The Night Book (20 page)

Juliet frowned. ‘But persistent interventions …’

Simon’s eyes were on Roza. He abandoned his tactful tone. ‘Natural means letting nature take its course. And nature doesn’t care about healthy outcomes for all, only for the strongest. Nature says, if you’re vulnerable, you die.’

Roza couldn’t look away. She had the uncanny feeling that she and Simon were talking. The words ran around in her head, lost their sense and turned into babble. ‘If you’re vulnerable, you die.’ She had the sense of overwhelming emotion swirling outside her mind, only just kept at bay.

Juliet’s frown deepened. ‘My sister’s a midwife. You’ve probably met her. Sylvia Rand? She says doctors have taken over far too much. They take away a woman’s right to a natural …’

Simon smiled at Roza. His eyes seemed to glitter. He said, ‘They used to do it naturally, a hundred years ago. The mortality rate was pretty high.’

Trish said, ‘Darling, Roza might have a baby one day. Don’t put her off.’

He shrugged. ‘If she does, she can expect to have a good outcome. Just don’t be too romantic about nature.’ He glanced at Juliet. ‘I’m sure your sister has a point, though,’ he said, suddenly remembering his manners. ‘There are lots of unnecessary interventions. Too many Caesareans, things like that.’

Roza said, ‘Do you perform abortions?’

There was a sudden stillness in the room. Simon rested his
fingers on the edge of the table. He said, ‘Not now. I used to.’ He hesitated and then raised his eyes. His tone hardened. ‘I regarded it as a useful, humane public service. I still do.’

Roza sighed. ‘I was brought up a Catholic.’

Simon met her gaze, steadily.

‘But I agree with you,’ she said.

There was a silence. David, coming in from his cigar with Ed, had broken off his conversation and was looking at Roza.

Simon said, ‘Would you um, excuse me for a minute? Can I use the …?’

Roza blinked, not understanding. ‘The …’

‘Bathroom.’

‘Oh, yes, sorry … I’ll show you.’ She walked out into the hall and he followed. ‘Just down there.’ She stopped and he bumped into her. He whispered rapidly, ‘Sorry. Listen, I need to talk to you. I’ve had the referral letter from your GP. I can’t … I’m not sure about treating you. I’ll probably …’ He hesitated. ‘One of my partners will be happy to … I mean, if you know someone socially you don’t … as a rule … treat them.’

Roza hurried a couple of steps and peered into the kitchen. She called, ‘Jung Ha, I’ll come and make some more coffee. Can you just heat up the thing?’ She pulled him along the hall and whispered, ‘I don’t want you to treat me. I need to talk to you. I’ll explain then. I’m worried about using the phone. And about being seen.’ She leaned against the wall and took a breath. ‘I’m sorry. I know it’s a bit unusual. I asked my doctor to make me an appointment with you because I want to talk to you and I feel, you know, eyes everywhere, on me, because of the situation, the election. I’m not free. Don’t think I want to be a nuisance, please, or that I’m trying to compromise you. I just need to talk, and I can’t think of anywhere more private.’

He shook his head, unwilling and mystified. She ducked back
up the hall and looked into the sitting room. Trish and Graeme had moved across to a sofa with Karen and Juliet. She came back to him, her face fixed in an intense, embarrassed smile. ‘Just let me have one consultation. Then you can move me to your partner. Please.’

‘Yes, all right. Roza, it’s okay,’ he said. ‘You can come, of course. I’m just explaining that normally …’

Her eyes flew open. ‘This isn’t normal,’ she hissed.

He was bewildered. ‘You mean your symptoms?’

‘Oh.’ She laughed without making a sound and whispered, ‘I don’t have any symptoms. No, sorry, don’t look so surprised. I just need to talk to you and I don’t want to be seen.’

‘I understand. Well, I don’t, but no,’ he put his hands up, trying to reassure her, ‘don’t worry, that’s fine.’

‘Okay,’ she said.

‘Okay.’ He looked behind them uneasily and said, ‘I’ve had the referral for days and I couldn’t decide what to do about it. You as a patient. It’s not quite what I …’

‘The appointment’s on Thursday,’ she said, her eyes fixed on his face.

‘Oh God, is it? I’ve got some theatre in the morning. I hope I won’t be late.’ There was a silence and then they both laughed.

‘I’m sorry if it’s a bit odd,’ she said. Sudden intensity in her eyes.

