She glanced warily at the departing figure of Jack. ‘Is that him?’ she asked.
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Is he the one who wants to hurt me?’ She began to whimper.
‘No. He’s just a young man who happened to pass by when you were upset. Just a young chap out for a walk, like us . . . that’s all.’
Eileen’s panic was beginning to have an effect on Thomas, causing him to remember the past. Making him fearful. He glanced back, but the young man had already gone from sight.
He forced himself to be calm. In his mind he could see the young man’s face, partially shadowed by the hood of his anorak. For some reason, he felt as though he knew him. Yet, how could he? Fearful things played on his mind, coming back to haunt him, in the same way Eileen was haunted. A sense of disquiet took hold of him.
Who was that young man? What was his name? No doubt the answer would come to him eventually.
‘So, do you like it?’ asked Susan. She and Jack had just viewed the house in Buncer Lane.
‘It’s perfect,’ he answered. ‘I feel completely at home here.’ In fact, there was nothing about the house that he didn’t like. With big windows, a double frontage, an original cast-iron fireplace, and a stained-glass arc over the front door, he guessed it was probably Edwardian in date. All the rooms, upstairs and down, were square and straight, and of a manageable, homely size. At the front was a pleasant small garden, all set with shrubs and trees – one or two of which needed a trim, but that was incidental. The back garden was bigger, of course.
‘There’s a good feeling in this house,’ he told Susan. The minute he had walked through the door, he felt at ease there.
Buncer Lane was long and winding, sweeping down to the main road. Just a short distance away was Bower Street, where he was born and bred. Jack wondered if that was partly why he felt so comfortable here, being within walking distance of his old stamping-ground.
‘I’m so glad you like it,’ said Susan. ‘The owner had it tidied up and redecorated, and decided to let it out. But I think he has rather changed his mind, and now would like to sell it. But no one else has seen it yet, so I thought it was worth you having a look round.’
Jack was intrigued. ‘It seems as though this house was meant for me! I’ll give the owner a call – he might let me rent it from him while I decide whether I’m ready to buy it.
Sue told him she had already asked the owner if that was a possibility, ‘He’s quite agreeable on the idea, but only for a period of no more than twelve months. After that, if you’ve chosen not to buy, he will expect you to vacate.
Jack was relieved, ‘I’m happy with that arrangement. Thank you Sue.’ As it was, he did not envisage that it would take him twelve months to consider buying this delightful house. Jack had already decided that the front bedroom would be his. The decor was to his taste. Moreover, the room took the sun for most of the day, which made it seem bright and welcoming.
Crossing to the window, he took a moment to survey the scene below. With the house being on a curve in the road, he could see right down to the main thoroughfare, and from there in his mind’s eye, he could follow the route to Bower Street. And that made him think fondly of Libby. Being so near to everything he had known as a boy made the memories even stronger.
‘It’s the right house, in the right place, and it has a good feel about it,’ he said. ‘Thank you for finding it, Susan.’
Smiling, she gave a little shrug. ‘It’s what I’m paid to do . . . boss-man!’
Jack laughed. ‘Well, since I’m the boss-man, I’m saying you can go home early.’
When she drove off, he did one more tour of inspection round the house, then jumped into his Lexus and returned to the office to make some calls.
DR REED WAS an expert in his field and with the old doctor having recently retired, Eileen was now his outpatient. Today was their first meeting.
After a lengthy examination of Eileen’s mental capabilities, Libby and Eileen were now seated before him; with Libby attentive as ever, while Eileen appeared agitated and constantly toyed with her fingers.
What he had to say, appeared to have little impact on Eileen, but it brought hope to Libby, ‘Fiirstly, let me assure you, that your mother appears to be in reasonable health for a woman of her age, and I am fairly confident that she does not suffer Dementia, or the onset of Alzheimers, as was first thought. Having said that, she does have certain symptons that might initially lead to that conclusion, such as the psychotic tendencies . . . the sudden unprovoked anger for instance. The identity lapses, and intermittent loss of reality.’
Pausing, he glanced at Eileen, who at that moment appeared to be paying attention, and was looking right at him, ‘Do you understand what I’m saying?’ he asked her now.
Eileen nodded.
‘Good. And if you’re not sure of what I’m saying, you must stop me, and I’ll go through it again.’
With Eileen’s reassurance, he continued.
For a time, Eileen appeared to listen, then she looked away, towards the open window, ‘I want to go now.’
Libby took hold of her hand, ‘In a minute, Mam,’ she promised, ‘Let the doctor finish.’ Even though it was understood how her mother still suffered the same problems, Libby was overjoyed at the prospect that there appeared to be some hope, ‘This is good news, isn’t it mam?’
Eileen raised her sorry eyes to the doctor, ‘I need to see Thomas now.’ There was such an emptiness inside her. Such fear, and a crippling sense of desolation. When she was with Thomas, she felt calmer, as though he understood, where others could not.
‘I’m not mad, am I?’ she asked the doctor now.
With a gentle smile on his face, Dr Reed slowly shook his head, ‘No, my dear. You are definitely not “mad”.’
Eileen was grateful for his answer. But then he did not know what she knew.
Thomas did though. Oh, yes. He knew.
Later, when Eileen and Libby went round to see Thomas, he was thrilled with the news, ‘That’s wonderful!’ he gave them each a hug, ‘So, what exactly did he say?’ he asked Libby. Although, unbeknown to Libby, he had a very strong idea of what was haunting Eileen. And he was plagued with guilt.
Libby explained, ‘He was almost certain Mam was not suffering from Denentia, or Alzheimers; though he would have to undertake more tests. Instead he suspects it’s a much less invasive condition, called psychosis. It’s a kind of disturbance in the brain, where reality becomes distorted, and memories get fragmented, along with deep depression.
‘Can it be cured?’
‘Sometimes yes, and sometimes not altogether. It requires treatment and monitoring, but there is hope.’
With her next words, she dealt Thomas a hammer blow, ‘Apparantly, psychosis is triggered by some shocking, traumatic event. The thing is, when we did eventually manage to trace back to when Mam started to change, it ties in with the time when she lost Dad. So it could be that . . . but we can’t be sure just yet.’
Deeply shaken by Libby’s revelation, Thomas and Eileen instinctively exchanged glances. There was no need for words.
Each knew what the other was thinking as the years rolled away, to a time when they were younger;