by Hugh Canham
‘Oh what a lot of rubbish! I’m just pissed off because I had a bad weekend!’
Dr Greenbaum remained silent for the rest of the session.
While I was having my lunch (and I had two glasses of wine with it) I did think maybe I’d hurt his feelings. But then, I decided, he deserved it.
When I telephoned Cristabel that evening I told her I was going to stop seeing Dr Greenbaum because it was all taking too long. I felt I wasn’t getting anywhere. I said that I had heard about something called cognitive behavioural therapy that people said was very good and gave quick results. She was very frosty indeed. She reminded me that the psychiatrist had suggested that I went to Dr Greenbaum as he was a very well-known analyst – I was lucky to have got a vacancy with him. There was no quick fix for my problem. She knew I felt too ill to work and perhaps, she thought, it was the guilt I was eventually feeling for ‘the life I had led’. This last phrase was uttered with great emphasis! And if I packed up going to analysis, which had helped her greatly in the past, she wouldn’t speak to me again…
After I had digested this tirade I thought firstly, that possibly I felt more ill than ever and secondly, that I couldn’t do without Cristabel. So I went back meekly to see Dr. Greenbaum the next day.
‘Look, Dr Greenbaum, I’m sorry I was angry yesterday but we don’t seem to be making any progress in curing my illness. You keep telling me about good and bad breasts and projections, but I feel just as ill as when I first came to see you. Why don’t we discuss why I fainted?’
‘You can tell me vot you think if you vish.’
‘I don’t know!’ I almost shouted. ‘That’s what I want you to tell me.’
‘I can only follow your associations and interpret them for you. I am not a magician! By the way, do you never have any dreams?’
‘Lots. But I can never remember them.’
‘If you try to remember them, maybe it would help!’
And so there was silence between us. What on earth was he doing while I lay there silently? Did he have a small book in his lap which he secretly read? When the session was over I turned round quickly and looked at him, but there was no book. He sat there with his hands on the arms of his chair and then merely inclined his head by way of goodbye.
But one day I tried asking Dr Greenbaum a question and much to my surprise, he gave me an answer.
‘Dr Greenbaum, why do you think it is that I’ve repeated this pattern of being obsessed by a woman and then growing tired of her?’
‘I zink you idealise them, particularly their physical attributes, zen when you discover they are just human beings like the rest of us, you are disappointed. You idealise your friend Cristabel at the moment and zis is perpetuated because she does not let you touch her and zo she remains the ideal object you zee.’
I thought about this for a few minutes.
‘That could easily be true, Dr Greenbaum. Thank you very much.’
And I thought a great deal about it afterwards. At last, we seemed to be making some progress.
And then after about four months of seeing Dr Greenbaum Monday to Friday, one morning in the middle of July he announced he would give me his holiday dates. I was amazed. It hadn’t occurred to me that psychoanalysts took holidays when they were in the middle of treating a patient.
‘I vill be away for approximately four weeks from ze fourth August to ze end of ze month. Would you like to make a note of zat please?’
‘But what am I to do while you are away?’
‘Ah, you vill be missing me at last!’
‘Well not so much missing you as needing you! But look, when doctors or lawyers go on holiday they have an assistant or someone to take their place. Are you just going to leave me?’
‘Zat is vot happens. It is often very good for ze patient!’
Bloody hell! I phoned Cristabel.
‘Dr Greenbaum is going on holiday. Did your analyst chap do that?’
‘Well it was a lady actually, but yes, they do take holidays.’
‘But what am I to do? He’ll be away from the fourth of August till the end of the month! I mean, what shall I do all day?’
There was a short silence.
‘Mummy and I are going to the South of France on the tenth of August for three weeks. Perhaps you’d like to come with us?’