‘No, honestly, it’s fine. All safe and private and fine. Roza, your face. My God, you have about a thousand expressions a minute.’ He wanted to touch her, and had to force himself to turn away.

Jung Ha said, ‘You want the coffee?’ They jumped.

‘Yes,’ Roza said, going into the kitchen.

‘Down here is it, the bathroom?’ Simon asked. ‘Here? Thanks so much.’

‘No worries,’ Jung Ha said.

Simon opened the bathroom door, feeling the housekeeper’s eyes boring into his back. He turned with some nervous pleasantry, but she had gone.

Roza was too intense, there was such an uncanny brightness about her that she confused him; one minute she made him angry, the next she had him wanting to do anything for her. How did Hallwright deal with her? It could be rather stressful, living with such an unpredictable wife. But she’d seemed more in control before. He couldn’t imagine what she wanted from her ‘consultation’; he was full of curiosity, but nervous and unsure.

He thought, she really does look like Elke: there are the similar features but it’s more the way she acts. She surprises me in the same way with those unexpected withdrawals and antagonistic looks, that haunted, wild expression, and then the sudden warmth.

He inspected himself in the mirror. Even in the dim, flattering candlelight of the Hallwrights’ posh bathroom he looked battered. There was a broken vein spreading on his cheek, his eyes were bloodshot and his injured arm gave him an ache that got worse when he was tired. What with the pain and his patients and his anxieties he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks. And yet he felt sharp; there was a mood on him that he got during long, understaffed shifts at the hospital, when he’d overcome difficulties, made quick decisions, his mind racing and his body in a state beyond exhaustion, where he felt he could go on forever. He looked like shit, but he didn’t
feel
like shit. Hallwright looked like shit too: he’d got thinner and his eyes were underscored by dark shadows, but he must feel the same kind of energy and momentum, now he was so close to getting what he wanted.

Simon went back to the sitting room. Roza was next to Karen on the sofa, handing around cups of coffee. He looked at her anxiously, but she’d relaxed, and was treating Karen with special warmth.

Karen was saying, ‘It’s expensive, but so worth it. It’s a whole package — it takes hours. They shower you with a special shower and then cover your back with hot stones. Then there’s a facial, and a massage at the end. The whole works.’

‘It sounds like torture, darling,’ Trish purred.

‘It’s the perfect gift,’ Karen said.

‘Not that she’s hinting,’ Trish said to Simon, who smiled and looked away, not listening.

‘It’s called Total Body and Mind. I’ll get you a brochure.’

‘Simon? Got that? Total Body and Mind.’ Trish poked his arm.

He turned back. ‘Mind and body? I think about that. When women are giving birth, their mind doesn’t know what their body’s going to do next. It’s a sort of starting point for the question.’

‘What?’ Karen said. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘The mind/body problem. You were saying … What I mean is, there’s the mind/body problem. It’s the old philosophical question, the extent to which mind and body can be separated, whether they can be separated at all.’

Karen and Trish giggled and rolled their eyes. ‘Simon. Stay awake. We were talking about Spa de Serville. This fabulous
treatment
.’

He looked at Roza. Her eyes lit up as she understood the remark. She said, ‘It’s whether we can separate ourselves from our body, even whether we choose our physical actions independently of our body. And when someone’s giving birth they’re helpless about what the body’s doing, they don’t know what it’s going to do next. So it’s a point of separation, at least between the body and the
conscious
mind. It’s really a question about free will.’

‘Exactly,’ Simon said. ‘It’s about free will.’

Roza said dreamily, ‘The longer I live, the less I believe in free will. It seems more to me as if we’re shaped by outside circumstances, by environment. But we seem to want the idea of free will, especially since
we’re so keen on punishment. We want to lock people up for eighteen years with no parole. Some people, a surprising number, want to bring back hanging, and we couldn’t do that with a clear conscience if we thought it wasn’t just the criminal’s free will but the way society’s run, the way we
all
live, that had contributed to the crime.’

Karen stared, her lips parted.

Trish said, ‘More coffee, anyone?’

Roza broke off and turned to Karen. She gave her a brilliant smile. ‘Trish says you have three children. You’re so lucky. Tell me about them. Trish says they’re all at school, but you look too young to have children that age. You must have been a child bride.’ She glanced at Simon, her eyes shining.

Simon couldn’t stop looking at her. Now she’d relaxed she was extremely beautiful. Her eyes radiated such intelligence and force that it was almost alarming, more so because the full power of her personality seemed to be only just held in check. He watched Karen, having bristled at Roza’s comments about free will, subside under the radiance of her smile.

