Her Own Rules (20 page)

“I have to be on the spot,” he continued. “There is an unanticipated condition in the foundation that is going to require major redesign. I can’t just delegate this particular part of the job. We have run into sub-surface ledgerock that requires redesigning the foundation in the first of the buildings. It is vital that I am here. I’m meeting with the contractor and structural engineer tomorrow. We’ll complete the design on Saturday and bring in the crew next week.” There was a fractional pause before he laughed quietly and said,

“I don’t suppose you could come to Lyons, could you?”

206 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

“I’d love to, but I can’t. I told you, I have the closing on the inn tomorrow. And I have to be in New York on Tuesday for a meeting with the bank. Henry Raphaelson is going to the Far East the following day, so I can’t change that appointment. Next week is a bit tough for me, Luc. I’m due in Paris soon, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I hadn’t,
ma chérie
, I was just hoping to see you before.”

Meredith glanced at the calendar on her desk. “I was planning on being there at the end of April, and I will be staying the whole month of May, you know.”

“Well, that is wonderful! I am happy. But I shall miss you, Meri.”

“And I will miss you too,” she said. They went on talking for another ten minutes. For a moment Meredith almost confided in him, almost told him about her visit to the doctor, then changed her mind.

She did not want to worry him. He had enough problems with the shopping center in Lyons.

“There’s absolutely nothing physically wrong with you, Meredith,” Jennifer Pollard said, leaning back in her chair, smiling at her. “I’m happy to tell you the blood and urine tests are normal.”

Meredith smiled back, filling with relief and then she frowned and asked, “But this morning when you called the office you told Amy you wanted to see me, talk to me.”

Her Own Rules / 207

The doctor nodded. “I do.” Jennifer cleared her throat and went on. “There’s still something wrong.

Those attacks. Now, in my experience, people who suffer from the kind of exhaustion you described to me earlier this week usually do so all the time. In other words, it’s chronic. And permanent. It doesn’t come and go the way you have described
your
attacks.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that your attacks could easily become in-creasingly frequent, until, in the end, you, too, have the exhaustion on a permanent basis rather than only occasionally.”

Meredith was silent; she sat staring at the doctor.

“Let me explain something to you, Meredith,” Jennifer said. “Very often this kind of exhaustion is due to psychological causes.”

“Do you think that’s the case with me?”

“Possibly. You could be suffering from
psychogenic
fatigue
.”

“What does that mean?”

“That the cause of your tiredness is an emotional problem. Or, alternatively, you could be depressed without knowing it.”

“I’m definitely not depressed!” Meredith answered with a dry laugh. “When I was here on Tuesday, I told you my life was on an even keel and rather wonderful these days. I’m in love with a fabulous man, he with me.”

“I believe you, and I’m happy for you. However, let’s not dismiss the idea of psychogenic fatigue due 208 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

to an emotional problem, or an upset mental state.

What’s causing it, the thing that’s bothering you, doesn’t necessarily have to be of this moment. It could go back in time.”

“How do you treat something like that?” Meredith asked nervously, eyeing her doctor warily.

“We have to determine the nature of the actual problem, get to the root of it, then treat it.”

“
Psychiatry
. Is that what you’re getting at, Jennifer?”

“Yes, it is. If you are suffering from psychogenic fatigue, I recommend that you see someone immediately.

The illness, and it
is
an illness, is not going to go away on its own. Furthermore, it could become chronic.”

“Who…who would you recommend?” Meredith asked quietly.

“Dr. Hilary Benson. She’s very sympathetic, you’ll like her. And she’s a brilliant psychiatrist. Her office is just around the corner from me on Park and Sixty-ninth.”

Meredith leaned back in the chair, looking worried.

“There’s nobody saner than you, Meredith,” Jennifer said swiftly, responding to the look in Meredith’s eyes.

“I can testify to that. Listen to me, you might not have psychogenic fatigue at all. It could be stress…I said that to you earlier in the week.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then you will go and see Hilary Benson?”

