The Chameleon's Shadow (6 page)

‘Not particularly.’

The psychiatrist clasped his fists and levelled his forefingers at Acland’s heart. ‘It wasn’t an invitation, Charles, it was an instruction . . . and don’t test me because I’m not in the mood. You’ve gone out of your way to make enemies here. You’re aggressive and rude and the consensus view is that you have a problem with women. Do you think an attempt to throttle your ex-fiance´e is going to do anything to mitigate that opinion?’

‘I don’t care.’

‘Well, you should. Friendless people get pushed to the margins . . . and that’s a lonely place to be. Did Jen give any other reason for coming, apart from saying it was my suggestion?’

‘No.’

‘Did she offer an explanation for why I might have invited her?’

‘To talk through unresolved issues about the relationship.’

‘That’s not the kind of language I use,’ said Willis mildly. ‘I try to avoid the more obvious cliche´s.’ He paused. ‘But let’s say I had suggested such a conversation, do you think I’d have left the pair of you to go it alone? How would that help me understand anything?’

‘You could have drooled over Jen for half an hour while she gave you a blow-by-blow account.’

Interesting choice of language.
‘Why would I want to do that?’

‘No idea, Doc . . . but she’s dressed up like a dog’s dinner to impress someone.’

‘You, presumably. Part of her distress seems to be that she was hoping to mend fences and was upset when you said you weren’t interested.’

‘She knew that before she came. We were dead in the water long before I went to Iraq.’

Willis eyed him thoughtfully. ‘What went wrong?’

‘It didn’t work out.’

‘Why not?’

Acland stared at the floor as if the answer lay there. ‘It just didn’t. Has she said any different in her letters to me?’

‘No. They’re bland and anodyne, and only evoke memories of happy times.’

‘She likes war movies. Soldiers get wounded and nurses read to them. She’d never write anything to her detriment.’

Willis frowned. ‘You seem to know her better than she knows you. She doesn’t give the impression of a woman who believed the relationship was –’ he echoed Acland’s phrase – ‘dead in the water.’

Acland raised his head and there was a sardonic gleam in his eye. ‘You’re about to make a liar out of me, Doc.’

‘How?’

‘I told Jen you didn’t go by appearances.’ He paused. ‘You’ll be putty in her hands if you forget what her profession is. She can produce any emotion you like –’ he snapped his fingers – ‘just like that. None of it’s real.’

‘Her distress seems real. Why would you want to strangle her, Charles?’

Acland shrugged. ‘Ask
her
. She’ll be a lot less distressed by the time you get back . . . as long as she’s got her bag.’ He held the man’s gaze for a moment. ‘What’s she already told you?’

‘That she tried to touch your cheek and you went berserk. She said you crushed her hands.’ He left out the end of Jen’s sentence, where she’d claimed in hysterical tones that he’d enjoyed hurting her.

‘She didn’t know what was wrong with me till I turned to face her. That’s when she started on the screaming routine.’

‘So you decided to strangle her to shut her up?’ murmured Willis ironically.

Acland shifted his position against the wall. ‘I never came close to strangling her. I wanted to give her a fright . . . persuade her to back off and leave me alone. Do you think I couldn’t have snapped her neck if I’d wanted to?’

‘That’s hardly the issue, Charles. You shouldn’t have put your hands on her at all.’

The lieutenant cracked his finger joints one by one. ‘But it’s OK for her to put her hand on me? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Not if it was inappropriate.’

‘It was. I told her at least twice not to come any closer . . . even warned her I’d hurt her if she didn’t back off.’

‘Did you want to hurt her?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you enjoy it?’

The knuckle-cracking tic worked harder and faster. ‘No.’

Willis didn’t believe him. ‘Are you going to tell me why having Jen too close worries you?’

‘You don’t know her the way I do.’

‘Then tell me about her. Describe your relationship.’

‘There’s no point. She’s history. I’m not planning to see her again.’

‘Are you sure? You seem to have strong feelings for her still.’

Acland dropped his hands to his sides abruptly, as if he realized how much they were revealing about him. ‘Only anger,’ he said with apparent calm. ‘First, that she came at all . . . second, that she took no notice when I asked her to leave . . . and third, that she thought she could change my mind if she stayed long enough.’

