Lynda Plante - The Talisman

Shaking his head, Edward said that he would contact Allard. ‘I’ll give you five days to think about it.’

Edward had a long talk with the doctors. They were very helpful, assuring Edward that it was nothing more than a temporary relapse. Given time, his wife would be back home and perfectly able to cope with life. She was not an invalid, but he must keep her condition in mind. They put her on tranquillizers, and she was to go into a rest home for a few weeks. They warned him that she would appear drowsy and slightly disorientated. Edward puffed on his cigar, paced the room and eventually blurted out what it was he wanted to know. ‘Is this hereditary? She had an aunt who was institutionalized... It’s just that should... I mean, if she were to have a baby...’

‘Your wife, Mr Barkley, is not schizophrenic. We have all her records here from three different clinics. She has a history of manic depression. It can be inherited, but it is not a foregone conclusion. Her condition can be triggered off by emotional upheavals... In this case it’s very clear that it was caused by the loss of her baby.’

‘What was wrong with it?’

‘The doctor who delivered the child, a boy, said he was in perfect health. We still have little or no knowledge of why these cot deaths happen, but they are quite common. To your wife it was such an emotional loss that she had a complete nervous breakdown. You will have to be gentle with her, take great care until she feels confident, feels herself again. You must also learn to watch out for the symptoms, never forget that your wife does have this illness.’

‘You mean, if I detect anything unusual, this can be avoided?’

‘Well, it can most certainly help to prevent her getting to the advanced stage she is in at present.’

‘So, what are the symptoms?’ The doctor felt as though he were on trial. Edward had such an angry, blunt way of questioning him. ‘Well, what do I watch out for?’

‘Elation, almost euphoria, with sudden switches to irritability, anger, is the most obvious. If she should appear more active than usual, talking more... an inflated sense of self-esteem, grandiose ideas... In some cases...’

‘I don’t want to hear about other cases, Doctor, just my wife’s.’

‘She may very well appear deluded about her identity, need less sleep, be very easily distracted, and over-react to trivial or irrelevant stimuli... I am, you understand, Mr Barkley, covering all possible symptoms of depression, manic depression.’

‘I hear you, Doctor, and I am trying to assimilate it. Is there anything, could there be anything else?’

The doctor smiled. Now he could see the chinks in Mr Barkley’s armour — he no longer behaved in such a brusque manner, he actually seemed helpless. ‘It’s not so bad as it sounds, but tell-tale signs can include sudden shopping sprees, even sexual indiscretions.’

Edward ran his fingers through his hair. He was quieter now, and gave the doctor a half-smile. ‘She always was a bit of a handful... What will be the next move?’

‘As soon as she is physically tip-top, I want to put her through a course of psychotherapy. She’s had a number of therapists before, but I am not sure at this stage which type of therapy would be most beneficial. Perhaps a group would be best, as she has had a considerable amount of cognitive and behavioural therapy through the years.’

Edward said that there were no financial problems and he wanted the best there was. The doctor rose from his seat and shook Edward’s hand. He realized now that the bravado had been a strong cover-up, and Edward was obviously very disturbed and shocked.

‘You know, Mr Barkley, a good marriage, a strong marriage in which there is total openness and understanding, is likely to discourage Harriet’s depressive states from becoming regular occurrences. External events can trigger a depression, and when this happens, outside help is always advised... You obviously care; you love your wife a great deal. Perhaps together you can beat it.’ He noted the fleeting look of anger cross Edward’s face before he gave a charming smile and said it was time to visit Harriet. As he reached the door, still with his back to the doctor, he said, ‘I love my wife, guess I’m not the easiest person to live with. But from now on I’ll give it a damned good try. Thank you for your time.’

Edward spent a long time sitting outside Harriet’s room. He digested everything the doctor had said, and the future seemed daunting to say the least. He couldn’t bring himself to face her, to cope with her.

A nurse came out of Harriet’s room, carrying a tray. When she saw Edward, she paused and put her head back round the door. ‘Oh, your husband’s here, Mrs Barkley... It’s all right, Mr Barkley, there was no need to wait. Can I bring you a cup of tea?’

‘No... no thanks.’

He picked up the big bunch of Harriet’s favourite flowers, tapped on the door and walked in. She was sitting propped up on pillows, surrounded by so many bouquets of flowers the room was heavy with perfume. She smiled brightly. ‘You’ve overdone the flowers, place looks like a funeral parlour! There’s a sweet little Indian girl down the corridor, and I’ve sent quite a lot of them to her...’

Edward laid down the flowers almost afraid to look at her. She had that flushed look, her cheeks rosy, hair shining. It had now grown to her shoulders, and she had tied a ribbon around it.

‘I didn’t notice before how long your hair’s grown, looks nice. Dewint’s in a terrible state without you to clear up after. He’s started polishing everything in sight.’ He pulled up a chair and she offered him grapes, oranges — he caught her hand and held it tight. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s all right...’

Her eyes brimmed with tears and she chewed her lip. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... have they told you all about me?’

‘Yes, no stone unturned. You’re going off to a nice place for a rest, then they say you’ll be back home as good as new. And, I’ve got instructions from Dr Wilson on how to be a good husband. I’ve not tried hard enough, I know it, but I’ll make it up to you. We’ll go on a holiday together, wherever you like.’

‘You know I might get a bit wobbly again, I mean, I’ll try not to, but did they tell you?’

‘Yes, they did. Dewint and I will keep our beady eyes on you, make sure you’re stocked up with pills, all you have to do is get yourself fit and come home fast.’

‘You still want me, then?’

‘I’m your husband, what the hell do you expect? You’ve got me under contract, haven’t you?’

She smiled, then her eyes drooped, and he held her hand until she fell asleep. She was comforted that he had taken no phone calls while he sat with her, and had not looked at his watch once... He leaned forward and kissed her brow, then crept out and closed the door silently behind him. He felt so depressed himself he wanted to weep.

Edward had always made a point of never associating with Jodie’s girls. They were for his punters, but tonight he needed someone. He got very drunk, and went up to the rooms with the prettiest and youngest of the girls. Jodie gave strict instructions, this was no ordinary customer...

It became a nightly arrangement. He never asked for any particular girl, taking anyone available. But Jodie always made sure he got the very best. He treated the girls with great courtesy, and although he owned the place he tipped them well and sent frequent gifts. They all liked him. He was still a very handsome man, and his prowess in the bedroom made their work a pleasure.

Edward changed his drinking habits. He had never been one to overindulge, but now he started drinking heavily. Many nights Dewint found him passed out in the drawing room, and in the mornings he would be hung-over, often asking for a drink as soon as he awoke. He never brought any of the women home, which was a blessing, but it was Dewint who sent the flowers and gifts on his master’s behalf.