Third Girl

"Really? Well, I've been getting gradually disillusioned in my profession in this country. In fact, I'm giving up my practice here and I'm going to Australia in about a fortnight. So you're quite safe from me, and you can if you like tell me how you see pink elephants walking out of the wall, how you think the trees are leaning out their branches to wrap round and strangle you, how you think you know just when the devil looks out of people's eyes, or any other cheerful fantasy, and I shan't do a thing about it! You look sane enough, if I may say so." "I don't think I am." "Well, you may be right," said Dr. Stillingfleet handsomely. "Let's hear what your reasons are." "I do things and don't remember about them… I tell people things about what I've done but I don't remember telling them…" "It sounds as though you have a bad memory." "You don't understand. They're all - wicked things." "Religious mania? Now that would be very interesting." "It's not religious. It's just - just hate." There was a tap at the door and an elderly woman came in with a tea tray. She put it down on the desk and went out again.

"Sugar?" said Dr. Stillingfleet.

"Yes, please." "Sensible girl. Sugar is very good for you when you've had a shock." He poured out two cups of tea, set hers at her side and placed the sugar basin beside it. "Now then," he sat down. "What were we talking about? Oh yes, hate." "It is possible, isn't it, that you could hate someone so much that you really want to kill them?" "Oh, yes," said Stillingfleet cheerfully still. "Perfectly possible. In fact, most natural. But even if you really want to do it you can't always screw yourself up to the point, you know. The human being is equipped with a natural braking system and it applies the brakes for you just at the right moment." "You make it sound so ordinary," said Norma. There was a distinct overtone of annoyance in her voice.

"Oh, well, it is quite natural. Children feel like it almost every day. Lose their tempers, say to their mothers or their fathers: ^You're wicked, I hate you, I wish you were dead'. Mothers, being sometimes sensible people, don't usually pay any attention. When you grow up, you still hate people, but you can't take quite so much trouble wanting to kill them by then. Or if you still do - well, then you go to prison. That is, if you actually brought yourself to do such a messy and difficult job. You aren't putting all this on, are you, by the way?" he asked casually.

"Of course not." Norma sat up straight. Her eyes flashed with anger.

"Of course not. Do you think I would say such awful things if they weren't true?" "Well, again," said Dr. Stillingfleet, "people do. They say all sorts of awful things about themselves and enjoy saying them." He took her empty cup from her.

"Now then," he said, "you'd better tell me all about everything. Who you hate, why you hate them, what you'd like to do to them." "Love can turn to hate." "Sounds like a melodramatic ballad. But remember hate can turn to love, too. It works both ways. And you say it's not a boy friend. He was your man and he did you wrong. None of that stuff, eh?" "No, no. Nothing like that. It's - it's my stepmother." "The cruel stepmother motif. But that's nonsense. At your age you can get away from a stepmother. What has she done to you beside marrying your father? Do you hate him too, or are you so devoted to him, that you don't want to share him?" "It's not like that at all. Not at all. I used to love him once. I loved him dearly. He was - he was - I thought he was wonderful."

"Now then," said Dr. Stillingfleet, "listen to me. I'm going to suggest something.

You see that door?" Norma turned her head and looked in a puzzled fashion at the door.

"Perfectly ordinary door, isn't it? Not locked. Opens and shuts in the ordinary way. Go on, try it for yourself. You saw my housekeeper come in and go out through it, didn't you? No illusions. Come on. Get up. Do what I tell you." Norma rose from her chair and rather hesitatingly went to the door and opened it.

She stood in the aperture, her head turned towards him enquiringly.