Elephant Man - Christine Sparks [63]
Renshaw grinned. “And guess who can get you tickets to see him? Your own Sunny Jim.”
“Let’s go see him, then,” cried a young male voice from the back of the crowd, and a chorus of noisy approval rose round him.
“Keep your shirts on,” Renshaw reproved them. “When the time is right. Just now he’s in the attic, but tomorrow they’re movin’ ’im into Bedstead Square—right into my lap. Then—for the right price—” He allowed his eyes to linger on the scarlet feather boa. “—you’ll see something you’ll never see again in your life.”
He raised his glass to his lips, clutching it to hold it steady under the hail of approving thumps that landed on his shoulders. The atmosphere dissolved into laughter and excited talk. Amid the noise and movement Tony slipped unnoticed out of the door, and made his way hastily back to Turners Road to find Bytes.
Some instinct drove Treves into the hospital early the next morning to make a final inspection of the Bedstead Square apartment before Merrick was installed. He was eternally grateful that he had done so.
The rooms were small but pleasant, and to Merrick, Treves thought, used as he was to squalor or the cold impersonality of the Isolation Ward, they would seem palatial. The carpet on the floor was worn but cheerful. An equally bright cloth covered the small round table, and a patchwork quilt lay on the bed. The effect was lively and cosy.
Leading off from the main room was a smaller one fitted up as a bathroom. Treves looked round this, gave a grunt of satisfaction, and returned to look again at the bed, already piled high with the extra pillows Merrick needed. In this room Merrick could be happier than he’d ever been—if only he were allowed to stay.
Treves was about to go when something over the mantelpiece caught his eye and he drew in his breath sharply. He stood there for a moment, shocked. Only the day before he remembered he had been reflecting to himself how Merrick’s needs were coloring his whole view of life, and here was something so simple, so obvious, that he had lacked even the common sense to notice it. In another minute he had got to work.
Mrs. Mothershead, coming into the room a moment later, stopped on the threshold, doubting the evidence of her own eyes.
“Mr. Treves—what on earth are you doing?”
“I’m taking this down.” With a nod of his head Treves indicated the mirror in his arms as he just managed to set it on the floor without dropping it. He was breathing hard. The mirror had been a lot heavier than it looked. “I never want there to be a mirror in this room—of any kind. Not even the smallest,” he said emphatically. “There’s no need to remind the poor creature of his tragedy every time he lifts his head.”
Mothershead looked grave. “I should have thought of it before,” she said abruptly. “I am extremely sorry.”
“I should have thought of it,” he told her. “Don’t blame yourself. After all, we’re none of us used to this situation. We must just try to think of these things before they occur.” He dusted himself off. “I’m going to get John now. Can you have a porter remove this before I get back?”
“It’ll be done.”
As soon as he reached the bottom of the small flight of stairs that led up to the Isolation Ward he knew there was something wrong. The noises coming from inside the ward were reaching him even here, and already he could hear that they were sounds of anguish and desperation. He stopped outside the door, knocked and called to Merrick. But the only answer he received was a tide of whimpering moans that reminded him of the day he had rescued Merrick from Bytes. Concerned, he entered without waiting any longer for an invitation.
Merrick was crouched on the bed, apparently asleep, his head