“That’s not true…” began Nicolas.
“I said, come on.”
She skipped off across the clearing toward the belt of trees that screened the Center from the main road. Katie shuffled along behind her, head down, hands clasped tightly before her. Nicolas tore his gaze from Eva’s breasts long enough to give an apologetic smile and shrug, then turned and ran to catch up with Alison.
Eva watched them go, then resumed pacing on the soft leaf mold, gazing up at the cathedral roof of leaves. Silence drifted down the shafts of greenish light that filled the space within the trees and Eva began to relax again. Peace and calm and a chance to forget the outside world and to feel that it had forgotten her. Alison was wrong, thought Eva, who had never imagined they could make her better. She just liked having someone to talk to. She simply didn’t think that there was anything wrong with her that could be cured here at the Center.
“Eva. You can’t see me, but I’m here. I know you can hear me. I need to talk to you.”
Apart from the voices, of course. Maybe they could stop her hearing the voices.
Doctor Cevier’s office was large and bare. The high ceiling and wide floor space dwarfed his plastic desk. A few framed pictures and certificates were marooned on the cheerless orange walls. Two shaped plastic chairs sat by a low coffee table set with a tray holding two steaming cups from the vending machine. Five cakes were set out on a plate. Eva took one seat, Doctor Cevier the other. He was a well-built man in his early thirties, his thinning hair looking damp and smelling faintly of shower gel. Doctor Cevier always looked as if he had just left the gym. He tapped his ultra-slim executive model console to set it recording and then relaxed in his chair.
“Well, Eva. Two weeks now. How do you feel?”
“Tired.”
“That’s not surprising. How much sleep are you getting? In an average day, I mean.”
“I don’t know. Fifteen hours?”
Doctor Cevier tapped at his console.
“More like eighteen, according to this. Why do you think that is?”
“What is there to get up for?”
Doctor Cevier said nothing in reply. Instead he picked up one of the cups and took a sip.
“Mmm. Delicious. How do they manage it? Every cup tastes different. Aren’t you going to try some?”
Eva stared at the other cup and said nothing. Through the wide window she could see out across the ragged lawns to the circle of limes. Their leaves rippled and danced in the sunlight.
“I’m sorry?” Eva said.
“I didn’t say anything,” said Doctor Cevier. “Tell me, how are you settling in here? Do you feel comfortable?”
“I suppose so. When are you going to let me go?”
Doctor Cevier took another sip of his drink. “Wonderful. You really should try some. It will help you relax.”
“How? Is it drugged?”
Doctor Cevier laughed a little and tapped at his console again. Eva looked around the empty office. If this were her room, she thought, she would buy some rugs and hang them from the walls, arrange standard lamps and statues around the edge of the room and throw mats and carpets on the floor. Anything to break the dull monotony of the surroundings. Anything that would make the room look less like a waiting room and more like an office, even a bookcase, filled with cheap second-hand books. Doctor Cevier wasn’t speaking now; he gazed at Eva with a half amused expression. Eva ignored him. She looked across at the plastic desk and wondered if Doctor Cevier ever sat behind it. The few books and papers that lay on its surface were facing in her direction.
“Have you given any thought yet on how you got here?”
“No,” Eva said.
“You were very lucky, you know. They thought you were dead when the train pulled into Marseilles.”
“Well, there you go.”
“Well, there you go,” repeated Doctor Cevier, “as you say. Two doctors pronounced you dead, as did a Diagnostics Expert System at the Marseilles Area Hospital. And those things are never wrong.”
“Except in my case.”
“Except in your case. They pulled you back from the dead, Eva. I’ve read the report. Not my field, you understand, but still pretty convincing. If it wasn’t for the fact you’d probably disagree with me, I’d tell you to your face that you were dead.”
“No one can be right all of the time.”
“Very true. You know, at some point we’re going to have to go over what happened that day. But not today.” He tapped at his console again. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been in here, is it?”
“No.”
“Maybe we can talk about your brother sometime.”
“Why not?”
“Why not, indeed?” Doctor Cevier picked up his cup and finished his drink. Eva pointedly left hers untouched.
The rest of the session passed in silence. Doctor Cevier was waiting for Eva to speak. Eva wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. The worst thing was, she didn’t really know why. She knew that he was here to help her; she had even looked forward to this meeting. Now that it had arrived, she felt a sudden surge of obstinacy. Maybe it was the realization that Doctor Cevier represented just another branch of Social Care. He may have a big desk, he may have his doctorate, but he was just the same as those people back in South Street who used to poke their noses into her business. They didn’t really care about curing her, they just wanted the warm glow of validation one got from helping others, whether they wanted helping or not. It was the mention of her brother that had made her realize all this. How dare he mention her brother?
When her time was up, Eva rose from her seat and walked to the door.
“Eva?”
“What?”
“I didn’t say anything,” said Doctor Cevier.
Eva took a bath. It was something about the Center: things that she used to accomplish in a few minutes in the outside world could fill up a whole day here. You could spend an hour making a cup of tea; you could spend two hours deciding whether or not to have a biscuit with it.
The bathroom didn’t have a lock on the door. Every so often a nurse would come in to look for a towel or to check that the water was warm enough. Eva gave them a wry look as they smiled apologetically at her. She had taken four months planning her suicide attempt. She was hardly likely to try anything in the bathroom, was she?
The sound of Alison, Nicolas, and Katie returning caused a bit of a stir. She heard Alison’s voice first, slurred and indignant.
“So what if we’re drunk? It’s a free country, isn’t it?”
Eva walked into the corridor to find Alison squaring up to Nurse Dyer. The nurse was small; she had to tilt her head back to gaze into Alison’s eyes, yet she stood her ground without heat or concern.
“No, Alison,” she said gently, “it’s not a free country. Not for you anymore. Anyway, didn’t you stop to think about poor Katie? Didn’t you think about her feelings, having to mix with all those strangers?”
Katie had wrapped her arms tightly around herself. She gazed down at the floor, silent. While Nurse Dyer remained distracted by Alison, Nicolas sidled up to Eva.
“Hello, Eva,” he whispered, his breath sweet with the smell of alcohol. “You should have come with us. The people in the pub in the village buy drinks and leave them on the table for us. They kept saying they were on our side. They love to get one over on Social Care and these bastards at the Center.”
“Oh. I thought the Center was here to help us.”
Eva pulled her white robe closer around her chest and walked into her room. Nicolas unthinkingly followed her in.
“Excuse me,” Eva said. “I’d like to get changed.”
Nicolas’ eyes widened at the sudden realization of what he had done.