Karen started talking about the kids. Trish watched, looking thoughtful.

Roza was listening as though Karen were the most fascinating person she’d ever met. Karen told a few comic stories: the funny things kids do. Roza followed every word. Simon sat silent. I suppose she’d like to have a kid of her own, he thought, uneasy. It was like watching his nice, straightforward Karen flitting innocently near some kind of wild, beautiful Fury. He felt tense, waiting for the mood to change.

David and Ed came in from another cigar, reeking of smoke. In a sudden nervous movement Roza got up, interrupting Karen, muttered something under her breath about more wine and went out to the kitchen.

‘Pooh,’ Trish said, flapping her hands. ‘Smoke! Anyway, I hope you’ve set the world to rights out there.’

‘I love the smell of cigars,’ Karen said, smiling up at David.

‘I’ll squash in next to you then,’ he said, taking Roza’s place, jamming Karen against him and giving her a cheeky grin. She blushed, and Simon thought, He can’t talk very well but he’s a sort of physical genius. He can communicate with women that way. He gets through their barriers, he snuggles up. It’s not surprising she likes him so much.

There was a strange, harsh noise.

Graeme had bent over in his seat and was trying to catch his breath. David got up awkwardly; Simon turned and knelt in front of Graeme. The old man was heaving, his face red, his hands weakly flapping. Simon took his shoulders and sat him up, leaning him against the back of the sofa.

‘It’s all right, I’m all right,’ Graeme gasped. He drew in a terrible crackling breath. He closed his eyes and said, ‘No, really. I choked but it’s gone now.’

They all rushed about, Trish holding a glass of water up to his chin, Karen asking if she should call an ambulance, David patting Graeme’s shoulder and then Karen’s.

Simon watched Graeme for a moment. ‘I think he’s all right now. Who’s his specialist?’ he asked, drawing Trish aside. ‘You’d better get him an appointment tomorrow. I’d say he’s all right to go home now though.’

Graeme was helped off the sofa, protesting. ‘I just breathed in some water, don’t make a fuss, you fools.’ He grinned at Roza. ‘Thank you. I can tell I’m going to be marched off to bed.’

They all walked out to the car and Trish said she wouldn’t have any problem at the other end; there was the driver Ted and a thousand of her offspring in the house who would help lever Daddy inside.
She kept thinking of one last thing to say, until Graeme croaked from the car, ‘Come on, old girl,’ and she got in finally, and they drove off.

The others said they’d go too.

‘Back to the children,’ Karen said archly to Roza.

‘Of course. The children,’ Roza said, with her strange, radiant smile. She turned to Simon and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thank you so much for coming.’

He nodded, unable to speak. David watched them.

The caterers and Jung Ha cleared up while Roza drifted in and out with an absorbed, expectant expression, as though she were waiting to see something miraculous at any moment. Carrying a load of plates, Jung Ha waited, pointedly, to pass her. She stood for a while watching the help working on the mess. David, on his way to the study, leaned over and kissed her cheek.

‘All right?’ he said.

She smiled. ‘I enjoyed myself tonight.’

‘Not bored to death?’

‘No, it wasn’t boring at all.’ She stepped back and bumped into Jung Ha, knocking cutlery out of her hand. ‘Oh, sorry Jung Ha. No,’ she turned to David as Jung Ha knelt on the carpet beside her, picking up forks and spoons, ‘Trish was right about the Lamptons. It was a good idea to invite them. Everyone was so nice. ’ She stepped back again, nearly standing on Jung Ha, and looked down at her, surprised. ‘What are you doing down there, Jung Ha? Oh, sorry … But yes,’ turning to David again, ‘I just felt happy tonight.’

She walked out of the room. Jung Ha looked up at David from the floor, expressionless. Roza came back in. ‘Jung Ha? Was the stuff in the blue bowl important? Only the dog’s gone and knocked it all down and the cat’s eating it.’ She smiled. ‘They’re terrible aren’t
they, the animals? You’d think we starved them, the way they carry on.’ She walked out again. They heard her talking to the dog. ‘Get off, you savage. It’s everywhere. How are they going to get it off everything? The whole floor. God. What a mess!’

She came back in. ‘David, aren’t you coming to bed? I’m so tired I’ve got to go up.’

He said, ‘I’ll be up soon. Just be in the study for a minute.’