Tom Bedlam

by George Hagen

  Explosive rage in a normally gentle man can look comical. Cornell secured his coat but misaligned his buttons and twisted the belt so that the pin wouldn't fit. He tied it up in a knot, cursed silently, and turned to face Tom. “Look here, Chapel,” he said, “I… I've left my umbrella behind.”

  “You may have mine,” Tom offered, but his rival waved away the attempt at conciliation and began to walk back to the Hardings' house, his coat bunched, the belt askew.

  FOR THE NEXT TWO days Tom locked himself in his room. He had exams to study for, but there was a more pressing reason for his interment—his thoughts were in a muddle, and he was afraid to show his face.

  Thinking about the Harding sisters distracted him from his work, yet when he tried to sum up his feelings, he shrank back to the sanctuary of his studies.

  He began to attend interviews for a position at a local hospital. But how, he wondered, could he make decisions in a hospital if he was incapable of choosing between Eve and Lizzy? How could he assume a position of trust when he had lied for Bronson Mansworth? Furthermore, if Audrey couldn't rely on him as a husband, why would a hospital entrust to him its patients? At one interview he threw himself into convincing the hospital governors that he was wrong for the post, and won it with his candor.

  THE FOLLOWING MONDAY there was a knock on the door. When Eve entered, she drew back at the sight of him. Tom was unshaven, unwashed, and melancholy. Her manner became clipped and formal.

  “Cortez, would you mind explaining what happened to Dodo? He came to our house after you had left and demanded that Lizzy have dinner with him the next day.”

  “I may have upset him,” Tom said cautiously.

  “Upset him? He proposed to Lizzy,” said Eve, “and she refused, which upset us all. Papa told her she was foolish, as did I.” She waited for Tom's concurrence. “You agree, I'm sure.”

  Tom hesitated. “Why did she turn him down?”

  Eve frowned. “She claims to love you!”

  Again, she waited for Tom to clarify his feelings, but all he said was “Poor Lizzy.”

  Eve stiffened. “Poor Dodo,” she replied. “He thinks you've confused Lizzy and that she would have accepted him if you hadn't led her astray. Those were his words.”

  “I haven't misled her.”

  “No?” Eve's voice was brittle. “Then is it I you have misled? Because if that's so, you're a scoundrel and the most careless man I've ever met!”

  Her cold fury was magnificent, and Tom offered the most foolish reply in his defense. “Perhaps I am, but I have a dilemma, Eve. I love two women.”

  Her eyes glittered. “You fool, Cortez,” she whispered. “You fool!” She drew out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “Before you ruin both our lives, you'd better come to your senses!”

  The door slammed behind her, and Tom heard Eve's footsteps fall like truncheons on the pavement.

  How could he choose one without hurting the other? And what reasonable woman forgives a man for betraying her sister? Should he exile himself from both? Those questions dogged him as he walked to college, oblivious to everything but his dilemma. He found himself, as bad luck would have it, sitting beside Cornell at the morning lecture.

  “I'm sorry for any harm I have caused you, Dodo,” he whispered.

  Cornell answered, with a glassy smile, “Listen, you swine, I've been generous to you since the day we met. You've repaid me in the shabbiest way. I hope you go to hell.”

  Pompous fool, Tom thought. Cornell had taken Lizzy for granted. She was gentle, sweet, and sensitive, and he had ignored her and courted her father instead.

  Tom decided to appeal to his mentor for advice. Professor Harding was in his study at the college. When Tom knocked at the door, he didn't seem surprised, or even sorry to see him. In fact, he looked relieved. “Ah, Chapel, there you are! Let's have a drink together, lad!”

  They exchanged pleasantries on the way, ambling through a current of fresh students—young men with downy cheeks. Boys. How different Tom felt from them now. Such children. How simple their lives were compared with his. What few cares they had! Now he understood the Or-fling's impulse to remain a baby.

  At the pub, the two men sat in silence, nursing their pints in the gloom. After drinking an inch from his beer, Harding wiped foam from his mustache. “Look, Tom,” he said, “I understand how things can get out of hand, especially with women. Dodo has appealed to me …”

  Tom was about to say that Dodo's concerns were of the least importance to him, but the professor continued. “You must understand, Tom, that my daughters' futures require my careful consideration.”

