Elephant Man - Christine Sparks [109]
“Jones,” said the sergeant in a low voice, “I want you to take this card to the London Hospital, and ask for Dr. Frederick Treves. If he isn’t there, find out where he is, but whatever you do, don’t come back without him.”
In less than an hour the constable returned with Treves, who came running into the urinal like a madman. The sergeant rose to meet him, but Treves passed on as though he hadn’t seen him and went straight to the figure that was still collapsed on the floor by the wall. He pulled Merrick up and stood staring into his face. His eyes were brimming with tears.
“Mr. Treves,” Merrick sobbed, “Mr. Treves.”
The sergeant coughed discreetly. “You know this man, sir?”
“Yes,” said Treves through his tears. “He’s—my friend.”
Chapter 19
“I would not have believed such a change could come over any man in a mere two months,” said Carr-Gomm. “But I suppose in his case …”
“Yes,” said Treves heavily.
They were sitting in the Chairman’s office. It was a fortnight since the London Hospital had been startled by the sight of a cab drawing up outside and Treves assisting the laborious figure of Merrick down onto the pavement and in the front door. Merrick had been weeping uncontrollably, clinging to Treves as though terrified of being snatched away again. He had released him only when Mothershead’s cry of “John!” had reached him from the other end of the Receiving Room, and he had stumbled a few hasty steps forward to fall into her arms.
Within moments he had been whisked back to his old rooms, which were still waiting for him, for Treves had refused to give up hope, and Mothershead had obstinately backed him in this. A message was dispatched to Carr-Gomm, who turned out to have left for the night. Treves debated whether to send a note round to his house but decided against it. Merrick needed all his attention. He was suffering from exhaustion and malnutrition, besides being covered with small cuts. Worst of all, his head had grown noticeably larger, and he seemed to have aged twenty years.
Mothershead insisted on helping Treves minister to Merrick’s needs, washing off layers of accumulated dirt, as she had done once before, and tending to the multitude of monkey bites. Merrick accepted her attentions easily now. His nervousness with her had quite disappeared, and Treves put this down to the new gentleness in Mothershead’s manner.
Together they listened to the story Merrick had to tell. They both blamed themselves for his failure to confide in them about Renshaw’s visits, but Mothershead perhaps more so. She felt that she had failed as a woman and a nurse in not teaching Merrick to trust her. Her early irritation against him came back to torment her now. She became doubly kind, doubly sensitive to his needs, and had the reward of seeing him relax in her presence. She knew that in his own way he was offering her his tentative, wistful friendship. But she also knew, as did Treves, that it was too late.
Carr-Gomm came to see the Elephant Man on the morning after his return. Shocked by what he saw, he had gone away muttering about the benefits of rest and good food. Now, a fortnight later, two more visits had shown him that his hopes were vain.
“It cannot be gone back on,” Treves said to him now. “The ground he has lost this last two months will never be regained.”
“Does he know?”
“I don’t believe so. I’ve said nothing about it. He’s so happy, I don’t want to spoil it for him. Now that he’s strong enough to get up, he spends all day working at his cathedral. Nurse Ireland got him a pile of fresh cardboard from somewhere, and since I don’t permit any visitors he has nothing to do but work on it.”
“No visitors?” said Carr-Gomm with a faint smile.
“I had to make the two exceptions you know about. Anne flatly refused to be kept away. When I told her the glass on his mother’s picture was smashed she brought him another frame and