44 Scotland Street

know.”

As he spoke, Guy Peploe suddenly leaned forward and examined the painting closely. “You know, there’s something rather interesting here,” he muttered. “Yes, look. I’m pretty sure that this is an overpainting. I think that there’s another painting underneath.” He held the painting up so that the light fell upon it from a different angle. “Yes, look at that. Look just above Ben More there. Can you see the shape of . . . yes, the shape of an umbrella?”

They looked, and yes, at a certain angle, there appeared to be the shape of an umbrella. But what would an umbrella be doing above Ben More? The West did indeed get a lot of rain –

but not that much.

97. More about Bertie

Irene and Bertie always arrived punctually for Bertie’s session of psychotherapy with Dr Fairbairn, and the famous analyst, author of that seminal study on Wee Fraser, was always ready for them.

They saw him jointly, which Dr Fairbairn explained was the best way of dealing with an issue in which two parties were involved.

“I could ask you about Bertie, and Bertie about you,” he said.

“And in each case I would get a very different story, quite sincerely put. But if I speak to both of you at the same time, then we shall get closer to the truth.” For a moment he looked doubtful, and added: “That is, if there is such a thing as the truth.”

This last comment puzzled Bertie. Of course there was such a thing as the truth, and it seemed inexplicable that an adult, particularly an adult like Dr Fairbairn, should doubt its existence. There were fibs and then there was the truth. Could Dr Fairbairn not tell the difference between the two? Was Dr Fairbairn perhaps a fibber?

“I fully understand,” said Irene. She was pleased that Dr Fairbairn had invited her to sit in on the therapy sessions, as she enjoyed listening to the sound of his voice, and she delighted in his subtle, perceptive questioning. His manner was suggestive, she had decided; not suggestive in any pejorative sense, but suggestive in the sense that he could elicit responses that revealed something important.

That morning, as Dr Fairbairn ushered them into his consulting room, she noticed that there was a new copy of the International Bulletin of Dynamic Psychoanalysis lying on the top of his desk. The sight thrilled her, and she tried, by craning her neck, to make out the titles listed on the cover. Mother as Stalin, she read, A New Analysis. That looked interesting, even if the title was slightly opaque. It must have been all about the need that boys are said to feel to get away from the influence of their mothers. Yes, she supposed that this was true: there were boys who needed to get away from their mothers, but that was certainly not Bertie’s problem. She had a perfectly good relationship with More about Bertie

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Bertie, as Dr Fairbairn was no doubt in the process of discovering. Bertie’s problem was . . . well, she was not sure what Bertie’s problem was. Again, this was something that Dr Fairbairn would illuminate over the weeks and months to come. It was, no doubt, his anxieties over the good breast and what she had always referred to as Bertie’s additional part. Boys tended to be anxious about their additional parts, which was strange, as she would have imagined an additional part was something to which one might reasonably be quite indifferent, in the same way one was indifferent to other appendices, such as one’s appendix.

And then there was another, quite fascinating article: Marian Apparitions in Immediate Post War Italy: Popular Hysteria and the Virgin as Christian Democrat. That looked very interesting indeed; perhaps she could ask Dr Fairbairn whether she could borrow that once he had read it. The Virgin tended to appear in all sorts of places and at all sorts of times, but there was sometimes a question mark over those who saw her. Rome urged caution in such cases, as did Vienna . . .

Bertie sat down next to Dr Fairbairn’s desk while Irene sat on a chair against the wall, where Bertie could not see her while he was talking to the psychotherapist.

“How do you feel today, Bertie?” asked Dr Fairbairn. “Are you feeling happy? Are you feeling angry?”

Bertie stared at Dr Fairbairn. He noticed that the tie he was wearing had a small teddy-bear motif woven into it. Why, he wondered, would Dr Fairbairn wear a teddy-bear tie? Did he still play with teddy-bears? Bertie had noticed that some adults were strange that way; they hung on to their teddy bears. He had a teddy bear, but he was no longer playing with him. It was not that he was punishing him, nor that his teddy bear, curiously, had no additional part; it was just that he no longer liked his bear, who smelled slightly of sick after an unfortunate incident some months previously. That was all there was to it – nothing more.

“Do you like teddy bears, Dr Fairbairn?” asked Bertie. “You have teddy bears on your tie.”

Dr Fairbairn smiled. “You’re very observant, Bertie. Yes, this is a rather amusing tie, isn’t it? And do I like teddy bears? Well, 282

More about Bertie

I suppose I do. Most people think of teddy bears as being rather attractive, cuddly creatures.” He paused. “Do you know that song about teddy bears, Bertie?”

“The Teddy Bears’ Picnic?”

“Exactly. Do you know the words for it, Bertie?”

Bertie thought for a moment. “If you go down to the woods today . . .”

“You’re sure of a big surprise! ” continued Dr Fairbairn. “If you go down to the woods today/ You’d better go in disguise. And so on.

It’s a nice song, isn’t it Bertie?”

“Yes,” said Bertie. “But it’s a bit sad, too, isn’t it?”

Dr Fairbairn leaned forward. This was interesting. “Sad, Bertie? Why is The Teddy Bears’ Picnic sad?”