Presence of Mind (21 page)

‘Black magic isn't involved, Tenby, nor any other kind. Just for the record, I presume Ailsa Cameron is the girl with whom you were at art school?'

Lance's eyes widened for a moment, then he nodded.

‘You were in love with her?'

‘I was.' He stared belligerently at the little doctor.

“What happened?'

‘She died.' Bald and brutal, the words hung on the air.

Max said gently, ‘And I believe I'm right in assuming that it was she who painted – that?'

My very heart-beats seemed to stop as I waited for his answer. He said expressionlessly, ‘Yes. Damn you, you always suspected it, didn't you?'

I whispered through stiff lips, ‘Oh, Lance!'

‘Do you wish to say any more?'

‘Only that it's none of your bloody business.' He poured himself another drink with shaking hands and drank it at once.

‘I think it is.'

‘I can't see why, but if you must know it was all based on a misunderstanding. When I learnt the painting had won the prize I tried to make her take it back but she refused. She made me promise not to say anything. You can believe that or not as you choose, I'm past caring. And then she died.'

I moved quietly across the room and took hold of his arm. I felt that I owed it to him to transmit what little strength I had to help him endure this appalling assault. If he was aware of my coming, he gave no sign. He said raspingly, ‘What has all this to do with Briony?'

‘Merely this.' Max set his glass on the coffee table with infuriating deliberation and leant back in his chair, placing the tips of his long fingers together. ‘You were immediately attracted to the child Briony. I learned as much from your wife. You had not come into contact with children before, and it was a new experience for you, one that you had never expected to encounter. Because over the preceding – what? Four years? you had subjected yourself to systematic brainwashing which had succeeded in convincing you that what you'd felt for this girl Ailsa was something unique which could never be equalled again.

‘Undoubtedly,' he continued as Lance moved protestingly, ‘you did love her, but not, I suggest, nearly as deeply as your memory now insists. For instance, until the results of the competition were announced you had made no attempt to contact her. Is that not so? Hardly the behaviour of an ardent lover. But after her death, you started to pile remorse, guilt, shame – all corrosive emotions – on to the memory of that love until it dominated your entire consciousness. It was at this delicate juncture that you met this child and her mother. I further suggest that it was the woman herself who attracted you, but you instantly repressed the truth, assuring yourself that you would remain faithful until death to your lost love. Instead, you deflected all this frustrated emotion on to the child and – because perhaps there was guilt even in detracting that much love from the past, you persuaded yourself that something in the child reminded you of Ailsa.'

Under my clutching fingers Lance still stood unmoving. Max had paused, perhaps for corroboration, but none was forthcoming and he went on: ‘Yours is a very forceful personality, Mr Tenby. Not only were you able to sway your own memories and emotions but you have considerable power of suggestion over others. The more you insisted to yourself that the child Briony was like Ailsa, the more in fact she became so, by a powerful combination of telepathy and thought projection. I am not suggesting that you deliberately set out to influence her, but she was malleable, unformed – and she returned your love. She was anxious to please you and thus, subconsciously in her turn, ready to be as you desired.' He paused again and this time addressed Lance directly. ‘Can you accept this hypothesis?'

‘I can't,' I said, surprising myself as much as the other two, who appeared to have forgotten my existence. ‘Not that Lance changed Briony in any way. But I think you're right about the strength of his will, and if he subconsciously willed Ailsa back in those years after her death, I believe that she responded. I can hardly bear to admit it, but after this afternoon I have no doubts left. Briony and Ailsa are the same person.'

‘Reincarnation?' Max asked softly, and I felt the shudder which went through Lance's body. ‘Surely that's more plausible than the theory that he could simply by the power of his mind recreate as convincing a replica as the girl I spoke to today.'

