Seven Days Away

by Ruth Hay

  Aylward’s estimation of his companion’s character took another considerable drop. Under the present circumstances, Maurice’s attention to the betting incident assumed greater importance.

  Aylward Beck thought now of Marian and how this discovery would impact her. He decided to keep his conclusions to himself for now. There was already more than enough to be concerned about.

  * * *

  The electric cart system conveyed Jillian and Terrence Beck to the outer edge of the resort. From there they exited onto a village street and walked hand in hand feeling a freedom they had not known in years. The sun was beaming upon them. He thought his wife looked more relaxed and beautiful than he ever remembered since the early years of their marriage. There was a new, confident air about her. He figured there was no value in dissecting the change. It was quite enough just to enjoy the benefits without thinking of the future.

  They inspected a small grocery store and made note of the products on display. They wanted to check out all the possibilities and compare prices with the Walmart expedition before they purchased anything. As they were each in the food business in their own ways, this was a happy combination of leisure and work-related discovery.

  On their walk to the harbour they found a café with tables outside in the sun and ordered pancakes with a variety of syrups and spices and side orders of bacon and other meats. The coffee was hot, the ice water cold, and the other tables were full of residents of the holiday apartments nearby. They heard conversation about a mall a short distance away by bus and discussed if they would have time to go there as well as visiting the market by the harbour. Jillian was in favour of extending their day. She was loving their closeness and admiring her husband in his holiday outfit of gaudy shirt and shorts. This was the man she had married, not the careworn, overburdened man who had separated his life from hers.

  She laughed at his jokes and wished life could always be like this. But even if today, and now, was all they could have, it was enough for her.

  * * *

  The apartment in Grand Luxxe IV was empty. Marian had seen her daughter scuttle down the walkway below the balcony a full hour before Portia awoke. The girl had never asked for her mother. Marian thought that was just as well. Today would be all about healing and a quiet apartment would be most conducive to that process.

  There was a little more colour in Portia’s face by the time she had showered and shared breakfast with her grandmother. Marian had searched her own travel clothes to find something more cheerful for the girl to wear. She chose a long, flowered sundress and provided a pale shawl to cover her shoulders, insisting that Portia saw the transformation in her grandparents’ bedroom mirror. The girl hardly seemed to recognize her own image and sat mutely while Marian combed through the tangle of her dark hair and smoothed it down with loving touch. It was the way she had once cared for Megan. Those skills seemed to have bypassed transfer to Megan and now it was Marian’s turn to repair the damage.

  “Portia, dear, how are you feeling today?”

  Portia looked briefly at her grandmother in the mirror but could not hold her gaze. Her mouth opened and shut without one word escaping. Marian felt a pang of pity. She could have wept for the girl’s pain but this was not the time for that. She combed and smoothed then decided on a new tactic.

  “Tell me about your work, Portia? You are so talented.”

  This seemed to unlock a doorway and the girl began hesitantly, becoming more verbal as she warmed to her subject and was not interrupted.

  “I like the design work. I like drawing alone. I have always liked it. I have a desk near a window and I can look out and see trees in a park. At home we have a gardener who cuts the trees back so nothing grows naturally. I hate our garden and never go in it.”

  She paused and Marian feared she would not start again.

  “The office is all men. Mostly they ignore me. Some of them annoy and tease me. I hate that. Hate it!”

  This was closer to the information Marian was seeking. She decided to risk another question.

  “Did you like one of the men at all?” She asked gently.

  “I liked him at first because he talked to me and brought me a coffee and spoke about my designs. I thought he was my friend until he hurt me.”

  Portia got up and walked away pulling nervously at her borrowed clothes. Marian followed her to the small balcony, in two minds whether she should pursue this line of questioning or leave the matter to rest for now. She chose to access Portia’s interest in trees and began pointing out the variety of different species that could be seen from this height.

  Portia was distracted enough to look around and make one or two comments about the range of colours and blossoms but she soon retreated indoors and resumed her silence.

  Marian had to be content with progress to date. It was vital to gain her granddaughter’s confidence if she was ever to uncover the truth about the man who has hurt her. She picked up a magazine and settled on a padded lounge chair in the shade. She would take a nap and hoped Portia did the same. It was highly unlikely the girl would venture out of the apartment again, now that she had a safe place. When Aylward returned he could take over and Marian could take a break.

  She was certain one person at a time was all Portia could cope with in her present delicate state.

  * * *

  Zoe Morton had explored a number of resort areas with Wesley but they kept returning to the Al Fresco pool. They liked the restaurant and the shaded smaller pool and they had discovered the lower level, on the opposite side of the pool to the restaurant, where it was quieter and had a marvellous view of the river that ran alongside the pool area and followed the walkways all the way out to the sea in the far distance. They had tracked it from their top floor apartment and admired the natural growth of bushes, grasses and wild flowers that covered the river’s edges. At sunset, the river became alive with flocks of colourful birds rushing from tree to bush for a last snack of berries before the night descended.

