperament. Beatrice, the mother of the child, is to remain present during the sessions. Session two takes place in a controlled environment, the private office of myself, Professor John B. Watson. Also present is Dr Rosalie Rayner and Beatrice, the subject’s mother.
STAGE THREE
Little Albert is again presented with a single stimulus: the rat.
As he reaches for it, a steel bar behind him is hit. The noise is loud and jarring. This identical procedure is repeated three times.
Albert is then presented with the rat alone with no accompanying noise.
Two more presentations with the rat and the noise are made, followed by a final repeat of presenting the rat alone.
Total rat with noise procedures completed: 7.
BASELINE REACTIONS:
Following all presentations (with and without accompanying noise), Albert finally reacted to the rat alone by immediately crying. He pre-empted the noise.
He turned to the left and crawled quickly away from the rat towards his mother. Session two is concluded.
Subject’s mother is instructed to return to the office in five days’ time.
22
As Lewis and Janine took their seats opposite me in the lounge, I couldn’t think of anything else but why Lewis seemed so suddenly desperate to speak to me. More to the point, why he’d brought her into the sanctity of what used to be our family home.
Instead, I silently berated myself that after getting back from lunch at Brenna and Viv’s, I’d changed out of my best jeans and pale pink cashmere-mix sweater and pulled on some baggy old sweatpants and a grubby-looking T-shirt.
My eyes narrowed as I studied Janine, elegant as ever in her trademark Armani jeans and pristine white silk blouse. She’d had her glossy brown hair newly highlighted, too. Half a dozen new buttery shades that seamlessly blended together to give a flattering frame to her immoveable face.
It seemed even Lewis didn’t do casual any more, judging by the Paul Smith sweater he’d paired with taupe chinos. No evidence at all of the scruffy combat shorts and battered lime-green Crocs he used to favour when he wasn’t working.
The two of them perched on the edge of their seats. I felt gratified to see they looked as if they were suddenly on the back foot a bit.
Janine had kept on her towering heels, obviously feeling no pressure to comply with her own ‘shoes off at the door’ rule that I recall she was keen on enforcing in her own house. In the days we were still on speaking terms.
I glanced down at my own sock feet, one chipped toenail poking through a hole I hadn’t even realised was there. Until now. I tucked the offending foot behind my other leg.
There were brief sounds of Skye moving about upstairs above our heads before Lewis cleared his throat.
‘We wanted to talk about . . . I mean, we have something to tell you. About Skye. I’m hoping you won’t—’
‘For goodness’ sake, Lewis, just tell her!’ Janine snapped.
‘I’m getting around to it,’ Lewis said carefully.
His eyes darkened, but the flash of resentment had already gone by the time Janine turned to him. Her eyes searched his as she waited for him to speak.
I could tell by the expression on her face that she had no clue as to how to read him.
The set of his jaw, the faint squint of his eyes. It all meant nothing to her yet. Things were too new, too nice. Things were still too fake between them.
I knew him, though, and I could see he was nervous. He was feeling resolved about something.
Lewis cleared his throat.
‘I’ve given it a lot of thought and I want to formalise the custody arrangements for Skye. In fact . . . I’ll be applying for sole custody.’
In that moment, I can honestly say I hated him. All at once, his voice sounded distant from where I was sitting.
‘I’m quite happy for you to be part of her life, of course, but Skye’s wellbeing is paramount, and I know she’ll get the necessary stability she needs living with us.’
Blood rushed to my head, and my legs felt tingly and numb in equal measure. I made a gargantuan effort not to let it show, but I don’t think I succeeded.
‘I’ll fight tooth and nail if that’s how you want to play it. You . . . and her’ – I didn’t look at Janine – ‘are the ones messing up Skye’s life. I’m sure any court would see quite clearly where her stability lies.’
The look Lewis gave me sent a chill down my spine.
‘The last thing I want to do is fight dirty, Freya,’ he said softly. ‘But rest assured, if needs be, I will do so. If I need to, I’ll use anything and everything.’
Panic flashed into my throat like a scorch of heat.
Lewis had lied constantly, thought up elaborate excuses on the spot to conceal his affair with Janine. What might he be prepared to use to take Skye away from me?
Janine coughed before adding a snide contribution. ‘Skye needs a stable home, and if we decide to do so, we have the money to engage the best lawyers in the business to fight for her, if necessary. You can’t compete with that, Freya.’
A look of triumph passed between them. I felt heat rising from my throat into my face and a sickening wave of fluttering started up in the pit of my stomach.
Skye barrelled into the room like a whirlwind of frothy net.
‘Mummy, WE’RE GOING TO DISNEYLAND PARIS!’ Skye screeched, bouncing into the room in her yellow Belle dress complete with paste-jewelled tiara. ‘Have you told her yet, Daddy?’
