The Mind of Mr Soames (15 page)

‘We are well aware of the problem,’ Conway admitted, ‘but it is difficult to see what can be done. When he has progressed a little further and is amenable to ordinary discipline we might try group therapy...’

‘By then it may be too late, Dr Conway. The true education of Mr Soames must start without delay.’

‘What do you suggest?’

Takaito stood up and inhaled deeply on his cigarette, blowing the smoke out again as if he loathed it.

‘I can do some preliminary groundwork in the next few days, mainly to find out just what is wrong with Mr Soames’s mind, and I propose to make a few experiments which might not gain the approval of Dr Breuer. That is why I need your co-operation, Dr Conway.’

‘What kind of experiments?’

‘Nothing that need alarm you. Experiments in behaviour study, based on my experience with dogs.’

Conway rubbed his chin dubiously. ‘I can hardly participate in anything which Dr Breuer might consider unethical...’

‘There will be no question of unethical conduct, except in so far as I may make tests without Dr Breuer’s permission, knowing very well that he would refuse such permission, anyway.’

‘Then what is it you want me to do?’

‘Nothing at all. I require access to Mr Soames at convenient times, without supervision or interference, and no questions afterwards.’

Conway hesitated for a long time. ‘That’s asking a lot, Dr Takaito.’

‘Do you think I am going to kill Mr Soames?’

‘Of course not...’

‘Or injure him any more than he has been injured already?’

‘No—but you must realise my position...’

‘I do indeed realise your position, and I apologise for embarrassing you in this way, but let me assure you that it is for the patient’s own good. And III promise you this, Dr Conway—step by step I will take you into my confidence until in the end we are working together for a common purpose. Between us I feel sure we can make a man of Mr Soames.’

‘Well, all right,’ Conway said after due consideration. ‘Provisionally, that is. We’ll see how things work out, and if I find that I’m unable to go along with you in the way you propose then I’ll say so.’

Takaito smiled warmly. ‘Thank you indeed. That is very reasonable and fair.’

❖

Mrs Martinez was a dark, slender woman of well-preserved matronly appearance; the kind of woman who looked as if she had been specifically designed to fit into a navy-blue uniform. In fact, she was wearing a maroon coloured costume which looked as if it had been bought specially for the occasion, and her small silver-grey hat clipped to the back of her head matched her high-heeled shoes. Although in her mid-fifties, she looked almost a generation younger to the casual observer, and not much older than her own daughter, but on closer inspection the inevitable lines and seams of age were discernible beneath the concealing veneer of cosmetics.

Antonetta, who was in her very early twenties if not, in fact, still in her late teens, was slightly taller than her mother, and more flamboyantly dressed in white and red which in conjunction with her long black hair and warm complexion served to heighten her Latin appearance. By Dr McCabe’s flexible standards she was in the raving beauty class, and sultry enough to be good fun on a dull day. McCabe chanced to be walking out of the main entrance of the Institute when the Martinez delegation rolled up in a green Zephyr car with a ‘Press’ sticker on the windscreen, so he hovered for a while, occupying himself by lighting a cigarette while he studied the new arrivals.

The women were accompanied by two men, obviously members of the staff of the Daily Courier, although the elder, with his dark grey suit and bowler hat looked more like a bank clerk than a reporter. The younger man was more true to type, wearing a battered trilby hat and carrying a press camera with an electronic flash kit slung over one shoulder. They all talked together for a moment at the foot of the steps and then went into the clinic. McCabe puffed thoughtfully at his cigarette, shrugged his shoulders, then went on his way.

Poor old Breuer, he thought sardonically. I wouldn’t like to be in his shoes right now. It never rains but what it pours, and as for Soames’s—well, she’d have a disturbing effect on even the most balanced of men.

Antonetta’s ‘disturbing effect’ was the result of many years of careful cultivation from early adolescence. She was slim and long legged, but her lips were wide and her bust ambitious and firmly shaped, with the dress discreetly cut in a long ‘V’ at the front to show an intriguing length of what is popularly referred to as cleavage. She used cosmetics sparingly, but with a fine sense of colour balance, to enhance the warm smoky tone of her skin. Her eyes were brown and languid, with more than a hint of latent vivacious sparkle behind her long dark lashes. When she sat down and crossed her knees in Dr Breuer’s office, her gossamer nylons gleamed intriguingly under the hem of her dress, so that even Dr Breuer, in his objective way found his attention momentarily distracted. Takaito, firmly holding his whisky glass, put on his best oriental expression and studied the newcomers through narrowed eyes.

