A Time to Heal Read online

  “No, not always,” Harriet said wearily. “It’s my own fault, I suppose. I rushed him, and upsetting his routine always does start him off. And a stranger turning up into the bargain, and both of you here—I should have expected it. He’ll be tiresome all day now, damn it. Look, do something for me, will you? Go on down and try to keep him happy for a while, will you? He always had a soft spot for you, and you may be able to convince him I’m neither trying to poison him, nor trying to get rid of him—”

  “You ought to. Get rid of him, I mean. I know it sounds cruel and all the rest of it, and if he seemed to get any pleasure out of living with you, it’d be different, but as it is …”

  “Gordon, please?”

  “Oh, all right!”

  “I’m sorry you’re having such a foul weekend,” she said, as he started down the stairs, and he looked back at her and grinned.

  “I’ll forgive you,” he said. “Seeing it’s you. Don’t be long, though. I’m liable to slosh him if I’m left with him for too long, I promise you.”

  She came down to the living room, trying to look calm and relaxed, to find the raincoated man sitting on the edge of a chair beside the dead ashes of last night’s fire. He stood up nervously as she came in.

  “Er—Dr. Berry? My name’s Ryman. Steven Ryman. I’m sorry to come and bother you on a Sunday like this, but it is urgent, as I think you’ll understand when I explain. I—er—I hope I haven’t disturbed your—er—family too much.” He glanced at the closed kitchen door. “It is early, I know, but …” his voice died away.

  “Not at all,” she said, and held out her hand, and after a moment he thrust his own forward and shook it, and his skin was cold and damp against hers.

  “I am sorry my father-in-law made such a fuss,” she said, embarrassed as she always was when she had to explain about George. “I hope he didn’t—er—bother you.”

  The man smiled fleetingly. “Well, I was a bit startled,” he admitted. “He seemed to think I was going to take him away somewhere.”

  “I’m afraid he does get a little confused. He’s over eighty, you see, and old people—they can be a little difficult. Er—do let me take your coat. And I’m sorry it’s so cold in here. We haven’t lit the fire yet.”

  She took his coat and put it on the sofa, and then with a brightness she wasn’t feeling said, “I’ll just light it, shall I? So cold this morning …”

  She knelt before the fireplace, shoving a few sticks from the log basket into the wood ash, and thrusting the gas poker under them before piling a couple of logs on top, and he watched her as the gas roared softly and the flames began to leap against the brick of the fireplace.

  “There, that’s better,” she said. “Old-fashioned, these big fireplaces, I know, but so pleasant, don’t you think? And quite easy to look after. They really understood about fireplaces and chimneys when they built this place. It’s quite old, you know. We can’t be sure, but it was supposed to have been built about two hundred years ago. We had to knock three tiny rooms together to make this room. A little awkward, of course, having the stairs running straight out of the living room, and the kitchen running off it too, but we manage.”

  “It’s very nice,” he said woodenly, sitting on the edge of the chair, his shoulders very straight and his hands clasped on his lap. “Er—as I say, I’m so sorry to come so early on a Sunday morning, but I had to. There’s so little time, you see, and—”

  She looked at him and his face was flat with misery and, embarrassed, she looked away. The man was exuding distress; it hung between them, almost palpable.

  “Er—do let me get you some coffee, won’t you? I think there’s some ready”—she began to move toward the kitchen.

  But he stood up, and said desperately, “No—er, no. Please, don’t bother. I really—I just have to talk to you. I went to the hospital, you see, and they—someone told me you were living here, and I thought—well, I had to. It’s really urgent. Ever so urgent.”

  She turned and looked at him again, unwillingly, and he stood there, his hands held stiffly clasped in front of him, his head held so rigidly that she could see a fine tremor in the muscles of his neck.

  “I came down as soon as I could. I had to get the children organized, you see, and I had to go and see her as usual, of course, so I couldn’t leave till late last night—gone ten it was. And I’ve got to get back for two o’clock visiting hours, or she’ll—she’ll wonder—” He swallowed. “I come from Kendal. The Lake District, you know? And trains are so bad at weekends—and I’ve got to get back. Please, let me explain to you. It’s really very urgent.”

