the hypnotist’s art, but I’m thinking of a situation in which the members of an entire small community — such as the residents of the hotels around this crescent — could be induced to accept a given proposition completely conflicting with reality.’
Clifton stopped washing his hands. ‘I thought you wanted to see me professionally. I’m a doctor, not a witch doctor. What are you planning now, Renthall? Last week it was a fte, now you want to hypnotize an entire neighbourhood, you’d better be careful.’
Renthall shook his head. ‘It’s not I who want to carry out the hypnosis, Doctor. In fact I’m afraid the operation has already taken place. I don’t know whether you’ve noticed anything strange about your patients?’
‘Nothing more than usual,’ Clifton remarked dryly. He watched Renthall with increased interest. ‘Who’s responsible for this mass hypnosis?’ When Renthall paused and then pointed a forefinger at the ceiling Clifton nodded sagely. ‘I see. How sinister.’
‘Exactly. I’m glad you understand, Doctor.’ Renthall went over to the window, looking out at the sunshades below. He pointed to the watch-towers. ‘Just to clarify a small point, Doctor. You do see the watch-towers?’
Clifton hesitated fractionally, moving imperceptibly towards his valise on the desk. Then he nodded: ‘Of course.’
‘Good. I’m relieved to hear it.’ Renthall laughed. ‘For a while I was beginning to think that I was the only one in step. Do you realize that both Hanson and Boardman can no longer see the towers? And I’m fairly certain that none of the people down there can or they wouldn’t be sitting in the open. I’m convinced that this is the Council’s doing, but it seems unlikely that they would have enough power—’ He broke off, aware that Clifton was watching him fixedly. ‘What’s the matter? Doctor!’
Clifton quickly took his prescription pad from his valise. ‘Renthall, caution is the essence of all strategy. It’s important that we beware of over-hastiness. I suggest that we both rest this afternoon. Now, these will give you some sleep—’ For the first time in several days he ventured out into the street. Head down, angry for being caught out by the doctor, he drove himself along the pavement towards Mrs Osmond, determined to find at least one person who could still see the towers. The streets were more crowded than he could remember for a long time and he was forced to look upward as he swerved in and out of the ambling pedestrians. Overhead, like the assault craft from which some apocalyptic air-raid would be launched, the watch-towers hung down from the sky, framed between the twin spires of the church, blocking off a vista down the principal boulevard, yet unperceived by the afternoon strollers.
Renthall passed the caf, surprised to see the terrace packed with coffee-drinkers, then saw Boardman’s marquee in the cinema car park. Music was coming from a creaking wurlitzer, and the gay ribbons of the bunting fluttered in the air.
Twenty yards from Mrs Osmond’s he saw her come through her front door, a large straw hat on her head.
‘Charles! What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you for days, I wondered what was the matter.’
Renthall took the key from her fingers and pushed it back into the lock. Closing the door behind them, he paused in the darkened hall, regaining his breath.
‘Charles, what on earth is going on? Is someone after you? You look terrible, my dear. Your face—’
‘Never mind my face.’ Renthall collected himself, and led the way into the living room. ‘Come in here, quickly.’ He went over to the window and drew back the blinds, ascertained that the watch-tower over the row of houses opposite was still there. ‘Sit down and relax. I’m sorry to rush in like this but you’ll understand in a minute.’ He waited until Mrs Osmond settled herself reluctantly on the sofa, then rested his palms on the mantelpiece, organizing his thoughts.
‘The last few days have been fantastic, you wouldn’t believe it, and to cap everything I’ve just made myself look the biggest possible fool in front of Clifton. God, I could—’
‘Charles—!’
‘Listen! Don’t start interrupting me before I’ve begun, I’ve got enough to contend with. Something absolutely insane is going on everywhere, by some freak I seem to be the only one who’s still compos men tis. I know that sounds as if I’m completely mad, but in fact it’s true. Why, I don’t know; though I’m frightened it may be some sort of reprisal directed at me. However.’ He went over to the window. ‘Julia, what can you see out of that window?’
Mrs Osmond dismantled her hat and squinted at the panes. She fidgeted uncomfortably. ‘Charles, what is going on? — I’ll have to get my glasses.’ She subsided helplessly.
‘Julia! You’ve never needed your glasses before to see these. Now tell me, what can you see?’
‘Well, the row of houses, and the gardens…’
‘Yes, what else?’
‘The windows, of course, and there’s a tree..
‘What about the sky?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, I can see that, there’s a sort of haze, isn’t there? Or is that my eyes?’
‘No.’ Wearily, Renthall turned away from the window. For the first time a feeling of unassuageable fatigue had come over him. ‘Julia,’ he asked quietly. ‘Don’t you remember the watch-towers?’
She shook her head slowly. ‘No, I don’t. Where were they?’ A look of concern came over her face. She took his arm gently. ‘Dear, what is going on?’
Renthall forced himself to stand upright. ‘I don’t know.’ He drummed his forehead with his free hand. ‘You can’t remember the towers at all, or the observation windows?’ He pointed to the watch-tower hanging down the centre of the window. ‘There — used to be one over those houses. We were always looking at it. Do you remember how we used to draw the curtains upstairs?’
‘Charles! Be careful, people will hear. Where are you going?’
Numbly, Renthall pulled back the door. ‘Outside,’ he said in a flat voice. ‘There’s little point now in staying indoors.’
He let himself through the front door, fifty yards from the house heard her call after him, turned quickly into a side road and hurried towards the first intersection.
Above him he was conscious of the watch-towers hanging in the bright air, but he kept his eyes level with the gates and hedges, scanning the empty houses. Now and then he passed one that was occupied, the family sitting out on the lawn, and once someone called his name, reminding him that the school had started without him. The air was fresh and crisp, the light glimmering off the pavements with an unusual intensity.
Within ten minutes he realized that he had wandered into an unfamiliar part of the town and completely lost himself, with only the aerial lines of watch-towers to guide him, but he still refused to look up at them.
He had entered a poorer quarter of the town, where the narrow empty streets were separated by large waste dumps, and tilting wooden fences sagged between ruined houses. Many of the dwellings were only a single storey high, and the sky seemed even wider and more open, the distant watch-towers along the horizon like a continuous palisade.
He twisted his foot on a ledge of stone, and hobbled painfully towards a strip of broken fencing that straddled a small rise in the centre of the waste dump. He was perspiring heavily, and loosened his tie, then searched the surrounding straggle of houses for a way back into the streets through which he had come.
Overhead, something moved and caught his eye. Forcing himself to ignore it, Renthall regained his breath, trying to master the curious dizziness that touched his brain. An immense sudden silence hung over the waste ground, so absolute that it was as if some inaudible piercing music was being played at full volume.
To his right, at the edge of the waste ground, he heard feet shuffle slowly across the rubble, and saw the elderly man in the shabby black suit and wing collar who usually loitered outside the Public Library. He hobbled along, hands in pockets, an almost Chaplinesque figure, his weak eyes now and then feebly scanning the sky as if he were searching for something he had lost or forgotten.
Renthall watched him cross the waste ground, but before he could shout the decrepit figure tottered away behind a ruined wall.
Again something moved above him, followed by a third sharp angular motion, and then a succession of rapid shuttles. The stony rubbish at his feet flickered with the reflected light, and abruptly the whole sky sparkled as if the air was opening and shutting.
Then, as suddenly, everything was motionless again.
Composing himself, Renthall waited for a last moment. Then he raised his face to the nearest watch-tower
