The Healing Place

by Clare Nonhebel

CHAPTER 9

  Of course, he wouldn’t go immediately, just like that. That had been his first idea this morning but it must have been the lack of sleep that prompted the irrational impulse, he explained to Ella.

  He agreed with her that it made no sense to go off to some unknown destination in response to a letter not even addressed to him, sent by a woman – a nun! – who had no personal knowledge of the addressee, had just gone through a patient’s address book and written to everyone not crossed out or marked ‘deceased.’

  He wasn’t going to rush off to Ireland, of course not. It would be adding one more item to the pile of uncharacteristic emotional responses he had been making recently. He had the builder to see, the interview with the Shiatsu practitioner, the interview to cancel if possible with the Luciferian, not to mention Sharma to feed and support in his hopeless mission. And then there was Ella. Apologizing to Ella was going to take time and sincere practical actions to demonstrate the complete unlikelihood of any recurrence of violent impulses.

  ‘Of course I won’t go, just like that,’ he conceded. ‘It’ll have to be planned and thought out.’

  ‘But I don’t see why you’re going at all,’ Ella said, bewildered. 'Is it because of me? Or because you got angry?'

  ‘No. Not directly. But it’s a sign,’ he said, ‘that I’ve been getting overstressed. You've said it yourself, Ella. And this letter’s a sign that I need to take a break somewhere quiet and peaceful, like Ireland.’

  ‘Franz, you don’t believe in signs!’

  ‘Well, you’re always telling me I should.’

  ‘I want you to talk to me,’ she said, holding on to his hand. ‘Or if not to me, to someone. You need some help and I don’t know how to help you. You don’t tell me anything.’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell,’ he said. ‘It’s stress. It’s not unexpected. You’ve been telling me for so long that I work crazy hours – ever since I started The Healing Place.’

  ‘Are you going to ask me to come with you?’

  ‘You’ve got your job,’ said Franz. ‘You can’t let Maz down.’

  ‘Maz can find someone else to serve echinacea drops and tea tree oil for a week or two. I’m not indispensable, Franz – it’s more of a problem for you.’

  ‘I’ll ask Alison if she’ll cover for me, take messages and pass them on if they’re urgent,’ Franz said. ‘She already keeps an eye on the appointments book and the reception area. I don’t think the extra responsibility would bother her and she’d probably welcome the extra money. She’s a single mother with a young son.’

  He had looked up her record on Saturday when he returned to his office after talking to her, disturbed by how little he knew her. He had looked up a few of the other records as well.

  Even in a few short years, some course leaders had left because the subjects they offered had quickly become outdated. Water divining, for example, had originally brought in twelve eager seekers – a large number, in the early days of The Healing Place’s life. Franz wondered why anyone had wanted to study that in this city environment, where the documentation for every house included the location of the water main, and the river was only half a mile away.

  Other subjects had increased in demand. Flotation sessions were no longer the novelty they had been and acupuncture was no longer avoided on the grounds that it was too painful to be popular with Westerners. Pagan rituals and ancient mystic practices, formerly dismissed as embarrassingly naïve anachronisms, of interest only to anthropologists and to uneducated folk who were superstitious to the point of senility, were now considered enlightened and even sophisticated.

  Records of the permanent staff revealed that Alison had spent a gap year after school in the Congo as a voluntary helper on a botanical research station in a forest clearing. She had then completed two and a half years of study at a prestigious university for a degree in maths and physics. Counting back from the age of her son Carl at the time when she had applied for the job here, Franz estimated that she must have got pregnant during her last year at university and had to leave before taking her finals. There was no mention of a degree.

  She was younger than her appearance suggested – perhaps the cares of single motherhood had worn her down – and now in her early thirties she was earning a receptionist's wage. She made more of her job than the specification required, welcoming every seeker and getting to know personally every guide of every course The Healing Place offered, even one-off workshop tutors whose courses were never repeated.

  Alison’s knowledge of the freelancers and students who used The Healing Place on a day-to-day basis was undoubtedly better than Franz’s. He hadn’t known, yesterday, why he had looked up Alison’s records but as things had turned out he now thought first of Alison as holiday cover for himself.

  She would keep The Healing Place running smoothly, continuing its daily work of improving the spiritual and physical health of this part of London while its founder took a well-deserved sabbatical in Ireland. He had almost, by now, convinced himself that that was what it was.

  ‘So you want to go on your own to Ireland, in February, to reduce your stress level?’ Ella said. ‘It sounds a bit desolate.’

  ‘I know. That’s why I think you’d be better staying here. You need a break as well but it wouldn’t feel like a holiday, this time of year.’

  ‘So go somewhere warmer, Franz! Go to Barbados and I guarantee I’ll come with you!’

