‘That’s good,’ Peake said heartily. Patients were beginning to drift in. He nodded to one or two, spoke a word here and there. He moved away from reception with Conway and stood talking to him further down the hall. ‘I’ll look in on your wife next time I’m over your way – but don’t for heaven’s sake tell her that or she’ll work herself up into a stew every morning, wondering if it’ll be today I’ll be calling in.’ He paused. ‘Is she getting out much?’
Conway shook his head. ‘Not very much, I’m afraid.’
‘That’s got to be altered,’ Peake pronounced briskly. ‘She’s at a time of life when she should be full of plans for the future. She should be enjoying making new friends, a whole new life. If you could get her to start thinking positively along those lines it would do her more good than any amount of sleeping pills and anti-depressants.’ A thought struck him. ‘Does she drive?’
Conway shook his head again. ‘She’s never shown any inclination to learn.’
‘Then start teaching her. She’ll fall in with anything you suggest. Could be the very thing for her. Living out in the country, on her own all day, it’s easy for any woman to get shut in on herself, stuck at home without transport. It’ll give her a new interest, something to aim at.’
He clapped Conway on the shoulder. ‘And if you could manage a little second-hand car for her, that would encourage her even more. You needn’t pay the earth for it. Once she’s passed her test she’ll be able to drive into town every day, even if it’s only to do a bit of shopping, change her books at the library. It’s all human contact, it all helps.’
‘You’re absolutely right!’ Conway responded with energy. ‘I should have thought of it myself, it’s a first-class idea. I’ll get cracking on it right away.’
‘And talking about getting out more—’ Peake suddenly broke off. He excused himself and went swiftly along to assist an elderly patient hobbling in with the aid of a stick. He returned to take up again where he’d left off, all the while keeping a benevolent eye open all round. ‘As I was saying, would it be possible to arrange a holiday for your wife? That often does the trick, better than any amount of tranquillizers.’
‘Do you think she’s up to it yet?’ Conway asked in a tone of anxiety. ‘It would mean she’d have to go on her own. There’s no chance of my being able to get away at this time of year.’ He had been in his present job, with Zodiac Soft Furnishings, only since March. He had no leave due to him as yet, and one of the firm’s two busiest seasons was already under way.
‘I wasn’t suggesting she went right away,’ Peake demurred. ‘In a few weeks’ time was what I had in mind. I’m sure she’ll be up to it by then. And I wasn’t suggesting she went on her own. Isn’t there some relative or friend who could go with her?’
Conway pondered. ‘I can’t think of anyone who could get away.’
‘Then a cruise is your answer,’ Peake returned with undiminished gusto. ‘Just the thing late in the year. You can head for the sun, shorten the winter.’
‘A cruise?’ Conway echoed doubtfully.
‘Don’t look so surprised.’ Peake smiled. ‘People have very out-of-date notions about cruises if they haven’t been on one recently. They’ve changed out of all recognition over the last ten or fifteen years. It’s not all old fogies these days, plenty of young folk go on cruises now, families too. My wife and I have been on a good many cruises over the years and we’ve enjoyed every one of them. There’s never any need to feel lonely, they’re ideal for folk on their own, convalescing. No pressure, no need to do anything you don’t feel like. You can lie about all day if you want to. Nothing to worry about, everything done for you. Doctor and nurses if you happen to need them. Your wife will love it. Sea, sunshine, change and stimulation, wonderful food. Meeting new people, striking up friendships, finding new interests.’
He suddenly ground to a halt, conscious he’d got rather carried away. A young couple like the Conways, living in a rented, furnished bungalow, hoping to be able to buy a place of their own, were hardly likely to have much to spare for fancy extras like cruises.
‘Of course cruises don’t come cheap.’ Peake’s tone held apology. ‘And she would really need to go for two or three weeks to do much good.’ He looked inquiringly at Conway. ‘I suppose that would be out of the question?’
‘If a cruise is what you recommend,’ Conway responded with decision, ‘then that’s what Anna’s going to have. I’ll manage the money, whatever it costs. All I want is to see her well and happy, that’s more important than any other consideration.’
Peake delivered another hearty slap on the back. ‘Good man. You won’t regret it.’
Conway gave a wry grin. ‘Just as well I can’t go with her. I should be able to manage one ticket but two would be a bit of a facer.’
‘I’m willing to bet we’ll see a substantial improvement when she gets back,’ Peake told him bracingly.
‘And if we don’t?’
Peake grimaced. ‘Then we might have to think about seeing a psychiatrist.’ He raised a hand as Conway opened his mouth. ‘Yes, yes, I know. I’m well aware she’s dead set against seeing a psychiatrist but I’m sure between us we could manage to talk her into it.’
Conway smiled slightly. ‘I was going to say I entirely agree with you. I think Anna should see a psychiatrist if the cruise doesn’t do the trick.’
‘Good man,’ Peake said again. He glanced at the clock. ‘Off you go now – and don’t forget to see about that cruise. Don’t ask your wife’s opinion about it, present her with a fait accompli. Make the booking and then tell her you’ve got a wonderful surprise for her. Produce the tickets, get out an atlas, show her all the places on the map, get her enthusiastic about it. That’s always the best way with nerve cases. Never give them a choice, the chance to say no. Firm direction’s a great relief to folk in that state of mind. Trying to make any kind of decision can be agony for someone who’s anxious enough already.’
As he turned towards his surgery he couldn’t refrain from adding, ‘And tell her you’ll buy her some new clothes for the trip, that’s always a sure-fire tonic for the ladies. Throw in a new hair-do while you’re at it. She’ll agree to go all right, you’ll see. And when she gets back she’ll have Christmas to look forward to, the start of a new year, spring on the way.’
Ferndale, the bungalow rented by the Conways, was a substantial dwelling, built between the wars. It stood in an isolated spot in the scattered hamlet of Oldmoor, a few miles to the north-west of Cannonbridge.
The weather in the second week of September was no less fine than in the first. At two o’clock on Tuesday afternoon Anna Conway came to the end of the household chores she had managed to spin out since breakfast. She stood at the back door of the bungalow, staring out into the brilliant, windless afternoon, trying to make up her mind how to pass the next hour or two.
If she had been less willow-wand thin, with less of a look of being huddled into herself against the cold, however warm the day, she might have been pretty enough. Her small features were regular, her baby-fine hair a pleasant shade of light brown, her grey eyes large and well set. As it was, she would never catch the attention of a casual observer, unless perhaps to wonder fleetingly how a girl of her age – rising twenty – had acquired so early so apprehensive a stance towards life.
She twisted her hands together. The garden seemed so still, waiting, watching. What she longed to do was take a sleeping pill, crawl into the big double bed and pull the covers over her head, extinguishing for the next few hours every nerve, every thought and feeling, every lacerating memory.
But yesterday evening, as they sat close together on the sofa, David had slipped an arm round her shoulders, had gently suggested she might like to occupy some of the time that hung so heavily on her hands with a little leisurely tidying up of the