‘Has she behaved like that before? Is that why you described her as manipulative?’

‘Yes.’

‘What were the other occasions?’ He sighed at the lieutenant’s expression. ‘I’m not trying to catch you out, Charles. I’m trying to work out if you’re safe to send to London. At the moment I’m deeply confused about the relationship you had with Jen. On the one hand, you describe her rather crudely as “a damn good fuck” . . . On the other, you react violently the minute she tries to touch you. Was your pride hurt when she ended the engagement? Is that what we’re dealing with here?’

Silence.

‘Why pretend indifference when you clearly don’t feel it?’

Acland leaned more heavily into the wall, as if his legs weren’t strong enough to support him. ‘It’s not a pretence. I
am
indifferent. If she’d left when I asked we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’

‘Why do you think she didn’t?’

‘She won’t accept “no”. It isn’t a word she hears very often. I’ll put money on you giving her permission to sit in your office so that you can go back and pat her hand. Everyone falls for the act.’

‘You’re right about the office, but not about the hand-patting,’ said Willis mildly. ‘Therapists tend to avoid physical contact for fear their actions will be misconstrued.’

‘You’d better be careful, then. She’ll probably sit in your lap if she thinks she can persuade you to repeat what I’ve said.’

‘Why would I do that?’

‘You’ve repeated what
she’s
been saying.’

‘But she isn’t my patient, Charles, and I have no duty of confidentiality towards her. She’s a virtual stranger who was brought to my office in tears, claiming she’d left her bag in your room and was too frightened to ask for it back. Without her train ticket and money for taxi fares she can’t get home. What did you expect me to do? Throw her out on her ear and tell her it was her fault for coming without an invitation?’

The sardonic gleam reappeared in Acland’s eye. ‘You really
do
need to be careful, Doc. If you’ve already bought into the fear and the vulnerability, the next thing you know you’ll be driving her home like a proper little gentleman.’

‘Is that what happened to you the first time you met?’

Acland nodded.

‘And you wouldn’t recommend it?’

‘It depends how willing you are to be exploited.’

* Willis cursed fluently under his breath as he returned to his office. He’d had to work hard to persuade Charles to accept a room with Susan Campbell between operations and he was extremely reluctant to see the arrangement fall apart. To date, the lieutenant’s two recuperation periods had been spent in a hotel in Birmingham, where he’d appeared to neglect himself. On both occasions, he’d returned to the hospital showing signs of early malnourishment, but any suggestion that he stay with his parents was met with a brick wall. As an old friend and psychiatric colleague who ran a bed and breakfast in London, Susan had offered an alternative, but whether she’d be willing to take Charles now was anyone’s guess. With

little difficulty, Willis transferred his irritation to Jen. Rather than tell a lie, Charles would avoid a question or say nothing, signalling his unwillingness through a variety of physical tics, but Willis had no such faith in Jen’s honesty.

She said you told her to come...

W
ILLIS FOUND THE HOSPITAL
’
S
head of security, Gareth Blades, waiting in the corridor outside his office. The man, a burly ex-policeman, took him by the arm and led him away from the door. ‘Ms Morley’s inside with your secretary. I thought I’d catch you before you went in. What’s been going on between these two, Bob?’

‘It seems to be a case of who you want to believe. Has Ms Morley changed her mind about reporting it to the police?’

‘No. She’s worried about making things worse for the lieutenant . . . Says she’ll retract what she’s already told us if we take it any further.’ He gave a sour smile. ‘I don’t think there’s any doubt he attacked her. She’s holding herself together at the moment, but she was shaking like a leaf at the beginning.’

‘Does she have any bruising?’

‘Not that I can see. I asked her to let a nurse check her neck for marks, but Ms Morley refused. She’s wearing a buttoned-up collar and there’s nothing visible above it. I’m betting there’s plenty underneath, though. She’s very slender . . . It wouldn’t take much to bruise her.’

‘What about her hands and wrists? The lieutenant said he caught them to stop her touching him.’

