she called it, not sure that Dr Cotswold would see her.
Ella told the receptionist that she could spare her visitor ten minutes. It was some time since she had heard from Joel and she had been thinking she must soon do something about him, if only to check that having a carer with him overnight had been beneficial.
'He told me you were his doctor, doctor,' Linda began. 'It was no good telling the agency. It had to be you.'
'But what's wrong?'
'It's no good beating about the bush, is it, doctor? I'm scared. It's very scary being in that place, let alone being with him.'
'You mean Mr Roseman?'
'Joel, yes. I mean, no one told me he was mental. Mentally ill, I should say. But he is. And that's scary, doctor. Not to you maybe. You're used to it. But for the likes of me, caring for the disabled is one thing. I've been with people so disabled you wouldn't believe they could be alive, let alone move themselves about in a wheelchair. But this is different. It's scary. If he just said funny things I could take it. I mean, I'd ignore it. But he's got a person he talks to. Not a real person, a sort of thing he imagines, and he talks to it, he shouts sometimes.'
'Mithras.Yes, I know,' said Ella and then wondered if she'd said too much.
'That's the name.' For the fourth time Linda said it was scary. 'I try to let some light into the place. I mean, it's getting dark when I get there so I turn on lights. That's the first thing I do. But Joel won't have it. He gets in a state. I can have the light on in my bedroom but if there's too much of it showing under the door he knocks on the door and tells me to turn it off. I can't sleep, not with him prowling about and talking to that Mith-creature.'
'I'm sorry,' said Ella, not knowing what else to say.
'He's supposed to be on tablets. I know he is, I've seen them. But he doesn't take them. Well, they don't, do they, mental patients?'
'I'll go and see him. I'll go today.'
'Because, to be perfectly honest with you, doctor, I don't think I can carry on. I'm too scared. To tell you the truth, I get so's I don't know whether that Mith-person is real or not, and as for sleep, well, it's out of the question.'
The flat was no longer in darkness. It was the first thing she noticed when the door was opened. She was aware of the unfamiliar light before she saw it was Joel's mother who had let her in.
'Come along in, Dr Cotswold. It's good of you to come.'
Outdoors it had been raining as usual, so the light was the faint greyish kind but to Ella it looked bright in here, showing up the thin film of dust that lay on all the dark polished surfaces. Joel was where he always seemed to be, on the lushly upholstered sofa, but huddled up in one corner. He was wearing sunglasses and had a dark-coloured scarf wrapped round his head. The blinds were halfway up, the curtains half drawn.
'How are you feeling?' Ella said.
She expected his mother to answer for him, perhaps briskly or with impatience, but Wendy Stemmer only shook her head. She had once, Ella could see, been a very pretty woman – pretty rather than beautiful – the kind of trophy wife rich men like Stemmer marry, with toothpaste advertisement teeth and long fingernails on unused hands. Time and perhaps the tragedy of her daughter's death had faded her so that she was like a rose that has been worn all day in a buttonhole, limp, starting to wither.
Joel turned his head towards her.
'My mother let the light in,' he said. 'She always does. She doesn't believe it hurts my eyes.'
Nor do I, Ella thought, but still I wouldn't deny you the darkness you want. She had begun to wonder what she was doing there. It would have helped if Wendy Stemmer had offered her coffee or even a cold drink but she had sat down beside her son, half smiling at Ella as if she expected her to take charge, say something to fetch Joel out of his apathy, perhaps take his temperature or listen to his heart.
'I understand you're not too happy with Linda,' Ella said at last.
'Who's Linda?'
Was he indifferent or had he forgotten? 'One of your carers.'
'I