He hadn’t seen her since the night her husband had put her out of the house. Yet, as he looked at her now, he felt sorry for her. She was a pitiable creature. If it had been the demands of her body that had brought her low, then he could couple her with Beatrice, for if anyone was crazed with her body’s desires, it was his wife.
He stepped back to allow her to pass him and as she did so she turned her face fully towards him, and her heavily painted lips moved into a smile when she said, ‘Thank you.’
The words were simple but he knew their intent wasn’t. They had not been said in courtesy, but rather in mockery. He waited some time before following her into the street.
As he lifted the horse’s reins from the iron post he was aware that she was standing watching him, that enigmatic smile on her face; and as he mounted the trap her voice taunted him, as she called, ‘Happy days, Doctor!’
Five
Seven weeks had passed and he’d had three letters from Helen, one from Paris and two from Italy; but it was a fortnight since the last letter had arrived. However, during these weeks he hadn’t been entirely without company, for Daisy had invited him to her home, and they had come to know each other very well. At this moment, he was sitting in her conservatory and she was answering a question he had posed, although not truthfully: ‘Oh, perhaps once a week,’ she was saying; she could not say to him ‘I get two letters from her regularly every week,’ for he had just said it was two weeks since he had last heard from her.
He put out a hand now and stroked the broad leaf of a plant as he said, ‘Do you think her travelling is helping her?’
‘No, I don’t.’
He turned sharply towards her: ‘You don’t?’
‘No, not at all. She can’t ease her pain or erase her feelings by jumping from one train to another, one country to another, one hotel to another. The only way she will ease herself is to find a purpose, a purpose for living. An equivalent of my leper colony.’ She grinned at him now. ‘But as I see it, she is not going to experience a carbolic bath from which she will emerge at a jump.’ The grin had now spread into laughter in which he joined; and then she added, ‘But I’m not worrying about her: something will show her the way she has to go. It always does if we wait long enough. Some have to wait longer than others. Like you, John, for instance.’
His head went slightly to the side as if in enquiry, but he did not ask her what she meant, for he was slightly startled by her next question: ‘How long have you been in love with her?’
Strangely, her directness did not disturb him as it might have done had it come from someone else. Daisy was a very perceptive woman, for behind all that jollity there was a sage. But, nevertheless, the question had caught him off his guard and he found that he couldn’t look into that rugged face and those knowing eyes. So he turned his head away from her and gazed up the length of the beautiful conservatory, only turning to her again when she said, ‘You needn’t worry, it isn’t that evident, except that Leonard knew.’
The legs of the basket chair scraped on the mosaic tiled floor as he twisted around sharply. She was holding up her hand now, saying, ‘It’s all right. Don’t get on your hind legs. He never voiced it. But I knew from the way he talked of you, and with affection, let me tell you, yes, with affection, that he was aware of your feelings, and apparently had been for a long time. Even, I think, before he settled here. So now you can answer my question: When was it you fell in love with her?’
He drew in a long breath before looking down at his feet and saying, ‘The very first time I saw her at Beatrice’s twenty-first birthday party. We spoke for only a few minutes because Leonard had just arrived. Then, one afternoon we met on the top of Craig’s Tor. I had fallen asleep in the sun, and when I woke up there she was. She had been sitting watching me. And we had a kind of picnic together.’ He paused, running his fingers through his hair, before he said, ‘It was from that day onwards I became sick at heart, only to have to face facts once she was married. And when I married her sister, I thought I had got Helen out of my system.’ He now turned and nodded emphatically at Daisy, saying, ‘That was the biggest mistake of my life. But we won’t go into that.’
Silence fell between them and lasted for some seconds before he asked quietly, ‘How long do you really think she’ll stay away?’
‘I don’t know, John. If she doesn’t meet up with a carbolic bath, she could decide to come home tomorrow.’