5
I see myself sitting opposite Cristabel’s mother in the hotel in Aix-en-Provence. It’s the first evening of the holiday and so far she has scarcely uttered a word. She’s still clad in a black tent-like dress and dark glasses which she had on when we all met at Heathrow. The three of us are finishing dinner. Cristabel has chattered ceaselessly to make up for her mother’s silence. But now her mother has just taken off her dark glasses for the first time and I notice she has a very beautiful thin face and the same eyes as Cristabel and Auntie, but there are dark rings under them; she’s obviously been crying. She blinks and smiles at me.
‘Yes, I know, I look terrible. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry that I’ve hardly said a word since we met. Has Cristabel told you that my husband has just left me?’
‘Er… well, she did mention it…’ I said.
‘Yes, he’s gone off with a girl aged twenty. New model, you see. I’m getting past it!’
‘Don’t be so silly, Mummy,’ said Cristabel.
‘I’ll talk more in the morning. Call me Jessica, by the way. But now I think I’d like to go to bed. I mustn’t have any coffee otherwise I shan’t sleep… will you excuse me please, Gregory?’
Cristabel said she wanted to smoke so we went into the garden.
‘I feel a bit guilty about bringing you here with Mummy like this. I’ve given her a pep talk and told her she must try and cheer up. After all, my father went off once before but came back after about four weeks!’
‘How long ago did he leave?’ I asked.
‘Last week. But it’s been a bit “iffy” for some time. I suppose that was why he said he didn’t want to come on this holiday. Although Mummy and he often do things separately.’
‘Are your father and mother both Catholics?’
‘Yes, but Daddy doesn’t take it very seriously!’
‘I don’t understand,’ I said, ‘your mother is obviously very beautiful, what little I’ve seen of her in that tent-like black dress.’
‘Oh yes, she is. She’s only just fifty. She had me when she was twenty. We’re often taken for sisters.’
Cristabel shook her head sadly. She stood there silhouetted against the illuminated water of the swimming pool. She looked absolutely lovely.
‘Well, don’t feel too sad about your mother,’ I said, leaning forward to kiss her.
‘No!’ she said, putting her hand firmly on my chest. ‘You know what I’ve said before, we’re just friends.’
‘But I was only trying to comfort you…’
‘You’ve come here for rest and quiet, and you mustn’t get over-excited.’ She was looking very stern. ‘By the way, I’m worried about Mummy drinking too much and I noticed you had three glasses of wine at dinner.’
‘Ah yes, well actually I’ve stopped taking those awful antidepressant tablets and so I can drink a bit again.’
She drew in her breath and then ferociously blew out some cigarette smoke, incidentally showing off her magnificent bosom.
‘Are you really sure that’s wise?’ she said. ‘Stopping the medication? Oh dear, oh dear!… Anyhow, I’ll see you in the morning. I’d better go and see if Mummy’s all right.’
Well, I thought, I suppose this is going to be a bit better than being on my own in stuffy Central London in the heat of August.
Jessica didn’t appear at breakfast the following morning. Cristabel did join me and announced she wanted to walk into the town before it became too hot, but I needn’t come if I didn’t want to.
It was a beautiful hotel with a lovely garden and pool and it had all that I wanted at that moment. Even so, I would have liked to have gone with Cristabel but I knew she alw
ays walked very quickly. I was frightened that I might feel faint in the heat. Fainting was something that I was still very afraid of.
‘Thanks, maybe tomorrow or the next day,’ I said. ‘It feels a bit strange at the moment – you know, after my routine of living on my own, just seeing Dr G and going to the club to have dinner every day.’
So I took a copy of Le Figaro and went and sat on a lounger by the pool. A waiter came and gave me a towel to lie on even though I was dressed in shirt and trousers. Having the towel made me think I might take a swim later, but for the moment I tried to read Le Figaro. But I always find it very tiring reading French and after a while I just lay back and enjoyed the sun. It was a Monday and probably for that reason, there was nobody else around. I must have dozed off because I was woken by a splash and a lady in one of those petalled bathing caps was swimming in the pool. She swam quietly up and down several times and then slowly emerged up the pool steps nearest to where I lay. Goodness, she had a wonderful figure. It was just like Venus rising from the sea. And then she peeled off her bathing cap and shook her hair out – and I realised it was Jessica!
