Chameleon's Shadow

you’ve been here, Charles?’

‘Ex-fiance?e,’ Acland corrected, squeezing one fist inside the other. He was standing in his favourite position by the window in his room, leaving the doctor to sit in the chair. ‘Why do you want to know?’

‘Just interested. I thought she might have called to find out how you’re getting on.’ He studied Acland’s unresponsive expression. ‘Women have soft hearts. They forgive and forget very quickly when someone they’ve loved is in trouble.’

‘There’s nothing for her to forgive – she’s the one who did the ditching – and there’s not much to forget either. We weren’t together that long.’

‘You can store up quite a few memories in nine months, Charles.’

‘Have you been talking to her?’

Willis avoided the question. ‘Merely doing my research. It helps me to understand a patient if I know what was happening in the months before his trauma.’

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ Acland walked to his bedside cabinet and pulled open a drawer to remove a pile of unopened envelopes with his name and address written in the same handwriting. ‘All yours,’ he said, scattering the pile across the bed before returning to the window.

‘Why don’t you want to read them?’

‘There’d be no point. I’m not planning to write back.’ He watched Willis finger one of the envelopes. ‘What’s she been telling you?’

‘I haven’t spoken to her. She sent me an email, saying she regrets ending the relationship the way she did and would like to see you.’

‘Meaning what?’ Acland asked sarcastically. ‘That she’s blissfully happy and can afford to be generous to a cast-off? Or that she hasn’t found anyone else and wants her meal ticket back?’

Again Willis hedged. ‘Is that how you think she saw you?’

‘It’s how I know she saw me. All men are meal tickets to Jen.’ He paused, inviting Willis to answer. ‘It’s not sour grapes, Doc. She has a good brain and a good body and she uses both to full advantage. I admired her for it when I liked her.’

‘And now you don’t?’

‘Put it this way, I’ve no plans to let her take me for another ride.’ He nodded to the envelopes. ‘It makes me angry that she thinks she can. I wasn’t that easy to manipulate even when we were together.’

Privately, Willis questioned the truth of that remark, suspecting the letters remained unread because Acland feared the turmoil that reawakened emotions might produce. He placed the point of his pen against a query he’d made on his notes. Nuisance calls? ‘Have you thought about phoning her to tell her you’re not interested?’

Acland shook his head. ‘I’ve nothing to say that silence won’t achieve better.’

Interesting choice of word, thought Willis. ‘You mean that ignoring her won’t achieve better?’

‘Right.’

‘But isn’t that equally manipulative? In the absence of a definite no, silence is usually taken for assent . . . or at least a continuing willingness to listen. Perhaps she thinks you’re reading her letters.’

‘That’s her problem.’

‘Maybe so, but she wouldn’t keep sending them if she knew where she stood.’ He paused. ‘Does it amuse you that she’s wasting her time?’

‘No. It’s up to her if she wants to write drivel . . . There’s no law that says I have to look at it.’

‘Do you think about revenge?’

‘All the time. I’ve a hell of a score to settle with the Iraqis who killed my crew.’

‘I meant against Jen.’

‘I know you did and it was a stupid question, Doc. I can’t even picture her face these days.’ He studied the psychiatrist’s thoughtful expression. ‘If she sent you an email, you’ll have visited her website and seen her photos. Who does she remind you of?’

‘Uma Thurman.’

Acland nodded. ‘She really works on the image – thinks it’ll get her parts – but I have a better memory of Uma Thurman in Gattaca than I do of Jen. It was her favourite movie, even though it’s ten years old now. We used to watch the DVD whenever she was bored . . . and now the only face I see if I bother to think of Jen at all is Uma’s.’ He went back to staring out of the window. ‘It’s a revenge of sorts. At least I get the last laugh.’

If what you’re saying is true, Willis thought. ‘Was Jen ever mistaken for Uma Thurman?’

‘All the time. It was the whole point of the exercise . . . to be noticed.’

‘Did that annoy you?’

‘Sometimes, when she went too far.’

‘How did she do that?’

‘Pretended to be Uma Thurman . . . talked in an American accent. She only did it with women. It gave her a real buzz to see their mouths fall open.’