Espresso Tales - Alexander Hanchett Smith [113]
Dr Fairbairn sat at his desk, a small bottle of ink in his hands.
“Now, Bertie,” he said. “I thought that today we would do something different. This is a bottle of ink.”
Ink and the Imagination
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He held up the small black bottle and shook it in front of Bertie. Bertie, wide-eyed, stared at Dr Fairbairn. It must only be a matter of days, thought Bertie, before Dr Fairbairn was taken to Carstairs, and he wondered how they would do it. Perhaps they could have men with a net drive into Edinburgh and they could throw the net over Dr Fairbairn while he was walking down Dundas Street in that blue jacket of his. Then they could bundle him into a van and take him off. Bertie had located Carstairs on a map and had seen that it was not far away. It would not take them long to get him there, and they would probably arrive in time for tea, which would be nice. Bertie swallowed. “Ink,” he said quietly. It was best not to say anything that would cause Dr Fairbairn to become more excited. Short words, uttered very softly, were probably safest.
“Yes,” said Dr Fairbairn. “Good boy. Black ink.”
Bertie nodded. “Ink,” he said again. And then added: “Ink.”
Dr Fairbairn smiled. “You may be wondering, Bertie, why I’m holding a bottle of ink.”
Bertie shook his head. “No,” he said, even more quietly.
“Well,” said Dr Fairbairn. “There’s a very interesting little game we therapists have invented. It’s called the Rorschach Inkblot Test. Would you like to play it, Bertie?”
Bertie felt he had no alternative but to agree, and he did. This must have been the right answer, as Dr Fairbairn appeared pleased with it.
“Very well,” said the psychotherapist. “I shall open this little bottle of ink . . . so. There we are. And now I shall pour just a little bit of it onto the middle of this piece of paper. So! Look. Now I shall fold the paper over, in half, like that. There!”
Bertie stared at the piece of folded paper. “Is it my turn?” he asked.
Dr Fairbairn smiled. “Hah! No, there are no turns in this game. You, Bertie, have to look at the ink blot that comes out and tell me what you see! That’s what you do.”
Bertie took the piece of paper and unfolded it with trembling hands. Then he examined the still wet ink blot.
“I see Scotland,” he said quietly. “Look, there it is.”
238 Ink and the Imagination
Dr Fairbairn took the piece of paper and stared at it. Then he turned it round.
“Funny,” he said. “I’ll do it again.”
Once more he poured a small amount of ink onto the paper and folded it over. Again, he handed it to Bertie. “Now, we shall see,” he said. “You tell me what you see. And don’t hesitate to tell me, even if it’s something very strange. Don’t hesitate to speak your mind.”
“I won’t,” said Bertie obligingly.
He took the piece of paper and unfolded it.
“I see the Queen,” said Bertie. “Look, there she is, Dr Fairbairn. I see the Queen’s head.”
Dr Fairbairn took the paper from him and peered at it. He seemed put-out.
“I shall do it again,” he said.
More ink was spilled, and the paper was folded. Bertie, now quite confident, although he found this game somewhat tedious, exposed the blot to view.
This time he stared at the blot for some time before he spoke. Then, handing the paper back to Dr Fairbairn, he said: “That’s Dr Freud, isn’t it? Look, Dr Fairbairn, you’ve made two Dr Freuds!”
Rather to Bertie’s surprise, Dr Fairbairn now put away his bottle of ink and threw the pieces of paper in the wastepaper bin. “Perhaps we shall do that again, Bertie,” he said, “when you are feeling a bit more imaginative. For the moment I think we can leave