When everyone, after some shoving and stumbling about, had settled down, Peter, standing, began. ‘Let me say again how sorry I am that our happy, for me at any rate very happy, gathering has been disturbed in this entirely unexpected manner. I thought it possible that such a visit might occur, but I did not expect it or bring myself to arrange it. Let me explain. I assume that all of you present know something of my recent history, how I received an almost fatal blow on the head delivered by Professor Lucas Graffe. I was then in various hospitals and latterly in the clinic run by Dr Fonsett, who has visited me this evening and desired me to resume, for a while, his course of treatment. I have agreed to this. I should say, and I must emphasise this, that Dr Fonsett and his colleague Dr Richardson saved my life and my sanity and I owe them an incalculable debt of gratitude. When I felt that I had recovered sufficiently I discharged myself clandestinely from the clinic. I was moved to this ungrateful act by a pressing desire to visit Professor Graffe, that is Lucas, and discuss what had happened, concerning which I had a certain sense of grievance. Lucas meanwhile had disappeared and I had to wait some time before seeing him. During this time, and after, I have lived, not in this house, but with my friend Kenneth Rathbone at his pub, The Castle. I did this because I was afraid that Dr Fonsett would find me and urgently require me to return to the clinic. In due course Lucas arrived back and we were able to have some conversations. I should say that, as some of you know, I was concerned to demand of Lucas not only clarification, but retribution. In fact my state of mind at that period was that of a very angry man. I was at the same time unhappy with this condition because I was constantly aware of something which I was unable to remember – this sensation was much more painful and compelling than any ordinary case of forgetfulness – it was as if a large part of my being had fallen into oblivion. However, with the help of kind friends, most especially Bellamy, I have been able to recover that lost, more worthy, part of my soul and so empowered to overcome my vindictive passions, and to make peace with Lucas. This is an achievement, or godsend, which I value very much. In this better frame of mind I also decided to come out of hiding, and living in this sense a false life, and to return to this house.’
As Peter paused here a curious thumping sound, like that of a machine, could be heard. Connie said, ‘What’s that?’ Bellamy said, ‘It’s Dr Fonsett. I locked him into the library.’ Peter said, ‘Oh dear! Release him please!’
Bellamy left the room and returned with Dr Fonsett, who was looking distinctly annoyed. However, he instantly removed the annoyance from his face. ‘Well, Peter, have you now explained it all? We must not dally, it appears to be snowing, and Michael and Jonathan are still outside. I had not reckoned that the operation would take so long!’
Peter said, ‘They are inside now. And I’m afraid I haven’t finished yet. Would you mind sitting down?’ Bellamy offered his chair and Fonsett sat on it. Bellamy remained standing with his arms crossed. Cora whispered to Joan, ‘This is absolutely fascinating !’
Peter stood silent for a moment, perhaps to regain the thread of his thought. He was standing very erect, his feet slightly apart, his shirt undone, his head thrown back, his curly hair, which seemed to have grown longer, framing his face. His attitude, as it now seemed to Bellamy, was that of some youthful liberator of the people.
Peter went on, ‘You will have noticed that Dr Fonsett arrived here accompanied by Tessa Millen.’
Bellamy, who had been longing to say this, interrupted, turning to Tessa. ‘Yes, why did you bring these people here, why did you interfere, why did you betray him, he has done no harm, he has done nothing but good.’
Fonsett, smiling, said, ‘Oh we would have arrived fairly soon anyway, Miss Millen just supplied us with some interesting details.’
‘What details?’ said Bellamy aggressively to Tessa. ‘You said something he said was untrue. What was it?’
‘Not untrue, just a fantasy,’ said Fonsett.
Tessa, who had been sitting on the floor, stood up. With a glance at the doctor, she said, ‘Well, he claimed to be a psychoanalyst. But I saw at once that he could not possibly be a psychoanalyst.’
‘But he is a psychoanalyst,’ cried Bellamy, ‘he said so, I mean he said he was one, and he told us that he was now not able to be one.’
‘I’m afraid he was never a psychoanalyst,’ said Tessa.
‘Well, a doctor then, it’s just some other name.’ Bellamy turned to Peter.
