The Virgin and the Whale by Carl Nixon

Author:Carl Nixon [Carl Nixon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781775533764
Publisher: Penguin Random House New Zealand
Published: 2013-10-19T04:00:00+00:00

twenty-eight

The next morning, Merry catches Elizabeth before she goes upstairs and tells her that Mrs Blackwell and a man are waiting to see her in the conservatory. Elizabeth hears his laughter even before she enters the room, a high, slightly simpering sound. Mrs Blackwell and the stranger are drinking tea. He rises from his seat and smiles. He is younger than his voice suggested, in his early thirties. A dark tailored suit and waistcoat lend his slightly corpulent frame a veneer of sleek elegance.

‘This is my husband’s nurse, whom I have told you about. Mrs Whitman, this is Dr Parkinson. He is the head of the Mansfield Psychiatric Hospital.’

Dr Parkinson’s smile exposes two rows of small white teeth. ‘Better known these days as Sunnyside.’

They exchange greetings before Mrs Blackwell gestures towards the table and they all sit.

‘Tea, Mrs Whitman?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Dr Parkinson has been kind enough to accept my invitation to visit us at short notice.’

The doctor smiles again. ‘As I said, Mrs Blackwell, it is absolutely no inconvenience at all.’

‘I have asked Dr Parkinson to give me his opinion of Paul’s progress.’

Elizabeth frowns. ‘I understood that I alone was to be responsible for your husband’s care.’

‘In light of yesterday’s incident I thought it best to seek professional advice.’

‘What happened to Mr Templeton was a misunderstanding.’

The doctor’s eyes are fixed on Elizabeth. They are a pale shade of blue and she finds his stare disconcerting. ‘Am I right in believing that Mr Blackwell stole a knife from the kitchen?’

‘Yes.’

‘And that he then used the knife to butcher a goldfish?’

‘He did but …’

‘And that soon after that he stabbed Mrs Blackwell’s chauffeur?’

‘Martin overreacted because he thought I was in danger, when I wasn’t. Before he was stabbed, Martin struck Mr Blackwell with a stick.’

‘I am told that this is not the first time the patient has been angry and violent?’

Mrs Blackwell sighs. ‘No. There have been numerous other incidents.’

‘I see. And can I ask you a question, Mrs Whitman?’

‘Of course.’

‘Is it true, what Mrs Blackwell tells me, that sometimes you refer to Mr Blackwell by the name Lucky?’

‘That’s the name he was given by the other soldiers after he was wounded.’

‘Do you call him this in his presence?’

She hesitates. ‘I do.’

A raised eyebrow. ‘To his face?’

‘Yes.’

The doctor shakes his head slightly. ‘The war is over. He is no longer a soldier. Why then do you call him Lucky rather than his true name, which is Paul Blackwell?’

‘He doesn’t believe that he is Paul Blackwell. He has no memory of his life before he was wounded.’

Dr Parkinson allows a sceptical smile to reach one corner of his mouth. ‘Mrs Whitman, I have a very extensive history of treating patients with mental illness, not to mention a doctorate from the University of Cambridge on the subject.’

Although you did manage to mention it, thinks Elizabeth.

‘There are several patients I am treating at the moment who believe themselves to be someone else. There is a woman in my care who firmly believes that she is Joan of Arc.

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