Love Over Scotland - Alexander Hanchett Smith [154]
. . . these symbols, they’ve turned out to be distressingly human.”
“But surely that’s better. Surely that makes them more realistic.”
Antonia smiled. “That’s assuming that realism is the only goal we should pursue. Would you say that about painting? Surely not. So why say it about literature? Why does everything have to be realistic? It doesn’t. Surely we can be more subtle than that. No, it’s not the realism issue with me. I’m reconciled to these flawed saints, as long as their human failings don’t obscure the ultimate point that I want to achieve.”
“Which is?”
“The achievement of a philosophically acceptable resolution. I want their vision of justice and good to prevail.”
“And is that the only possible ending?” asked Angus.
“No,” said Antonia. “Things can end badly, as they sometimes do in life. But if they do, then we know that something is wrong, just as we know it when a piece of music doesn’t resolve itself properly at the end. We know that. We just do. And so we prefer harmony.”
“And everybody lives happily ever after?” asked Angus. Antonia stared at him. “Do you really want it to be otherwise?” she asked. 103. Imaginary Friends
“Now then, Bertie,” said Dr Fairbairn, “Mummy tells me you’ve been away for a little trip.” Bertie, seated on the couch to the side of Dr Fairbairn’s desk, glanced nervously at the psychotherapist. “Yes,” he said. “I went to Paris.”
“Ah,” said Dr Fairbairn. “That’s a beautiful city, isn’t it? Did you like it, Bertie?”
Imaginary Friends 323
“It was very nice,” said Bertie.
“Are you sure?” asked Dr Fairbairn. It was very common for the object of dread to be described in positive terms.
“Yes,” said Bertie. He paused. Had Dr Fairbairn been to Paris himself? Perhaps he knew Jean-François François; they were quite alike in some ways. “Have you been to Paris, Dr Fairbairn?”
“I have, Bertie,” replied Dr Fairbairn. “And tell me, what did you notice about Paris? Did you notice that it has something sticking up in it?”
Bertie thought for a moment. “You mean the Eiffel Tower, Dr Fairbairn?”
Dr Fairbairn nodded gravely, and wrote something on his notepad. By craning his neck, Bertie could see that there were two words: Eiffel Tower.
“I do mean the Eiffel Tower, Bertie. You saw the Eiffel Tower, did you?”
Bertie nodded. “Yes, we all went there. The whole orchestra. We went up the tower in one of the lifts. They have lifts which take you up to the top, or almost.”
“And did you like the Eiffel Tower, Bertie? You weren’t frightened of it, were you?”
Bertie shook his head. Why should he be frightened of the Eiffel Tower? Had Dr Fairbairn been frightened of the Eiffel Tower when he went to Paris?
“Well,” said Dr Fairbairn. “And what else did you do in Paris, Bertie?”
“I went to lunch with some friends I made,” said Bertie. “They were very nice. And then we went to a lecture. There was a man called Mr François who gave a lecture. Then I went back to the hotel. And that’s when Mummy came to fetch me.”
Dr Fairbairn looked out of the window. “And were you happy when Mummy came to fetch you in Paris?” he asked. “Or were you sad to leave Paris?”
Bertie thought for a moment. “I would have liked to stay there a little longer. I would have liked to spend more time with my friends.”
Dr Fairbairn turned back from the window. Progress at last. 324 Imaginary Friends
It was quite unlikely that this little boy had gone out and made friends in Paris; these friends, therefore, were imaginary. And that, he decided, was a very promising line of inquiry. Bertie was a highly intelligent little boy and such children frequently created imaginary friends for themselves. And if one could get some sort of insight into these strange, insubstantial companions, then a great deal could be discovered about the psychodynamics of the particular child’s world.
“Tell me about your friends, Bertie,” said Dr Fairbairn quietly.
“Do you have a best friend?”
There was a silence as Bertie thought about this question. He would have liked to have a best friend, but he was