it. Do you want to come in? I can fit you in, no bother.” There was a side comment in a strained female
voice, then, “Sure we can, Vivienne.”
“Prof, thanks. Maybe we can do this on the phone. I just wanted to know…” I began to feel stupid. What the hell was I going to ask him? “Look… there’s this
girl I’ve been seeing.”
“And you want to know if you really have been seeing her, Daniel?” He said it with a bit of a laugh but I didn’t see the funny side.
He meant Valerie, the girl my beat-up brain had conjured to help me through the Caldwell case. “Others have seen us, talked with us. I’ve touched her. She’s real enough, Prof.
But here’s the thing; I think Eve’s being followed. In fact I know she is. They’re pros. Four of them. They aren’t easy to spot but I know what I’m looking for.”
Just as I had been certain about my ghostly helper.
“Go on.” There was no hint of scepticism, so I pressed on.
“She’s a reporter. A crime reporter. She’s upset some people.”
“Why doesn’t she call the police?”
“She doesn’t believe me. She says… she says I’m crazy. That I’m seeing things. That’s what I wanted to talk about. Is it possible? I mean with my history.
Could I be imagining these men?”
“I see. Well, you know I’ve always said what a mysterious thing the mind is…”
“Spare me the philosophy, Prof. You’re the expert. What’s your opinion? Am I having a relapse?”
His voice firmed up. “Based on what I’ve seen of you, Daniel, I would say no. The Valerie figure is explainable. She was your inner mind trying to get through to the damaged surface.
As your brain mended, so Valerie appeared and helped you to solve the crime. But I don’t see your current mind needs to conjure up these… these stalkers or whatever you might
call them. Unless they’re figures from your past. When you were an SOE agent, a spy. Are any of them familiar?”
“No. And one of them… I confronted one of them in the street this week… that’s why I’m calling… Eve thought I had completely flipped. One of them had an
American accent. It sounded genuine enough, but so what?”
“An American, you say? Wasn’t it the Americans who liberated Dachau? Who saved you?”
Shit. I hadn’t thought of that. Was that the connection? Was I getting my past all mixed up with my present? Was this my subconscious trying to make sense of more buried memories? Or was I
just mad as a hatter?
“Is it time for the straitjacket again?”
“You know, man, it’s a blooming miracle there’s a sane mind left in this country after what we’ve gone through. And you fellas working behind the lines, in disguise and
cut off from home, had it harder than anyone. It does dreadful damage to the psyche.”
“So I am nuts. But it’s OK, ’cos everybody else is?”
“Not a bit, Daniel. Not a bit. You show none of the signs of delusion. Your girlfriend saw this man you tackled, didn’t she? It’s not as if he was imaginary. And you
haven’t been having conversations with yourself, now have you?”
“No. And she did see him. She dragged me off him.”
“Well, fine. I suppose. But all the same I’d avoid tackling strangers in the street for a while. Is there no way you can get some corroboration on these chaps following your lady
friend?”
“Not from Eve, that’s for sure. That’s why she’s called it off. But you’ve given me an idea, Prof. Look, you’ve set my mind at rest. A wee bit, anyway. Let me
see if I can get a second opinion on this.”
We hung up and I had the operator make another call, to Finchley this time. It rang for a long time.
“Hello.” It was a suspicious voice, high pitched, nasal and calculated to make your ears bleed unless you too had grown up in Birmingham and were immune.
“Mrs Witherham? Is that you? And how are you this fine morning? Could I speak to Midge, please?”
“Oh it’s yow again. I’ve told yow before, I don’t
voice, then, “Sure we can, Vivienne.”
“Prof, thanks. Maybe we can do this on the phone. I just wanted to know…” I began to feel stupid. What the hell was I going to ask him? “Look… there’s this
girl I’ve been seeing.”
“And you want to know if you really have been seeing her, Daniel?” He said it with a bit of a laugh but I didn’t see the funny side.
He meant Valerie, the girl my beat-up brain had conjured to help me through the Caldwell case. “Others have seen us, talked with us. I’ve touched her. She’s real enough, Prof.
But here’s the thing; I think Eve’s being followed. In fact I know she is. They’re pros. Four of them. They aren’t easy to spot but I know what I’m looking for.”
Just as I had been certain about my ghostly helper.
“Go on.” There was no hint of scepticism, so I pressed on.
“She’s a reporter. A crime reporter. She’s upset some people.”
“Why doesn’t she call the police?”
“She doesn’t believe me. She says… she says I’m crazy. That I’m seeing things. That’s what I wanted to talk about. Is it possible? I mean with my history.
Could I be imagining these men?”
“I see. Well, you know I’ve always said what a mysterious thing the mind is…”
“Spare me the philosophy, Prof. You’re the expert. What’s your opinion? Am I having a relapse?”
His voice firmed up. “Based on what I’ve seen of you, Daniel, I would say no. The Valerie figure is explainable. She was your inner mind trying to get through to the damaged surface.
As your brain mended, so Valerie appeared and helped you to solve the crime. But I don’t see your current mind needs to conjure up these… these stalkers or whatever you might
call them. Unless they’re figures from your past. When you were an SOE agent, a spy. Are any of them familiar?”
“No. And one of them… I confronted one of them in the street this week… that’s why I’m calling… Eve thought I had completely flipped. One of them had an
American accent. It sounded genuine enough, but so what?”
“An American, you say? Wasn’t it the Americans who liberated Dachau? Who saved you?”
Shit. I hadn’t thought of that. Was that the connection? Was I getting my past all mixed up with my present? Was this my subconscious trying to make sense of more buried memories? Or was I
just mad as a hatter?
“Is it time for the straitjacket again?”
“You know, man, it’s a blooming miracle there’s a sane mind left in this country after what we’ve gone through. And you fellas working behind the lines, in disguise and
cut off from home, had it harder than anyone. It does dreadful damage to the psyche.”
“So I am nuts. But it’s OK, ’cos everybody else is?”
“Not a bit, Daniel. Not a bit. You show none of the signs of delusion. Your girlfriend saw this man you tackled, didn’t she? It’s not as if he was imaginary. And you
haven’t been having conversations with yourself, now have you?”
“No. And she did see him. She dragged me off him.”
“Well, fine. I suppose. But all the same I’d avoid tackling strangers in the street for a while. Is there no way you can get some corroboration on these chaps following your lady
friend?”
“Not from Eve, that’s for sure. That’s why she’s called it off. But you’ve given me an idea, Prof. Look, you’ve set my mind at rest. A wee bit, anyway. Let me
see if I can get a second opinion on this.”
We hung up and I had the operator make another call, to Finchley this time. It rang for a long time.
“Hello.” It was a suspicious voice, high pitched, nasal and calculated to make your ears bleed unless you too had grown up in Birmingham and were immune.
“Mrs Witherham? Is that you? And how are you this fine morning? Could I speak to Midge, please?”
“Oh it’s yow again. I’ve told yow before, I don’t
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