  “Of course,” Tom replied.

  “A woman makes an investment in a husband. She must assess his good character, and the life he can offer her.”

  Tom nodded.

  “I always thought you would go far, Tom. I've made inquiries on your behalf with a former colleague at St. Ambrose Hospital. You've heard of it? A fine group of doctors there and the most modern equipment. They agreed to take you—and it will be a good start, Tom. You'll do well there.”

  Tom was about to thank him when his mentor raised his hand; he hadn't finished.

  “Tom, I want Lizzy to marry Cornell. I see no future for her here. She's an odd girl; clever but awkward, and too tall for most men, but he won't hold that against her. She has looks but no dignity, pride but none of her sister's charm. Eve, on the other hand, will go far. She has grace, tact, and the resources to find herself a successful man.”

  “Certainly,” Tom agreed.

  “But Lizzy might remain a spinster, giving piano lessons for the rest of her days. Now, Cornell adores her. She'll never want for money or attention. And when she sees no alternative, she'll recognize his virtues.”

  Harding might have appraised his daughter's prospects accurately, but his conclusion struck Tom as a betrayal. I am a chattel, Lizzy had remarked. No wonder Audrey Limpkin clung to her disguise.

  As the professor paused to clean his glasses, Tom felt a flash of revulsion. Clearly, the man was baiting him with this offer. But what of the sacrifice? He tried to clear his thoughts. Did he pity Lizzy or love her? If he merely pitied her for the prospect of a life with Cornell, then it was her matter to settle. Conversely, he imagined a successful life with Eve, but would it be happy?

  “I put it to you like this, Tom,” Harding continued. “Become a fine doctor, and let Eve and Lizzy carry on with their lives.”

  “Eve andLizzy?”

  “As I said before, you'll make a poor husband, Tom. I see your ambition, your hunger. In the right position you'll do great things, but I have no desire to see either of my daughters with an absent husband. I was such a man, Tom.”

  “I've no desire to be such a man,” Tom replied.

  Harding blinked as if he had been poked in the eye; he had cast Tom in his own image, and now the young man had contradicted him.

  “Tom, I feel the same affection for you that I would for a son, so I speak as much for your own good as for my daughters'—”

  Tom put his head in his hands. “Have you told them?” he asked.

  Harding paused. “I will tonight, and they will understand.” He took a few coins from his pocket and placed them on the table. Then he put on his hat and coat and nodded. “Drink up, Tom, you have a great life ahead of you.”

  AN ETERNITY AWAY

  DORFMAN LEFT COLLEGE JUST BEFORE THE START OF HIS FOURTH year. There was a rumor that he had failed his exams, but Tom knew the truth. Shortly before his disappearance, his friend had made a pithy observation: “Have you ever wondered what the difference is between a doctor and a mystic, Cortez? Think about it. They both deal in the well-being of men; they claim to know more than they really do; they consider their discipline superior to all others.

  “Here's the difference. Doctors expect their patients to be believers. Mystics, however, face skeptics every day. How can your philosophy be credible if you do not face your skeptics?”

  Without D
orfman, Tom suffered; his last year was bitterly lonely. He had written notes to the Harding sisters, but no replies came. He worked in a hospital near Granton, north of the city, and lived in constant expectation of a chance meeting with them. He prepared for it, rehearsed his greetings, apologies, and peacemaking gestures, all for naught.

  It is one thing to be separated by a continent or a river, but Tom suffered the torture of proximity. Lizzy and Eve shared a city with him, breathed the same air, heard the same thunder on stormy days, and might turn the same corner and come face-to-face with him at any moment. In short, although he accepted his banishment, he could not erase them from his thoughts.

  In despair, he decided that the only solution to his misery was to go somewhere so far from them that they would slip from his mind. He wrote to hospitals in India, Australia, and Africa; when a position was finally offered to him, he spent most of a night tossing and turning until, at three o'clock in the morning, he rose to compose a letter to Professor Harding.

