‘But he’s learned something.’
‘Quite. He’s learned that there are certain types of human beings who have a different shape, who look different and feel different, who are tremendously exciting in some indefinable way. I’m afraid we can’t just leave it at that.’
‘What can anyone do about it, apart from providing him with another girl for experimental purposes?’
He shrugged helplessly. ‘I don’t know. We had a long conference in Dr Breuer’s office immediately after the event. There were some harsh exchanges between Breuer and Takaito, and I’m not at all sure that Takaito isn’t right.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Well, Takaito feels that Mr Soames ought to be released forthwith—that in keeping him here at the Institute we are destroying his chances of ever achieving a normal life. He thinks Soames should have been allowed to live a normal life from the first, with a certain degree of supervision to prevent him from coming into conflict with the law. He would learn by experience, and attend a special school in a kind of communal training scheme as a member of a class of about a dozen people, men and women mixed, of the same age group.’
He paused for a moment to light a cigarette. Ann was watching him solemnly, thoughtfully.
‘This morning Takaito made a series of unofficial tests on Mr Soames using drugs and some electrical equipment he brought with him. He estimates that Soames has an exceptionally high I.Q.-around one twenty.’
‘Then why does he learn things so slowly?’
‘That’s just the point,’ Conway emphasised. ‘He learns quickly. He has a great capacity for learning, but he stubbornly refuses to use it. He is actively rejecting the instruction that is offered to him. His alert mind is busy acquiring attitudes and prejudices instead of academic knowledge.’
‘Yes, I see what you mean,’ she murmured. ‘He is virtually a prisoner and he associates learning with the general pattern of discipline and restriction.’
‘More or less. If he were a child it would not matter. He would be amenable to authority under the threat of punishment. But as a grown man he regards authority as a simple question of physical strength. So far as he’s concerned we are no better than he is, and he can’t see why he should be forced to learn things that don’t interest him.’
‘Well then, what things do interest him?’
‘That’s precisely what we’ve been trying to find out,’ Conway said, with some perplexity. ‘Takaito’s view is that it’s not for us to find out, anyway. The only person who can find out what interests him is Soames himself, and until he is allowed to take a greater part in life and living he’s not likely to be interested in anything at all—apart from the lake.’
‘The lake?’ she queried.
‘Takaito believes that the lake symbolises the cold tank, and that Soames has a subconscious urge to return to its peace and security.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ she commented. ‘If Mr Soames were to develop suicidal tendencies...’
‘Unlikely. He doesn’t yet know about death in any real way, Takaito suggested that the easiest way to resolve the lake conflict in Soames’s mind would be to teach him to swim, so that water would lose its symbolism—it would become a medium of activity and exertion instead of peace and repose.’
Ann nodded thoughtfully. ‘That sounds sensible enough. Did Takaito solve the sex problem, too?’
‘Well, he thought Soames should live among a group of people in a kind of small community, and be allowed to make his instinctive sexual advances in his own way, and discover for himself that he would invariably get slapped down by the female concerned. He would slowly learn the rules of the game and find out the true meanings of love, infatuation, desire, and so on. Again, I can’t help feeling he’s fundamentally right. Of course, there would have to be some supervision and guidance until he reached the stage where he understood that violence and rape were criminal and taboo.’
‘Dr Takaito,’ she said solemnly, ‘seems to know a great deal more about human behaviour than the entire staff of the Osborne Institute.’
‘Well, he certainly knows a lot about dogs,’ Conway admitted grudgingly. ‘It could be that dogs and humans are not so very different when it comes to fundamentals.’
‘What was Dr Breuer’s reaction to all this?’
‘Sceptical and bitter, I’m afraid. He thought Takaito was criticising the Institute as a whole. But he’s agreed to call a high level conference involving the Ministry and the local education authority to reconsider policy. I think it’s worth a try. We don’t seem to have been very successful with Mr Soames so far.’
He glanced at his wristwatch and added: ‘I’d better look in on Soames to see if he’s awake, though Mortimer estimated he would be unconscious until after midnight.’
She stood up and put herself into his arms.
‘Goodnight, darling,’ she said quietly.
He kissed her lightly. ‘Goodnight, Aim.’
He left the room and went down to the ward annexe, but Mr Soames was sleeping gently under the watchful eye of the orderly.
❖
The following day the Courier featured the reunion of Mr Soames with his mother and half-sister, using only pictures of the woman and the girl, the latter principally for its pin-up qualities. The assault on Toni was presented in a new light. So overjoyed way John Soames to meet his sister for the first time that he accidently tore her dress while fiercely embracing her, the story ran. Although the report was unexpectedly restrained and not to sentimental (the editor had apparently been a little unnerved by the true behaviour of Soames in the light of Dr Breuer’s earlier disapproval and warning), there was a nasty sting in the tail.
Many people believe, said the final paragraph, that it is quite wrong to keep John Soames confined in a clinic as if he were a mental patient. Mrs Martinez is appealing to the Minister of Health to secure the release of her son from what amounts to false imprisonment. The Courier calls for an immediate public enquiry into the Soames case and the methods used to train and educate him.