  She nodded, and came back to the fireside and sat down. No matter what Theo had said, this clearly couldn’t wait until he came.

  “What is it?” she said, and put her hand out toward the other chair and he sat down again and leaned forward, his hands still tightly clasped on his knees.

  “My wife. It’s my wife.”

  He looked at her, and his eyes seemed to swell and glisten, and he sniffed hard, and swallowed, and then went on in a rapid monotone. “She’s had three operations. They couldn’t take the breast off, you see, too far gone, they told me. So they did her ovaries, and then some other operation on her back—her glands, and then they did a brain operation. That was a month ago, but—there’s nothing else they can do, you see. He told me, the surgeon, he said they’d done all they could, and if it wasn’t for the children they’d have sent her home, but the youngest, he’s not at school yet, and it wouldn’t be right, though God knows I wanted her home. But not like she is, she’s got to be well, hasn’t she? She can’t come home like she is. And then they said—anyway, I saw in the paper, Friday I saw it. That man. He was the same, wasn’t he? Got thin and the rest of it? She’s got like that. She used to be a great strapping sort of—anyway, now she’s like he was. So I came to ask you. I tried to phone, but they wouldn’t let me talk to anyone, so all I could do was come myself. And I’ve got to get back at two o’clock, no later. You’ve got to do it for her too. They’ve told me, the surgeon, and the sister, they said—a week or two maybe. No more. And the youngest hasn’t started school yet, do you see? You will, won’t you? Do it for her?”

  He stopped and stared at her, and then, not moving, still sitting with his hands held on his lap and his shoulders straight, he began to cry, his eyes spilling tears and his nose running onto his twisted upper lip, and she sat and looked back at him, numb with the weight of his misery.

  “I—Mr. Ryman, please.” She managed to stand up then, and went quickly across the room to the sideboard and poured some brandy into a glass and brought it to him.

  But he sat still, weeping and gulping, and she stood unhappily beside him holding out the glass, and said again, “Mr. Ryman–please.”

  He moved then, and slid forward in the chair until he was on his knees in front of her, and he held onto her skirt with both hands, weeping, knocking the brandy glass from her hands, and she leaned over and lifted him awkwardly to make him sit down again.

  “You will—say you will, please. You’ve got to, and we can get there by two o’clock if you’ll come now and start it.”

  She stood there beside him, and put one hand on his shoulder, pushing him gently until he leaned back in his chair, and then she bent and picked up the glass and refilled it and brought it to him, and this time he took it from her, and began to drink, staring at her over the rim of the glass.

  She had hardly been aware of the sound of a car outside, of the footsteps on the path, until the door opened and Theo came in, his overcoat pulled high around his neck, and the draft of cold air he brought with him made her turn. She looked at him appealingly.

  He grimaced, and closed the door behind him sharply, and came and stood beside the man’s chair.

  “Mr. Ryman—I tried to explain to you at the hospital. I imagine Dr. Berry has explained too. She can’t do anything. I’m sorry, but there is nothing she can do. Nothing at all.”

  Ryman s
tood up sharply, and thrust his face at Theo, his eyes bright and glittering in their puffy red lids.

  “Well, you’re wrong. She can—she can and she will—won’t you?” He turned to Harriet. “You are going to, aren’t you? I knew if I could explain to you—you’re a woman, you understand. I knew you would if I talked to you, no matter what he said. He tried to get me to go away, but I knew you would if I talked to you—”

  “Mr. Ryman, please—” Harriet said desperately, and looked at him, and he stared back, and then she shook her head.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Ryman. I do sympathize, believe me. I wish I could help you, but—”

  “You said you would—”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t. I’ve said nothing. I can’t. The treatment I used for Mr. Ferris—that was just an experiment. It should never have been written about in the paper. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, but I can’t help you.”