‘Good God, and her husband’s left her!’ I thought, and then I waved.
‘Oh, hello,’ she said casually. ‘I didn’t realise it was you.’
She went and fetched her towel and started very decorously to dry herself, perched on the lounger beside me.
‘May I come and sit over here with you?’
‘Of course, I’d be delighted!’
She went and fetched her things from the other side of the pool. I hadn’t noticed her smoking before, but now she groped in her handbag and lit a cigarette. It obviously ran in the family.
‘I’m so sorry to be so antisocial.’
‘Well, it’s understandable.’
‘But, you’ve been ill – very ill. Cristabel explained it all when she said she’d invited you and I was looking forward to meeting you. I said I’d try to cheer you up. And look what a wet blanket I’ve been so far!’
‘Cristabel seems to think her father will come back.’
‘I’m not sure that I want him back. I feel rejected, you see. If he wants this girl he’d better have her. She’s one of his students, of course!’
‘Oh, I see, he teaches.’
‘Ah yes. University. English. I think these young girls nowadays just think it’s a game trying to get their tutor to sleep with them.’
She chattered on about nothing in particular and in due course lit another cigarette from the stub of the first, ground the stub furiously on the pavement to extinguish it, and then threw it into the bushes nearby. Her face was a picture of ill-suppressed rage.
‘I suppose it’s too early for a drink?’ she said.
‘Well, it’s only eleven, but I’ll call the waiter if you like.’
‘No, better wait until after twelve for alcohol. But shall we go on the terrace and have a coffee?’
‘Of course!’
‘But first I must change out of this wet swimsuit.’
I ordered two large espressos, as agreed, and waited on the terrace. Jessica soon reappeared clad in a low-cut white blouse and tight blue jeans. I wondered vaguely if this was for my benefit.
‘Well, let’s forget my troubles,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing I can do except put up with it. Tell me, what happened to you? Cristabel was rather vague. She said she knew you because you’d bought two of her paintings for your office.’
‘Yes, I think they’re very good, and a lot of people have admired them. But I don’t really understand them. Cristabel has been very, very kind to me. It started with me ringing her bell very late one night. It was freezing cold – snowing – and I was just in my shirt and trousers with no money, no keys, no credit cards, no phone… ’
Jessica raised her eyebrows and said, ‘I wonder she let you in. She’s awfully puritanical. But you must know that by now.’
‘Yes. Well, I’ve spent practically every weekend with her since I came out of your sister’s nursing home. Cristabel told you, no doubt, about my fainting in church with her and then going into the nursing home?’
‘Yes, she told me that, but I didn’t realise that you’d stayed with her every weekend.’
‘You mustn’t get the wrong idea. I think Cristabel’s stunning, but she never once let me touch her.’
Jessica actually threw back her head and laughed. ‘How typical of her, and how very frustrating for you!!’
‘Yes, very. In fact, it’s nearly driven me mad.’
She put her hand over mine. ‘I think you need a drink now. Come on, shall we have a pastis?’
We had one, then another.
‘Do you know why you fainted in the church?’ she asked.
‘No idea, really. Perhaps I’m frightened of churches or maybe God – except I don’t believe in Him.’
‘Sometimes I wonder if I do. Particularly at the moment! But come on, I’ve got to try and cheer you up. You may not believe this, having seen me in my black tent of yesterday, but I’m a dress designer. Not haute couture, more high street.’
I found Jessica very easy to talk to and eventually asked her if Cristabel had always been so aloof.
‘No. She’s an only child. Until she was about seventeen or eighteen she was quite what you might say “normal”, then she suddenly became fiercely religious. I suppose that’s the right way of putting it. She said she wanted to go to art college and not university and has been what I can only describe as “self-contained” ever since. And she has been quite successful as an artist. Her father and I thought we should have to support her but she manages on her own!’
Then Jessica told me some very funny stories about the fashion world and we were laughing a great deal when Cristabel arrived back.
