‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,’ he assured her. ‘I’m not of the school of thought that says anything useful can be raked from dead ashes. Charles has told me he has no feelings for you any more and I’ve no reason to disbelieve him. He certainly didn’t want to see you today.’
She didn’t like that. ‘He wouldn’t have been so angry if he didn’t love me still.’ She fiddled with the clasp of her bag. ‘He was crazy about me. A friend of mine used to call him my personal guard dog . . . panting to lie in my lap one minute . . . and showing his teeth the next if anyone came too close.’
It wasn’t an analogy that sat easily with Willis. The Charles he knew was too self-contained to display his feelings so obviously. Nevertheless . . . ‘That suggests possessiveness. Is that how you’d describe him? As a controlling lover?’
‘Totally. I couldn’t breathe without Charlie’s permission. Another friend – the one who persuaded me to break off the engagement – said he had me locked in a cage like an exotic bird, and if I didn’t break out I’d have no freedom left.’
Willis took note of the mixed metaphors. There was a world of difference between a caged parakeet and a siren who handed titbits to a Rottweiler. Nevertheless . . . ‘Your friend was right,’ he agreed. ‘It sounds like an extremely unhealthy relationship.’
But Jen didn’t like that either. Perhaps she felt the criticism applied equally to her. ‘Not from Charlie’s point of view. He had everything he wanted. He turned up when it suited him . . . snapped his fingers when it suited him . . . and showed me off like a trophy when it suited him.’
‘So why didn’t he welcome you with open arms today? You said it was you who ended the engagement?’ He put an upward inflection at the end of the sentence.
‘That’s right.’
He smiled. ‘Men are very simple creatures, Ms Morley. Most of us hanker after an easy life and take a reprieve when it’s offered.’ He breathed on one of his lenses. ‘If you were everything Charles wanted, why didn’t he grasp your olive branch?’
There was a slight narrowing of the huge eyes, but whether in irritation or confusion the doctor couldn’t tell. ‘His pride won’t let him. He’s still very hurt.’
It was a reasonable answer and Willis acknowledged it with another thoughtful nod. ‘Even so, I’m not clear why you want to rekindle the ashes, Ms Morley. You implied the relationship was stifling.’
‘I miss him,’ she said simply. ‘I hoped the fact that he hadn’t told his parents about the split meant he felt the same.’ She produced a crumpled tissue from her sleeve and held it to her nose. ‘You can’t explain love, Dr Willis. It’s chemistry. It happens.’
‘Mm. I’d say that’s a better description of infatuation. Chemistry has a nasty habit of producing volatile mixtures that end in an explosion.’
She shrugged impatiently. ‘We were good together.’
‘In what way?’
‘Every way .. . in bed . .. talking . . . having fun . . . when we were out. It worked.’ She smiled slightly. ‘I asked him once if he ever thought about being with another woman and he said only Uma Thurman . . . but I think he was joking.’
‘I imagine a lot of men fantasize about Uma Thurman. Do you replicate the image to encourage them to transfer their fantasies to you?’
Another tiny shrug. ‘It’s not something I can help. God made me this way.’
Willis eyed her with amusement. ‘I don’t do God, Ms Morley. I’m of the existentialist view . . . that each individual chooses, and takes responsibility for, the path he or she follows in life.’ He replaced his spectacles on his nose, tucking the arms behind his ears. ‘And, with respect, I’m not convinced that a passing resemblance to a successful actress is a good enough reason to hitch a free ride on her reputation. Rightly or wrongly, it suggests to me that you lack the confidence to be yourself.’
She half-lowered her lids to hide her expression. ‘Is that something Charlie said?’
‘No. I was reflecting on your comments in your email about chameleons lacking confidence. It’s a description that seems to fit you rather better than it fits Charles.’
‘You don’t know him the way I do.’
Willis smiled. ‘I’d be a millionaire by now if I’d been given a pound every time someone said that.’ He clasped his hands in front of him. ‘He doesn’t seem to share your enthusiasm for Uma Thurman.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘A couple of minutes ago you said he referred to her as a joke.’