‘I didn’t notice anything, but she’s wearing long sleeves. Maybe you could take a look when you go back in.’

‘If she doesn’t want to report him, we can’t force her, Gareth.’

‘I know, but I’m not happy about it. There’s other people’s safety to consider.’

‘He’s going to London tomorrow for a couple of weeks. Does that solve your problem?’

‘Not if he’s coming back. The nurse who brought Ms Morley’s bag said Acland had a go at his mother shortly after he arrived here. Is that true?’

‘It was a different scenario. He was in a lot of pain and she wouldn’t stop fussing over him. He grabbed her hand to stop her stroking his hair.’

‘The same nurse said he’s been rude to most of the staff. He sounds like a ticking time bomb, this fellow. Did he explain why he assaulted Ms Morley?’

‘He asked her to leave several times and she wouldn’t go. She also ignored his warnings about standing too close. It became a physical confrontation when she tried to touch his face.’

‘Why didn’t he press his bell?’

Willis shrugged. ‘He wouldn’t have been able to reach it if Ms Morley was between him and the bed . . . not without revealing the injured side of his face.’ He fell silent for a moment. ‘He’s very conscious of his scars. As I understand it, she started screaming when she finally got a view of them. That may have caused him to react the way he did.’

‘He should have backed off.’

‘As should she,’ Willis pointed out mildly. ‘It takes two to tango, Gareth. She’s the one who came looking for
him
, don’t forget . . . not the other way round. The lieutenant’s done all he can to distance himself from her.’ He paused. ‘Has she said why she came?’

‘As a friend. They were engaged, apparently, and she wanted him to know she was still there for him even though the relationship hadn’t worked out.’ He gave another sour smile. ‘It looks as though she’s well out of it. The male nurse who rescued her said Lieutenant Acland had his hand round her throat and was bearing down like a man possessed. Do you know if he’s been violent towards her before?’

‘Have you asked her?’

‘Won’t say . . . but she’s obviously wary of him. Have you any objections if I talk to him myself? Is he mentally fit to be interviewed?’

Willis nodded. ‘You won’t get many answers. I suspect he’ll allow you to believe Ms Morley’s version of events. He seems to have no interest at all in correcting people’s bad opinion of him.’

‘Why not?’

‘I wish I knew,’ said Willis honestly. ‘At the moment I don’t know whether I’m dealing with post-traumatic guilt over the death of two troopers... or something far deeper.’

‘Like what?’

‘The prolonged destruction of a personality.’

* In the flesh, Jen Morley looked less like Uma Thurman than in her website photograph, but there was no denying the similarity. She had the same wide-set eyes in an oval face and the same look of childish innocence. She greeted Dr Willis with charm and composure, rising gracefully from her seat and placing her slender hand in his. ‘I’m so sorry to be a nuisance, Doctor, but everyone’s been incredibly kind –’ she flashed a smile at his secretary – ‘particularly Ruth.’ He glanced at her wrist as he released her hand, but it was covered by a cuff. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, gesturing for her to sit down again and moving round the desk to his own seat. ‘You’re certainly looking better.’ ‘A little shocked still,’ she confided, turning sideways on her chair and crossing her ankles neatly beneath her. ‘But what about Charlie? I’m more worried about him. Is he all right? I feel awful about what happened.’ Willis made a conscious effort to view her through neutral eyes, but his first impression was that she reminded him of Charles’s mother. Different hair colouring and a very different kind of beauty, but she had the same instinct to display herself to good advantage, in the elegant way she sat and in what she said. Mrs

Acland had invariably started with a question about Charles’s welfare, only to steer the conversation towards herself, and Willis wondered if Jen would do the same.

He nodded to his secretary, who was signalling a desire to leave. He watched her say goodbye to Jen, then pause in the doorway to send him a telephone sign with her thumb and little finger against the side of her face. ‘One thing before you go,’ he called after her. ‘I’m expecting a call from Henry Watson in the next few minutes. You can ask anyone else to call back later, but I need you to put Henry through. Do you mind telling him to keep it brief?’

‘No problem,’ said Ruth, closing the door behind her.