This triggered off a wave of telephone calls from other newspapers, requests for explanations, statements and interviews. Breuer deputed his personal assistant, Dr Bennett, to act as spokesman for the Institute and to make no comment whatever, and this kept Bennett busy for the rest of the day while Breuer hurriedly briefed the rest of his staff on the developing situation and dictated their policy towards newspaper enquiries.
Dr Takaito proved to be rebellious, however, for despite Breuer’s exhortations all the evening papers carried a statement from the Japanese surgeon which had been put out over the wire by Reuter and PA. Takaito appeared to endorse the criticisms of the Institute which had been expressed elsewhere.
The educational programme to which Mr Soames is being subjected lacks imagination, co-ordination and sympathetic understanding of the patient’s needs, Takaito said. Indeed, its principal fault is that it regards Mr Soames as a patient rather than a pupil—a patient who is so potentially dangerous that he has forcibly to be segregated from society and from the opposite sex. If this friction is continued for any length of time Mr Soames may well become potentially dangerous out of resentment and hatred for the small circle of men who are seeking to improve his mind by academic methods while restricting his body by force. The two are irreconcilable.
Takaito came out openly in favour of an official enquiry so that, as he phrased it, ‘the education of Mr Soames should be subjected to public scrutiny and not left to the secret devices of a misguided though dedicated team of enthusiasts.’
A row flared inevitably between Breuer and Takaito. Dr Breuer’s self-restraint could be observed as a physical tension, but Takaito remained calm and self-possessed. He seated himself comfortably in one of the armchairs in Breuer’s office and glanced quickly round for the usual bottle of whisky, but on this occasion it was absent.
Breuer waved a copy of one of the evening papers at the Japanese surgeon. ‘I regret thi
s as a gross betrayal of confidence, Dr Takaito,’ he stated, striving to keep his voice level. ‘More than that, it is quite unethical. It is pandering to newspaper sensationalism at a time when policy changes are in fact being considered—when I am making approaches to the Ministry and the education authority for a high level conference.’
‘I’m afraid I disagree with you, Dr Breuer,’ Takaito said quietly. ‘If Mr Soames were truly a patient then one would observe certain proprieties. But he is, in fact, a free citizen being held against his will without a warrant or a court order or even a medical certification. The press are using Mrs Martinez as the spearhead of an attack which will be pursued relentlessly, and there may well be a public enquiry as a result, instead of the secret conference which you have in mind. Education is public domain, Dr Breuer. Why the secrecy?’
‘For the patient’s sake there has to be secrecy, otherwise he would be the target of every inquisitive reporter in the country.’
‘What else is he now? What has your secrecy achieved?’ Breuer’s voice modulated into anger. ‘There has been no deliberate secrecy as such, Dr Takaito. We have simply observed the usual professional confidence implicit in any doctor-patient relationships.’
‘How many times must I insist that it is a great mistake to regard Mr Soames as a patient at all. He is neither ill nor mentally sick. Indeed he has an IQ which I judge to be considerably higher than yours—or mine too, for that matter. He must not be shut away as if he were an inmate of Broadmoor.’ Breuer took a deep breath and paused. ‘The theory is one thing, but the practice is another,’ he went on. ‘This has been a difficult and unique case, and we have had to feel our way along in the dark. Now, finally, when we have been able to evaluate the problems and are on the point of completely reorganising the entire educational and training programme, that Martinez woman, the press and you, Dr Takaito, attempt to sabotage all that we have achieved.’
‘Nonsense,’ Takaito declared. ‘We merely believe that Mr Soames ought to be brought out into the light of day and given a real chance to live and learn like an ordinary human being. One does not lock up a backward child in a hospital. The child lives a normal home life but is given special training. That is rather the position with Mr Soames—except that he is not even a backward child, merely a misguided and uneducated adult with a potentially brilliant mind.’
‘And it is precisely because he is an adult that he has to be temporarily segregated,’ Breuer stated. ‘You saw what happened yesterday—the way he reacted to that Martinez girl...’
‘A perfectly normal reaction,’ Takaito said sternly. ‘He finds the opposite sex physically attractive. That is a good start. He also learned that females do not like to be coarsely handled. They scream and struggle and kick and bite. In just a few seconds Mr Soames learned more about sexual behaviour from personal experience than you or your staff could teach him in months with the aid of books and diagrams.’
‘Nevertheless, you cannot let a man like that loose in society—not yet, anyway.’
Takaito shrugged. ‘Why not? Mr Soames Is no fool. He will learn quickly the normal standards of behaviour by the approval or disapproval of others, But he must be left to solve his own problems, with guidance and kindness and understanding. With love, if you like. Until one is offered love, one can never reciprocate.’
Breuer snorted audibly, ‘One minute you talk of education, the next minute of love. I’m afraid Dr Takaito, that we shall never see eye to eye on this subject, and I feel you have rendered the Institute, myself and members of my staff a great disservice—a very great disservice indeed.’
‘As you wish,’ Takaito said, standing up. ‘Under the circumstances you will naturally wish me to move out of the Institute.’