‘Not her. Him being with her. He knows it’ll never happen.’ She touched the tissue to her eyes. ‘Me dressing up was the next best thing. Why do you think my friend described me as an exotic bird? I had to deck myself out like Irene Cassini in Gattaca – the Uma Thurman character Charlie most fancies . . . like this –’ she gestured towards her suit – ‘otherwise he couldn’t do it.’
‘What?’
‘Sex.’
Willis let the word hang in the air while he thought about the monkish young man upstairs who avoided all contact with female nurses. Was Jen telling the truth? It would explain a few things if she was, he reflected, not least Charles’s refusal to go anywhere near the subject of sex. ‘I’m not sure I understand. Are you saying he couldn’t achieve an erection without the Uma Thurman stimulus?’
She smiled unhappily. ‘Not at the beginning. It was just a game at the beginning.’
Willis made what he could of this. ‘And then the game took over. Charles preferred the fantasy woman to the real one. Is that what happened?’
‘It made him angry if I refused.’
Willis thought of the conversations he’d had with Charles about Jen’s resemblance to Uma Thurman. The lieutenant had certainly talked about a ‘fantasy’, but not in the kind of terms that suggested arousal. ‘Then I wonder why he didn’t respond more positively towards you today,’ he said slowly. ‘You seem to have done everything you could to evoke positive memories.’
‘He wouldn’t look at me. He stood by the window with his face turned away.’
‘Not all the time. He wouldn’t have been able to catch your hands otherwise.’
‘It was too late by then. He’d already lost his temper.’
‘With Jen Morley or Uma Thurman?’
‘What difference does it make?’
‘It seems quite crucial to me. If he lost his temper with Jen Morley why would he want to throttle Uma Thurman? You seem to have irritated him in both roles.’ He folded his hands under his chin. ‘Are you sure this isn’t your sexual fantasy, Ms Morley?’
Dampness welled in her eyes. ‘Why are you being cruel to me?’
Willis showed surprise again. ‘It was a fair question. I assumed you wouldn’t have come dressed like that if you hadn’t been looking for intimacy with Charles. It suggests the fantasy was a mutual one . . . in your mind anyway.’
‘That’s disgusting,’ she said with a sudden show of anger.
‘Then I’m mystified, Ms Morley. What was the point of today’s exercise? What were you trying to achieve?’
The question seemed to worry her because she checked the contents of her bag while she worked out an answer. ‘What you said before . . . I was trying to remind him of the good times. He liked the attention I got when we were out and people mistook me for Uma.’
Willis frowned. ‘I thought you said he was jealous. The parallel you used was a guard dog who snapped at anyone who came too close.’
She stared at him with growing irritation. ‘But it gave him a hell of a buzz at the same time. He loved the idea that other men envied him.’
‘I’m sure he did,’ he said easily. ‘It’s a common duality of emotion. Did you feel the same way? He was a good-looking man before his injury.’
‘Are you asking do I get jealous? Then, no, I’ve never needed to be,’ she said dismissively. ‘Men are more afraid of losing me than I am of losing them, Dr Willis. That may sound boastful, but it’s true.’
‘No
t in the least. You’ve obviously had far more relationships than Charles.’
‘So?’
‘They don’t seem to last very long. Is it always you who ends them?’
‘It’s hardly going to be the man, is it?’
Willis smiled. ‘I don’t know, Ms Morley,’ he said honestly. ‘I’m having trouble understanding why Charles is so unwilling to mend fences if it was you who broke the engagement. In my experience, it’s the partner who doesn’t want the affair to end who tries to resurrect it . . . and the one who makes the decision to split who moves on.’
‘Charlie hasn’t moved on. He’d be taking visits and phone calls if he had.’
This time Willis’s nod was a genuine recognition that she was right. Whatever bonds had held these two together were still strong. Nevertheless . . . ‘He won’t talk about you . . . won’t read your letters . . . indeed, shows every determination to draw a line under the relationship. Why would he do that unless he’s made up his mind to confine you to history?’
