last time he said it was to see how much people loved him.)
If anything Rosie rather liked him. Perhaps it was because he was the nearest available man in the absence of a father. Sometimes he would go and say good night to her and an hour or so later Janet would find them both asleep, Rosie in bed and Mr Treevor in the armchair by the window. It was rather touching to see them together, asleep or awake. They didn’t communicate much and they made few demands on each other, but they seemed to enjoy being in the same room.
The next day when the migraine had subsided, I told Janet what Rosie had said.
‘An angel? Daddy must have been dreaming.’
‘Most people settle for gnomes in the garden. I think an angel’s rather classy.’
‘Perhaps it was the milkman. He usually wears a white coat.’
‘But he doesn’t come to the garden door.’
‘Daddy’s getting a bit confused, that’s all,’ Janet said. ‘Dr Flaxman said this might happen.’
Nowadays they would be able to narrow it down and perhaps delay the dementia’s progress with drugs. Mr Treevor could have had a relatively early onset of senile dementia, either Alzheimer’s or Multi-Infarct Dementia. Alzheimer’s can be a pre-senile dementia as well. He wasn’t a drinker so it can’t have been alcoholic dementia. Other dementias can be caused by pressure in the brain, perhaps from a tumour, or by rare diseases like Huntington’s or Pick’s. But Pick’s and Huntington’s usually start when their victims are younger. If it was Huntington’s it would have shown up when Rosie had the tests when she was an adult, even if she was not a carrier. The other main dementias, Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease and Aids dementia, developed later than 1958.
The worst thing, Janet said, was he knew what was happening. Not very often, but sometimes. He wasn’t a fool by any means. And occasionally he was capable of acting completely rationally. That was why we took the story of the robbery seriously.
It happened while he was alone in the house. David and I were at work. Janet had gone to collect Rosie from school. When they got back they found Mr Treevor in a terrible state, trying to phone the police.
According to him, he had been dozing in his room when he heard somebody moving around downstairs. Thinking it was Janet, he had gone on to the landing and called downstairs, asking when tea would be ready. He heard footsteps, and the garden door slam. He looked out of the window and saw a man walking quickly down the garden and through the gate into the Close.
‘He’s been here before,’ Mr Treevor said when he was retelling the tale for us at supper. ‘I’m sure of it. He’s stolen several of my things in the last few weeks. Those maroon socks, you remember, Janet, the ones Mummy knitted, and my propelling pencil.’
‘The pencil had fallen down the side of your chair,’ Janet reminded him.
He waved aside the objection. ‘There’s a ten-shilling note went from my wallet. That’s what he took today.’
Janet glanced at me. I had been there yesterday morning when he’d produced a ten-shilling note and given it to Janet because he had a sudden urge for a box of chocolates.
‘This man,’ David said. ‘What did he look like?’
‘I only saw him from the back. Just a glimpse. A small dark man.’ Mr Treevor stared thoughtfully at David and added, ‘Like a shadow. That’s it, David, tell the police that. He was like a shadow.’
16
Early in May the weather became much warmer. I no longer had to wear a coat and two cardigans when working in the library. The big room filled with light. The index cards marched steadily across the shoeboxes and everywhere I looked there was evidence of my industry. I felt better in other ways, too. On some days I hardly thought about Henry at all.
One Tuesday afternoon I was sitting at the table when I heard the door opening at the other end of the room. I assumed it was Canon Hudson or Janet or even Mr Gotobed, the
If anything Rosie rather liked him. Perhaps it was because he was the nearest available man in the absence of a father. Sometimes he would go and say good night to her and an hour or so later Janet would find them both asleep, Rosie in bed and Mr Treevor in the armchair by the window. It was rather touching to see them together, asleep or awake. They didn’t communicate much and they made few demands on each other, but they seemed to enjoy being in the same room.
The next day when the migraine had subsided, I told Janet what Rosie had said.
‘An angel? Daddy must have been dreaming.’
‘Most people settle for gnomes in the garden. I think an angel’s rather classy.’
‘Perhaps it was the milkman. He usually wears a white coat.’
‘But he doesn’t come to the garden door.’
‘Daddy’s getting a bit confused, that’s all,’ Janet said. ‘Dr Flaxman said this might happen.’
Nowadays they would be able to narrow it down and perhaps delay the dementia’s progress with drugs. Mr Treevor could have had a relatively early onset of senile dementia, either Alzheimer’s or Multi-Infarct Dementia. Alzheimer’s can be a pre-senile dementia as well. He wasn’t a drinker so it can’t have been alcoholic dementia. Other dementias can be caused by pressure in the brain, perhaps from a tumour, or by rare diseases like Huntington’s or Pick’s. But Pick’s and Huntington’s usually start when their victims are younger. If it was Huntington’s it would have shown up when Rosie had the tests when she was an adult, even if she was not a carrier. The other main dementias, Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease and Aids dementia, developed later than 1958.
The worst thing, Janet said, was he knew what was happening. Not very often, but sometimes. He wasn’t a fool by any means. And occasionally he was capable of acting completely rationally. That was why we took the story of the robbery seriously.
It happened while he was alone in the house. David and I were at work. Janet had gone to collect Rosie from school. When they got back they found Mr Treevor in a terrible state, trying to phone the police.
According to him, he had been dozing in his room when he heard somebody moving around downstairs. Thinking it was Janet, he had gone on to the landing and called downstairs, asking when tea would be ready. He heard footsteps, and the garden door slam. He looked out of the window and saw a man walking quickly down the garden and through the gate into the Close.
‘He’s been here before,’ Mr Treevor said when he was retelling the tale for us at supper. ‘I’m sure of it. He’s stolen several of my things in the last few weeks. Those maroon socks, you remember, Janet, the ones Mummy knitted, and my propelling pencil.’
‘The pencil had fallen down the side of your chair,’ Janet reminded him.
He waved aside the objection. ‘There’s a ten-shilling note went from my wallet. That’s what he took today.’
Janet glanced at me. I had been there yesterday morning when he’d produced a ten-shilling note and given it to Janet because he had a sudden urge for a box of chocolates.
‘This man,’ David said. ‘What did he look like?’
‘I only saw him from the back. Just a glimpse. A small dark man.’ Mr Treevor stared thoughtfully at David and added, ‘Like a shadow. That’s it, David, tell the police that. He was like a shadow.’
16
Early in May the weather became much warmer. I no longer had to wear a coat and two cardigans when working in the library. The big room filled with light. The index cards marched steadily across the shoeboxes and everywhere I looked there was evidence of my industry. I felt better in other ways, too. On some days I hardly thought about Henry at all.
One Tuesday afternoon I was sitting at the table when I heard the door opening at the other end of the room. I assumed it was Canon Hudson or Janet or even Mr Gotobed, the
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