‘Not if he’s coming back. The nurse who brought Ms Morley’s bag said Acland had a go at his mother shortly after he arrived here. Is that true?’
‘It was a different scenario. He was in a lot of pain and she wouldn’t stop fussing over him. He grabbed her hand to stop her stroking his hair.’
‘The same nurse said he’s been rude to most of the staff. He sounds like a ticking time bomb, this fellow. Did he explain why he assaulted Ms Morley?’
‘He asked her to leave several times and she wouldn’t go. She also ignored his warnings about standing too close. It became a physical confrontation when she tried to touch his face.’
‘Why didn’t he press his bell?’
Willis shrugged. ‘He wouldn’t have been able to reach it if Ms Morley was between him and the bed . . . not without revealing the injured side of his face.’ He fell silent for a moment. ‘He’s very conscious of his scars. As I understand it, she started screaming when she finally got a view of them. That may have caused him to react the way he did.’
‘He should have backed off.’
‘As should she,’ Willis pointed out mildly. ‘It takes two to tango, Gareth. She’s the one who came looking for
‘As a friend. They were engaged, apparently, and she wanted him to know she was still there for him even though the relationship hadn’t worked out.’ He gave another sour smile. ‘It looks as though she’s well out of it. The male nurse who rescued her said Lieutenant Acland had his hand round her throat and was bearing down like a man possessed. Do you know if he’s been violent towards her before?’
‘Have you asked her?’
‘Won’t say . . . but she’s obviously wary of him. Have you any objections if I talk to him myself? Is he mentally fit to be interviewed?’
Willis nodded. ‘You won’t get many answers. I suspect he’ll allow you to believe Ms Morley’s version of events. He seems to have no interest at all in correcting people’s bad opinion of him.’
‘Why not?’
‘I wish I knew,’ said Willis honestly. ‘At the moment I don’t know whether I’m dealing with post-traumatic guilt over the death of two troopers... or something far deeper.’
‘Like what?’
‘The prolonged destruction of a personality.’
*
In the flesh, Jen Morley looked less like Uma Thurman than in her website photograph, but there was no denying the similarity. She had the same wide-set eyes in an oval face and the same look of childish innocence. She greeted Dr Willis with charm and composure, rising gracefully from her seat and placing her slender hand in his. ‘I’m so sorry to be a nuisance, Doctor, but everyone’s been incredibly kind –’ she flashed a smile at his secretary – ‘particularly Ruth.’ He glanced at her wrist as he released her hand, but it was covered by a cuff. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, gesturing for her to sit down again and moving round the desk to his own seat. ‘You’re certainly looking better.’ ‘A little shocked still,’ she confided, turning sideways on her chair and crossing her ankles neatly beneath her. ‘But what about Charlie? I’m more worried about him. Is he all right? I feel awful about what happened.’ Willis made a conscious effort to view her through neutral eyes, but his first impression was that she reminded him of Charles’s mother. Different hair colouring and a very different kind of beauty, but she had the same instinct to display herself to good advantage, in the elegant way she sat and in what she said. Mrs Acland had invariably started with a question about Charles’s welfare, only to steer the conversation towards herself, and Willis wondered if Jen would do the same.
He nodded to his secretary, who was signalling a desire to leave. He watched her say goodbye to Jen, then pause in the doorway to send him a telephone sign with her thumb and little finger against the side of her face. ‘One thing before you go,’ he called after her. ‘I’m expecting a call from Henry Watson in the next few minutes. You can ask anyone else to call back later, but I need you to put Henry through. Do you mind telling him to keep it brief?’
‘No problem,’ said Ruth, closing the door behind her.
Willis took off his glasses and polished them vigorously on his handkerchief, peering short-sightedly across his desk. The intended effect was to diminish him, take away his authority, and he saw the tension ease from Jen’s shoulders. ‘Charles is also a little shocked, Ms Morley, but with less reason perhaps. I gather he wasn’t expecting you.’
‘I wrote to tell him I was coming.’
Willis allowed the lie to go. Charles had solemnly handed every new communication to the psychiatrist and the last one had been two weeks previously. There had been no mention of a visit, merely a repeat of what she’d written in her earlier letters:
He chose to flatter her ego. ‘You and Charles must have made a handsome couple, Ms Morley. You’re a very beautiful woman . . . But I’m sure you’ve been told that a hundred times.’
She took the compliment in her stride. ‘Thank you . . . and, yes, we were a handsome couple. Charlie, too. Is that part of his problem? He wouldn’t turn round when I entered his room. Is he embarrassed by his face?’
Willis answered generally. ‘Most people find it difficult to come to terms with disfigurement. Other people’s reactions are often hurtful.’
‘I screamed,’ she admitted, ‘and I’m so annoyed with myself. I can’t
‘I’m sure he understands.’
‘Do you think so? The last thing I wanted to do was upset him . . . I just wanted to be friends again.’ She gazed