‘Goodness, it’s hot in the town,’ she said rather grumpily, and sat down looking disapprovingly at our almost empty glasses of pastis. ‘Well, you two seem to be getting on well together!’
‘Yes, darling, Gregory has been telling me how very kind you’ve been to him. Shall we order some lunch?’
‘No, I don’t think I want anything. I feel so hot. I had a coffee and one of those almond croissant things in the town. I think I’ll have a cold shower and lie down.’
When she’d gone, ‘Mmm, a bit huffy don’t you think?’ said Jessica, smiling conspiratorially. ‘Shall you and me have something to eat on our own then?’
Did she actually flutter her eyelashes at me, or was it my imagination? The lunch was the sort of thing only the French can manage, light and delicious, rounded off with strawberries and cream. And for the first time in months I was feeling relaxed when one of the waiters came up to me and said, ‘Monsieur Bannister, telephone.’
‘Damn! Who the hell can it be?’ I muttered to Jessica. ‘Nobody knows I’m here.’
‘Hello,’ I growled angrily into the instrument. ‘Gregory Bannister. Who is it?’
‘Greg!’ said a familiar voice. ‘I asked for Cristabel. What are you doing in France? It’s George.’
‘Why did the waiter bring the phone to me, then?’
‘Well, it’s these Frogs, isn’t it? Don’t understand plain English. I said I wanted to speak to Miss Ashton and they said they thought she was in her room and didn’t want to be disturbed, but what was it about before they tried her. And I said it was about Gregory Bannister, so they gave you the phone. I phoned the hotel because, as you must know, Cristabel doesn’t ever switch on her mobile. It’s for emergencies only. Well, anyhow, you must be feeling better!’
‘I am, a bit. Thanks. Yes, I’m with Cristabel and her mother. They invited me to come here with them. But what did you want to say to Cristabel about me?’
‘Well, if you’re feeling better, I suppose I can tell you as you’ll have to know sooner or later anyhow. Look, brace yourself. The bank’s calling in that extra loan you took out for the stock. I think it’s for half a million, isn’t it? They say it was only for six months and you should be reducing it and the in
terest is mounting, etc. etc. etc. You said you’d be disposing of some of Toy Boy’s assets almost immediately. But as far as they know, nothing’s been sold.’
I felt my jaw muscles tightening. ‘But I’ve been ill!’ I almost shouted.
‘Yes, look, I know all about it. Your doctor spoke to me and the bank. Your friend Cristabel has been most attentive and helpful. She has your power of attorney. But there’s been two increases in interest rates since the spring. And well, you know what mean sods these banks can be!’
‘I’ll fly back at once,’ I said. ‘Make an appointment for me to see the bank manager for the day after tomorrow – that’s Wednesday – please.’
‘You’re sure you’ll be okay?’
‘Yes, yes.’
‘You will gather that most unfortunately I have to leave you…’ I said to Jessica.
‘What a shame,’ she said, putting her hand over mine again, ‘just as we were getting on so well! Are you sure you’re going to be all right?’
‘I shall have to be. Only I can sort out this problem. My bank has called in a half million pound loan.’
‘But can’t Cristabel deal with it somehow?’
I was in the middle of packing when Cristabel knocked and came into my room.
‘Gregory, you simply cannot go back to London on your own and try and sort this loan thing out.’
I knew this would be coming and said nothing; merely went on packing.
‘Gregory, are you listening! Stop packing at once!’
‘Nobody but me can sort this out.’
‘Leave it to me and the solicitors.’
‘No, I must do it myself.’
‘Gregory, please don’t be so silly.’
She grasped my wrists to stop me putting anything else in the suitcase. But I’d made up my mind.
‘I’m going,’ I said, rather roughly disengaging myself.
She looked at me furiously.
‘Well, I wash my hands of you if you’re going to be so stupid after all I’ve done to help you.’
I think I said something silly in reply like, ‘Okay Miss Pontia Pilate,’ but I’ve tried to erase it from my memory.