  ‘Maybe later we will go there. But I need to go to Ireland now.’

  He wasn’t meeting her eyes, she noticed.

  ‘I think you’re making excuses to escape from me,’ she said with sadness.

  He looked at her then. ‘Oh, Ella,’ he said, ‘the last person on earth I want to escape from is you.’

  ‘Are you escaping from yourself, then?’ she asked.

  ‘I have been trying to. I think that’s what the trouble is. Now I’m trying not to. I need to go and face things.’

  She caught his hand. ‘Let me come with you.’

  ‘I’d love you to come with me but it wouldn’t be fair on you. I need to get some things out of my system, not take them out on you.’

  ‘If you need space, I could move out of the flat for a while,’ Ella said.

  He pulled her towards him and hugged her. ‘I don’t need space from you,’ he said, his voice muffled in her hair. ‘I want you to have space from me, till I can behave like a human being again.’

  'Come back to bed,' she said. 'No one behaves like a human being when they've been up all night.'

  Before he could answer, Sharma phoned. He had followed a lead as far as Ladbroke Grove then the trail had gone cold. He planned to take a break then go back again later in the afternoon so would not accept Ella’s invitation to come for supper that evening.

  ‘No problem,’ Franz said, hoping the relief didn’t show in his voice. ‘Is there anything we can do for you?’

  ‘Maybe …. if I could come round for a short while now?’ Sharma asked. ‘And perhaps take a shower? It’s cold out and my landlady doesn’t like lodgers being there or using hot water during the day.’

  ‘I’m sure you can,’ said Franz. ‘Let me just check with Ella, will you, Sharma?’

  Ella nodded before he could ask her, though she had only heard Franz’s side of the conversation.

  ‘Anything,’ she said.

  ‘Ella says fine,’ Franz relayed. ‘Shower, lunch, rest and anything else you need.’

  ‘How’s he doing?’ Ella asked as Franz put down the phone.

  ‘Cold. He’s been over in Ladbroke Grove but he's run out of leads now so he wants to come here for a break, to relax and warm up. I don’t know where he’s living now but his landlady doesn’t sound the hospitable type. Ella, are you okay?’

  She smiled at him. ‘I think so.’ She moved to the sofa and picked up something she was sewing.

  He went and sat next to her and put an arm around her and she leaned against him.

  ‘
If you want to talk to someone about us, feel free,’ Franz said. He felt her startled movement, under his shoulder.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because things are difficult for you and I’m part of the difficulty, so if you need to talk to someone outside of us, it’s okay by me. Don’t feel you’re being disloyal.’

  ‘I already did, this morning,’ she admitted.

  ‘Jan and Phil?’

  Again, he felt her tense slightly.

  ‘Just Jan.’

  ‘Did it help?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay. And if there’s anything you want to say to me, I am listening. I will try to listen, I promise.’

  ‘Well – there is one thing.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘It might not seem relevant to you but it is to me.’

  ‘Say it anyway,’ he said.

  Now he was the one to go tense. Ella noticed but didn’t comment.

  ‘You never answer the question about where you were born.’

  He hesitated and she waited for him to say one of his usual responses but after a few moments’ interior struggle, he said, ‘Ireland.’

  ‘Ireland?’

  She waited for more and when he said nothing, said, ‘Well, that wasn’t so hard to own up to, was it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Northern or southern Ireland?’ she asked.

  ‘Southern. West. County Mayo.’

  He was very tense now. Ella could feel his heart pounding. She wasn’t sure why but she felt it was time to back off.

  ‘Thank you for telling me,’ she said. She wound her arms round him and kissed him. ‘What shall we give Sharma for lunch?’

  She felt his body relax.

  ‘What have we got in the fridge?’ he asked.

  ‘Not much. A few veg I was going to use to make soup. I’ll do that and then go to the deli. Do you know if there’s anything he doesn’t eat?’

  ‘Beef and pork but I don’t think he’s totally veggie.’

  ‘I’ll get the usual stuff. Samosas?’

  ‘I’ll go out to the deli. You rest. Don’t bother making soup.’

  ‘He’ll need something hot after hanging around the streets in this weather. No, you stay here, Franz, in case he comes soon, and have a chat with him. I forgot to go to the cashpoint so I’ll do that too.’

  ‘I’ve got money. I went yesterday,’ he said. ‘Help yourself.’

  She went out to the lobby inside the front door and took his wallet from the pocket of his jacket hanging on the wall.

  ‘No, you haven’t, Franz,’ she said, coming back into the kitchen. ‘It’s empty.’

  ‘Of course it is. I forgot.’