Peter looked grave. Then he said in a quiet confidential tone, ‘I am sorry, Bellamy, I was never a psychoanalyst or a doctor of any kind. Dr Fonsett kindly said I have had a fantasy. In fact I had simply told a lie.’
There was a moment of shocked silence.
Then Jeremy Adwarden said, ‘Well, if one may ask, what was your occupation?’
‘I was a butcher.’
There were several exclamations. Then a silence during which people looked at one another. Cora covered her face.
Then Louise said, ‘Then why didn’t you tell us? We wouldn’t have minded, we don’t mind, why should we?’
Peter said in an apologetic tone, ‘Yes, I wondered myself why I said it, it was quite impromptu, almost a joke – well, that’s not right – I said it and then let people believe it. It was false pretences. I’m sorry. I said it first to Lucas and Clement. Perhaps I felt it was more dignified, that it gave me more status. I was confronting what I took to be a powerful enemy. I wondered later whether they hadn’t heard about it in court, where unfortunately I was not present, but evidently not. I am very sorry. I ought not to have done it, I apologise to you all. I don’t think I’ve told you any other lies.’
Fonsett, who had been smiling during these exchanges, said, ‘I like that, “dignified”, that’s good! I must say when Miss Millen told me I couldn’t help laughing! However, you must not mislead them further. As far as “status” goes, you are at least a very rich butcher.’
‘Well, yes,’ said Peter, ‘I mean I have not been standing behind the counter handing out the meat. My grandfather did this when he was young in Odessa. My father, who was born in England, built up the business, and I have built it up further.’
‘In short, you are a tycoon,’ said Fonsett. ‘You earn infinitely more than I do! So you needn’t worry about not being a psychoanalyst! At least you thought you were some sort of healer in your Buddhist phase, remember? Now show them your toy, just to prove you really are a tycoon. Look, there it is, it’s over there on that table.’ He pointed.
Clement looked. He stood up and took some paces back, carrying the chair with him. He put his hands on the back of the chair. The ‘toy’ was the green umbrella. Sefton had already risen. She picked up the umbrella and handed it to Peter. ‘Thank you, Sefton.’ Looking at her he took the handle and slowly drew the long knife out. There were exclamations.
Fonsett said, ‘Now read to them what it says.’
Peter said to Sefton, ‘You read it, see, it is engraved here.’
Sefton, holding the knife up and tilting the blade, read the inscription. ‘To Peter Mir, with the respectful esteem of his fellow directors and the employees of Mirco, on the occasion of his fortieth birthday.’
There was a murmur.
‘It’s a real butcher’s knife, isn’t it,’ said Fonsett, ‘or rather a ceremonial version, like a ceremonial sword.’
Peter took the knife from Sefton and slid it back into its sheath. He gave it back to her. Only then did he look at Clement. Clement, remembering that look afterwards, wondered what sort of a look it was. It was only visible for a second. He stumbled forward, then sat down on his chair and put his hand to his brow, covering his face. Joan hissed to him, ‘Don’t laugh!’
Sefton put the umbrella back on the table. Then she said in her calm clear voice, ‘How can you be a butcher if you are a vegetarian?’
Peter replied, ‘I cannot be and now I am not. I will talk to you about this – ’
‘But not now,’ said Fonsett, standing up. ‘Come o
n, let’s go, it’s past your bedtime. Please fetch that suitcase which I’m sure you keep packed. Never mind if you leave things behind – ’
There was more murmuring. Jeremy Adwarden said, ‘Wait a minute. It is not at all clear to me that our host wants to go! By what authority are you taking him away?’
‘That’s right,’ said Bellamy. ‘Who are you, anyway – how do we know – ?’
Fonsett replied, ‘The authority is his. Is it not, Peter? As for who I am – ’
Peter said, ‘It’s all right, Jeremy. This man saved my life. I go of my own accord – ’
Bellamy cried out, ‘You must not go, we will not let you go, you must stay with us – !’
Fonsett said, ‘Please do not be hysterical, Mr James. You will see him again and in much better health. Now, Peter, if you would like to collect some of your stuff – ’
Peter suddenly moved, making for the door. There was a loud rustling and bumping as everyone sprang up, pulling their chairs out of the way or pressing forward to see what was happening. Peter emerged into the hall, followed by Bellamy who pushed his way through after him.
