Elephant Man - Christine Sparks [40]
“I don’t know.” He ran a hand miserably through his hair. “I can’t explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I’m under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible.
“But—if he’s an imbecile, whose body I can’t treat and whose mind I can’t touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will. He won’t be bothered, I won’t be bothered, but everyone’s conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma. What is in his mind?”
She was not a profound woman. Much of what he said was beyond her. But her love for him had detected the undercurrent of bitterness in his voice. She forgot her own annoyance and came to sit beside him on the bed, wrapping her arms round him.
“Perhaps you’re just polishing a stone,” she said gently. “Endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn’t possess.”
“And what qualities are those?” he said impatiently. “Intelligence or stupidity?”
She withdrew her arms from him, cold and hurt at what seemed to her a rejection. She had thought her meaning was perfectly plain. It had seemed ambiguous to him only because he was still absorbed in a world from which he shut her out. She went to her own side of the bed and climbed in.
“I’m sure I don’t know, Freddie,” she said with her back to him.
He turned to her, contrite. “I’m sorry. I don’t know either. I just don’t know.”
She twisted onto her back to look up at him, and said the lame, feeble words that were all she could think of.
“Well, these things take time.”
“I’ve only got until two o’clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr-Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I’ve got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man … It’s my only hope. Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr-Gomm …”
His voice, which had become distracted, was cut off abruptly by Anne’s hand over his mouth, as she sat up suddenly. With her other hand she reached overhead and pulled the chain on the gas lamp. In the darkness she put her arms lovingly about him, pressed her mouth against his, and tried a remedy that had found no place in Mrs. Mason’s Housewive’s Almanac.
“I’m here, Mr. Renshaw.”
The clock was just striking one in the distance. Renshaw had almost given up hope of seeing Betty that night. But now here she was standing just outside his cubbyhole, looking as though it would only take a word to make her run for it.
“That’s right, Betty.” He slipped out and put an arm round her. “Don’t let’s waste any time then. It’s this way.”
He drew her down the corridor, into the Receiving Room and out on the other side. She offered no resistance till they reached the last flight of stairs before the Isolation Ward, but then she stiffened suddenly and tried to draw back.
“Mr. Renshaw, is he really—?”
“Horrible, darling,” he assured her. “That’s why you want to see him, isn’t it?”
“I dunno—”
His arm had tightened across her shoulders, making retreat impossible.
“You’re not going to tell me I’ve been wasting my time, are you, Betty?” His voice became coaxing but the hint of steel beneath it was unmistakable. “When I think of the girls I could have brought on a treat like this—I wouldn’t like to think I’d been wasting my time …”
“No, Mr. Renshaw …” she gasped.
“That’s better. This way.”
Together they climbed the last short flight of stairs and he rammed the door open. Even in the dim light the Elephant Man’s deformity was clearly visible. Betty gave a shriek which was echoed by Merrick, and wriggled free of Renshaw’s arm. He let her go. She wouldn’t go far. He’d find her downstairs, sobbing and crying most likely. And then of course he’d have to comfort her, and in the course of doing so he’d naturally claim his reward.
Renshaw could see the Elephant Man making frantic efforts to scramble under the bed. He was laughing as he closed the door and started down the stairs.
Anne found herself alone