Mary’s look of dismay made me sorry for the way I’d put it. She went on staring at me for several seconds, then her face suddenly crumpled. I picked her up and carried her over to the armchair.,.
After a time she pulled the handkerchief out of my breast-pocket. Gradually I felt her relax. One hand sought, and found, mine.
‘I’m sorry to be so silly,’ she said.
I hugged her.
‘It’s all right, darling. You’re not silly, you’re anxious – and I don’t wonder.’
‘But I was silly. I didn’t see what making a row might lead to.’ She paused, kneading the handkerchief in her clenched right hand. I’m so afraid for Matthew,’ she said unsteadily. She raised herself a little, and looked into my face. `David, tell me something honestly… They – they won’t think he – he’s mad, will they, David …?’
‘Of course not, darling. How could they possibly? You couldn’t find a saner boy anywhere than Matthew, you know that.’
‘But if they find out about Chocky? If they get to know that he thinks he hears her speaking…? I mean, hearing voices in your head… that’s …’ She let it tail away.
‘Darling,’ I told her. `You’re being afraid of the wrong thing. Put that right away. There is nothing – nothing at all – wrong with Matthew himself. He’s as sane and sensible a boy as one could wish to meet. Please, please let it into your head quite firmly that this Chocky, whatever it is, is not subjective – it is objective. It does not – come from Matthew, it is something outside that comes to him. I know it’s hard to believe, because one doesn’t understand how it can happen. But you must believe that.’
‘I do try, but … I don’t understand. What is Chocky…? – The swimming … the painting … all the questions…?’
‘That’s what we don’t know – yet. My own idea is that Matthew is – well, sort of haunted. I know that’s an unfortunate word, it carries ideas of fear and malevolence, but I don’t mean that at all. It’s just that there isn’t another word for it. What I am thinking of is a kindly sort of haunting … It quite clearly doesn’t mean Matthew any harm. It’s only alarming to us because we don’t understand it. After all, remember, Matthew thinks it saved both their lives… And if it didn’t, we don’t know what, did.
‘Whatever it is, I think we’d be wrong to regard it as a threat. It seems intrusive and inquisitive, but basically well disposed – essentially a benign kind of – er – presence.
‘Oh, I see,’ said Mary. `In fact you’re trying to tell me it is a guardian angel?’
‘No – er – well, I suppose I mean – er. yes, in a way…’ I said.
9
AIan rang up in the morning and suggested lunch, so I joined him.
‘Saw the photograph of Matthew’s picture in the paper yesterday,’ he said. `What are you going to do about it now?’
I shrugged. `About it what can I do except try to deal with things as they crop up? About Matthew, though, Landis has come up with a recommendation.’ I told him @Jhat Landis had said.
‘Thorbe, Thorbe,’ Alan muttered, frowning. `I heard something about him just the other day – Oh, yes. I know. He’s recent]y got an appointment as a sort of advisory industrial psychologist to one of the big groups. (*) Can’t remember which, but one of the really big boy’s.’
‘Oh,’ I said. `Very high fees?’
Alan shook his head.
‘Can’t tell you about that, but he won’t be cheap. I should have a word with Landis about it before you commit yourself.’
‘Thanks, I will. One hears such things. I don’t want to pay lots of money for months and months, if it can be helped.’
‘Of course,’ Alan agreed. `After al], nobody has suggested that there’s anything wrong with Matthew, nothing that needs treatment. All you really want is an explanation to set your minds at rest – and advice on the best way to cope with things, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know,’ I told him. `I admit that this Chocky hasn’t done him any harm …’
‘And has, in fact, saved his and Polly’s lives, don’t forget.’
‘Yes. But it’s Mary I’m worried about now. She’s not going to be easy in her mind until she’s satisfied that. Chocky has been driven right away, abolished, exorcised, or somehow finished with … ‘
I arrived home to find the atmosphere a trifle gloomy, perhaps, but certainly not critical. My spirits lifted. I asked @ary about the day.
‘My sister Janet has just rung up,’ she told me.
