‘How do we do that?’
The doctor put the cards down and made a steeple of his fingers as he warmed to his theme. ‘One thing you could do is bring in an item with sentimental value for Myfanwy, something that has associations of happier times. It doesn’t have to be anything dramatic – a photo or an ornament or something. Just leave it in her room. It could help.’
‘I’ve got some of her records, she gave them to me after our first date. I think she would like those.’
‘Excellent. That would do splendidly. We could play them to her; music has the most remarkable curative properties in this respect.’ He returned his attention to the dog. The next card showed two dogs copulating and the patient wagged his tail.
Downstairs in the hallway I ran into the nurse again.
‘Hello, Glenys,’ I said with forced cheeriness.
‘The name doesn’t mean a thing to you, does it? No one ever called me that. You all used to call me Tadpole.’ Her eyes watered at the memory and she stuck a pudgy fist into the socket and screwed it round. ‘Tadpole,’ she repeated and her mouth became distorted into the shape of a figure-of-eight lying on its side.
I still couldn’t remember her but the sight of her pain, still vivid after so many years, made me squirm. ‘Oh, now I remember. I’m so sorry, kids can be very cruel, it shocks me when I think about it.’
‘You never cared about me at all.’
‘Oh, that’s not true. I really liked you.’
She looked at me. ‘Really?’
‘Of course. We all did.’
The hand shot back up to the eye and she began to cry. ‘Now I know you’re lying. You never cared about me. Maybe if I’d been called Hoffmann, that would have been different.’
I blinked in surprise.
‘That got you, didn’t it? Yeah, that got you.’
‘Did you say “Hoffmann”?’
‘Might have done,’ she snivelled.
‘Do you know something about Hoffmann?’
‘Maybe I do and maybe I don’t.’
‘Oh, come on.’
‘I saw the ad in the paper. I don’t want your lousy books, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘Tell me what you know.’
‘I used to nurse a man who had been a soldier in the war in Patagonia. They tortured him with an electric telephone generator. He used to cry out in the night, cry out the name “Hoffmann”. Bet you didn’t know that.’
‘No, I didn’t. Who was this soldier?’
Her face lit up in triumph. It was a small victory but I suppose people like Tadpole take what they can get. She minced off, seething with glee. ‘That’s for me to know and you to find out.’
I ran after her. ‘Look, Nurse Glenys, I’m sorry the kids in school called you Tadpole—’
‘That’s it butter me up, now I’ve got something you want.’
‘You saw the ad in the paper. You know I’m looking into the murder of Father Christmas. It was a shocking crime.’
‘Yeah, I know. They cut off his doodah and stuck it in his mouth. I know how that feels. But I don’t care about him.’
I sighed. ‘OK, Tadpole, if you don’t want to tell me, I can’t make you.’
She paused and considered for a second, then said with a sly edge to her voice,
‘I could take you to see him if you want.’
‘To see who?’
‘The soldier who used to cry out “Hoffmann” in his dreams. That’s if you give me what I want.’
‘How much do you want?’
‘I don’t want your lousy money.’
‘What do you want, then?’
‘A date.’
I looked at her in surprise, which she mistook for disdain. Her face crumpled up and the fist shot straight to the eye. Her voice rose to a whine. ‘See, I knew it. Just a lousy date and look at you . . .’
‘You mean, like dinner at the Indian or something?’
‘What’s the point? You can’t bear the thought of it, can you? It’s written all over your goddam face. I’m a leper, I know. Eugh! Look at him! He’s going out with stinky Tadpole!’
I touched her arm softly. ‘I’d love to. It would be great to catch up after all these years. We could have dinner and maybe go to the Pier afterwards for a dance. Would you like that?’
She smeared the tears away with the back of her fist. ‘That . . . that would be nice, but . . . but . . . there’s something else, something else I really want.’
‘Yes, what?’ I said with a cold feeling of dread. ‘Tell me what you really want.’
‘I want to go and see the new movie about Clip.’
Chapter 6
‘YES,’ I SAID. ‘I will accept a reverse-charge call.’
‘Hold on, please. Go ahead, caller.’
Pause. Click. Rustle. Flustered breathing.
‘Oh, my goodness! What have I done? What have I done?’ said the Queen of Denmark. ‘I couldn’t find a coin. Can you believe it? My head’s on ten million of the damn things but there isn’t a single one in the palace.’
‘That’s OK, just keep it brief; international phone calls don’t come cheap.’
‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I was just wondering if you’d had any responses to the advertisement.’
‘Not many, I’m afraid.’
‘How many?’
‘Well, not any, actually.’
‘Oh dear . . . Do you think the newspaper will give us the money back?’
‘I would be highly surprised.’
‘Oh, dash it all. It cost forty pounds.’
‘I’m sorry but the problem is the reward. This philosopher—’
‘Kierkegaard.’
‘It’s not a great motivator.’
‘I suppose I’m a bit out of touch. What if I were to offer them a duchy or something? Or a bit of Africa – we’ve still got some somewhere.’
‘That might be interpreted as taking the mickey.’
‘You must think I’m a dreadfully silly old woman—’
‘Not at all. I think it’s great that you’re showing an interest.’
‘I really called because I was bored.’
‘Don’t you have anything to do?’
‘Opening a shopping mall this afternoon. How dull is that? My mum used to launch ships.’
‘You build ships in Denmark?’
‘Begging your pardon, Mr Knight, we are a race of seafarers. Have you never heard of the Hanseatic League? Where do you think the Vikings came from?’
‘Never really thought about it.’
‘Our boys used to come over in their longboats and whup your sorry asses. Oh, God! What have I said? I’m so sorry—’
‘There’s no need to be. I underestimated your nation – I thought you just made bacon.’