  Sir,

  In spite of your generous offer to use your influence to secure my residency locally at St. Ambrose, I could no more appreciate it than enjoy the absence of Eve and Lizzy in my life. In short, my life is a misery.

  Therefore, I am taking a position at Port Elizabeth Hospital in Southern Africa. They require a surgeon with modern training, and I look forward to many challenges in a place far from you and your daughters.

  Make no mistake, I leave with gratitude for all that you have taught me, but I am a better man than you think me.

  Yours sincerely,

  Tom Chapel

  Tom's bags were packed, his trunk stuffed with clothing for a new climate. He spent a sunny Saturday giving away his furniture to the other students in his lodgings. And when his possessions were stowed at the railway station, he walked for an hour around the castle, past the graveyards, the gardens, the grand Georgian houses, and the little brick dwellings. He felt no sentiment, no affection for the streets. He was glad to leave.

  There was a tea shop near the platform, and in it a tall woman, with auburn hair and wire-rimmed spectacles, sat, shoulders hunched, at a table stirring her tea.

  “Lizzy?”

  She started when he spoke, and her teacup spilled across the table.

  Lizzy's smile was frail. “They told me you were leaving, and I wanted to say goodbye,” she said and covered her mouth—the very act of saying it had been more painful than she'd expected. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and Tom reached out to take her hand. “I've missed you so,” he said.

  “What happened to you, Tom?”

  “Didn't your father explain?”

  “He said you didn't wish to see either of us again.”

  “That is not so, and I've missed you terribly.”

  Lizzy's voice failed her, but she mouthed the same words. He was still holding her hand when they paid for the tea and walked away together. She gave him news of her piano students, and all the while, their fingers remained entwined. Finally, Lizzy proposed that she pay him a visit.

  “That would be difficult, Lizzy. I'm going to Africa.”

  “Africa?” She looked shocked. She spoke suddenly in a torrent of words, perhaps to stop her tears. “Of course! Well, I might run away too,” she added. “I acquired a suitcase a few months ago in case Dodo proposed again. Do you think a convent in the French Alps might take me? If not the Alps, perhaps Shanghai or Burma. Papa always complained about Burma, but it must be better than listening to Dodo chortle as I become fat and wretched in old age.”

  As Tom listened, Lizzy's bitterness and frustration resonated in his heart. Here we are, he thought, two souls wishing for flight. How absurd it seemed for them to rush away in different directions.

  “Come with me, Lizzy,” he said.

  In a moment they had walked to her home. Tom waited on the step while Lizzy slipped inside for her bag and some clothing. A plume of smoke rose from the station where the train was waiting. It was foolishness, Tom thought. Africa was an eternity away. The professor would be devastated; and Eve—Eve would never forgive him.

  When Lizzy emerged, she had a small suitcase in one hand and some volumes of music fastened with string. She was breathless, her cheeks bright with color, eyes wide and anxious. She looked around wildly for Tom—he was not on the step.

  “Cortez?”

  He stood up from the curb and tilted his head. “Lizzy,” he said, “are you sure you should accompany me?”

  She lowered her suitcase. “Would you rather I remained here?”

  “Of course not,” he replied. Tom cast a glance across the city skyline, at the castle, the steeples, the houses backed up like tea biscuits, and far in the distance, the absurd glass turret of the Gramley Building. A whistle sounded from the station.

  “Come,” he said, holding out his hand.

  She took it, and they ran down the street as passengers for the London train lined up with their tickets.

  AUDREY'S STORY

  THE LETTER ARRIVED FOR TOM AT HOLYROOD, BUT HE WAS AL-ready on a steamship bound for Port Elizabeth with his new wife. It wouldn't find him for six months. In those days the mail was carried by ship, and a letter might visit several continents before it found its recipient. The return address was simply “Newgate Prison.” The pages were written in the precise, delicate cursive one might find in an accountant's ledger.

  Dear Tom,

  I hope this letter finds you safe and healthy. I can assure you that I remain in the same capacity, though that is as much good news as you can expect from this letter.