  It was another lazy afternoon at Al Fresco for the couple. Something Zoe had rarely, if ever, enjoyed and something Wesley was overjoyed to see. His wife was actually relaxing beside him. Zoe was reading a novel on her new e reader, a gift from her husband. Wesley was contentedly by her side perusing a science magazine he had brought to Mexico with him. He was deeply into an article on the complexities of the human brain when Zoe startled him by speaking aloud.

  “Look, Wesley, there’s that lovely older lady I told you about. I’m going to invite her to sit with us. She’s on her own again. She’s a golf widow, I believe.”

  Marian was happy to accept the invitation. She was feeling wrung out from the morning watching over Portia. The girl was now handed over to Aylward who had received an update on progress from his wife before she gladly left the apartment to walk around for a while, in a vain attempt to relieve her anxiety. She had promised to order lunch for the pair and send it upstairs to them but that done, she was happy to hear a friendly voice and be introduced to Zoe’s husband. Her first impression was that he, in a complementary way, was a suitable partner for the dazzling Zoe.

  “Marian, is your husband on the golf course again? I ask, because Wesley has been spending most early hours there. He says it is an interesting course for a restricted area.”

  “Aylward hasn’t mentioned that to me. He can’t manage golf every day, however, as it is too taxing on his old bones.”

  The women laughed together, neither noticing that Wesley had put aside his magazine and was listening with a more interested expression than normal when female conversation was in full flow.

  “How are you getting along with such a large family group?”

  Zoe turned to Wesley to explain that Marian and her husband had invited their whole family for a week and were staying in the same apartment hotel on a lower floor.

  Marian replied with innocuous comments about everyone doing their own thing. It was impossible to tell the real tale of the chaos that was brewing
.

  “Please forgive me, ladies, for interrupting.” Both women turned toward Wesley in surprise.

  “I must ask a question of Marian, if I may?”

  She nodded assent.

  “Did you say your husband’s name is Aylward? Would that be Professor Aylward Beck, by any chance?”

  Zoe dark eyebrows had reached their zenith. This was highly unusual behaviour from her normally reserved husband.

  “Why, yes, he is Aylward Beck. Do you know of him?”

  “He is one of my heroes. I was fortunate to participate in a series of his lectures when I was studying for my degree in Psychiatry. He was truly inspiring and I follow many of his teaching principles to this day. I would be privileged if you could possibly arrange a brief meeting with the professor, Mrs. Beck, just to tell him how much I admire him. I am Dr. Wesley Philips of London, England.”

  Zoe was smiling. She had never seen her husband in the role of avid fan before. His usual controlled and placid exterior had vanished in the enthusiasm of his request.

  Marian’s mind was racing with a dozen scenarios. How could she issue an invitation under the present circumstances? It was not possible to invite this eager young doctor to meet her husband in their apartment while Portia was under supervision. And yet, this afternoon the apartment was empty of the other family members. But what if Megan or Maurice suddenly appeared unannounced?

  Would Aylward be willing to meet with an acolyte at this stage in his life? Was he too much involved with Portia at the moment?

  And then, a new thought eliminated all the issues she was mulling over.

  Perhaps, Aylward would wish to consult with this younger colleague? She knew his ethical concerns about treating a family member. Of course they could not ask this of a doctor on holiday, but if there was even a chance of Wesley assisting, or advising, Aylward, it would assuredly relieve the pressure he was under. She needed time to work it out.

  This feverish brain activity had been concealed under Marian’s pleasant smile but she had, finally, to summon a rational reply to Wesley’s question.

  “Aylward is resting at the moment but I can certainly convey your request. If you give me a few minutes to go upstairs, I will see what can be done.”

  “Oh, there’s no need to rush away, Marian! I’m sure Wesley can wait for a better time.”

  Zoe was a little concerned that her husband had imposed on this older lady who now displayed a slight frown between her eyes.

  Marian, however, was adding up all the advantages to a swift response. She rose and waved away their objections.

  “It’s no trouble! If he is available, I will send him out to our balcony, which you can see from here. I will give you our apartment number, Wesley, and if all is well, you can come up right away. We can catch up at another time, Zoe, if that’s all right with you?”

  “Of course, Marian! This is immensely kind of you. The men are best left to discuss matters on their own. I’ll be right here. Thank you so much.”

  Marian walked carefully around the end of the pool, along the path, over the bridge and into her building. She reviewed her plan again. Yes, it should work if Aylward was willing. She would take Portia to the downstairs balcony with some excuse and leave the men on their own. If any of the family returned she could keep them away from Portia. After that, it was up to Aylward what happened.

