Elephant Man - Christine Sparks [39]
“Singularly unpleasant chap …” he said uneasily, “uh … I don’t suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your … patient, Mr. Treves.”
Nothing in Carr-Gomm’s manner altered. He spoke in precisely the same tone he had used to dash Treves’ hopes a few minutes earlier. His surface remained as it always was, bland, imperturbable, smiling as inscrutably as a Chinese mandarin. It took a moment for Treves to see beyond the manner to the words. When he realized what had been said he stammered out his gratitude.
“Thank you very much, sir. Shall we say in a few days then?”
“Shall we say two o’clock tomorrow afternoon?” Carr-Gomm replied with a smile.
“Wh … whatever is most convenient for you, sir.”
“Two o’clock then.” Gomm half turned to go, then turned back, troubled, “you know, Treves … it seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance.”
“… Yes, sir.”
Treves escaped quickly before he could be asked any more questions. Carr-Gomm watched him go, an expression of dissatisfaction on his face. It was aimed entirely at himself, for allowing his disgust for Bytes to lure him into becoming involved where he had meant to remain aloof.
“Elephant Man?” he muttered crossly as he returned to his office. “I don’t want to meet an Elephant Man.”
Chapter 8
“Freddie …”
It was the second time Anne had said his name, and now she sighed a little impatiently. From where she sat at her dressing table she could see his reflection on the other side of their bed. He didn’t seem to have heard her.
She wanted him to look up and say how pretty she looked with her hair flowing over her shoulders. The light was dim now, just one flickering gas lamp, and in the shadows she could still see herself as the Anne Mason who had married the promising young doctor fourteen years ago. Two children and the cares of housekeeping had added a few lines to her face and a couple of inches to her frame, but in the twilight it was possible to ignore these if you wanted to. Soon it would not be possible in any light. Anne felt her youth slipping inexorably through her fingers and tonight she wanted to be reassured that it had not yet all gone. But her husband sat there staring into space, and didn’t seem to care for the fresh lace on her nightie or the gleam in her hair.
“Freddie—” she coaxed him again. “Freddie, don’t look so glum.”
He made a wry mouth. “I shouldn’t. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly at times I was unsure of who was leading whom.”
She had to suppress a sound of impatience. This was not what she had wanted to hear. She did not understand him when he talked like this and he knew she didn’t, but he continued to do it because her understanding was not important. He simply needed someone there so that he couldn’t actually be accused of talking to himself. She wound a drifting blonde curl round her finger and sighed.
“What do you mean?” she said dutifully.
“Are you listening to me?” He looked up and seemed to become aware of her for the first time.
“Of course, darling. Go on about your Elephant Man.” Anne Mason was a headmaster’s daughter who had had wifely duty drummed into her by a stiff-backed, stiff-necked mother who considered that she and her husband should live only one life—his. Those lessons were too deeply ingrained to desert Anne even at this moment when she was totally exasperated. So she unwound the curl and settled her face into an expression of deep interest. Treves plunged on as though addressing a meeting of colleagues, trying to articulate what had obscurely nagged at him all afternoon.
“Well, I wasn’t sure whether he was parroting me because that’s all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that’s all I wanted to hear and he was trying to please me.”
“But I thought you said that he was rather—simple.”
“He is. I mean—I’ve always thought he was. I think he must be. Or is that just something I’ve wished upon him to make things simpler for myself?”
“Frederick,