Very gently Lance detached his arm from my grip. He said jerkily, ‘Your theories are fascinating, Dr Forrest, but I don't imagine you seriously expect me to believe them. As for my wife –' For a moment his eyes rested compassionately on me – ‘while I'm grateful for her support, I realise her own explanation is simply hysterical.' His voice changed, deepened and became urgent. ‘Don't you see, both of you, that I can't accept
either
possibility and remain sane? The only important thing that none of us can deny, however we care to wrap up the facts, is that Briony has become schizophrenic. If any of the blame for that lies at my door, I deserve to suffer all the guilt complexes in the book.'

‘But it is not schizophrenia,' Max interrupted quietly. ‘Alternating consciousness is a different illness, known as hysterical dissociation or grande hystérie. I diagnosed that at her last visit but I was unable to discover the reason for it. I am now of the opinion that rather than one traumatic cause, the answer lies in the consistent force of will applied over the years. It was not a spontaneous dissociation but came about gradually.' He turned to me. ‘You say you were convinced she was Ailsa this afternoon. To a certain extent you are right. The mind can convince itself of anything. In dissociation the basic, normally dominant personality – which is Briony – is totally amnesic of the existence of the other. But the secondary self has all the waking self's memories and is aware of the two separate personalities. That was true of Briony just now; when I took her upstairs I questioned her on this specific point.'

‘You talked to her about it? And she knew what you meant?' I stared at him in horrified disbelief.

‘Exactly. I hope what I've just told you has convinced you both that she's urgently in need of specialised help.'

‘You completely repudiate the possibility of reincarnation?' I challenged him.

‘As such, yes.' He hesitated. ‘However there is perhaps one other possibility we should consider briefly, in view of the particular aspects of this case, though it's not one I find easy to accept.'

‘What is it?' I broke in.

His eyes met mine without expression. ‘Possession,' he said. I reached blindly for Lance's hand and his fingers gripped mine.

Max continued, ‘As I said, my instinct is to reject it out of hand, but I must confess that it is occasionally necessary to leave a tacit question mark against that possibility. One case in particular that I read about in a medical paper appears to have no other explanation.'

‘What was that?'

‘It took place about a century ago, in the United States, and concerned two girls who lived in the same town. They never met and their families had no contact with each other. The elder one was subject to epileptic fits and was generally regarded as strange. She died in her teens, about a year after the birth of the second girl. This child, Lurancy, had a perfectly normal childhood but at the age of thirteen suddenly went into a cataleptic state. That is, she completely lost consciousness for a number of years, and to condense the story she eventually regained consciousness to all intents and purposes as the dead girl, Mary Roff. She knew everyone Mary had known and possessed her memories and her mannerisms.'

‘And what happened?' I asked fearfully.

‘She went to live with Mary's parents and they accepted her as their own daughter. In this case, of course, there was no possibility of telepathic influence since no contact had existed between the two families. Anyway, after about three months, she suddenly reverted to her previous self, went home again and lived a perfectly normal life thereafter, remembering nothing of her interlude as Mary.'

Noting our expressions of stunned disbelief, he added, “You can read about it for yourself if you wish. I only mention this case because, unlike all the other instances of dual personality, this secondary consciousness seemed undeniably to be that of Mary Roff.'

‘And what cured her was in effect giving in to it and actually living as that girl for a while?'

‘I suppose you might say so, yes.'

‘Personally,' Lance said brusquely, once more freeing himself from my hold, ‘I don't know which theory I find the more outlandish. The only thing that seems clear to me is that until Briony has recovered, she very obviously mustn't see me again.'

‘I suggested to your wife this afternoon that she should go into hospital. It would be impossible, now that her illness has developed this far, to keep her at home.'

‘But we could have someone with her all the time,' I insisted desperately. ‘Surely she needn't be sent away.'

Lance said heavily, ‘If Ann wants her at home, then she must stay. We can arrange day and night nursing, anything you consider necessary.'

‘And what will you do?' Max asked quietly.

‘I shall leave the house. Temporarily, of course,' he added at my involuntary exclamation. ‘As I said, we can't risk her catching sight of me again in this condition.'