‘I’m Roger Neame,’ said the man with the bowler hat. ‘Courier Special Features. This is John Kenney, staff photographer. I understand Mr Finch, my editor has already explained the situation to you, Dr Breuer.’

‘I’m afraid so,’ Breuer admitted.

‘Naturally we don’t want to take up more of your time than we need to. Perhaps if we could see John Soames right away...’

‘I’ll find out if he’s ready,’ Breuer said tersely.

He lifted the house phone and pressed a button.

‘Hello. Dr Conway?’ A pause. ‘This is Dr Breuer. Mrs Martinez and her daughter are here, with a reporter and photographer from the newspaper...’ Another pause. ‘That’s right. Just make sure things are tidy. We shall be along in about ten minutes.’

He hung up and regarded Mrs Martinez with a melancholy air.

‘I ought to point out,’ he said, ‘that I am opposed to this visit...’

‘But, doctor, he’s my
son
,’ the woman said with undeniable sincerity.

‘Let me explain,’ Breuer went on. ‘I am not opposed to the visit as such, but I object to the timing. I think it is premature, to say the least. Your son has made quite remarkable progress, and we are all very pleased, but certain difficulties arise from time to time as he exercises his growing sense of independence. It would have been a much better thing if you had waited for a while—say, three months, six months...’

‘Mrs Martinez is entitled to see her son any time she chooses, doctor,’ Neame stated flatly. He had obviously been well briefed by his editor.

‘I’m not denying that,’ Breuer said. ‘At the same time I know Mrs Martinez would want to act in her son’s best interests.’

‘Just this once,’ the woman pleaded. These people’—she glanced quickly at the newspapermen—‘were kind enough to fly Toni and me back from Peru. We may not have the chance again—at least, not for a long time.’

‘I’d sure like to see my brother,’ Toni volunteered, uncrossing her knees and crossing them the other way. ‘He never was real to me, somehow. I can hardly believe it’s true.’

‘It’s true enough,’ Breuer said, ‘thanks to Dr Takaito here.’ The little Japanese bowed slightly, his lips moving into the shape of a phantom smile. ‘However, I would like both of you to realise that though Mr Soames may appear to be well and strong, he still has a long way to go—mentally, that is—Education is bound to be a slow and rather complex process under the circumstances.’

‘I’m sure you’ll do your very best for him, doctor,’ Mrs Martinez said. ‘There’s one favour I’d like to ask, though, if you don’t mind. In our family we’ve always been Roman Catholics, and I’d appreciate it a lot if you’d make sure that young John is brought up to follow the Roman faith—religiouswise, I mean. We feel it’s important.’

‘Yes,’ Breuer said vaguely, caught out for the moment. Religious education was something he hadn’t stopped to think about at all. ‘Naturally we haven’t got so far as that, yet, Mrs Martinez. We’ve been principally concerned with teaching Mr Soames how to read and write, and imparting an elementary knowledge of the world around him. But I’ll certainly bear it in mind.’

He turned to Roger Neame. ‘Perhaps you could indicate what you have in mind, from your newspaper’s point of view.’

‘Nothing sensational, Dr Breuer. Just a few photographs. After the initial reunion, Mrs Martinez has a number of questions she would like to put to her son, and Toni too, of course. She’s in on the act, naturally.’

Breuer regarded Toni rather balefully. Already the air in the room was heavy with exotic perfume, and there was lazy seduction in every relaxed curve of her young body.

Breuer said: ‘Wouldn’t it perhaps be better if Mrs Martinez alone were to see her son? Toni could meet him on another occasion. After all, we don’t want to confuse him by introducing too many new faces at once.’

Neame smiled patronisingly. ‘This is a
family
reunion, Dr Breuer. Why should John Soames’s sister be excluded?

‘You mean that there’s always room for a picture of a beautiful girl in the Daily Courier.’

Neame acknowledged the point with a laconic nod of his head. ‘In journalistic terms, yes. But you know as well as I do, doctor, that it’s pure coincidence if Toni is beautiful. She needn’t have been at all. She might even have been a brother instead of a sister. We had no idea at the start, we really didn’t.’