Moy was sitting on the stairs. She rose hastily and stood aside. Peter, mounting the stairs, paused for a moment as if about to speak to her, then hurried on. When Bellamy had passed her Moy ran down the stairs.
Bellamy followed Peter into his bedroom. Peter, who had evidently expected Bellamy to follow him, closed the bedroom door and said, ‘Ned was right about that suitcase. I have always kept it packed. Now, Bellamy, sit down while I pull it out.’ He went over to a large cupboard at the far end of the room.
Bellamy did not sit down, but followed him. ‘Don’t go to that place, it’s impossible, it’s a nightmare, stay here, tell the doctor you’ll come and see him sometimes, that’s all that’s necessary, stay here and all will be well, I don’t trust those people, bringing that van and two thugs, you were right to escape from them, don’t go back now, you are well, you are happy, you are free, don’t you see that you are cured, oh why did you come back here to be captured again – !’
Peter was pulling a large suitcase out of the back of the cupboard. He said, ‘Well, I got tired of being on the run, it was living a lie, it was living with fear. Now I can go straight on through it all.’
‘What do you mean? You mustn’t go, these people are scientists, they’ll drug you, they’ll damage you, they simply won’t understand you, they will destroy your peace.’
‘I owe them my life. But it isn’t just that. Bellamy, do stop wringing your hands. This sudden intrusion is probably all for the good, I am forced to realise that I am very very tired – I have been taking everything too fast. My enlightenment, I mean just my rediscovery of myself, is not something I can seize upon and run on with. It must be lived into at a slow pace. I don’t want to be in danger of a sudden collapse.’
‘Yes, yes, you are tired, you want peace, but you can rest here, you can have peace here, you can recover here, in your own home. Peter, I can’t bear it, my heart is breaking, I’m so frightened for you. And what about your great foundation, your doing good, my being your secretary – I could protect you, I could see that you rested, and that everything happened slowly – I was so happy, for you and for me – and now I’m terrified.’
‘Bellamy my dear, we shall come back to all that. This is just a necessary interim. Think that I am simply going into retreat. I shall return. Now we should go downstairs. Please don’t excite the others. Don’t be afraid, Bellamy, we shall meet again soon. But wait, I shall need an overcoat, and a scarf and some other shoes – ’
Meanwhile everyone had hastened out of the drawing-room into the hall, where they gathered round Dr Fonsett with something of the quality of a menacing crowd. He was surrounded by angry voices and at one moment Jonathan and Michael felt it necessary to move forward to make sure that he was not likely positively to suffer violence.
Louise was saying, ‘He has always seemed to me perfectly well. At first he seemed to us a bit eccentric, but we have got to know him, his oddity is simply that of being a good man! After all, when you think of what he has been through – what are you going to do with him, why are you in such a hurry – it’s like a kidnap!’
‘You ask what I am doing,’ said Fonsett. ‘I am simply doing my duty as a doctor and a man of science. I am not a magician. Peter and I know each other very well, we have done much work together and will do more. He is still my patient.’
Jeremy Adwarden said, ‘I am a newcomer to this scene, but I agree with Mrs Anderson in thinking that your methods are too hasty and insensitive. You say in this possessive way that he is your patient. Your attitude is suspiciously authoritarian. I for one do not feel satisfied that our host is going away with you of his own free will. I should warn you that your possessiveness could land you in difficulties with the law. There is a faint smell of abduction, the abduction, as it seems and will appear, of a rich man.’
‘That’s right,’ said Cora, ‘he is doing it for money. He keeps telling his patients they are ill, and pocketing their large cheques!’
‘I suggest,’ Jeremy continued, ‘that you go away and let our host reflect upon his situation. He has only just returned to his house, and should now, in my view, be left here in peace.’
There were murmurs of ‘Yes indeed,’ ‘Leave him alone.’