He did not say, ‘Really?’ but waited for her to go on, and she nodded at him, saying, ‘There’s an unrest in her letters, well, the ones she sends to me. I don’t think her travelling, so far, has eased her feelings very much. You know, she never cried when Leonard went, and there was no sign of tears during the days following. It’s a bad sign when people can’t cry; their feelings become like a canker, eating into them. And I shouldn’t think that she’s given way in any strange bedroom on her journey. It’s going to be a long time, John, before she really returns to life. You know, the feeling she had for Leonard was very deep. I don’t know what it was like when she first met him. I’m sure she really knew nothing about love then; at least, not the kind of love he had to give. But she soon learned.’
She now leaned her head back against the padded cushion of the wicker chair and stared up at the glass-domed roof as she said, ‘I used to envy people like Helen who would create such love as she does; but I envy them no longer and haven’t done for many a year, because such love as you have for her, John, is, you must admit, mostly pain. As for me, I didn’t catch leprosy, but I did catch a form of love, in my case made up of mixed ingredients. I have substitutes now, such as the feeling one gets from both receiving and giving kindnesses, as well as a feeling of deep affection for a few people. But I must admit, it could have slipped into love where Leonard was concerned. Anyway, will you stay to dinner?’
He had risen sharply to his feet and was looking down on her as he said bluntly, ‘No! I won’t, because I know what that means, I’d be stuck for the night, and there would be Mrs Atkinson standing with her hat and coat on waiting for my return. And so, good night, Mrs Daisy, until we meet again, which in all likelihood could be tomorrow, or the next day,’ to which she answered simply, ‘Good night, John, and thanks.’
Six
It was a week later. He had just examined a woman in her late fifties and had made up a bottle of medicine for her.
Now looking at her across his desk, he said, ‘You’re a stupid woman, Emily Green. Now you go home and get yourself straight to bed, and I’ll be along there in the morning to see you. Now I’m telling you,’ – he wagged a finger at her – ‘forget about that man of yours. He’s not half as bad as you are.’
‘Oh! Doctor, don’t say that.’
‘I’m saying it. He has a little silicosis, and most men in the mines have to put up with that. But I’m going to talk to you plainly. You have bronchitis all right, but it could become something else much more serious if you don’t do what I say. Now you stay in bed.’
‘But who’s going to look . . .?’
‘They can look after themselves. Your man still has his hands and feet, and he can walk down to the pub, can’t he?’
‘Oh, Doctor! What life has he? I mean . . .’
‘Never mind, what life has he? What life have you had? Where are your daughters? Can’t one of them come along and see to the cooking?’
‘They both have families to see to, Doctor. And they do; they are good girls; they do pop in.’
‘Yes. Yes, they pop in so their mother can make them tea and bake their bread for them. Oh, I know what goes on in your house: I’ve been visiting it long enough.’
He now rose to his feet and more quietly he said, ‘I’m serious, Emily. Get yourself to bed and stay there. If you don’t you’re going to end up in hospital, and you could be there for some time. D’you get my meaning?’
&n
bsp; Her head drooped as she muttered, ‘Yes, Doctor.’
Yes, he knew she had got his meaning: she had lost a son of twenty-six with tuberculosis and, recently, her youngest, a nine-year-old girl.
She pulled herself to her feet and, smiling wearily at him, said, ‘I’ll do what you say, Doctor, and let them get on with it. To tell you the truth, I’ve been saying just that over the past few months, that one of these days I’ll let them get on with it.’
‘Good, Emily. Now it’s only a touch and it could be put right. I’ll have a talk with your husband when I call in tomorrow. And don’t worry about him. It’s amazing what men can do when they have to. And you know what they say, a hungry belly trains a cook.’
Her smile widened, and then she said, ‘Thank you, Doctor. Thank you. You are a very good man.’