Meredith nodded.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

M
eredith was nothing if not decisive. Once she had agreed to see the psychiatrist, she told Amy to make an appointment for the following week.

After that she endeavored to put the matter out of her mind; she had always had the ability to pigeonhole problems until it was the appropriate time to deal with them. And so she managed to get through the next few days without dwelling too much on her health or mental state. Fortunately, there were no more attacks.

On Tuesday afternoon, when she walked into Dr.

Hilary Benson’s private office, her first impression was of a good-looking but stern woman. The doctor had a rather lovely face with high cheekbones, and the palest of blue eyes that appeared almost transparent.

But her mouth had a severe set to it and her 210 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

dark brown hair was pulled back in a plain chignon that was singularly schoolmarmish.

There was a no-nonsense, businesslike air about her, and for a split second Meredith was put off, thinking that she might be a cold fish. Then she recalled her physician’s words. Jennifer had told her that Hilary Benson was a sympathetic person as well as a brilliant psychiatrist.

I must give her a chance, give this a chance, Meredith decided. She needed to understand what was wrong, why she was having these attacks on a regular basis.

According to Jennifer, only a psychiatrist could help her get to the root of the problem.

After greeting Meredith pleasantly and shaking hands, Dr. Benson said, “Come and sit down, Mrs.

Stratton.”

“Thank you,” Meredith answered, and followed the doctor over to the desk, where they sat facing each other.

Meredith, studying the doctor, decided that she was probably the same age as Jennifer and herself; in her early forties.

The psychiatrist said, “Dr. Pollard and I have spoken at length. She has filled me in, given me your medical history in general. Apparently you’re a very healthy woman.”

“Yes, I am, thank goodness,” Meredith replied, smiling faintly.

Dr. Benson nodded and sat back in her chair, taking stock of Meredith for a moment. Beautiful woman.

Puts up a good front, she thought. But Her Own Rules / 211

there’s pain in her, hurt. I can see it in her eyes. Getting straight to the point, she said, “Jennifer believes you could be suffering from psychogenic fatigue.”

“So she told me.”

“Let’s talk about that fatigue, the attacks you’ve been having. When did the first one occur, Mrs. Stratton?”

“Early in January. I was in Paris on business. I’d been traveling part of the day, and that night, after I’d checked into my hotel, I felt quite ill. Exhausted, a bit queasy…nauseated.”

“Where had you traveled from?”

“England. Not a long trip by any means, and traveling doesn’t affect me usually. I have a lot of stamina and tremendous energy, Dr. Benson.”

“So feeling ill was unusual for you. I understand.”

There was a moment’s pause, then Hilary went on.

“Had anything happened to upset you that day?” She put her elbows on the desk, steepled her fingers, and looked over them at Meredith.

“No, it hadn’t. To tell you the truth, I thought I was probably coming down with the flu. That morning I’d been outside for a long time in the cold, in the snow.

I’d been wandering around a ruined abbey. I thought that—” Meredith stopped short, abruptly cutting herself off.

“You thought what, Mrs. Stratton?” Dr. Benson asked, giving Meredith a quiet, encouraging smile.

“I was going to say that I thought I’d caught a chill when I was lingering at the abbey. But come to 212 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

think of it, something odd
did
occur that morning, something quite strange really.”

“And what was that?”

“I had a peculiar sense that I’d been there before. It was a feeling of déjà vu.”

“But you had
not
been there before. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Can you recall how you actually felt?”

Meredith nodded.

“Will you tell me about it, Mrs. Stratton?”

“Yes. But let me explain something, Dr. Benson. I saw the abbey for the first time the day before…I was looking at it from the window of an inn, viewing it across snow-covered fields. It was beautiful. And I realized I was curiously drawn to it. The next morning I had a little time to spare, I was waiting for my English partner to get up, come down to breakfast. Well, anyway, not to digress…I had a little free time, so I went to look at the abbey closeup. As I approached the ruins I felt that I was literally being pulled toward them, and that even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t have turned back.

A short while later, when I finally walked into the actual ruins, I had the queerest feeling that I’d been there before. It was strong, rather overwhelming.”

