The Madman's Room

The night was dark, but at that moment there was a break in the clouds and the baleful moon illuminated Brian’s face and the metallic gleam in his distant gaze.

‘How… how do you do it?’ asked Meadows, apparently impressed by the clairvoyant’s attitude.

‘Things are as they must be. No one can alter the course of destiny.’

15

Sarah stared disconsolately at the mirror. How long had she been there, scrutinising that pale and anxious face? More than half an hour, anyway. And more than half an hour before that, masking those awful bags under her eyes with make-up. A total waste of time, as it turned out. The result was there in the pitiless reflection in the mirror: an anxious woman with many sleepless nights behind her.

She couldn’t keep spending whole nights dwelling on her terrible memories. She felt she was wasting away. If only she could talk to Mike… Mike who was so attentive, so sensitive and who tolerated her changes of mood so patiently.

He’d obviously noticed that something wasn’t quite right with her, just as he’d realised it wasn’t a “physical” illness. He’d questioned her several times — discreetly and skilfully, needless to say. She couldn’t blame him, because he was acting in her best interests, but her response had been complete silence to the point of rudeness. But what could she have said? Certainly not the truth — and she didn’t want to lie to him.

She gave a deep sigh and lit a cigarette to give herself the illusion of comfort. When had this slide towards the abyss started? It had begun with Harris’s death, but she’d recovered from that. Francis’s sickness a month ago? No, it was well before that.

With an effort, she cast her mind farther back and had a flash of insight. She shuddered at the thought which had occurred to her.

Mike Meadows! Since she’d known him in a different light than friend and doctor… Yes, from that moment on… No… It wasn’t possible! And yet….

As if in a dream, she recalled the elegant figure with the laughing eyes full of reassurance which had overwhelmed her….

There was a knock on the door and the reflection of the man in her thoughts appeared behind hers in the mirror.

She stood up, turned round and melted in his arms. Mike Meadows held her at arm’s length, all the better to contemplate her.

‘How lovely you are tonight, darling. That red dress is marvellous….’

His warm and soothing voice had always had a magical effect on her. The charm was still there, sweeping everything else away. She replied teasingly:

‘Just tonight? And what’s marvellous, the red dress or me?’

The admiring look spoke for itself. Then the expression on the doctor’s face hardened.

‘What is it, darling? Don’t you want to marry me any more?’

‘Don’t be silly. It’s the invitation which bothers me. I saw Bessie this afternoon and she was full of smiles.’

‘She still likes you. I keep telling you that.’

‘It’s not that. I have a hunch that the soirée she’s organised has a hidden agenda. She’s got a surprise up her sleeve. I could tell it from her smile.’

‘Myself, I’m sure it’s an attempt to bury the hatchet. But I’ll keep an eye open, you can be sure of it. It’s already past eight, we’d better be going.’

* * *

Bessie, looking radiant, refilled her guests’ glasses with hot punch. Mrs. Blount took advantage of the moment to take her leave, wishing everyone a pleasant evening. The door closed behind her, but not before Paul and Francis had noticed her giving a conspiratorial wink to her daughter.

Brian was unrecognisable in an elegant blazer and flannels with a silk foulard around his neck. As he helped Bessie serve her guests, she commented that he should get out more and get away from his dusty books. He threw his head back and laughed, then replied he would follow her advice if she would accompany him — which made her blush as she laughed awkwardly.

Mike Meadows sensed his fiancée’s hand squeeze his. He followed her gaze: she was staring wide-eyed at Brian.

‘Is something the matter?’ he asked.

‘That laugh. The way he threw his head back. It reminded me of—.’

She didn’t finish her sentence. Bessie asked for everyone’s attention, in order to drink a toast. All present raised their glasses in anticipation of their hostess’s announcement.

‘Let’s drink a toast,’ said Bessie with a mischievous smile, ‘to my health and that of my fiancé.’

A stunned silence greeted her words. Meadows, apparently the most taken aback of those present, spluttered:

‘Your fiancé? But who is he?’

‘It’s a surprise,’ replied Bessie. ‘At least for some of you. Would you like to meet him?’

A murmur ran through the small gathering. Suspicious glances were cast which eventually settled on a startled Brian, who made frantic gestures of denial.

Bessie, clearly enjoying the situation, turned and called out:

‘You can come in now, darling.’

The lounge door opened and a figure entered the room.

‘Patrick!’ gasped Paula, who looked as if she were about to faint.