Chapter 77: UNCA ISKIES
Patient Record: Thomas Barrow
Wednesday, June 1, 1927:
2.30 pm: Emergency call from patient's former fiancée. Patient speaking irrationally; left house in pyjamas.
Visited patient at home of brother. Diminished capacity for receptive and expressive communication.
Brother's observations: (chronic) insomnia and choking on solid food during bouts of anxiety; (new) hallucinations (auditory, visual) and delusion (fiancée attempting to poison patient).
Possible trigger: Previous day's laboratory test indicating patient is infertile.
Against my recommendation, brother refused hospitalization for patient. Agreed to my consulting with Louis Webb. Telephone consultation scheduled for 9.00 am Friday.
Treatment: 500 mg chloral hydrate powder for insomnia. Instructed brother to administer in milk.
Informed patient's employer that patient is suffering from exhaustion. Will give employer more complete diagnosis at later date if unavoidable. Employer expressed willingness to abide by recommendation for extended period of rest. Also expressed indignation that patient was removed from her home without her knowledge.
The Bates Cottage
Early, the next morning
Thomas awoke to darkness. As he rolled onto his back, his arm slid from the narrow sofa to the floor, and he remembered where he was. He rubbed the grit from his eyes, but a heavy grogginess remained. A sense of urgency led him out the side door to the privy. Here's something I can do for myself. He peeked inside the privy to be certain Dr Clarkson's red-haired man was not waiting to snatch him.
By the time Thomas returned to the parlour, his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. He caught sight of Bates dozing in his chair and avoided tripping over his outstretched legs. Thomas had no idea what he should do next. Bates would know, but Thomas did not want to wake him. He gripped the edge of Bates' robe and glanced about the dark room for a clue. Nothing. He released Bates' robe and tiptoed to Timothy's small, iron bed. Thomas leaned over the low bed, but it was empty. "THE BABY! THE BABY! THE BABY! THE BABY!"
"Thomas, stop it! Stop! STOP SCREAMING!" Bates grabbed Thomas by the shoulders and shook him. "Timothy's at the Abbey! He's sleeping in the nursery!"
The bedroom door opened, and Anna poked out her head. "What's happening? The neighbours will think someone's being murdered!"
The confusion was unbearable for Thomas. He took Bates' hand and clasped it over his ear.
"Everything's fine, Anna. Thomas thought Timothy was missing."
"The poor thing. John, remember what Dr Clarkson said. He's to eat every time he wakes up."
"I'll take care of it. Go back to bed, darling." Bates pulled his hand from Thomas' ear. He lit the lantern and retrieved a robe from the cupboard. "I brought a few things from your room so you'd be more comfortable. I'll bring more tomorrow." Bates helped Thomas into his robe. "Come sit by me, Pooh."
Thomas sat at the table and watched Bates fill two dishes with cornflakes and milk. Bates took a bite of his cereal, and Thomas took a bite of his. It had a pleasing crunch, and Thomas chewed it thoroughly before allowing the milk to wash it down his throat. It slid down easily, and Thomas took another bite.
Bates smiled broadly. "There you go, little brother." He patted Thomas' back and planted his hand at the base of Thomas' neck. Thomas had seen Bates do the same to Timothy many times.
Then the realization hit Thomas. I'm Timothy! I should be sleeping in the little bed. He dropped his spoon and hurried to the bed. It was low and narrow and short. Thomas sat and swung his legs onto the bed and pulled them up to his chest.
"Pooh, what are you doing?"
"Don't fit!"
"Why should you fit in Timothy's bed? Come back to the table."
"Bed!"
"You're being ridiculous!"
Thomas felt his cheeks grow hot. He pushed himself out of the bed and strode to the door.
"Pooh?"
Thomas opened the door and stepped outside. He heard Bates calling after him. I don't need that man! He took another step, but the rustling of leaves made him jump. Perhaps it was the red-haired man with his awful jacket!
Bates was at his side, draping his arm around Thomas' shoulders. "I'm sorry, Pooh. I'm tired. I didn't mean it. Come inside. I can't protect you out here."
Thomas had forgotten. Bates protected him. Bates and Anna kept him safe. "Sorry," he muttered sheepishly.
Bates steered Thomas into the cottage and shut the door. "You're tired too. You're not yourself."
"Who am I?" begged Thomas, clutching the lapels of Bates robe. Bates stared, and Thomas dropped his head. He felt Bates' hands clasp his shoulders.
"Don't you know?" Bates asked gently. Thomas shook his head. Bates lifted Thomas' chin. "You're my friend. You're Thomas Barrow."
Thomas pulled away sharply. "No! Anyone but him!"
Patient Record: Thomas Barrow
Thursday, June 2, 1927:
10.00 am phone conversation - patient's brother.
Brother administered sedative without patient's knowledge after I left yesterday afternoon. Patient slept 8 uninterrupted hours. Able to eat cornflakes. Patient's receptive communication markedly improved, but patient seldom speaks. Brother alarmed by patient's self-identity confusion. However, brother is not concerned about his son sleeping at home tonight.
The Path to the Bates Cottage
Early that afternoon
Bates struggled up the path with Thomas' bag and Mrs Patmore's hamper. The hamper handle broke loose at one end, and out fell the day's package of mending. "Blast!" Bates set down the hamper, and Thomas' bag plopped to the ground.
"Mr Bates! Mr Bates!" Bates turned and saw Miss Sybbie and little Molly Robinson running up the path towards him. "Please wait, Mr Bates," shouted Miss Sybbie. "We'll be back in one moment. You'll wait, won't you?"