‘But you can't go!' I cried. ‘Your studio's here, and Moira, and all your papers! How –'

‘I could board at the college for a while. And if Briony remains in her room, I might even be able to continue using the studio.'

I put my hands over my face and began to sob hopelessly. As Max had said, I was torn in half between Lance and Briony. It seemed I had no choice but to lose one of them. Obviously I couldn't allow Lance to be turned out of his own home, though I refused to admit the underlying fear that if he did go he might not return. But I must banish one of them, and to imagine Briony, alone and frightened in a mental hospital, was more than I could bear.

It was Max who came to me and led me gently to a chair. ‘I know this has all been extremely distressing for you, Ann, but when she wakes in the morning Briony will be herself again. Unfortunately, we do not know for how long. Obviously she must not go to school or be allowed out of the sight of someone responsible, but she will be perfectly fit to attend her appointment with me in the afternoon. By then, you and Lance will have had an opportunity to decide what course you wish to take. Now if you'll excuse me I must go. I shall expect you at the surgery at four-thirty. Good-night'

Neither of us answered him and presumably he let himself out. When eventually I moved my hands from my face it was to find myself alone. Lance must have retreated to the studio.

Hanging on to the bannisters I hauled myself upstairs. Briony still slept deeply. I knelt by the side of her bed and tried to pray for wisdom to make the right decision. I knew Lance would leave it to me. He was himself too deeply involved to be impartial and, as he had always stressed, Briony was my daughter.

It was some time later that, stiff and shivering with tiredness, I rose from my vigil and made my way to my own room. Lance had still not appeared, nor did he before I crawled into bed and tried to close my bruised and swollen eyes. Some time during that lonely, agonised vigil the decision must have been reached, because by the time I woke the next morning my mind was made up.

I phoned Max as soon as Lance had left for college.

‘You have come to a decision?'

‘I have, yes, but I haven't discussed it with Lance. Max – it really would be dangerous for Briony to remain in the same house as Lance?' I closed my eyes, waiting for his reply. If he confirmed the point, I had no choice but to go ahead as I had planned.

‘In my opinion, yes,' he answered gravely. ‘In fact, I consider separation is vital – for both of them. Those clothes your husband was wearing last night; they were too young in style for a man of his age. I found them very disquieting.'

I licked dry lips. ‘I – don't think I understand.'

‘You ask me to accept that Briony is possessed by the – spirit – of this dead girl. I can only assume that Lance himself is equally possessed – by his own youth.'

‘How horrible!' I whispered.

‘But understandable. He feels he must be as she remembers him.'

‘Then I have no choice.'

‘To hospitalisation? Excellent. I can -'

‘No. Max, please listen to what I have to say. I'm not asking your permission – I don't suppose you'd give it – nor even your advice, because it would be unfair to put any onus on you. I'm going to take Briony to Scotland – to Ailsa's parents.' An exclamation burst from him. It sounded like ‘
Gott in Himmel
!'

I went on quickly, ‘They might refuse to take her, of course. I'll have to face that when I meet them, but it seems to me worth a try. I can accept the thought of her living with another family more easily than being shut away in a hospital with other disturbed patients. Most important of all, it might cure her as it did the girl you told us about, and more quickly than long drawn out analysis.'

‘You realise she would be liable to revert completely in that atmosphere?'

‘I'll have to risk that. In any event, it would be better for her than this nightmare half and half existence.'

There was a long silence and I braced myself to refute his arguments. But when he spoke it was only to say, ‘Do you have any means of contacting these people?'

I relaxed slightly. ‘A friend of Lance's was here this week. I'll get in touch with him. I'm sure he'll help.'

‘You realise of course that I can't condone this action?'

‘Yes, it's completely my own responsibility. As I told you, Lance doesn't know. I'll leave a note for him, but if he phones you, as he probably will, please don't tell him where I've gone. He might try to stop me.'