  “You can! Of course you can if you want to! You helped him! Why not her? What’s wrong with her that you can’t help her? There’s three kids—the youngest not at school yet! You’ve got to—”

  “Mr. Ryman.” Theo’s voice came crisply. “Mr. Ryman, I’ve tried to explain to you already this morning. It isn’t anything to do with personal desires on anyone’s part. If your wife is as ill as you say, then there just isn’t any chance of helping her. Mr. Ferris managed to survive for the weeks needed to prepare the vaccine. And he was here, where the equipment is. To treat your wife Dr. Berry would need not only time, but would need to have her here, at Brookbank. Even if the treatment were available in this way–which it isn’t because Brookbank isn’t a normal hospital but a research Establishment—from the history you give it just isn’t possible. I’m sorry. Dr. Berry can’t help you.”

  “Dr. Berry …,” he said, and moved toward her, but she shook her head.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Ryman. What Mr. Fowler says is quite true. I can’t help you. I wish I could, believe me, but it isn’t possible.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, and then lurched toward her, his hands outstretched, and swiftly Theo moved and grabbed him.

  “You lousy rotten bitch!” Ryman’s voice was high, shrilling at her so that she winced. “Lousy stinking rotten bitch! I’ll kill you–I’ll kill you—”

  Behind her the kitchen door opened, and Patty and Gordon were there and then both Gordon and Theo were standing beside Ryman, who was still shouting his rage, as Patty came and stood beside Harriet, putting a protective arm about her shoulders.

  And then the noise stopped, and Ryman was weeping, holding his hands over his face as Theo picked up his raincoat, and urged him gently toward the door.

  “Come on, Mr. Ryman. I’ll take you back to Brookbank, and see if we can organize some transport back to Kendal for you. Gordon, will you come with me, please? You can drive, and I’ll look after Mr. Ryman. We’ll be back by lunch time, Harriet.”

  And they were gone, leaving Harriet sitting very still with Patty perched on the arm of her chair, in a silence underlined by the soft hissing of the gas poker and the crackle of burning wood, until it was broken by a thin cackling laugh from George, standing in the kitchen doorway, his face stretched into a huge grin.

  “That’s showing them! That’s what happens when they come to take me away! Oh, I’m too clever for you lot! That got rid of him, didn’t it, eh? Got rid of him? That’ll show you—”

  6

  SHE SAT hunched into her coat collar, staring out at the rain sluicing itself into thick runnels down the windscreen, listening to the radio crackling over the heavy uneven swish of the wipers.

  “… his work is already being applied in the United States, but Dr. Ross-Craigie now feels that his future research should be done in Britain. At a press conference in New York yesterday, Dr. Ross-Craigie announced that he is currently considering a number of offers to work in Britain, and hopes to be able to reach a decision shortly. A Department of Health spokesman yesterday denied that there are at present any plans to provide the treatment on the National Health Service, since costings on this complex technique have yet to be discussed with the Treasury …. The threatened rail strike. In London last night, union officials …”

  Theo reached across her to turn off the radio, and looked at her briefly before returning his attention to the road.

  “Well? Now do you believe me? When it makes a seven A.M. BBC news bulletin, it’s big news. And the significant thing is that the item about your work came before the stuff about little Willy and his magnanimous decision to bring his gifted little self back to our stricken shores. There’ll be people waiting at Brookbank for you even at this unearthly hour, I promise you, and God knows what it would have been like if you’d got there at your usual time. Like running into the Olympic stadium with the light at the end of the marathon or whatever it is those dismal athletic types do.”

  “It’s all so ridiculous” Harriet said a little querulously. “So much excitement over an unproven method! Why should people come hunting me in this fashion, when Ross-Craigie’s work has been proven? Why don’t they go to him?”

  “Because he isn’t here. Because cancer cures are so bloody dramatic. Because he’s a man and you’re a woman—oh, yes, don’t look like that! Even in these egalitarian days, it makes news when women do something special. It’s not so much ‘isn’t it remarkable she thought of that’ as ‘isn’t it remarkable the poor thing can think at all.’”

  “I’ve heard that before somewhere. Theo, do you suppose there’ll be many more like Ryman?”