He’d finally goaded her into showing her anger openly. ‘Because he’s ashamed,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘And if you want to know why . . . which you probably don’t, since you’re on his side . . . it’s because he raped me. And it wasn’t just any old rape. He pushed me against a wall and buggered me. I bet that little fact hasn’t come out in your cosy conversations with him.’
‘No,’ Willis agreed matter-of-factly, ‘but I guessed something of the sort from your email. You said he was violent towards you.’ He might have added that Charles’s demeanour, whenever the subject of Jen came up, also suggested shame.
‘He behaved like a brute,’ she said with a pronounced shudder. ‘I’ve never been so frightened.’
‘I’m not surprised. Rape is a terrifying ordeal under any circumstance.’ Willis let a beat of silence pass. ‘Shouldn’t you have thought more seriously about coming to see him alone today?’
She delayed answering by blowing her nose. Too forcefully. When she took the tissue away there was a smear of blood on her upper lip. ‘He hasn’t tried to strangle me before . . . or looked as if he was getting a thrill out of hurting me.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘And before you ask whether he got a thrill out of the rape,’ she went on belligerently, ‘the answer is I don’t know because I couldn’t see his face. When he’d finished, he pushed me to the ground and left.’
‘And that was the last time you saw him before today?’
‘Yes.’ She rushed to pre-empt him again. ‘And the reason I wasn’t afraid about coming alone was because this is a hospital, Dr Willis.’ She gave an angry laugh. ‘I thought it would be a safe place to talk to him. I expected him to be on a ward . . . or at least that there’d be a few doctors and nurses around.’
‘Mm.’ Willis set to with his spectacles again, breathing on the lenses and using his handkerchief to wipe them clean. ‘Which makes it more surprising that you chose to play up to his Uma Thurman fantasy . . . and didn’t leave when he asked you to.’
The glasses routine was getting on her nerves. ‘I could have had him booted out of his regiment if I’d reported him . . . still could, probably. The army doesn’t condone rape any more than the rest of society does. How do you think the police will react if I say he had another go at me today?’
‘At a guess, question your motives in coming here . . . ask why you didn’t report the rape at the time . . . or why you began by telling hospital security that you didn’t want the authorities involved this time.’ He shook his head at her expression. ‘You’re on a slippery slope to real delusion if you think you can act the victim in this, Jen. The police will work out, as quickly as I’ve done, that it’s you who’s been using sex to manipulate this relationship, and that’s a poor basis for a rape allegation . . . particularly when there’s only your word that it happened.’
Her eyes hardened. ‘You’d better hope I don’t report you to whatever association you belong to. I bet there’s nothing in the psychiatric code that says it’s OK to condone violence against women just because the rapist’s your patient.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Willis agreed lightly, ‘but it’s a big leap from my pointing out the flaws in your story to you accusing me of condoning violence against women. I’d find your allegation more believable if you’d said you’d made a crude attempt to seduce Charles. He’s a fastidious man – I suspect he’d regard any such attempt as exploitative and demeaning – and I can imagine him turning on you in those circumstances. Rather as he did today, in fact.’
‘You weren’t there. You don’t know anything about it.’
Willis replaced his spectacles. ‘Except you obviously came dressed like that for a purpose – to trigger some pleasurable memories, perhaps – and it appears to have provoked the opposite response. Charles has only negative associations with your Uma Thurman look. Do you want to tell me why?’
‘No.’ She stood up abruptly, clasping her bag to her chest. ‘It’s late. I have to go.’
‘Then I’ll take you to the taxi rank in the visitors’ car park. There’s a short cut through the staff entrance.’
‘I don’t need an escort,’ she said. ‘I want the Ladies. I’ll leave by the main entrance.’
Willis shook his head as he rose to his feet. ‘I can’t let you go alone, I’m afraid. If you insist on a lavatory stop, I’ll have to call a female security officer to accompany you.’
Jen looked murderous. ‘Why?’