After she had left, he sat down again and shook his head. Women and their men. Her man wasn’t half as bad as she already was. He coughed and made a great play of spitting. There were many worse with the same disease. He sighed, then pressed a bell to his hand. But when he heard a commotion outside the door, he rose to his feet again and was amazed when the door was thrust open to see Daisy standing there. ‘I won’t be a moment, I promise you,’ she was saying to a waiting patient. ‘I’ve just got a message for the doctor.’
‘What on earth’s the matter?’ he demanded of her.
‘She’s back!’
He was silent for a moment, then said, ‘Helen?’
‘Well, who else would come back? Has anybody else been away? Helen? Yes, of course, Helen.’
‘When?’
‘Last night. She came around to me at about eight o’clock in the evening. I couldn’t believe it. Walked in, just like that.’ She stepped back from him, saying softly, ‘I thought you would like to know.’
‘Oh, Daisy.’ His hand went out and he caught her arm, saying, ‘Something’s brought her back.’
‘Yes, of course something has. But whatever it is, she hasn’t told me. Perhaps she’ll tell you. You’ll be looking her up, I assume?’ and she grinned at him.
‘I’ll call immediately after my rounds.’
‘Good! But now I must go: that fellow outside will hit me if I stay a minute longer. He snorted so much I nearly suggested he should have a ring through his nose.’
She pulled open the door and smiled at the man who was much shorter than herself, and in a sweet voice said, ‘Thank you very much. It was very kind of you. I’m greatly obliged.’
In answer, the man said in a conciliatory tone, ‘That’s all right,’ then watched the odd-looking woman almost skipping along the corridor, before he entered the surgery. And there, he made a statement that John found impossible to answer: ‘Queer-looking card, that.’
He had so many urgent calls upon his time during the morning that he did not get to Col Mount until around three o’clock in the afternoon.
Johnson opened the door to him and, after a moment’s pause, said, ‘Oh! Good afternoon, Doctor. You . . . you wish to see Lady Spears?’
The man’s superior manner was too much for John at this moment, and so he said, ‘Well, Johnson, I didn’t come this far to call on you. Tell me, where is Lady Spears?’
The man drew himself up to his full height, and in an arrogant tone said, ‘Her ladyship is in her room.’
‘Then will you kindly tell her she has a visitor? I’ll be in the drawing room.’ And with this John walked across the hall and into the drawing room. He deliberately left the door open; and when he reached the fireplace he turned and looked back into the hall to see Johnson still standing where he had left him, then flounce his shoulders as if in a huff, as he made his way towards the stairs.
John was annoyed by the man’s manner as he had been before; but at the same time he wondered why he didn’t laugh at him.
Presently he heard Helen’s footsteps on the stairs, and she entered the room and closed the door behind her before he walked towards her, his arms outstretched. She took his hands and smiled at him, saying, ‘How good to see you, John.’
He found himself speechless for a moment; then all he could do was to repeat her words and say, ‘And it’s good to see you, my dear.’
She smiled widely at him, saying, ‘Come and sit down and start asking me questions.’
She sat on the couch and he sat on a chair near her, and he said, ‘I’ll have to get my second wind; I’m rather knocked out by surprise. But, all right, I’ll begin. Where have you come from?’
‘Paris, my starting point.’
‘I thought you were to go to Rome, then on to Austria?’
‘I was in Rome and I went on to Austria. Then I returned to Paris.’
‘To stay with the dame?’
‘Oh no! I had thought such characters existed only in novels. But she was painted and powdered every day, with two maids seeing to her constantly.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Oh, about eighty, and with a razor-sharp mind, still ruling her establishment. She wanted me to stay with her. No, not wanted, demanded that I stay with her; she didn’t like her secretary’s voice; the poor soul had to read to her for most of the day. And that’s what she wanted me to take over, and when I dared to laugh at her she flew into a tantrum. Oh my!’
‘You didn’t stay on, then, at the house?’
‘Oh no! No, thank goodness. I went to a nearby hotel.’
‘Well, what did you do with yourself?’