"I'll wait, Miss Sybbie," shouted Bates. He stretched his cramped arms as he chuckled to himself. He approved of the friendship that had blossomed between Miss Sybbie and Molly after Mud Day. Miss Sybbie had begged Miss Petty to invite Molly to the Abbey and appealed to her father when Miss Petty rejected her request. Now Molly was a regular visitor. Thomas addressed her as Miss Molly and insisted that the staff do the same.
Bates turned and saw Miss Sybbie and Molly pulling a wooden coaster wagon up the path. "Good afternoon, Miss Sybbie, Miss Molly. What's this?"
"It's a wagon, Mr Bates. Isn't it wonderful? It was a gift from Papa." Now that Miss Sybbie had a governess, she addressed her father as Papa, not Daddy.
"Her name is painted on the front," added Molly shyly.
Bates examined the cart appreciatively. "So I see."
"You're to borrow it while Mr Barrow is incu ... incaperated."
"Incapacitated?"
"Yes, that's it."
"That's kind of you, Miss Sybbie, but perhaps you should ask your father's permission."
"I know Papa would agree." Miss Sybbie pointed to the hamper. "Look, Mr Bates. The handle's broken. The food will spoil before you can repair it."
Bates smiled. He knew better than to argue with the daughter of a Crawley. Besides, the wagon was a godsend. "I can't thank you enough Miss Sybbie. I know Mr Barrow will appreciate your generosity." Miss Sybbie and Molly eagerly loaded the wagon.
"Take these too, Mr Bates." Molly handed Bates two envelopes. "One's from me, and one's from Sybbie. They're drawings to cheer up Mr Barrow."
"That's just the thing to do it!" Mr Bates gave each girl a proper handshake and headed up the path pulling the wagon.
The Path to the Bates Cottage
Late that night
Timothy usually had to take giant steps to keep up with Dada, but not tonight. Tonight, he was riding up the path in a wagon. He rode with his back against the hamper that Dada brought home every night. The wagon bounced along the path, and Timothy held onto the sides and laughed until Dada turned around and held his finger to his lips.
Dada opened the door to the cottage and pulled Timothy from the wagon. Timothy ran inside and saw Uncle Pooh sitting at the table in his robe and pyjamas. "Unca Pooh! Unca Pooh! Up! Up!" Uncle Pooh's strong hands lifted Timothy onto his knee. Only Dada was stronger than Uncle Pooh. "Horsie! Horsie!" Uncle Pooh kept his hands around Timothy and bounced his knee. Timothy squealed with delight as his horse galloped wildly.
"That's enough, Timothy," commanded Mummy. "Uncle Pooh's tired tonight."
Uncle Pooh always obeyed Mummy and set Timothy on the floor. Timothy looked up at Uncle Pooh expecting the usual wink and smile, but Uncle Pooh was not smiling. Timothy yanked Uncle Pooh's sleeve, and Uncle Pooh bent down. "Lovie," declared Timothy and kissed Uncle Pooh's cheek. Then he laughed. Something was different. "Wotat?" he asked as he rubbed Uncle Pooh's cheek.
"Whiskers," replied Dada.
"Issies," repeated Timothy.
"Whiskers."
"Iskies!"
"It's time for bed, young man," Mummy reminded him.
"Unca Iskies!" Timothy squealed at his own joke as he toddled to bed.
The Bates Cottage
Friday morning
Anna watched her husband drag himself, half dead, out the door with Timothy for his morning at the Abbey. She was going to have to take charge or soon she would have two patients on her hands. Thomas had pulled a chair to the window and was sitting with his hand over his ear. He was wearing the same pyjamas in which he had arrived two days earlier. It simply would not do.
"Thomas, please bring your chair to the table." Thomas obediently dropped his hand from his ear and returned his chair. "Have a seat, sweetheart." Thomas sat and looked up expectantly, awaiting Anna's next request.
Anna sat next to Thomas and took his hand. "Pooh, do you remember the conversation John had with you this morning?" He gazed at her hand holding his and shrugged. "He told you that you must be brothers now so he can protect you. You must always say that you're brothers." Thomas nodded. "Did you understand him?" He nodded again.
"Pooh, if you're John's brother, then you're my brother-in-law." Thomas looked at Anna. "It's as though you're my brother, too, and I'm your sister." Anna was certain that Thomas smiled, if only for a moment, and she squeezed his hand.
"John needs our help, Pooh. Will you help him?" Thomas squirmed. "I'll tell you what to do every step of the way, Pooh. What do you say?" Thomas nodded. "John's trying to do too much, so we'll help him by taking care of everything here at the cottage. The first thing is for you to have a bath." Thomas pulled his bathrobe closed over his chest. "I'll wait in the bedroom, and you'll knock when you're done. How's that?" Thomas nodded. "Fine. Let's pick out some proper clothes for you. I've had enough of these pyjamas."
Thomas carried the tin tub into the kitchen where Anna helped him fill it. Anna kept her promise and waited in the bedroom with the door closed. She sat on the bed and began her day's mending. Thomas took quite a long time, and every so often she would call through the closed door, "Are you coming along?"
Thomas would answer, "Yes," so Anna knew, at least, that Thomas had not bolted. At last, Anna heard Thomas' knock. She opened the door, and there stood Thomas, smartly dressed in the clothes they had selected. "You," announced Thomas. Anna could see that Thomas had emptied and cleaned the tub and filled it again.
"That's fine, Thomas. I believe I shall." Thomas waited in the bedroom while Anna bathed. She and Bates typically bathed at the Abbey's servants' quarters where the updated facilities made it easier. Now that she was confined to the house, Bates had been dragging out the old tub for her and emptying and cleaning it. As of today, that would be one less thing for Bates to do.
Every few minutes, Thomas parroted Anna and called out, "Are you coming along?"
Each time, Anna laughed and answered, "Yes, sweetheart."