  “I’ve no doubt whatsoever that there will,” he said somberly. “I’m sorry about that, Hattie. I’d have avoided it for you if I could—”

  “I know. You did splendidly, and I’m still very grateful. I feel very stupid about it. I should have expected something of the sort, I suppose, once the popular rags get hold of the Ferris story, but even after you phoned me yesterday, it didn’t really register. Oh, God, but it was horrible! I’ve never really stopped to think much about the effects of the work I do, not in those terms, anyway. I mean, there were the monkeys, and a puzzle to be worked out, and it was exhilarating, following each little line, making it all add up neatly. Satisfying, like algebra. And even with Ferris, I didn’t think much about the outcome from his point of view. When he was at his worst, he wasn’t quite a person and it wasn’t difficult to think only about his disease. But Ryman, yesterday—I’d forgotten, you see.”

  “Forgotten?”

  “About grief. How it feels, what it looks like. I knew it very well once, but it was so very long ago.”

  “My dear Hattie, you must learn, right now, not to become emotionally involved in such situations. The world is full of such little domestic tragedies as Ryman’s. Full of widows and orphans and picayune disasters. If you sit and mourn for them you’ll be wasting your time—no, I’m not being harsh. Not in the least. I’m speaking no more than the bald truth. You must not waste your time weeping for the dead and dying, because your time can be put to better use.”

  “Oh, do me a favor, Theo! Don’t start on a Joan of Arc kick! I’m no great scientist set to save the world from disease and misery. All I’ve done is get involved with a field of research that—”

  “—can save the world a lot of disease and misery. Why be scared of the idea?”

  “Because it’s terrifying! This is me, Harriet, remember? I’m not made of the stuff of a Marie Curie! It’s all so damned accidental. If I hadn’t happened to marry David I’d just be a G.P. somewhere. If he hadn’t happened to be killed, so that I had to get some sort of job to keep me going while I looked after two babies, I’d just be a G.P.’s wife helping out in the practice. If Oscar hadn’t happened to be at Brookbank, hadn’t happened to offer me a job when I needed it—don’t you see? I’ve never planned a damned thing in my whole life—it’s always just worked out the way it has. And now I’m in the middle of a situation where I’ve got to plan, and I’m not made that way—you know that! If you hadn’t
suggested leaving as early as this, do you suppose it would have occurred to me that there’d be people to avoid at Brookbank this morning? I just don’t fit into this role I’ve been cast for.”

  “You don’t know anything at all about yourself, do you, Hattie?” Theo smiled sideways at her. “Poor Hattie! If only you could stand outside yourself and see what really is there in you.”

  “I know what’s in me! I know as much about myself as is necessary. I just wish everyone else did.”

  “You’re wrong. You have no idea at all. Dear heart, you are a very remarkable person. You are as gifted an individual as any I’ve ever been privileged to know. There are times when I’m grateful to know that I’m your friend, do you know that? People cast you in this role, as you put it, because you fit it. Your achievement in your work is something very remarkable—”

  “It is not! I told you, it’s all an accident. Good God, Theo, even the work itself has been partly accidental. Remember, a year ago? When I nearly went off on that tangent into interferon? Until I noticed that odd reaction in—”

  “Accident my fanny! Can’t you see that it takes a very special sort of mind to recognize that part of a pattern is out of kilter, and then to work out why? And how to use that observation, as you used yours? It was an accident that Newton sat under the apple tree–but millions of others had observed falling objects before he was hit on the head, and they didn’t see the significance in it that he saw! You wouldn’t deny that he had a special mind? So why deny that you have?”

  “Theo, don’t! You frighten me. I’m an ordinary woman who just happens to be working in a field that—that throws up events like the one I’m caught up in now. That’s all.”

  “Oh, yes, you’re an ordinary woman. In many ways you’re a very ordinary woman, and I thank God for it. It’s your very ordinariness that makes me love you so well—but it also makes your own life horribly complicated. Because as part of your ordinariness you carry some extraordinary gifts. Don’t be frightened of it, my dear. But do, for your own sake, admit you have them, and use them as wisely as you can.”