“And you
are
positive you didn’t know this place?”

“Oh yes. I had never been to Fountains Abbey before; I was visiting Yorkshire for the first time in my life.”

Her Own Rules / 213

“I see. Did you experience anything else? Did you have any other emotions that morning?”

“Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. I felt a great sense of loss. And sadness…” Meredith paused. There was a reflective look on her face when she added quietly, “I experienced a feeling of true sorrow.”

“Have you any idea why?”

“Not really, although I do recall that I had a sudden flash of clarity at that moment. I was sure that I had lost someone there, someone very dear to me. Or, rather, that someone had been
taken
from me. It seemed to me that I
knew
those ruins, and I sensed a tragic thing had happened there. Yet it didn’t feel like a bad place. Quite the opposite. I had a sense of belonging, and I was at ease.”

“Do you know England well, Mrs. Stratton?”

“Not really, although I’ve been going there for more than twenty years. However, as I just said, I had never been to Yorkshire.” Meredith leaned forward, gave the psychiatrist a piercing look. “How do you explain what happened to me that morning?”

“I don’t think I can. At least, not at this moment.”

“Do you think my experience at Fountains Abbey triggered the first attack?”

“I don’t know.” Hilary Benson shook her head. “The human mind is a strange and complex piece of ma-chinery. It takes a lot of understanding. Let’s leave your experience at the abbey alone for the moment and go in another direction. I understand from Dr. Pollard that you’re an Australian. Please tell me a little about yourself, about your background.”

214 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

“I’m from Sydney. I grew up there. My parents were killed. In a car crash. When I was ten years old. Relatives brought me up.” Meredith sat back in the chair, crossed her legs, and gave the psychiatrist a cool, very direct look.

Hilary Benson returned this glance and thought: Her expression is candid but she’s lying. I know it. What she’s just said has been well learned. She’s repeating it by rote to me, just as she’s done so before, to countless others.

After a short pause Hilary said, “How sad for you to be orphaned so very young. Who was it that brought you up?”

“Relatives. I just told you.”

“But
who
exactly?”

“An aunt.”

“I see. Did you have any siblings?”

“No, I didn’t. There was just me. I was always on my own.”

“Is that actually how you felt, that you were on your own, even though you had an aunt?”

“Oh yes, I always felt that way.”

“Tell me how you came to this country, Mrs. Stratton.”

“I’ll be happy to,” Meredith replied, and then added,

“I’d like you to call me Meredith, Dr. Benson.”

The doctor nodded. “Of course. Please give me a little background about your arrival in America.”

“I came with an American family who’d been living in Sydney. The Paulsons. I’d been working as an Her Own Rules / 215

au pair for them since I was fifteen. Mr. Paulson was transferred back to the States two years later, when I was seventeen, and they asked me to go with them.

So I did.”

“And your aunt didn’t object?”

“Oh no. She didn’t care. She had four daughters of her own. She wasn’t interested in me.”

“And so she gave her permission for you to travel to America with the Paulson family? Am I understanding this correctly?”

Meredith nodded. “She helped me get my passport.”

Meredith made a small grimace. “She was glad to be rid of me.”

Hilary Benson frowned. “You were not very close, then?”

“Not at all.”

“And what about your parents? Were you close to them?”

“Not really.”

“But you were an only child. Only children are usually very close to their parents.”

“
I
wasn’t, Dr. Benson.”

The psychiatrist was silent. She looked down at the pad in front of her, made a few notations on it. She was more convinced than ever that Meredith was lying about her background. It seemed to her that everything was too well rehearsed, and Meredith spoke in mono-syllables, as if she were afraid to elaborate in case she made a mistake. Or revealed something she was trying to hide.

Hilary put down her pen and looked up, smiling 216 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

at Meredith. “You came to New York with the Paulson family. Did you ever go back to Australia?”

“No, I didn’t. I stayed here. In Connecticut. That’s where we lived, near New Preston. Up above Lake Waramaug. I was with the Paulsons for another year and then Mr. Paulson was transferred to South Africa.