The psychiatrist gave an apologetic shrug. ‘Hospital policy. We don’t allow drug abuse on the premises. What you do outside is a matter between you and your conscience . . . but I’d show some restraint if I were you.’
She took a swipe at him with her bag and staggered slightly when she missed by a mile.
He eyed her with amusement. ‘I’m just the messenger, Ms Morley. Don’t shoot me because you don’t like what I say.’
‘Fuck you!’ she said out of the mouth of an otherworldly angel.
Third murder victim ‘beaten to death’
FOLLOWING THE DEATH of Kevin at the Ministry of Defence, was con-Atkins, a 58-yr-old builder from scripted into the Royal Army Pay south London, police have a con-Corps as part of his National Serfirmed a possible link with the mur-vice. Kevin Atkins served 15 years ders of Harry Peel, 57, and Martin in the army, most notably as a cor-Britton, 71. Mr Atkins sustained poral in 2 Para during the 1982 Falkfatal head injuries in what police lands War. He was decommissioned have described as a ‘frenzied in 1983. attack’. His cleaner discovered his Det Supt Brian Jones denied body on Wednesday morning but rumours that Harry Peel and Kevin post-mortem tests showed he’d been Atkins had been forced out of the dead for at least four days. army because of homosexual activ-
Det Supt Brian Jones, who has ity. He also refused to comment on been leading the inquiries into the whether a male prostitute is being murders of Harry Peel and Martin sought in connection with the mur-Britton, said there were similarities ders. ‘We are keeping an open mind.’ between the cases. ‘All three men He urged anyone with information to lived alone and were found in their come forward. ‘Whoever is doing beds,’ he said. ‘The attacks were this is extremely dangerous.’ violent but there were no signs of Police have welcomed the help forced entry and we believe the vic-of the gay community in drawing tims knew their assailant.’ attention to the danger of casual sex
He refused to comment on the with strangers. ‘Most of us think of men’s army records. Harry Peel our homes as safe,’ said a spokes-spent five years in an infantry regi-man, ‘but they’re not. They’re the ment from the age of 18. Martin place where we let down our guard Britton, a high-ranking civil servant and make ourselves vulnerable.’
Southwark Echo, Thursday, 12 April 2007
DR ROBERT WILLIS
MD, PSYCH
Extracts from notes on Lt Charles Aclan d April 2007
. . . Contradictory reports about Charles’s time in London. Susan Campbell says he disappeared on Saturday evening a
fter one of her other guests, a young woman, tried to be friendly with him. Thereafter, he avoided the girl and withdrew into his shell. Susan’s conclusion is that he becomes anxious when people get too close. Touching and invasion of personal space appear to be real issues for him.
. . . Charles made no mention of the young woman but describes the stay as ‘difficult’ because of Susan’s attempts at friendship. Her kindness [he calls it ‘mothering’ and ‘bossy interference’] was ‘overpowering’ and he kept out of her way as much as possible. They both agree he went running every night, sometimes for hours on end.
...I asked Charles what he plans to do if the army rejects his request to return to active service. He said it won’t happen and has made no plans for an alternative. He has blocked all discussion on the subject since I suggested that a return to his parents’ farm might be his only choice if things don’t work out as he hopes.
. . . Susan believes his worries about his future are as debilitating to his confidence as his disfigurement is. Perhaps more so. She suggests Charles has defined himself for so long as a soldier – through a declared ambition at school and then in reality through his regiment – that he’s unable to define himself in any other way. Susan’s view – a pessimistic one – is that Charles will impose even more isolation on himself if the army rejects him.
. . . She feels he’s struggling with profound issues that aren’t easily explained by his injuries or concerns about his career. [Query: Sexual orientation? Susan’s query also.]
. . . Every attempt to talk about Jen angers him. He says he wants to forget her completely and can’t do that if I keep reminding him of her existence. When I mentioned the rape allegation, he said, ‘There’s a cast of thousands for the part of Jen’s rapist. She doesn’t exist if men don’t lust after her...’
METROPOLITAN
POLICE
Chameleon's Shadow Page 7
