convey slogans.’
‘Slogans?’
‘But not of any interest. Like “Eat more cheese”. Mr Blinnet is bored by the slogans. Sometimes the schoolmaster manipulates the wires causing pain to Mr Blinnet as a punishment for his indifference to the slogans. Some of the wires are steel and some are made of gold. The gold ones produce small fires inside Mr Blinnet’s head, the effects of which are sometimes visible as flames resting on his hair.’
‘Have you seen them?’
‘No.’
‘Poor man,’ said Midge, ‘I can’t imagine what it would be like to think things like that. Mad people, are so inventive. No wonder poets are supposed to be mad.’
‘Mad people are quite unlike poets,’ said Thomas. ‘Their fantasies are detailed and ingenious, but somehow dead. Not surprising in Mr Blinnet’s case, since he also believes that he is dead.’
‘And that he’s the Messiah! Of course he’s Jewish.’
‘He is a quiet unambitious Messiah.’
‘He’s creepy. Meredith is afraid of him. I wish you hadn’t had him here that time the clinic was closed. He smiles that awful bland smile but his eyes stay sharp and inquisitive. And you say he always wears his hat, even when he’s with you.’
‘When I give up the clinic Mr Blinnet will be a problem,’ said Thomas. ‘We could live in the country then. When Meredith goes to boarding school.’
‘You’re not giving up the clinic,’ said Midge. ‘I hope you’re not being taken over by Mr Blinnet, I don’t think you want to cure him at all! You’ll be late back tonight?’
‘Yes. You’re out to lunch with your American school pal?’
‘Yes, she’s put off going home. Don’t forget Meredith’s school concert, by the way.’
‘What flowers will you buy today?’
‘Irises and tiger lilies.’
Shifting his mobile chair Thomas stretched out his hand and Midge descended onto his knee. ‘Darling Midge, have a nice day.’
‘ You have a nice day. Are you seeing someone this morning?’
‘Yes, Edward.’
‘Edward? Really ? Did you tell him to come?’
‘No, he rang up.’
‘So you were right.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m so fond of Edward, I feel I could help him. Shall I see him too?’
‘Not yet. Goodbye, mop-head. You look about seventeen.’
‘So you talked to Stuart?’ said Thomas.
‘He talked to me,’ said Edward.
‘What did he say?’
‘He said I should stop reading thrillers and read the Bible, that I should look at azaleas — ’
‘Azaleas?’
‘Well, an azalea. Midge brought me one.’
‘Did she, good.’
‘And listen to the birds singing, and sit quietly, and breathe, and find something good and hang onto it like a terrier — ’
‘And did you?’
‘Of course not. I threw the azalea out of the window. No, I meant to, but he took it away.’
‘Did he touch you?’
‘Touch me? Good heavens no!’
‘Look, I want you to come off those drugs Ursula gave you. Can you?’
‘Yes, I mostly have. They make no difference.’
‘And if you don’t mind, I’d like to see one of Mrs Wilsden’s letters, if you get another one, I think you said you’d destroyed them all.’
‘Oh, I’ll get another one! She’s an artist. She keeps saying the same thing without repeating herself. She must enjoy writing those letters.’
‘It’s a form of mourning, it will pass, deep grief is like a compulsive song.’
‘That’s what everyone says to me about my thing, it will pass. But it won’t. It’s gone on so long. I’d have to be another person. What’s wrong with me is me. I’m done for. You know how if an aeroplane engine stalls at a certain moment it can’t rise, it must crash by its own weight, no power can raise it, it’s just a heavy dead thing bound to fall back to earth. My engines have failed, I’m falling, I’ve got to fall, I’ve no energy left, one way or another I’m done for.’
‘You can talk. You are full of interesting images.’
‘That’s because I’m usirig your energy,’
‘Slogans?’
‘But not of any interest. Like “Eat more cheese”. Mr Blinnet is bored by the slogans. Sometimes the schoolmaster manipulates the wires causing pain to Mr Blinnet as a punishment for his indifference to the slogans. Some of the wires are steel and some are made of gold. The gold ones produce small fires inside Mr Blinnet’s head, the effects of which are sometimes visible as flames resting on his hair.’
‘Have you seen them?’
‘No.’
‘Poor man,’ said Midge, ‘I can’t imagine what it would be like to think things like that. Mad people, are so inventive. No wonder poets are supposed to be mad.’
‘Mad people are quite unlike poets,’ said Thomas. ‘Their fantasies are detailed and ingenious, but somehow dead. Not surprising in Mr Blinnet’s case, since he also believes that he is dead.’
‘And that he’s the Messiah! Of course he’s Jewish.’
‘He is a quiet unambitious Messiah.’
‘He’s creepy. Meredith is afraid of him. I wish you hadn’t had him here that time the clinic was closed. He smiles that awful bland smile but his eyes stay sharp and inquisitive. And you say he always wears his hat, even when he’s with you.’
‘When I give up the clinic Mr Blinnet will be a problem,’ said Thomas. ‘We could live in the country then. When Meredith goes to boarding school.’
‘You’re not giving up the clinic,’ said Midge. ‘I hope you’re not being taken over by Mr Blinnet, I don’t think you want to cure him at all! You’ll be late back tonight?’
‘Yes. You’re out to lunch with your American school pal?’
‘Yes, she’s put off going home. Don’t forget Meredith’s school concert, by the way.’
‘What flowers will you buy today?’
‘Irises and tiger lilies.’
Shifting his mobile chair Thomas stretched out his hand and Midge descended onto his knee. ‘Darling Midge, have a nice day.’
‘ You have a nice day. Are you seeing someone this morning?’
‘Yes, Edward.’
‘Edward? Really ? Did you tell him to come?’
‘No, he rang up.’
‘So you were right.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m so fond of Edward, I feel I could help him. Shall I see him too?’
‘Not yet. Goodbye, mop-head. You look about seventeen.’
‘So you talked to Stuart?’ said Thomas.
‘He talked to me,’ said Edward.
‘What did he say?’
‘He said I should stop reading thrillers and read the Bible, that I should look at azaleas — ’
‘Azaleas?’
‘Well, an azalea. Midge brought me one.’
‘Did she, good.’
‘And listen to the birds singing, and sit quietly, and breathe, and find something good and hang onto it like a terrier — ’
‘And did you?’
‘Of course not. I threw the azalea out of the window. No, I meant to, but he took it away.’
‘Did he touch you?’
‘Touch me? Good heavens no!’
‘Look, I want you to come off those drugs Ursula gave you. Can you?’
‘Yes, I mostly have. They make no difference.’
‘And if you don’t mind, I’d like to see one of Mrs Wilsden’s letters, if you get another one, I think you said you’d destroyed them all.’
‘Oh, I’ll get another one! She’s an artist. She keeps saying the same thing without repeating herself. She must enjoy writing those letters.’
‘It’s a form of mourning, it will pass, deep grief is like a compulsive song.’
‘That’s what everyone says to me about my thing, it will pass. But it won’t. It’s gone on so long. I’d have to be another person. What’s wrong with me is me. I’m done for. You know how if an aeroplane engine stalls at a certain moment it can’t rise, it must crash by its own weight, no power can raise it, it’s just a heavy dead thing bound to fall back to earth. My engines have failed, I’m falling, I’ve got to fall, I’ve no energy left, one way or another I’m done for.’
‘You can talk. You are full of interesting images.’
‘That’s because I’m usirig your energy,’
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