Elephant Man by Christine Sparks Page A

barely seen or heard them.
    Fast as he had traveled, his mind had raced ahead of him. Indeed it had never been away. He had been forced to leave the hospital early the previous day and spend a boring afternoon in his consulting rooms at 6 Wimpole Street, dealing with the routine ailments he encountered in his increasingly prosperous private practice. He disliked these afternoons but forced himself to go on with them, partly through his ambition, which told him that no doctor ever made a name through hospital practice alone, and partly in fulfillment of the promise he had made to Alfred and Elizabeth Mason, thirteen years ago, when his one thought had been to convince them that he was fit to marry their daughter Anne. A solid private practice with which to keep their daughter he had promised them, and he had been as good as his word. The Masons, had they still been alive, could have had no quarrelwith the consulting rooms, or the home in Wimpole Street. As for Treves, he bent his head to the necessary yoke, but his mind lived at the hospital.
    He had been forced to leave the Elephant Man in Mothershead’s care. He knew she would be competent, even kindly in an impersonal way. But she could not be everywhere, and the minor uproar caused by Merrick’s arrival had convinced Treves that his patient needed constant protection. There was no one to provide it.
    He had left the strictest instructions that no one but Mothershead herself was to approach the Isolation Ward, and he counted on the ripple of fear he had detected in the hospital to ensure that those instructions were obeyed. But he could not be easy in his mind, and on the day following Merrick’s admission he made his best speed to the hospital and headed straight upstairs, pausing only at the kitchens to collect Merrick’s breakfast.
    His first thought on opening the door of the Isolation Ward was that his worst fears had been realized and that Merrick had either been kidnapped or managed to escape. The Elephant Man was nowhere to be seen. A horrible thought struck Treves. Suppose his patient had died in the night? Suppose the blame were his own for failing to care for him properly—?
    Then his eye was caught by a slight movement in the corner by the bed, and he breathed again. Merrick was crouched down, half hidden under the bed, his eyes still full of the terror that had filled them when he first heard the approaching footsteps. That much Treves could reconstruct for himself. He supposed it was only natural that approaching sounds should still frighten Merrick until he grew to know who was likely to be coming. What puzzled Treves somewhat was the gas lamp overhead, which was still burning brightly. He supposed Mothershead must have left it on when she paid her final visit the night before, although it seemed strangely unlike her economicalsoul. Perhaps Merrick himself had been groping around and had accidentally put it on.
    Treves made his voice as kind and gentle as he could manage, hoping that the Elephant Man would understand his tone.
    “Good morning—John. I’ve brought your breakfast.”
    This did not have the desired effect. Merrick began to babble miserably, making no effort to emerge from his hiding place. Treves placed the bowl of porridge on the table and went closer.
    “What are you doing down there?” he said, still speaking quietly. “Come up, John, come up on the bed. The cold floor is bad for you. I won’t hurt you. Come on now …”
    He put out his hand and grasped Merrick’s left, pulling as he did so. The Elephant Man slid out unresisting and allowed himself to be helped up onto the edge of the bed where he sat shivering. Treves continued talking as he turned away for the bowl, giving the frightened creature a chance to absorb the soothing murmur of his voice.
    “You must eat. We must keep up your strength—”
    He stopped, baffled. He had looked back to the bed, to find it empty again. Merrick had slipped back to the floor and was