‘Oh, no …!’
‘Yes. She was thrilled about Matthew’s success with the picture…’
‘And wants to come over tomorrow to discuss it?’
‘Well, actually, she said Sunday. It’s Patience who rang up in the afternoon and said could she come tomorrow.’
‘I hope,‘I told her, without much hope, `that you put them both off, firmly.’
She hesitated. `Well, Janet’s always so difficult and insistent…’
‘Oh,’ I said, and picked up the telephone.
‘No, wait a minute,’ she protested.
‘I’m damned if we’re going to sit here all the weekend listening to your sisters taking Matthew to pieces. You know just the line they’ll take – gushing, inquisitive, self-congratulatory, phoney commiseration for their unfortunate sister who would have the ill-luck to have a peculiar child. To hell with it! ‘I put my finger on the dial.
‘No,’ said Mary. `I’d better do it.’
‘All right,’ I agreed. ‘Tell them they can’t come. That I’ve fixed up for us to go out with friends tomorrow and Sunday – and next weekend, too, or they’ll switch it to that if you give them the chance.’ (*)
She did, quite efficiently, and looked at me, as she put the phone down, with an air of relief that cheered me immensely.
‘Thank you, David …’ she began. Then the phone rang. I picked it up and listened.
‘No,’ I said. `He’s in bed and asleep now … No, he’ll be out all day tomorrow,’ and put it down again.
‘Who was that?’ Mary asked.
‘The Sunday Dawn, wanting an interview with Matthew.’ I thought it over for a moment. `At a guess I’d say they’ve just tied up Matthew the life-saver with Matthew the artist. There’ll probably be more of them.’
There were. The Sunday Voice followed by The Report.
‘That settles it,’ I told Mary. `We’ll have to go out tomorrow. And we’ll have to start early, before they come camping in the front garden: I tell you what, we’ll stay away over night. Let’s go and pack.’
We started upstairs, and the phone went again. I hesitated.
‘Oh, leave the thing,’ said Mary.
So we did – and the next time.
We managed to get away by seven o’clock, unimpeded by interviewers, and set course for the coast.
‘I hope they won’t break in while we’re away,’ said Mary. `I feel like a refugee.’
We ali began to feel like refugees a couple of hours later as we neared the sea. The roads grew thick with ears, our speed was little better than a crawl. Mysterious holdups occurred, immobilizing everything for miles.
Presently we arrived at a vast car park charging five shillings a time, collected our things and went in search of the sea. The pebbly beach near the park was crowded and we made our way further along and down the pebbles, until ali that separated us from the shining summer sea was a band of oil and dirt about six feet wide.
‘Oh, God,’ said Mary. `You’re not going to bathe in that,’ she told Matthew who was beginning to unbutton his shirt.
Matthew looked at the mess more closely; even he seemed a little dismayed.
‘But I do want to swim now I can,’ he protested.
‘Not here,’ said Mary. ‘Oh, dear. It was a lovely beach only a few years ago. Now it’s …’
‘Just the edge of the Cloaca Britannica?’ I suggested.
‘Let’s go somewhere else. Come along, we’re moving,’
I called rio Matthew who was still staring down at the mess in a fascinated, dreamy way. I waited for him while Polly and Mary began to pick their way up the beach.
‘Chocky’s back, is she?’ I asked as he cave up.
‘How did you know?’ he inquired, with surprise.
‘I recognized the signs. Look, do me a favour, will you? Just keep her under cover if you can. We don’t want to spoil Mummy’s day – at least,’ I added, `not more than this place has already.’
‘Okay,’ he agreed.
We nt a little inland and found a village nestled in a cleft at the foot of the Downs. (*) It was peaceful. And there was An inn which gave us quite a passable lunch. I asked if we could stay the night, and found that by the good luck they had rooms to spare. Mary and I lazed on deck-chairs in the garden. Matthew disappeared, saying vaguely that he was going to look round. Polly lay on the lawn under a tree, and started reading. After, an hour or so I suggested a stroll before tea.