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before (analysis was ruinously expensive, Stuart had pointed out; the cost of a mortgage, more or less). If she had been able to afford it, Irene would have shown no hesitation in undergoing analysis, not that she had any issues to resolve – there was nothing wrong with her, in her view – but the whole process of discovery of that which drives one would be fascinating, would it not? A whole range of new resentments might surface; new understandings of what one’s parents were doing to one; renewed access to those little secrets of childhood; light upon the dark furniture of the mind.

The Rucksack of Guilt

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But that was not what Bertie needed. His conflicts were fresh and current, not buried deep in the experience of the past. But how would Dr Fairbairn elucidate these things? Through Kleinian play therapy?

“What’s the trouble then?” asked Dr Fairbairn, rubbing his hands together as he spoke. “Been a naughty boy?”

Irene could not prevent herself from gasping. This was a very direct approach, almost naïve in its directness, and yet he must know what he was doing. This was, after all, the author of Shattered to Pieces.

Bertie stared at Dr Fairbairn. For a moment he did nothing, and then he winced, as if bracing himself for a slap. Dr Fairbairn’s eyes narrowed. He threw a glance at Irene, who was looking at Bertie and frowning.

“You aren’t here to be punished,” said Dr Fairbairn. “Did you think I was going to smack you?”

“Yes,” said Bertie. “I thought that you were going to smack me for thinking bad thoughts.”

Dr Fairbairn smiled. “No, Bertie, I’d never do that. Analysts don’t smack people.”

“Not even if they deserve it?” asked Bertie.

“Not even then,” replied Dr Fairbairn. He was about to continue, when he stopped, and appeared to think of something. 168

Irene Converses with Dr Hugo Fairbairn

When he had been bitten by Wee Fraser, he had in fact smacked him sharply on the hand. Nobody had seen it and of course it was not mentioned in the case report. But he had done it, and now he felt guilt, like a great burden upon his back. The Rucksack of Guilt, he thought.

63. Irene Converses with Dr Hugo Fairbairn

“There’s something troubling you,” said Irene when she saw the pained expression cross Dr Fairbairn’s face. “You looked almost tormented just then.”

Dr Fairbairn turned away from Bertie to face Irene.

“You’re very observant,” he said. “And indeed you’re right. I felt a great pang of regret. It’s passed now, but yes, it was very strong.”

“The emotions always register so clearly,” said Irene. “Our bodies are not very good at concealing things. The body is far too truthful.”

Dr Fairbairn smiled. “Absolutely. That’s the great insight which Wilhelm Reich shared with us, isn’t it? Reich was a bit odd in some of his views, I’m afraid, but he was right about character armour. Are you familiar with what he says about that?”

Irene nodded. “The idea we create a carapace of posture and gesture to protect the real us. Like Japanese Noh actors and their masks.”

“Precisely,” said Dr Fairbairn.

For a short while nothing was said. During the exchange between his mother and Dr Fairbairn, Bertie had been watching the adults, but now he turned away and looked out of the window, up at the sky, which was deep and empty. A tiny vapour trail cut across the blue, drawn by an almost invisible plane. How cold it must be up there in that jet, thought Bertie, but they would have jerseys and gloves and would be kept warm that way. Planes were good, but not as good as trains. He had travelled on a plane the previous year, to Portugal for their holidays, and he still cherished Irene Converses with Dr Hugo Fairbairn

169

the memory of looking out of the window and seeing the ground fall away below him. He had seen roads, and cars, as small as toys, and a train on a railway line . . .

“You looked anguished,” said Irene. “It must have been a very painful memory.”

“Not for me,” said Dr Fairbairn quickly. “Well, the smack was painful for him, I suppose.”

“For whom?”

Dr Fairbairn shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it,”

he