  He’s got another woman, she thought, her heart lurching. The outbursts of anger. The sudden trip to Ireland on his own – really on his own? And he’s spent all the money he took out yesterday.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I'll go to the cashpoint.’

  ‘You sure you're all right? You look a bit pale.’

  ‘I'm fine. I’ll go now. See you later.’

  Sharma arrived looking tired, cold and preoccupied. Franz gave him a clean towel and directed him towards the shower.

  ‘Use anything in there,’ he said. ‘Take your time.’

  He returned to chopping vegetables for the soup. Halfway through, he stopped, the knife poised over the chopping board, his head down, thinking of nothing. He stayed like that, in suspended animation, till the sound of Ella’s key in the door broke his reverie.

  Ella came over and kissed him. ‘You didn’t have to do the soup. Thank you.’

  She unpacked groceries and set them out on the table. Sharma came out of the shower, the damp towel over his arm, his thick dark hair tousled.

  ‘This is kind of you,’ he said. He held the towel as though not sure what to do with it. Ella took it from him and gave him a hug, which he returned awkwardly.

  ‘What’s with the dragon landlady, Sharma?’ Franz asked. ‘You pay rent and you’re not allowed to be there at weekends or take a shower?’

  ‘It was fine at first,’ Sharma said. ‘She seemed friendly and the rent was reasonable.’

  Ella gestured him to the table and he sat down, his eyes lighting on the food. Ella pushed the paper bag full of samosas towards him. He took one tentatively and held it in his hand.

  ‘Don’t wait,’ said Ella. 'Eat. Make crumbs.’

  He smiled at her and obeyed.

  ‘So when did the rot set in?’ Franz asked.

  ‘Mhm?’ Sharma said through a mouthful.

  ‘When did the landlady turn dragon?’ Ella interpreted.

  ‘Oh.’ Sharma looked embarrassed. ‘Shortly after I arrived there.’

  ‘How come?’ asked Franz.

  Sharma choked on a crumb and gulped.

  ‘She made a pass at you,’ Ella understood. ‘And you spurned her amorous advances.’

  ‘Ella!’ said Franz, trying not to smile.

  ‘Well, yes, actually,’ said Sharma. They all started laughing. ‘It was not funny,’ he said, ‘at the time. Or now.’

  ‘Is she pretty?’ Ella asked.

  ‘No, she is not,’ he said. ‘Nor young.’

  ‘What does she look like - middle-aged and desperate?’ asked Ella with interest.

  ‘Ella,’ Franz said.

  ‘Oh, sorry, Sharma - not that I mean she’d have to be desperate, to go for you ….’

  ‘I mean, you know what she looks like,’ said Franz.

  ‘Do we know her?’ Ella looked surprised.

  ‘Sure. Green scales, spiky back, breathes fire. Average dragon – right, Sharma?’

  He laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. ‘She is not unlike that!’

  Franz was glad to see him laugh.

  ‘So why are you still there, Sharma?’ Ella asked.

  His face clouded over. ‘I couldn’t find anywhere else. Only flat-shares and I need to be by myself.’

  ‘Are flats too expensive?’ asked Franz.

  ‘Round here, yes they are.’

  Ella hesitated, knowing Franz would not ask the question. ‘But Sharma, when the family were with you, you rented a flat for all four of you and Sarita wasn’t working. How come you can’t afford more than a room or a flat-share now?’

  He cleared his throat. ‘I send money,’ he said quietly.

  Ella was horrified. ‘To Sarita?’

  ‘To her brother, to give her for the children,’ he said.

  Franz sat down at the table and stared at him. ‘Don’t feel you have to tell us but if you don’t mind me asking: you know where she is, then, and ….has this man left her now?’

  ‘No. He gives her lavish presents but he does not consider it his responsibility to support our children.’

  ‘Sarita told you this? She’s in touch with you?’ Ella asked.

  ‘No. Her eldest brother. He phoned me. Her brothers are concerned for her. The children cry every day and want to come home. They tell him they want their father and he doesn’t know what to do.’ He spoke steadily but one corner of his mouth was twitching.

  ‘What will you do?’ asked Franz.

  ‘I will do nothing,’ said Sharma, very quietly. ‘I will wait.’

  ‘Till when?’ asked Ella.

  ‘I have asked Sarita’s brother that if she says she wants to come home he will give her the airfare. I have sent him money for the fares.’

  ‘Will they come back?’ Ella asked.

  Franz raised one eyebrow at her. How would he know?

  ‘I feel that she will come,’ Sharma said, even more quietly. ‘The children will bring her. But I don’t know if Sarita will be my wife again. That, I don’t know. Only she knows.’

  Franz put an arm round Sharma’s shoulders and they sat there in silence. Ella moved to rescue the soup from boiling over.