Evelyn arranged an appointment for Catherine with Dr. Hamilton for the following Friday. Evelyn thought of telephoning Constantin Demiris to tell him what she had done, but she decided it was too unimportant to bother him about.
Alan Hamilton’s office was on Wimpole Street. Catherine went there for her first appointment, apprehensive and angry. Apprehensive because she was fearful of what he might say about her, and angry with herself for having to rely on a stranger to help her with problems she felt she should have been able to solve herself.
The receptionist behind the glass window said, “Dr. Hamilton is ready for you, Miss Alexander.”
But am I ready for him? Catherine wondered. She was filled with a sudden panic. What am I doing here? I’m not going to put myself in the hands of some quack who probably thinks he’s God.
Catherine said, “I—I’ve changed my mind. I don’t really need to see the doctor. I’ll be happy to pay for the appointment.”
“Oh? Just a moment, please.”
“But…”
The receptionist had disappeared into the doctor’s office.
A few moments later, the door to the office opened and Alan Hamilton came out. He was in his early forties, tall and blond, with bright blue eyes and an easy manner.
He looked at Catherine and smiled. “You’ve made my day,” he said.
Catherine frowned. “What…?”
“I didn’t realize how good a doctor I really was. You just walked into my reception office, and you’re already feeling better. That must be some kind of record.”
Catherine said defensively, “I’m sorry. I made a mistake. I don’t need any help.”
“I’m delighted to hear that,” Alan Hamilton said. “I wish all my patients felt that way. As long as you’re here, Miss Alexander, why don’t you come in for a moment? We’ll have a cup of coffee.”
“Thank you, no. I don’t…”
“I promise you can drink it sitting up.”
Catherine hesitated. “All right, just for a minute.”
She followed him into his office. It was very simple, done in quiet, good taste, furnished more like a living room than an office. There were soothing prints hanging on the walls, and on a coffee table was a photograph of a beautiful woman with a young boy. All right, so he has a nice office and an attractive family. What does that prove?
“Please sit down,” Dr. Hamilton said. “The coffee should be ready in a minute.”
“I really shouldn’t be wasting your time, doctor. I’m…”
“Don’t worry about that.” He sat in an easy chair, studying her. “You’ve been through a lot,” he said sympathetically.
“What do you know about it?” Catherine snapped. Her tone was angrier than she had intended.
“I spoke with Evelyn. She told me what happened at St. Moritz. I’m sorry.”
That damned word again. “Are you? If you’re such a wonderful doctor, maybe you can bring Kirk back to life.” All the misery that had been pent up inside her broke, erupting in a torrent, and to her horror Catherine found that she was sobbing hysterically. “Leave me alone,” she screamed. “Leave me alone.”
Alan Hamilton sat there watching her, saying nothing.
When Catherine’s sobs finally subsided she said wearily, “I’m sorry. Forgive me. I really must go now.” She rose and started toward the door.
“Miss Alexander, I don’t know whether I can help you, but I’d like to try. I can promise you only that whatever I do won’t hurt you.”
Catherine stood at the door, undecided. She turned to look at him, her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” she whispered. “I feel so lost.”
Alan Hamilton rose and walked over to her. “Then why don’t we try to find you? We’ll work on it together. Sit down. I’ll see about that coffee.”
He was gone for five minutes, and Catherine sat there, wondering how he had talked her into staying. He had a calming effect. There was something in his manner that was reassuring.
Maybe he can help me, Catherine thought.
Alan Hamilton came back into the room carrying two cups of coffee. “There’s cream and sugar, if you like.”
“No, thank you.”
He sat down across from her. “I understand your friend died in a skiing accident.”