Read Online Tug of War by Barbara Cleverly - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Barbara Cleverly
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whatever daubist style is fashionable but what you may not know is that
he’s a jolly good portrait painter in a traditional way. His productions are “lively and perceptive”, people say – and I’d add, more importantly, flattering. Last
summer he was painting the Vicomte de Montcalme and I used to go along with him and play . . . ride ,’ she corrected herself hastily, ‘with the Vicomte’s children. Two sons
and a daughter. The oldest boy, Félicien, was my special friend. He’ll be seventeen now. I’m quite good at copying accents, which is a help. Orlando’s been summoned back
again to do an equestrian portrait of the Vicomtesse. I can’t wait to see them all again!’
Was all this nonsense true? He had no idea. Ought he to have been annoyed by her sharp tone, lacking the deference due from one of her age to a well-meaning adult and amounting, in fact, to a
set-down? Joe smiled. Probably. But pulling rank and demanding respect were not his style. There were other ways.
‘I see. But I still can’t imagine the circumstances,’ he said innocently, ‘that would precipitate the use of complex tenses in a stable. I find horses respond best
to a simple imperative.’
Dorcas smiled slightly. ‘“In a year’s time you will have forgotten me.”’ She sighed a lingering sigh, remembering.
‘Talking horses? Whatever next!’
After a startled moment she burst out laughing and he felt it wise to change the subject. ‘Tell me, child – whatever prompted you to treat our friend Thibaud in the way you
did?’
‘He reminded me of a boy in our village who’s blind. I know the doctor said all his senses are unimpaired but there was something about his unseeing expression . . . I did what I
normally do when I greet Robin.’
‘And do you take Robin biscuits?’
‘When I have them to offer, yes. I take them from Granny’s Chinese jar. Reid always tells me when he’s just refilled it. I was thinking that if this man is really from this
area he might respond to a prompting from one of his other senses. Worth a try. A smell associated with his childhood might awaken some memories and, I’d guess, every child born in Champagne
was familiar with those pink biscuits. It seemed to work.’
‘It certainly did. I think you achieved more in two minutes than the medical profession in as many years.’
‘I was longing to ask, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise – do you know if they’ve tried hypnotism?’
‘What do you know about hypnotism, Dorcas?’
‘There’s a chapter in my book . . .’ She held it towards him and a swift glance revealed it to be The Wounded Mind by Lt. Col. M.W. Easterby MD. ‘Aunt Lydia
whipped it from a shelf just before we left. She’s done a lot of voluntary work on the wards at St Martin’s, did you know that? She thought it might help you out. It’s only just
been published. The most intriguing thing – I’ve marked the page for you – is the story of a shell-shocked soldier who had lost the power of speech. He began eventually to
speak again and he talked in the London accent of the nurses and orderlies who tended him, but under hypnosis he suddenly astonished everyone by reliving his wartime experiences in a northern accent. Another patient recognized it as Wearside – you know, from around the River Wear. They tracked him down. He was a Northumberland Fusilier who’d gone missing on
the Aisne. But the minute he came out of hypnosis he lost his Geordie accent and became a Londoner again. I wonder why the doctor’s not hypnotized Thibaud?’
‘It’s not a popular technique in France, I believe. But it’s a suggestion worth putting if we see him again.’
‘Were you able to form an impression of Thibaud’s nationality? Is he English, do you think?’
‘Not proven, I’d say.’
‘But he spoke in English. We’ve seen the doctor’s record.’
‘Yes. But I haven’t heard him speak myself. I don’t know the doctor. I liked him and I
he’s a jolly good portrait painter in a traditional way. His productions are “lively and perceptive”, people say – and I’d add, more importantly, flattering. Last
summer he was painting the Vicomte de Montcalme and I used to go along with him and play . . . ride ,’ she corrected herself hastily, ‘with the Vicomte’s children. Two sons
and a daughter. The oldest boy, Félicien, was my special friend. He’ll be seventeen now. I’m quite good at copying accents, which is a help. Orlando’s been summoned back
again to do an equestrian portrait of the Vicomtesse. I can’t wait to see them all again!’
Was all this nonsense true? He had no idea. Ought he to have been annoyed by her sharp tone, lacking the deference due from one of her age to a well-meaning adult and amounting, in fact, to a
set-down? Joe smiled. Probably. But pulling rank and demanding respect were not his style. There were other ways.
‘I see. But I still can’t imagine the circumstances,’ he said innocently, ‘that would precipitate the use of complex tenses in a stable. I find horses respond best
to a simple imperative.’
Dorcas smiled slightly. ‘“In a year’s time you will have forgotten me.”’ She sighed a lingering sigh, remembering.
‘Talking horses? Whatever next!’
After a startled moment she burst out laughing and he felt it wise to change the subject. ‘Tell me, child – whatever prompted you to treat our friend Thibaud in the way you
did?’
‘He reminded me of a boy in our village who’s blind. I know the doctor said all his senses are unimpaired but there was something about his unseeing expression . . . I did what I
normally do when I greet Robin.’
‘And do you take Robin biscuits?’
‘When I have them to offer, yes. I take them from Granny’s Chinese jar. Reid always tells me when he’s just refilled it. I was thinking that if this man is really from this
area he might respond to a prompting from one of his other senses. Worth a try. A smell associated with his childhood might awaken some memories and, I’d guess, every child born in Champagne
was familiar with those pink biscuits. It seemed to work.’
‘It certainly did. I think you achieved more in two minutes than the medical profession in as many years.’
‘I was longing to ask, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise – do you know if they’ve tried hypnotism?’
‘What do you know about hypnotism, Dorcas?’
‘There’s a chapter in my book . . .’ She held it towards him and a swift glance revealed it to be The Wounded Mind by Lt. Col. M.W. Easterby MD. ‘Aunt Lydia
whipped it from a shelf just before we left. She’s done a lot of voluntary work on the wards at St Martin’s, did you know that? She thought it might help you out. It’s only just
been published. The most intriguing thing – I’ve marked the page for you – is the story of a shell-shocked soldier who had lost the power of speech. He began eventually to
speak again and he talked in the London accent of the nurses and orderlies who tended him, but under hypnosis he suddenly astonished everyone by reliving his wartime experiences in a northern accent. Another patient recognized it as Wearside – you know, from around the River Wear. They tracked him down. He was a Northumberland Fusilier who’d gone missing on
the Aisne. But the minute he came out of hypnosis he lost his Geordie accent and became a Londoner again. I wonder why the doctor’s not hypnotized Thibaud?’
‘It’s not a popular technique in France, I believe. But it’s a suggestion worth putting if we see him again.’
‘Were you able to form an impression of Thibaud’s nationality? Is he English, do you think?’
‘Not proven, I’d say.’
‘But he spoke in English. We’ve seen the doctor’s record.’
‘Yes. But I haven’t heard him speak myself. I don’t know the doctor. I liked him and I
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