I couldn’t respond, couldn’t speak. It was clear they were buying my daughter’s cooperation. I couldn’t compete with that, either.
‘Skye, darling, pop back upstairs and play with your toys for five minutes while the grown-ups talk,’ Janine said.
She placed her hand lightly on Lewis’s thigh and his face flushed pink.
‘I’ll thank you not to tell my daughter what to do in this house,’ I said, feeling my heartbeat begin to race. A confrontation was far from ideal in front of Skye, but I knew I couldn’t afford to give Janine an inch. ‘Lewis and I will deal with this issue. It’s actually got bugger all to do with you.’
Skye gave a little gasp behind me.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake.’ Janine rolled her eyes. ‘Mistakenly, I thought Skye was the only child amongst us.’
‘Let’s all just calm down a bit, shall we?’ Lewis raised his hands.
‘You can’t buy her affection with a
holiday. She can’t go in term-time, anyway, the school won’t allow it.’
‘I don’t care about school. I want to go to Disneyland and THAT’S IT!’
Skye stomped out of the room and headed for the stairs, a furious blur of blonde curls, frothy net, and yellow satin.
‘All this has been a lot for her to cope with,’ Lewis remarked quietly. ‘A break will do her good, Freya.’
‘I assume by “all this” you mean your having an affair and moving out?’ I hissed in an effort to dampen the volume of my voice.
‘Can’t you just try to think of what’s best for Skye? Rather than . . .’ His voice trailed off and I ignored his stony stare.
‘Rather than what?’
‘Rather than just thinking about yourself,’ Janine provided. ‘For once, think about your daughter and what’s best for her. We can give her so much more.’
I stood up, turned my whole body towards Lewis, blocking Janine completely. ‘I think it’s best if you leave.’
Lewis and Janine both stood up without saying anything. A few moments later, I closed the door behind them.
I exhaled slowly and closed my eyes, resting my forehead on the cool stained-glass inserts in the door.
I heard Skye singing softly from where she sat at the top of the stairs. I hoped she hadn’t heard too much of that last piece of conversation.
I didn’t know what I’d do if they took her away from me. I needed her in my life like I needed to breathe.
A feeling like falling washed over me and I held on to the door frame to steady myself. The floor felt so soft and unstable under my feet . . . everything I thought was certain just ten minutes earlier was fracturing into brittle pieces and falling away.
The truth was, I knew if it came to money and legal advice, Lewis definitely had the upper hand when fighting in the courts for our daughter.
In any event, fate intervened, and thank goodness they never got around to putting their callous plans into action.
I swallow down the tender ache that’s creeping from my chest into my throat.
No one can hurt us now.
I’m here in a safe new home with my daughter. Lewis has gone and Janine no longer features on my radar.
Silence fills the room as the playlist ends and I open my eyes.
I feel a sudden prickle at the back of my neck at the sound of voices . . . not raised exactly, but seemingly in discussion.
I spring up and move over to the window. I only have one lamp in the room at the moment and that’s over in the other corner, so when I look out of the glass, the reflection isn’t too bad. I see there’s an outside light illuminated in the garden, but there is nobody out there talking.
I wait and listen. There it is again. Definitely voices.
I tiptoe down the hallway and peek out of the spyhole. The big chandelier that hangs down from the tall ceiling is still on – they turn it off about 9 p.m. – but the landing outside my door is empty.
The talking seems to have stopped now. Strange.
I check on Skye on my way back to the lounge. She’s fine and breathing deeply in the same position I tucked her up in an hour ago.
I turn to leave and see that one of the wardrobe doors next to her bed is wide open. I know it was closed when she went to sleep. Must be a strained hinge, I think.
I make a mental note to tell Dr Marsden about it tomorrow.
23
We both sleep well and Skye is a little ball of contradictions. Half of her is rebelling against the new school visit, half of her seems to be quite looking forward to it judging by her various questions about where it is exactly and what they might show her.
While she’s eating a bowl of cereal and watching a bit of television, I take a critical look around the flat.
There are still lots of jobs to do, and I’m itching to get the place organised as we’re tripping over boxes and bulging bin bags lined up along the hallway and piled in the corners of all the rooms. Progress is slow when there’s only one person to do everything.
As an only child, Skye is more than happy playing in her bedroom organising her belongings and throwing tea parties for her soft toys, but despite all the tasks still left to do in here, I reckon they can all wait until another day. I’ve promised myself I’ll try and do things differently, and now is a good time to start.
‘Grab your cardy, we’re going for a little early-morning walk.’ I peer into the dusty mirror I’d hung on a hook I found in the hall. I haven’t found the time to clean it yet. I give up finger-combing my shoulder-length brown hair and instead scrape it roughly back into a bobble.
‘Are we going to see the palace again?’ Skye asks.
‘Not this time.’ I grab my key card and pop it into my purse. ‘We’re going the other way for a change.’