  * * *

  Marian quickly told her husband what had transpired at the pool and related her plan to leave them alone to talk. Aylward was initially reluctant to interrupt his session with Portia but the girl was only able to communicate for very short periods and it was time for a break. As instructed, he walked out onto the balcony and looked down to the pool area. He couldn’t see much through the canopy and the tree cover but if his wife’s plan was accurate, this Dr. Wesley Philips must be watching out for him.

  Marian convinced Portia to descend to the lower apartment and help her scour the fridge for fruit. They would have tea on the shady balcony away from the front door.

  She had just set the tray on the table outside when she heard a quiet knock at the door. She welcomed Wesley and showed him the staircase to the upper level, then she returned to Portia.

  At first she could hear a murmur of voices as the men compared notes about their former acquaintance, then the voices ceased as they moved further into the living area and, presumably sat down together.

  She would have to wait until later to find out what was being discussed.

  * * *

  “I can’t believe you have actually heard of my work, sir? That is a huge compliment. I have published some articles, of course, but with my work being exclusively in England I had not thought anyone in Canada would know of me.”

  “Now, my boy, how could I ignore a member of my former profession who follows my own principles of psychotherapy? In this day of over-medication of patients, few doctors seem to be aware that the ancient Greeks were the first to advocate for simply listening to people talk to determine the solution to their problems. That was long ago but I never saw a reason to doubt this sensible process.”

  “Indeed! Today it is so easy to prescribe a fast solution. There is a multiplicity of drugs with more arriving every month and the claims for them are staggering. Busy doctors send patients away with a handful of powerful pills with little understanding of their effects, and compound the error with precious little follow-up. By the time we get them, people are often in a dire state.”

  The two men had fallen quickly into a comfortable familiarity. Aylward was delighted to have a colleague to talk with and Wesley was so thrilled to be in the presence of someone he had long admired that he could hardly believe his luck.

  Aylward paused and sat back in his chair with a sigh. He placed his long-fingered hand over his brow in an action any of his former students would have recognized.

  This eager young man could possibly help with my current situation. It would be good to consult with him.

  “Sir, if I am tiring you at all, I will thank you sincerely and take my leave. This has been an unexpected privilege for me.”

  Aylward stretched out his arm to signal Wesley to remain seated. “Before you go, Wesley, would you mind if I describe a difficult case I am involved in and ask your opinion?”

  Wesley almost choked at the thought. It would be a dream come true to discuss technique with a master. He simply nodded his agreement. It was all he could manage.

  “This particular young woman has not been medicated. She is deeply depressed and has been concealing her symptoms for years. I have just learned that a few months ago she may have been sexually assaulted by a man she works with and that has sent her into a downward spiral resulting in psychosis, a false pregnancy, body dysmorphia, and paranoid, possibly suicidal, tendencies. I have employed the talk therapy with which we are both familiar but it is early days and her recovery will take many sessions before she can face her world with a more optimistic view.”

  Wesley was intrigued. He had not realized the learned professor was still in practice. He thought he had retired a good number of years before. This sounded like a very recent case and one of great concern to him. He wondered what, if anything, he could contribute.

  Aylward continued.

  “What complicates this case, significantly, is the fact that the young person in question is a member of my own family. I am sure you can see the ethical implications. I am caught in this unexpected dilemma as the only person here who can administer help until we return home. I have provided a very mild sedative but I have no access to anything stronger. I fear she will be too fragile to survive the flight home. Quite honestly, I am finding this situation challenging in several ways. I no longer have the stamina of my younger years. Could you give me the benefit of your perspective, Dr. Philips?”

  Wesley moved swiftly into clinical mode.

  “When does the young woman return home?”

  “We leave on Friday. There are only two days left.”

  W
esley was immediately struck with the urgency of this case. He put aside any enquiries regarding the family relationship issue and concentrated on what he could offer in the way of assistance. He had the time, the energy and the background to perhaps continue with the therapy but only if the young woman would accept him. Aylward understood his conditions and went downstairs to discuss this with his wife.

  Marian agreed to bring Portia upstairs to meet Wesley. Everything depended on her reaction. Portia was suspicious of men after her experiences in the work place. She might not respond to Wesley and there was a risk that she would regress.

  * * *

  “Portia dear, there is someone I want you to meet. He is a very nice man whose wife I met. It turns out he is a colleague of your grandfather’s and he very much wants to meet you and, if you are willing, he would like to help you.”

  Marian watched the reaction to her words. Portia showed no interest. She neither accepted nor rejected this information. She appeared to be numb.

  “Would you like to meet Wesley Philips? I will stay by your side and if you feel the least bit uncomfortable, we will ask him to leave. Your grandfather trusts this man.”

  Still no response.

  Marian rose to bring the news to the two men and was surprised to find Portia had followed, much like a small child would do with its mother. She took this action as hopeful and returned to the upper apartment with Portia in tow.

  The young woman sat down beside her grandfather and looked at the shiny marble floor without saying anything. Marian exchanged looks with her husband. Wesley waited to see what he should do.