Willis took off his glasses and polished them vigorously on his handkerchief, peering short-sightedly across his desk. The intended effect was to diminish him, take away his authority, and he saw the tension ease from Jen’s shoulders. ‘Charles is also a little shocked, Ms Morley, but with less reason perhaps. I gather he wasn’t expecting you.’

‘I wrote to tell him I was coming.’

Willis allowed the lie to go. Charles had solemnly handed every new communication to the psychiatrist and the last one had been two weeks previously. There had been no mention of a visit, merely a repeat of what she’d written in her earlier letters:
I’ve missed you... Do you remember the time...? I’m lonely without you...
None made any reference to what had caused the split, and Willis wondered if she seriously believed what she’d put in her email, that amnesia might have wiped the incident from Charles’s memory.

He chose to flatter her ego. ‘You and Charles must have made a handsome couple, Ms Morley. You’re a very beautiful woman . . . But I’m sure you’ve been told that a hundred times.’

She took the compliment in her stride. ‘Thank you . . . and, yes, we were a handsome couple. Charlie, too. Is that part of his problem? He wouldn’t turn round when I entered his room. Is he embarrassed by his face?’

Willis answered generally. ‘Most people find it difficult to come to terms with disfigurement. Other people’s reactions are often hurtful.’

‘I screamed,’ she admitted, ‘and I’m so annoyed with myself. I can’t
believe
I did anything so stupid.’

‘I’m sure he understands.’

‘Do you think so? The last thing I wanted to do was upset him . . . I just wanted to be friends again.’ She gazed rather wistfully at the psychiatrist. ‘I did it all wrong, didn’t I?’

‘It would have helped if you’d told me you were coming.’

‘I should have done,’ she agreed. ‘You did warn me he wasn’t interested.’ She gave a small sigh. ‘The trouble was, I didn’t believe you. Charlie gets silly ideas in his head when he thinks the world’s against him, but I can usually persuade him out of them.’

Willis nodded. ‘I’m sure that’s true. You’re very—’ He broke off to reach for the telephone. ‘Will you excuse me for just a moment? This shouldn’t take long.’ He placed the receiver against his ear. ‘Hello, Henry.’

Ruth’s voice spoke quietly at the other end. ‘Before you go gooey at the knees, she’s not as innocent as she looks. I think she went through your jacket earlier. I left her alone for a couple of minutes and she moved damn fast to get away from it when I came back.’

‘Don’t worry on that score. There’s nothing important there. Anything else?’

‘She was ratty as hell before her bag arrived, then she asked to go to the Ladies. When she came out again she was sweetness and light. Gareth fell for it . . . but I didn’t –’ Willis sensed her smile down the line – ‘probably because I’ve never been as pretty as that.’

Willis chuckled. ‘OK. Thanks, Henry. That’s very helpful.’ He replaced the handset and smiled absent-mindedly at Jen. ‘Where were we? Oh, yes . . . Charles.’ He eyed her with a puzzled expression. ‘He seems to think I told you to come, Ms Morley. Did he get that idea from you?’

She shook her head. ‘It wouldn’t have been true.’ She thought for a moment. ‘He’s quite jealous, Dr Willis. If he knows you and I have been writing to each other that might have made him suspicious.’

‘He does,’ Willis agreed. ‘I mentioned I’d written to you and that you’d replied.’

‘Did he ask what I’d said?’

‘Not that I recall.’ He smiled apologetically, as if it were his fault that his patient was so uninterested. ‘Was jealousy a problem in the relationship? You didn’t mention that in your email.’

‘You’d have thought me arrogant.’

‘Not at all,’ said Willis in surprise. ‘I can easily imagine you being the focus of a man’s jealousy. You must attract a great deal of attention every time you go out. Was that hard for Charles?’

‘Hasn’t he told you?’

Willis shook his head. ‘He’s been very reticent about everything. All I know is what you put in the email. I remember you mentioned a violent argument. Was that prompted by jealousy?’

Fleetingly, a look of wariness crossed her face, as if she feared that his unassuming manner and constant fussy cleaning of his glasses were a front.

‘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.’