Toni smiled torridly at nobody in particular, and Breuer glanced at his watch.

‘I think, perhaps, we had better go down to the annexe,’ he said.

❖

Transient fear flashed in the sombre eyes of Mr Soames. His small world was suddenly full of people—familiar people and unfamiliar people. Scent hovered in the air, like the smell of the trees in the parkland after rain, but sweeter and more sickly. Two of the people were attired in strange colourful clothes, and they had dark hair and smooth skin with red lips, and the shape of their bodies beneath the clothes was round and unexpectedly curved. He backed away apprehensively until he was against the wall adjoining the window.

‘John,’ said Mrs Martinez in a husky voice. ‘John—my son, my baby...’

She advanced on the reluctant Mr Soames, stroked his face and kissed him, under the cautious watchful eyes of Conway and Dr Breuer. The male nurse hovered anxiously in the background.

Hash, went the camera. Mr Soames grunted in alarm.

‘Mr Soames,’ said Conway, stepping forward, ‘this is your mother. You know the word mother. Everybody has a mother. This is your mother. Do you understand?’

Mr Soames made no reply. He was looking past Mrs Martinez towards the brighter shape of Toni.

‘And that is your sister,’ Conway went on, pointing at the girl and beckoning to her.

She came forward slowly in a relaxed feline way, until she was within a few inches of Mr Soames.

‘Hello, John,’ she said softly. ‘I’m your sister, Toni,’ adding incongruously, ‘long time, no see.’ Then she put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him.

Flash went the camera again.

Mr Soames, still stiff and fearful, reached up and took her arms. Slowly he allowed his fingers to travel over the smooth, tanned skin, while the girl exchanged amused glances with her mother.

‘I think he’s cute,’ she said, ‘and
so
handsome.’

‘Could we go through that again?’ asked the photographer.

‘No,’ Conway said firmly.

‘But he’s so stuffy and cold. We’d like to portray a little affection...’

‘He doesn’t feel any affection. These people are strangers to him.’

‘How can you say that?’ Mrs Martinez said emotionally. ‘He’s my son.’

‘The point is, he’s not aware of it,’ Conway insisted. ‘Relationship is meaningless to him at present.’

‘Just two more shots,’ the photographer pleaded. ‘First mother and then sister—in close-up.’

Conway glanced helplessly at Dr Breuer, who shrugged in return, as if to say, ‘Now we’re committed we might as well be wholly committed.’

‘All right,’ Conway said. ‘Two more pictures, and that’s all,’ Mrs Martinez repeated her affectionate greeting, kissing Mr Soames lightly on the cheek. He gripped her arms for a moment of concentrated interest, then thrust her impatiently aside. Toni presented herself to him.

Slowly Mr Soames reached out and touched her silken black hair. She smiled and patted his cheek.

‘Hello, John. My name’s Toni. I’m your sister.’

‘You smell nice,’ Soames said quietly.

‘Gosh,’ she said, in feigned surprise. ‘Well,
thanks
!’

‘Now,’ urged the photographer. For the first time Mr Soames’s expression had become cordial.

She moved forward to embrace him and kiss him. There was an instant of suspended animation.

Flash, went the camera.

‘Good,’ remarked the photographer.

At that point the girl screamed. In the transient blindness following the photoflash, nobody was immediately certain as to what had happened. Vision returned starkly to reveal Mr Soames and the girl locked in a tight embrace, but her feet were clear of the ground and she was kicking wildly. Mr Soames’s right arm gripped her vice-like round the waist while the groping fingers of his left hand were deeply entangled in her hair.

Conway and the male nurse leaped forward simultaneously, each seizing one of Mr Soames’s arms. Mrs Martinez, hand covering her shocked mouth, looked on in paralysed horror. The reporter and the photographer moved around, hesitantly and uncertainly, not knowing whether to intervene or simply watch. Dr Breuer rushed out of the annexe, presumably in search of help.

Mr Soames was certainly strong. Unable to dislodge his arms they pushed him away from the wall and across the room. His knees caught the side of the bed, and a moment later he and the girl, still locked together, were sprawling diagonally across the plain blue bedcover. Now Conway was able to seize one arm with both hands and apply leverage, but as the girl wriggled free Mr Soames broke loose and snatched at her dress. There was a staccato rending noise, and, as if it had been made of paper, the red and white material of the dress tore obliquely down the front.