‘I did not say that. I would be the last to withdraw hospitality. My purpose is to express my great disapproval of your action—irresponsible action, in my view—in making such a statement to the press. Whether you continue to stay here or leave is a matter for you yourself to decide.’
Takaito considered for a moment, his eyes remote behind his concave glasses. ‘If I leave, the press will assume that I was expelled from the Institute, or that I left because of a personal conflict with the executive. That is not strictly true. We have disagreed, admittedly, but on a purely professional level. On the other hand, if I stay, you will naturally demand an undertaking that I make no further public criticism of your work.’
‘Is that unreasonable?’ Breuer demanded.
‘Eminently reasonable.’ Takaito smiled cordially. ‘It would be as ungracious for me to decline further hospitality as it would be for you to withdraw it, Dr Breuer. I think the best compromise is for me to stay until the Ministry conference is held, during which time I undertake to make no further comment to the press. Afterwards, when the future of Mr Soames has been determined, I shall leave, reserving the right to comment as I see fit.’
‘Very well,’ Breuer agreed.
‘Unless, of course, I should be asked by the Ministry to accept personal responsibility for the education of Mr Soames, in which case I shall continue to stay.’
‘That would be most improbable,’ Breuer said with a hint of assured sarcasm in his voice.
Takaito bowed politely and left the room.
❖
Throughout that day Mr Soames remained in a subdued restless mood, eating but little, and spending a great deal of time pacing disconsolately up and down his tiny room like an animal in a cage. Occasionally he would peer through the window at the distant green of the grass and trees, and then he would fling himself on the bed and lie quite still for an hour, hardly moving and simply staring blankly at the ceiling.
It had rained consistently since early morning so that exercise in the grounds was out of the question. The tuition programme had been temporarily suspended until the proposed conference had taken place. Mr Soames, therefore, had nothing to do other than amuse himself with his toys, jigsaws, poster paints and books, but he chose to remain idle and unsettled—an attitude which gave rise to some anxiety so far as Conway was concerned, for he was more and more coming round to the view that complete mismanagement of Soames’s education coupled with segregation and virtual imprisonment was driving his innocent mind into a serious condition of neurosis.
In the evening, when Dr Hoff came on duty, Conway returned to his room to find a letter awaiting him. Something about the handwriting on the envelope seemed vaguely familiar, but he was unable to identify it immediately, and it was not until he had opened it and read the signature that he realised it was from Penelope’s father.
With an oppressive sense of foreboding he read the contents, which began cordially enough with ‘My dear David.’
I fully realise that relations between my daughter, Penelope, and yourself have been strained for some months now, and that there is the possibility of divorce proceedings being started. I feel it is my duty, however, to tell you that Penelope was involved in a car accident a few days ago and was rather seriously injured. She is at present in Brockfield District Hospital, Surrey.
Penelope particularly asked me not to advise you of what had happened, but I thought you ought to know. Naturally you will decide for yourself whether you wish to see her or not under the circumstances.
With kind regards, etc.
He allowed the letter to drop idly on to his bed while his thoughts spun aimlessly for a while. This was a complication of course, though not necessarily a major complication.
Clearly he would have to go and see her, so much was obvious, but first he needed time to think and perhaps talk to Ann.
Ann, he recalled, had gone out to visit a friend in Hampstead, but would be back around ten. For a while he stood undecided, unable to make up his mind what to do with the rest of his evening. Finally, feeling tired and rather dry, he went out of the building to the car park at the rear and drove off towards The Green Man.
Blarney was there, In the saloon bar, with another member of the medical staff named Hugh
es, downing pints of bitter. Conway joined them and spent the next hour and a half in desultory conversation and shop talk until he found himself unable to respond any further to Blarney’s facetious manner of speech and decided to return to the Institute.
He parked the car, then slowly, quite preoccupied, wandered through the cool night air around the side of the building towards the main entrance. The drizzle was still falling in a fine mist, but he was hardly aware of it as he trudged through the wet grass. Absently he changed his direction and made his way towards the small lake and the distant fringe of trees. At first there was only utter darkness, but as his eyes adapted themselves the sky lightened fractionally and the shape of the ground hardened into a blacker outline. Beyond the trees a faint luminous haze hung in the sky—a reflection of the bright neon lights of a cinema beyond the south wall of the grounds.
At the lake he stopped, his eyes straining to discern the scarcely visible movement of the water in the gloom. If he was thinking at all, it was in an undefined abstract way, thinking with feeling rather than thoughts. No words came into his mind, but he was conscious of a changing, modulating mood, a composite of many smaller conflicting moods which could not be translated into language. Probably Mr Soames had thought in this same way in the early days before he was presented with the twin gifts of vocabulary and grammar and no doubt everyone at some point in his life reverted to this kind of blank animal thinking, when the weary brain abandoned its civilised veneer of language. The sensation was restful, if not peaceful, and in such a mood one could spend hours walking through the night in defiance of the rain.
Something moved among the trees on his left. Instantly his mind snapped into sensitive alertness, and his ears strained to pick up a repetition of the sound. Traffic roared remotely on the highway, swamping the night air with random noise, and then the sound came again—like the scuffing of feet through wet grass and twigs.
The Mind of Mr Soames Page 13