Elephant Man by Christine Sparks Page B

determinedly trying to crawl into the corner again.
    “What on earth is the matter with you?” Treves demanded, trying to keep a faint note of irritation out of his voice. He replaced the bowl on the table and knelt down to look into Merrick’s face. He felt exceedingly foolish.
    “Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there.”
    Again he clasped Merrick’s left hand and tried to draw him forward, but this time Merrick resisted, pulling himself away further into the corner and babbling frantically.
    The sound of two sharp raps took him to the door.There he found Mothershead wearing her briskest, most efficient air.
    “Good morning, Mr. Treves. It’ll be his bath time soon. Has he eaten?”
    “Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning.”
    He stood back from the door to give her a view into the room and they both looked at the bed. Merrick was disappearing under it as fast as his clumsy limbs would allow.
    Mothershead’s face set in no-nonsense lines. “Won’t come out, eh?”
    “No, he’s very upset about something.”
    “Just being obstinate, sir. I’ll handle it.” She strode across to Merrick and took hold of his left wrist. “All right, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant.” Her grip tightened as she tried to yank him out from under the bed, her lips pursed with concentration. At once his muffled sounds became deep moans. He struggled ineffectually to escape and hide himself further.
    “No! Don’t pull at him like that,” Treves urged her. “We don’t want to frighten him more than he already is.”
    But she continued to struggle until she had got Merrick seated unhappily on the side of the bed. She stood back and regarded him dispassionately.
    “Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they’d lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack.”
    He joined her in helping to settle the creature back against the mountain of pillows. His touch was gentler than hers.
    “He’s had his share of ‘smacks,’ Mothershead,” he said as they worked. “I expect that’s what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man.”
    Finished now she stood back and confronted him. “Perhaps you’ve got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don’t. I’ve got an entire hospital to look after,and you have your real patients. Don’t waste your time with him, sir, it’s like talking to a wall. I don’t mean to be harsh, but he doesn’t belong here. Truthfully, sir, what can you do for him? I’ll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr-Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day, sir.”
    She walked straight out of the room without waiting for him to reply or bothering to close the door behind her. Treves closed it himself. When he lifted his head he found himself looking straight at Merrick. The man (if that was what he was) was staring at him, petrified. He seemed incapable of moving himself.
    “What good
am
I to you …?” Treves asked, half to himself.
    The creature on the bed gave no sign of having understood. Still that awful silent stare that managed to be terrified and vacant together. Treves was swept by sudden anger at his own helplessness. He was not used to being helpless. He was used to being the man who would act for good, while others stood uselessly by. He suddenly discovered that he was ill-equipped to cope with this new feeling of frustration. Still that stare. He controlled himself and came to sit on the bed.
    “I can’t help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling,” he said gently. “I believe there’s something back there, there’s something you
want
to say, but I’ve got to understand you. Do you understand me?”
    After a moment’s hesitation Merrick began to babble again.
    “No!” Treves interrupted him firmly. “You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them!