Dark Room

as you seem to be, then I'd go and mug some poor old woman for the money. I can't see what's stopping you.'

'You're just like everybody else,' he said angrily. 'Go and knock down old ladies, beat the shit out of a bank manager, steal some kid's piggy bank. Jesus, I'm not a criminal. All I want is one bloody hit. You should listen to the doc sometime. 'What's keeping you here, Matthew? You're over twenty-one, you know what you're doing, so go phone your supplier, get him to bring you something.' I bloody rang my old man and told him, 'The doc's not trying to cure me, he's trying to encourage me, and this is what you're paying for.' '

'What did your father say?'

'He said: 'No one's stopping you, Matthew, so go ahead and do it.' I don't know what the hell's wrong with everyone. How about that walk then? Do you fancy a walk?'

'I can't,' she said rather curtly. 'My legs aren't strong enough yet.'

'Yeah, I forgot. You tried to top yourself. Okay, I'll get a wheelchair then.'

'I suppose Dr. Protheroe told you I was suicidal,' she said bitterly.

'Shit, no. Like I said, he doesn't do a damn thing. Everyone knows about you. You've been in the papers. Millionaire's daughter who tried to kill herself.'

'I didn't try to kill myself.'

'How would you know? The word is you can't remember a thing.'

She turned on him. 'You bloody little shit,' she said. 'What the fuck would you know about anything?'

He touched a surprisingly soft finger to the tears on her cheek. 'I've been there,' he said.

She was still standing in front of the window twenty minutes later, propped against the chair, when Alan Protheroe came in. 'I have a message for you from Matthew,' he told her. 'It goes something like this: 'Tell the bird in number twelve that I've found a wheelchair but it's so filthy that I'm having to clean it. She probably wouldn't say no to some sodding lunch in the garden, so I've laid it out for her under the beech tree.' ' His amiable face broke into a grin. 'Does that charming invitation appeal at all, Jinx, or should I tell him I've ordered you back to bed? As before, he totally ignored the Do Not Disturb sign outside your door, so in my view he hasn't earned your company for lunch, and the chances are he'll bore you solid with constant reiterations of his urge to shoot smack. However, it's an entirely free choice.'

She smiled rather cynically back at him. 'I'm beginning to understand how you operate, Dr. Protheroe.'

'Are you?'

'Yes. You work on the principle that people always do the opposite of what the figure in authority is telling them to do.'

'Not necessarily,' he said. 'I'm interested in encouraging each individual to establish his own set of values, and it's remarkably unimportant what triggers that process off.'

'Then you force us to make choices all the time.'

'I don't force anyone to do anything, Jinx.'

She frowned. 'Well, what am I supposed to do? Have lunch with Matthew or tell him to shove his head in a bucket. I mean, he's a patient too. I wouldn't want to do the wrong thing.'

He shrugged. 'It's nothing to do with me. He'll clean the wheelchair till it shines, because he's made up his mind you're worth it. His brain's a bit one-tracked at the moment, because he's been doing drugs for years, but his father's a barrister and his mother's in advertising, and ten years ago he got three A levels, so he can't be entirely stupid. It's a free choice, Jinx.'

'I wish you wouldn't keep saying that. In my philosophy, there's no such thing as a free choice any more than there are free lunches. You always pay in the end.' She allowed him to see her dislike. 'And, as a matter of interest, if you're prepared to tell me so much about Matthew, then what have you told him about me?'

He arched an amused eyebrow. 'I said the bird in number twelve is streets brighter than you, went to Oxford to read classics, and probably thinks you're a greasy-haired git who hasn't got the balls to go out and knock down an old lady for the sake of a hit. Which is pretty close to the truth, isn't it? He related most of the conversation you had with him.'

'Spot on,' she said tightly. 'I couldn't have put it better myself.'

'So, what do I tell him? That you'd like to have lunch with him in a wheelchair, or that you wouldn't?'

'You know I wouldn't.'

He tipped a finger at her. 'Then that's what I'll tell him.' With the briefest of waves he disappeared through the door.

'NO!' she shouted. 'COME BACK!' But he didn't come back and, more angry than she could ever remember, she set off across the floor and thrust herself out of her own doorway. 'DR. PROTHEROE!' she screamed at his retreating figure. 'DON'T YOU DARE SAY A WORD, YOU BLOODY, SODDING BASTARD!'

He turned round and started to walk back. 'You do want to have lunch with Matthew?'

She waited until he had reached her. 'Not particularly,' she said quietly, 'but I will.'

'Why?' he asked curiously. 'Why do something you don't want to do?'

'Because you won't tell him no kindly. You'll tell him exactly what I told you, and I don't want you to do that. He's been nicer to me than anyone else and I think you might hurt him.'

'You're right on every count, Jinx.'

She gave a bored sigh. 'Oh for God's sake. Look, I know why you're doing it. You're no different from Stephanie Fellowes. You want me to get out of this room, you want me to stop feeling sorry for myself, and you want me to start mixing again. But why can't you just say, 'Do it, please, Jinx, because it's good for you?' Why involve that