The Blind Assassin - Margaret Atwood [201]
“This is going to be a shock,” said Winifred. “I’m sorry it had to happen at such a delicate time.”
She did the talking. Richard held my hand and looked at the floor. Every now and then he would shake his head, as if he found her story either unbelievable or all too true.
Here is the essence of what she said:
Laura had finally snapped. Snapped, she said, as if Laura was a bean. “We ought to have got help sooner for the poor girl, but we did think she was settling down,” she said. However, today at the hospital where she’d been doing her charity visiting, she had gone out of control. Luckily there was a doctor present, and another one – a specialist – had been summoned. The upshot of it was that Laura had been declared a danger to herself and to others, and unfortunately Richard had been forced to commit her to the care of an institution.
“What are you telling me? What did she do?”
Winifred had on her pitying look. “She threatened to harm herself. She also said some things that were – well, she’s clearly suffering from delusions.”
“What did she say?”
“I’m not sure I should tell you.”
“Laura is my sister,” I said. “I’m entitled to know.”
“She accused Richard of trying to kill you.”
“In those words?”
“It was clear what she meant,” said Winifred.
“No, please tell me exactly.”
“She called him a lying, treacherous slave-trader, and a degenerate Mammon-worshipping monster.”
“I know she has extreme views at times, and she does tend to express herself in a direct manner. But you can’t put someone in the loony bin just for saying something like that.”
“There was more,” said Winifred darkly.
Richard, by way of soothing me, said that it wasn’t a standard institution – not a Victorian norm. It was a private clinic, a very good one, one of the best. The BellaVista Clinic. They would take excellent care of her there.
“What is the view?” I said.
“Pardon?”
“BellaVista. It means beautiful view. So what is the view? What will Laura see when she looks out the window?”
“I hope this isn’t your idea of a joke,” said Winifred.
“No. It’s very important. Is it a lawn, a garden, a fountain, or what? Or some sort of squalid alleyway?”
Neither of them could tell me. Richard said he was sure it would be natural surroundings of one kind or another. BellaVista, he said, was outside the city. There were landscaped grounds.
“Have you been there?”
“I know you’re upset, darling,” he said. “Maybe you should have a nap.”
“I just had a nap. Please tell me.”
“No, I haven’t been there. Of course I haven’t.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Now really, Iris,” said Winifred. “What does it matter?”
“I want to see her.” I had a hard time believing that Laura had suddenly fallen to pieces, but then I was so used to Laura’s quirks that I no longer found them strange. It would have been easy for me to have overlooked the slippage – the telltale signs of mental frailty, whatever they might have been.
According to Winifred, the doctors had advised us that seeing Laura was out of the question for the time being. They’d been most emphatic about it. She was too deranged, not only that, she was violent. Also there was my own condition to be considered.
I started to cry. Richard handed me his handkerchief. It was lightly starched, and smelled of cologne.
“There’s something else you should know,” said Winifred. “This is most distressing.”
“Perhaps we should leave that item till later,” said Richard in a subdued voice.
“It’s very painful,” said Winifred, with false reluctance. So of course I insisted on knowing right then and there.
“The poor girl claims she’s pregnant,” said Winifred. “Just like you.”
I stopped crying. “Well? Is she?”
“Of course not,” said Winifred. “How could she be?”
“Who is the father?” I couldn’t quite picture Laura making up such a thing, out of whole cloth. I mean, who does she imagine it is?
“She refuses to say,” said Richard.
“Of course she was hysterical,” said Winifred, “so it was all jumbled up. She appeared to believe that the baby you’re going to have is actually