‘When you say you know who I am,’ replied Nelson, ‘I assume you mean that you know who my father is. But, as he’s one of the most famous people in the country, it’s hard to imagine that you’d be able to refer me to someone who hasn’t heard of him. Unless they’ve been living in a cave for the last thirty years, that is.’
‘The thing is,’ said Angela, ‘I don’t just know him from television. As it happens, we have a passing acquaintance.’
‘Really? Well, it’s not as if you’ll discuss anything I say with him, is it?’
‘Of course not,’ she replied. ‘I’d be struck off if I did, and rightly so.’
‘Then I’m happy to go ahead.’
‘All right,’ she replied. In fact, she had been a little anxious about accepting this patient, knowing that she was carrying his half-sibling in her womb, but her curiosity had got the better of her and any opportunity to gain more insight into George and Beverley’s home life was irresistible.
‘I was actually quite glad that Dr Oristo recommended another female therapist,’ said Nelson. ‘I don’t think I could discuss my problems with a man. Somehow, it would make me feel emasculated.’
‘You’ve been experiencing difficulties with women, I understand,’ said Angela. ‘Anxiety about social interaction?’
‘That’s pretty much it, yes.’
‘And yet, if I may say so, you appear quite confident with me.’
‘I don’t see you as human,’ he told her. ‘Just an authority figure. Somehow, that’s less intimidating to me.’
‘I see. Does that explain your interest in uniforms? Dr Oristo notes that it has become something of an obsession.’
Nelson looked down at the floor and frowned. ‘I prefer to think of it as a coping mechanism,’ he said. ‘Akin to carrying around a treasured childhood toy like What’s-His-Name in that book.’
‘What book?’ asked Angela.
‘You know. The one with the teddy bear. A posh fellow carries him around everywhere. And there’s a war on.’
‘Brideshead Revisited.’
‘That’s the one. Dr Oristo felt that I should learn to live without my uniforms, but I have to wear clothes, don’t I? So why not a uniform? They’re as good as anything. And, a lot of the time, they’re actually quite comfortable.’
‘Are they, though?’ asked Angela, noting the fact that today he was dressed like a construction worker in a pair of many-pocketed trousers, a waterproof jacket, a hi-visibility vest, steel toe-capped work boots with leather uppers and had placed a hard hat on the floor next to his chair. Around his waist, he wore a multi-purpose belt carrying pencils, a tape measure, a small torch, two penknives and a roll of gaffer tape. ‘You’re presenting a false front to the world. Have you ever engaged in any construction work, for example?’
‘I put together a flat-pack IKEA bookcase for my bedroom a few months ago,’ he said. ‘Does that count?’
‘Not really, no,’ she said. ‘I’m thinking of those men who work on building sites, not some bloke who can twiddle an Allen key on a Billy bookcase.’
‘I think that’s a little harsh,’ he said. ‘They’re actually more complicated than they look. Especially if you’re not naturally gifted with your hands.’
‘What intrigues me,’ she continued, ‘is that you call this a uniform, but it’s not a uniform at all, is it?’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘No, it’s a disguise. Which is a very different thing. And you wear it even though you know it won’t convince me that you are, in fact, a construction worker. So neither of us believes it and yet here we are, complicit in some strange fantasy. You could have just worn, I don’t know, a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, for example. It’s a nice day out, after all.’
‘But I had to get here,’ said Nelson. ‘And I feel more comfortable on the Tube wearing something like this.’
She scribbled a few sentences in her jotter and glanced out of the window for a moment, Nelson following her gaze, both of them remaining silent. He wondered whether she was waiting for him to say more about his journey.
‘Let’s talk about women,’ said Angela, turning back to him with such a dramatic twist of her head that he jumped a little. It reminded him of Rita Hayworth, tossing her hair back in Gilda and declaring that sure, she was decent. ‘Do you have a wide circle of friends?’
‘Wide is a rather subjective adjective,’ said Nelson.
‘Well, who is your best friend?’
He thought about it. ‘Probably my sister, Elizabeth.’
‘All right,’ she replied, nodding. ‘And after her?’
‘My younger brother, Achilles. Although I don’t mean to suggest that I love him any less than I love my sister. I’ve just known her longer, that’s all.’
‘But apart from your family,’ said Angela. ‘You must have some friends who don’t share your DNA, for example?’
‘Not really,’ he said.
‘You don’t have a close female friend?’
‘Of course I do,’ said Nelson.
‘Who?’
‘My mother.’
‘Apart from your mother.’
He breathed heavily through his nose as he thought about it, then seemed to brighten up considerably.
‘Actually, I met a new woman recently,’ he said. ‘And we seem to be getting along quite well. Although it’s early days.’
‘Okay. That’s good to hear. When did you meet her?’
‘Today.’
Angela stared at him. ‘Are you referring to me, Nelson?’ she asked after a pause.
‘I am, yes.’
‘But we’re not friends, as such. I’m a doctor and you’re my patient.’
Nelson shrugged his shoulders and looked embarrassed.
‘That doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly.’
‘We can certainly be friendly. In fact, it’s a good thing if we are. But you must never mistake that for friendship.’
‘Charming,’ he said, drumming his fingers on the side of the seat. Angela looked down at her notes again and turned a few pages.
‘And you’re currently working as a teacher, is that right?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But I don’t think I’m really cut out for the pedagogical life.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, to be honest, I can’t stand children.’
‘No?’
‘No. In fact, I loathe them.’
‘That’s not good.’
‘Well, it’s exhausting, isn’t it? Getting up every morning to go to the same building. Making small talk with the other teachers in the staffroom. Preparing classes. Trying to keep the kids quiet as you explain what happened at the Battle of Agincourt or why Catherine Howard got her head lopped off. Phoning parents. Issuing detentions. Dealing with bullies. Attending staff parties. Socializing. Dragging yourself home again in the evenings. Doing it all over again the next day. I don’t know why we all do it.’
‘Most people do it in order to put a roof over their heads,’ said Angela. ‘And to put food in their stomachs.’