‘Oh, I did the usual rounds, just like every tourist: the Louvre, Versailles, the Tuileries, and of course Notre Dame, and the markets. Oh yes, the markets.’
‘By yourself?’ There was a note of surprise in his voice, and she said, ‘Yes, sir, by myself, assisted by a very helpful cab driver, whom I hired from one day to the next during my stay, a fortnight. He would suggest what I should see the next day. He was a very nice, helpful man. He called himself my protector, for he couldn’t understand me being alone.’
‘Did you need protection? Although that’s a silly thing to ask, really.’
‘Yes, I did, in a way.’ She actually laughed now as she said, ‘There was one particular gentleman who became rather insistent until the day my protector, who was waiting for me after one of my educational visits, said to me, “We must hurry, madam, to the station, otherwise your husband will have arrived, and Monsieur is not famous for his patience.” At least, that’s how I roughly translated his suburban French. I say suburban: he was from what you would call the deep end of Paris. But there was nothing he didn’t know about gentlemen . . . and, from his conversation, ladies of all types, I should imagine.’ Her smile faded as she now remarked, ‘You know, Leonard didn’t wish me to go into black, or to have the house in mourning; but I think the former might have helped on my journeys abroad. By the way’ – she was smiling again – ‘I didn’t realise until my protector and I parted that evening, that the name he had given to my husband who was getting off that train and not known for his patience was that of a well-known boxer.
‘Anyway, that took place the day before I left and I was sorry to say goodbye to him. You know, he left his cab and saw me to the train.’
‘Was he a fatherly man?’
‘No, John, he wasn’t. He wasn’t much older than me. I would say in his middle thirties. But he had a wife and five children.’
‘Oh. They are a romantic race, the French.’
‘Yes, they are, John.’
And now he asked the question: ‘Are you glad to be back?’
The smile slid from her face as she said, ‘I don’t know yet. I know only that I had to come.’
‘What do you mean, you had to come?’
‘Again, I can’t give you a straight answer, but something happened. You mightn’t believe this. Imagination, you will say, or subconscious desir
e erupting. But it happened when I was sitting at the little desk in front of the window of my room. The scene outside was very pleasant. The hotel was on a main road but the sun was shining on a row of plane trees and there were a lot of people busying about. Everything looked bright and gay.’ She looked fully at him now. ‘I can remember thinking: it’s a lovely city, so why don’t I stay here instead of going on to Spain? It was as I pulled my Baedeker towards me – I had all but made arrangements, at least in my mind, that Spain would be my next experience – when—’ she stopped and looked down at her hands clasped tightly in the lap of her brown skirt and said, ‘it was so real: I . . . I felt Leonard behind me. I felt that I could put my hands up like this’ – she now raised her arms quickly above her head – ‘and touch his face. He often used to stand behind me while I sat at the dressing table. But I knew he was there and I felt cold from head to foot, until it seemed that his hands came on my shoulders, and’ – she paused again – ‘his voice was as clear in my head as if he had spoken aloud. “Go home,” he said. “No more trailing about. You won’t forget me by trailing around.” And, you know—’ She blinked her eyes tightly now before looking squarely at John and saying, ‘You know, John, I spoke aloud, I mean I answered him aloud. I said, “I don’t want to forget you. I never want to forget you.” And he said, “I know, dear, and I don’t want you to forget me. Time will ease the pain, but only if you go home and . . . and stay there.’ And then, John, you can believe me that his words were definite when he said, “Whatever happens to you, stay there.” In a way, it was frightening as . . . as if something really was going to happen to me.’
John had hold of her hands now, saying, ‘Nothing’s going to happen to you that is in any way bad. But I believe what you have said. Such were his feelings for you, he was aware of your efforts to escape the pain of his loss, and that by doing so you were keeping him earthbound; and you know what the saying is: there are more things in Heaven and Earth than this world dreams of.’
The Obsession Page 24