Fonsett said, ‘I am sorry, the circumstances of my arrival are entirely accidental, and unfortunately contain an element of drama. I would have preferred a quiet arrival and a friendly talk. But you have, I believe all of you, had only a brief acquaintance with Peter Mir, whom this lady has admitted to be an unusual and eccentric person. There is a case history here of which you know nothing. He came into your lives, a short while ago, as the victim of a terrible accident from which, it seemed, he had made an amazing recovery. He kindly says that he owes his life to me and to Dr Richardson. In fact he overlooks, or more likely has forgotten, other gifted doctors who fought hard initially to save him. We have all been watching him for a long time! In running away from our clinic, and having what I may call an adventurous episode, he has followed a well-known manic-depressive pattern. He has passed through a period of hyperactive exaltation, and now, as he himself recognises, and as his return to his house demonstrates, is moving into a period of melancholy exhaustion leading perhaps to despair, even to suicide. He is in need of expert help – ’
Emil said, ‘What methods do you use?’
Fonsett replied, ‘I am not sure what your question means, and in any case an explanation could take a long time. Briefly, we are not psychoanalysts, we are psychiatrists. We do not make conjectures based upon our patients’ dreams, or their early childhood – ’
‘So you give them drugs.’
‘That is one part of our method. I imagine you are sophisticated enough not to be made uneasy by the word “drug”.’
‘I am made uneasy,’ said Emil. ‘I have only lately made the acquaintance of this intelligent and clear-headed man, and I cannot believe that he is in need of your “treatment”, whatever that may be.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said Kenneth Rathbone. ‘I guess I’ve known him more than most here have, and I say he’s the best chap I’ve ever met and also the wisest – ’
‘Yes, you see he is a Buddhist,’ said Joan, who had for some time been wanting to speak, ‘he’s a spiritual person, like a holy man. He doesn’t need doctors! It’s you who need him, not him who needs you!’
Emil said, ‘There are indeed spiritual things which you scientists do not understand and these are the deepest things upon which man’s being rests.’
Fonsett spoke patiently, in no way put out by the aggressive tone of his critics. ‘So he has told you he is a Buddhist! Well, he may indeed have picked up a smattering of Buddhism on one of his trade missions to Japan. Incidentally, he is a fishmonger as well as a butcher, as he failed to tell you! I agree with you’ (he indicated Emil) ‘that there are deep spiritual matters on this planet. Buddhism is a deep
matter and one which cannot be quickly mastered. A rapid impression of it must be superficial, and in the case of a mind given to fantasy, must remain at a completely unreal level. You accuse me of haste, but you have all, it seems to me, come to rather hasty conclusions! Peter seems to have collected a lot of new friends remarkably quickly! He was certainly getting tired of the big-business community. And you all seem to have taken him rather promptly to your bosoms! What do you think about him?’ Fonsett said suddenly to Clement.
Clement had been expecting this question, though he could think of no reason why he should be chosen. He said coolly, ‘I am very sorry for him.’
‘Yes, but what do you think?’
‘I don’t know him well enough to have any clear impression. Like everyone else, I think he is some sort of remarkable person.’
‘Some sort – what sort? Can’t you say any more? Your opinion interests me.’
‘No, I can’t say any more!’ said Clement. Then he abruptly added, to his own surprise, ‘Oh go to hell!’
‘Well said, cobber,’ said Rathbone.
Moy, on the outside of the circle round Fonsett, said suddenly, ‘I think he is a good man.’
There was a murmur of approval. Cora Brock said, ‘Moy is right. He is a saint!’
‘I am sorry to hurt anyone’s feelings,’ said Fonsett, ‘but claims of this kind, which people are often moved to make, are almost invariably romantic. How much do we know of any other human creature, how much do we know of ourselves? We scientists know, in our own field, many things. But any so-called moral or religious knowledge, is of its nature imprecise. This distinction is a fundamental and indelible aspect of human being. Religion is connected with the fantasising aspect of the mind, it is connected with sex. These are large generalisations. I suggest simply that you have all, with various deep motives, elected Peter, about whom you know very little, to be your guru!’
‘Well, what’s wrong with sex?’ said Joan. ‘It’s liberation, it’s life, it’s like Easter Day, we have all been drinking nectar, we were in hell, we are raised up, we are saved, we are beautiful, that’s why we love him, that’s why we need him, a great spirit has been released!’