I make sure the apartment door latch catches behind us, and we step out on to the landing. I remember the voices I’d been so sure I heard last night. There had been nobody out here when I looked through the spyhole. I suppose it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that I could have been mistaken, it takes time to get used to how sounds carry in an old house like this.
I look down and see that the red Persian rug is rucked up along the edge opposite our apartment door.
‘Come on, Mummy!’ Skye tugs impatiently at my hand and we walk downstairs. Weak sunlight streams in through the small stained-glass windowpanes at the top, freckling the cream walls with shimmering blobs of colour.
As we walk past the wide wooden doors of the apartments on the floor below us, I slow down to see if I can hear any signs of life behind them, but it seems so silent, as if there are just the two of us in this house.
For all that I feel insanely grateful for the opportunity to live here, something about this place makes me want to creep around on my tiptoes and whisper.
But that’s no example to set for Skye. We both need to feel comfortable here, so it’s important we’re not treading on eggshells around the place. We need to feel we belong.
‘Which door is Miss Brockley’s, Mummy?’ Skye asks in hushed tones. Even she feels the expectancy of restraint that hovers in the air here.
‘This one, remember?’ I say as we approach it, the brass number gleaming in the sunlight.
I hesitate as the door creaks slightly, and I think I hear gentle knock sounds from the inside as if someone is pressing up against the door. I look at the convex spyhole just above the brass knocker.
But of course it’s impossible to tell if someone is watching through it from the outside.
When we get to the foyer, I sit Skye down on the chair by the lamp table. ‘I just need a quick word with Dr Marsden, sweetie. Wait here.’
She sits happily playing with a little fairy figurine she pulls out of her pocket. I walk over to the leafy corner, and I’m about to knock on the Marsdens’ apartment door when I see it’s already slightly ajar.
I push it open a little way further and I’m about to call hello when I involuntarily suck the breath right back in without speaking.
There, in front of the bright light of the lounge window, Audrey is in the embrace of the tall man I spotted before. He’s casually dressed in jeans and a simple white T-shirt and looks quite a bit younger than her. I can see he is most definitely not Dr Marsden.
I back away quickly and gather Skye up, chivvying her outside. What the hell is it with this place? Nothing is as it seems.
Of her own admission, Audrey told me Dr Marsden frequented a dodgy gentlemen’s club and now she’s snogging some guy in their own home!
Must be what they call an ‘open marriage’, I think sourly. Well, I intend to keep away. No more Earl Grey or ancient sherry in there, if I can help it.
At the bottom of the entrance steps of the house, we turn left and walk along the road in the opposite direction of the park.
Two doors away from Adder House, another grand mansion stands, its redbrick grandeur marred by a web of scaffolding across the entire frontage.
&n
bsp; ‘There’s the smiling man again, Mummy.’ Skye squeezes my hand.
I look up to see that the builder who was there when we moved in is watching us again. He smiles and nods at me from the second floor of the structure.
He’s wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and his tanned arms are toned. Maybe he was in that famous Diet Coke advert, I joke to myself.
He raises his hand and Skye waves back.
I look quickly away, feeling my cheeks heating up. I’m not used to male attention and I wilt under it. I’d rather be invisible than have someone stare hard and take in all my faults.
There’s a wolf whistle and an older man leers down from the other end of the scaffolding.
I curse myself for looking up again, but I catch the younger builder’s head whipping around. He scowls and barks something at the whistler. He must be senior to him as the other man lowers his eyes and resumes working on the fascia of the building.
‘Ooh, he gave you a whistle, Mummy!’ Skye gives me a cheeky grin. ‘Hey!’ I jiggle her hand and she giggles.
We walk down to the bottom end of Palace Gate where it joins Gloucester Road. The buildings suddenly become far less grand and the shops less exclusive. I breathe out. I definitely feel more at home around here.
‘Can we look in here, Mummy?’ Skye pulls me towards the door of a small gift shop featuring a display of hobby-horse sticks with unicorns’ heads in the window. ‘They match the unicorn Dr Marsden gave me perfectly!’
Fifteen minutes later, we’re sitting outside a small pavement café and Skye is petting her new toy. It might be the less posh end of the street, but I still only got a penny change out of the twenty quid I handed over for it. I feel sure I could have picked one up for half the price or even less at a nearby market.
Still, it’s nice to see Skye happy and lighter than she’s been since the troubling sweeties-and-note-delivery incident at school.
She seems to read my mind. ‘Mummy, when can Petra come over for tea?’
‘Soon, poppet. When we get a bit tidier in the apartment, we’ll send her an invite,’ I say quickly.
I will send a little card over to Kat as a peace offering, but then the ball is in her court. Somehow, I don’t think she’ll allow Petra to come, but I’ll be keeping my opinion to myself on that.