  The worst fortune has struck, Tom, and I ask your forgiveness in sending such a tale of woe, but I must keep myself busy, above all things, and to lay the recent events of my life on paper will afford me some brief peace of mind.

  You may remember Mr. Murdick. Perhaps you recall that several young women in the offices had left his employment rather suddenly.

  In the last year Mr. Murdick had come to depend upon me for my accuracy and competence. In fact, I believe I was responsible for his rise through the company. He hired men who were submissive and humble; those who defied him were abused and dismissed. He preyed upon the women he hired, keeping them in such fear of dismissal that they would suffer anything. There was a file room near his office that they nicknamed “Finger Alley” because of his habit of pouncing on them there. I heard that one poor woman was raped by him; ironically, her husband begged her to keep the job. Murdick dismissed her after she appeared at work missing two fingers from a kitchen accident (now I wonder if this was a desperate attempt to free herself from his employment).

  After hearing these stories, I supposed, foolishly, that I must be too valuable to Mr. Murdick to be a victim of his abuse. Recently, however, he was awarded a post in Hamburg. We all breathed easier at this news. We would have a new manager, and Mr. Murdick would be forgotten.

  What I didn't know was that he had guessed my secret and, indeed, had been aware of it for years. A week before he was to leave, he would linger by my desk, asking questions about my family, and about you, Tom. Then he told me that he had followed us that evening into the public house and later observed us part ways on Westminster Bridge.

  “Why would a girl as pretty as you pass herself off as a man?” he asked. “What's wrong with you?”

  “Nothing,” I replied.

  He accused me of lying to him. I reminded him that my father had been a loyal employee, and that I was his daughter, and no harm had been done. I begged him to let me stay, Tom, for my mother, the baby, and the twins. I said I'd change my clothes if he preferred, but he told me to remain as I was, that he wouldn't be made a fool of upon the eve of his promotion.

  That night I remained to finish my work. Murdick came back later, after his dinner, and told me to take out a ledger I'd just finished, and as I turned, he came up behind me and placed his hands upon my breasts. When I wrenched myself away, he pulled my shirt cuffs back, clenching them together with one hand while he unfastene
d my belt. He told me that I was going to “make up”for my deceit. With my hands pinned behind my back, he eased me onto the floor and slid my trousers down to my ankles so that my feet were bound too.

  Tom, he was so strong—it was frightening how strong he was for one not much bigger than I. Then he threw his weight upon my hips to stop me struggling, and I felt a bone crack and the most awful pain shoot down my leg. I couldn't move. He tore away my shirt, vest, and underclothes, and tightened my belt around my ankles. I kept telling him I was sorry because I couldn't think of what else to say, and I cursed myself, Tom, because you warned me, and you weren't the only one, and I was so foolish for believing myself safe. Then he rolled me over and parted my legs, and my hip felt like fire.

  I wept for the pain. He told me to lie still like the other girls. Oh, my conceit! I had been as vulnerable as any other female in the office, Tom, and my insulation from their suffering was unforgivable. I had done nothing to help them, and here was my reward: Murdick whispering in my ear to be quiet when, oh, God, I had been so selfishly quiet for years!

  He said that he had always loved me. Then he unbuttoned his trousers and tried to take me.

  The pain in my hip was all I could feel. My mind became simple. I felt myself become very small, shrinking into insignificance, to nothing. Suddenly, whatever he was doing wasn't happening to me, but to somebody else, there on the floor

  I remembered our games as children. Do you recall the sword fights? I thought of a battle I had fought with Oscar. You cheered me on, Tom, but it was impossible for me to pierce his heart because he wore a pan lid over his chest. I thought he was invincible. Then you whispered that I could pierce Oscar's heart from the side, under his arm.

  Suddenly, I awoke beneath Murdick again. He was cursing and kissing me; his breath was hot and poisonous. I felt about the floor My hand grasped the brass invoice spike from my desk.

  I held it and waited. Murdick shifted on top of me, and I felt a fresh burst of pain as he tried to take me again. Then he began to talk, and that was when I took the spike and pushed it hard through his armpit, deep into his chest.