Chameleon's Shadow

‘So I gathered the last time you were here.’ She smiled slightly. ‘But I didn’t ask you what made you lose your temper, Charles, I asked you what went wrong with your method of coping with pain. It’s one thing to say you live with migraine, quite another to suffer such a debilitating episode in public that a doctor has to intervene with medication.’

‘It was a one-off.7 If I’d been allowed to drink my pint in peace I’d have been OK.’

‘I doubt it. Alcohol on an empty stomach is one of the primary triggers . . . as is intense exercise without regular fluid intake . . . prolonged guilt-ridden stress . . . sleep patterns disrupted by nightmares . . . a refusal to take medication. Do you want me to go on?’

‘No.’ He watched in silence as she prepared the sandwiches for him. ‘I’ve had enough lectures to last a lifetime,’ he said with sudden irritation. ‘Everyone I meet has an opinion . . . even the cabbies.’

Susan chuckled. ‘And what were you expecting from me? A hug? You’d have turned catatonic if I’d even tried.’ She wagged a butter knife at him. ‘You knew perfectly well what you were going to get . . . you told Robert I was bossy and interfering. You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t wanted a lecture.’

Acland cracked his finger joints. ‘Go on, then,’ he said with grudging amusement. ‘I’m ready. Give me your best bollocking.’

‘Nn-nn.’ She shook her head as she pushed the plate of sandwiches towards him. ‘I’m just the middleman. You need medical attention, Charles. When you’ve eaten those, I’ll call a taxi and take you to a doctor.’

He eyed her suspiciously. ‘I’d rather stay with you.’

‘It’s a Friday night in August, Charles. All my beds are taken for the weekend.’

‘Which doctor?’

‘How many do you know in London?’

Nine

‘WHAT IF I HADN’T shown up at your place?’ Acland asked Susan in the cab. ‘You all seem so interested in my affairs, what would you have done then?’

‘There’s nothing we could have done. None of us knew where you lived. Jackson thought you might contact Robert when you realized she’d put his card in a different slot, but Robert was less optimistic. He said you’d see that as loss of face.’

‘Did either of them phone my parents?’

Susan shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. The only information I have is that Jackson spoke to Robert at about eleven o’clock last night and he phoned me this morning to give me her number. You’d already left by the time I called her.’ She watched him withdraw into the corner of the seat. ‘We didn’t gossip about you, Charles. Jackson told me what had happened and asked me to reiterate her offer if I saw you. That’s all.’

‘You said she told you I needed a kick up the arse.’

‘I didn’t say she didn’t have a sense of humour. Would you rather she’d used a more PC expression like “Charles needs to refocus and learn motivational skills”? She strikes me as a very downto-earth woman – a straight speaker who dislikes touchy-feely waffle as much as you do. Or have Robert and I misread you on that?’

‘No.’

‘Then what’s the problem?’

‘You’re making my decisions for me. The only reason Jackson’s happy to have me back is because she’ll make a profit on my room, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy to go along with it.’

‘So stop the cab and get out,’ Susan said reasonably. ‘You’re a free agent. Go back to your flat.’

He ignored the invitation and slumped deeper in his seat. ‘All I wanted was a bed for the night.’

‘You wanted help,’ she contradicted mildly, ‘and that’s exactly what I’m giving you. You attacked a man yesterday evening . . . and, from what you told me, came close to doing it again at the bank this morning . . . not to mention the neighbour who provoked you. You’ve given yourself a series of frights. That’s what brought you to my house.’

‘Then why are you taking me to Jackson? If I’d wanted her help I’d have gone straight to the Bell.’

‘Would you? That’s not the impression you gave her. She said she couldn’t see wild horses dragging you back unless I came with you.’ Susan smiled at his mutinous expression. ‘I’m doing what you want me to do, Charles. If I wasn’t –’ she nodded towards the driver – ‘you’d tell him to stop.’

Acland stared out of the window. ‘If you say that again, I might just do it.’

‘To spite me, or to spite yourself?’

He turned back with a sigh. ‘Have you ever met Jackson?’

‘No.’

‘Well, she’s pretty damn scary.’ He stretched out his arms. ‘Over six feet . . . this wide and looks like Arnold Schwarzenegger. She makes her girlfriend do all the work, eats like a hog and sits on piles of cash that she screws out of her customers after she’s bullied them into submission. Why would I rather be with her than with you?’

Susan made a pretence of thinking about it. She had put a similar question to Robert that morning. ‘Why are you so keen for Charles to go to this Dr Jackson? Shouldn’t I try to enrol him in one of my programmes . . . or, even better, persuade him back to Birmingham so that he can re-enter yours? What do you know about her?’

‘Henry Watson knows her from when he was at the Middlesex.