Nervous to what lay
inside the room, Ashley tapped lightly on the door. With no reply forthcoming,
he put one ear to the door. As he listened, he heard what appeared to be the
sound of a radio or television spewing out indecipherable dialogue. Following a
second, more strident knock, Ashley nervously turned the handle and walked in.
As he entered, the diverse atmosphere of the room arrested his senses.
Even though it was mid-afternoon,
light fought to illuminate the room; a large blanket covering the majority of
the window. Clinging to the wall were several pictures, so dark in colour it
was impossible to make out any detail within them. Alongside the paintings were
what appeared to be a collection of framed awards and certificates; many of
them broken or caked in dust. Across the floor lay a sea of clothes in varying
states of disrepair, broken only by traces of a rotting carpet. Shielding the
main part of the room was an old cat screen, its once intricate decorations so
heavily faded that they merged into one another.
As Ashley peered
around the screen, an enormous bed came into view - a sea of old fur coats
covering it. Seemingly moulded onto these pelts were several cats, blissfully
unaware of the origins of their warm bedding. A small television sat on a chair
to the right of the bed, its reception resembling more of a snowstorm than a
picture. Being broadcast was some dreary quiz show that for Ashley always
signified the dead zone of the afternoon.
Barely distinguishable
from eclectic bedding was an elderly gentleman. He was wearing an Indian skullcap
with flowing locks merging with his equally voluminous beard. Without wanting
to appear too conspicuous, Ashley watched for a moment as the old man argued
vociferously with one of the quiz show’s contestants.
“Idiot man!” the old man screamed as a participant failed to find an
answer to William Shakespeare’s first play. “What did they teach you at school
then eh? Useless suburbanite!”
Close to the
television lay a cluttered bedside table, housing a motley collection of bread
and jars of various descriptions. Ashley’s eyes were drawn to one particular
pot, a hand-written sign attached to it reading “Heavenly”. Hanging perilously off
the side of the table was a decrepit sandwich toaster with smoke billowing from
its sides. So engrossed was the old man with the quiz show, a small cloud of
smoke had escaped from the machine and was making its way towards his head. Noticing
this, he prised open the machine with an old knife. This revealed a slightly
charred piece of burnt bread with cheese dribbling out of its side.
As he bit into the
sandwich, the cats on the bed came to life - beginning a slow ascent towards him.
On noticing this, he threw a crust in the opposite direction to deter their
advances. This sent the felines scampering off to claim this piece for
themselves. Watching their spirited chase down his bed, he spotted Ashley
standing at the other end of the room.
“Derek,” he said quizzically.
“I thought you weren’t arriving until Wednesday?”
“Oh,” replied Ashley,
slightly taken aback at this skewed greeting. “I’m sorry, I’m not Derek.”
“Come closer,” the
old man requested –rubbing his eyes to free up some vision.
As directed, Ashley
wandered over. As he did so, the old man simultaneously twiddled with a knob on
the television to reduce its volume. He then lent forward.
“There you are,” he
said, looking Ashley up and down. “I thought you were someone else.”
“I did knock,” said Ashley
apologetically.
“You did did you?” replied
the old man surprised, as if no one had ever bothered to knock on his door
before.
“What brings you
here?”
“I’m wondering,”
started Ashley. “Are you the Doctor Jerome?” Despite his nervousness, he knew
he had to ascertain whether it was him.
“The Doctor Jerome?”
replied the old man, visibly taken aback at the somewhat officious request.
“Well, yes I suppose you could say that I probably was.”
Ashley’s eyes
widened at the oblique response. Regardless of the overt strangeness of the
environment, he’d still anticipated a ‘yes’ or ‘no’.
“Mind you,” the old
man continued, “what I really am now of course would be best left open to speculation.
But most people these days refer to me as just Jerome.” With that, he let out a
chuckle.
“Oh right,” said Ashley,
unclear at the derivation of the humour. Nonetheless, he was relieved that he’d
secured a small victory in finding the doctor. A few moments of silence
enveloped the air as Jerome finished off his sandwich. Not wishing to interrupt
him, Ashley stood dutifully at the side of the bed waiting to reengage the
conversation.
Unnerved by his
guest’s curious stance, Jerome flounced onto his right side to get a better
view of his uninvited caller. In doing this, he nearly squashed one of his cats
and it let out a muted yelp.
“Further to the first part of your enquiry,”
continued Jerome. “I dare say when I’m released from the lizard’s shell that I
currently inhabit, those ghastly bits of paper will have ‘doctor’ inscribed somewhere.
It’s not much of a reward though is it? I
mean, to only be known by a prefix – it’s not really something to be proud of,
don’t you think?”
“Er, I don’t know?” said
Ashley at a loss to say anything else. He’d never heard anyone talk like this,
except maybe on television. His quandary elicited another short period of
embarrassing silence. Noticing the obvious unease, Jerome patted the bed.
“Wouldn’t you feel
more comfortable sitting down? I find talking to people standing above me
rather unnerving.”
Not wishing to be
impolite, Ashley looked around for something to sit on. Noticing this, Jerome patted
the bed - silently offering Ashley the chance to share space with his cats and
crusts.
“Don’t you worry
about anything as pompous as a chair,” said Jerome as he watched Ashley’s eyes
hunt around. “Look, the bed’s quite comfy. Come on, park yourself here, it
won’t bite.”
In an attempt to
make it look more enticing, Jerome ceremoniously batted his hand briskly over his
bedcovers. In the wake of this swashbuckling movement, coats, crusts of bread
and cats were sent hurtling towards the floor.
“There we are, all
clear,” said Jerome, satisfied with his magnanimous gesture. Nonetheless, Ashley
really didn’t want to sit down; the mass of strains and other detritus on the
covers was such that he was sure he’d leave with something attached to his
rear. However, the sincerity of the old man’s protestations left him with no other
option. In something of a compromise, he took his jacket off and theatrically
laid it over the covers. As he placed it down, he noticed a faint, brown smear
on the back of his anorak. Unawares that it was the residue from the
traveller’s ablution thrown at him earlier, he turned the coat over before
sitting down.
“You’ll have to forgive the mess,” said
Jerome, aware that his guest was attempting to protect his clothing. “The bed's
just suffering from the after effects of one too many toasted cheese sandwiches
that’s all. I’m afraid it’s my little vice. In its defence though, it’s
entirely pleasurable at any time of day, if perhaps a little challenging to
one’s girth.”
As if to illustrate
the point, Jerome pulled open his night-shirt to reveal his belly - fanned with
numerous rolls of fat. On witnessing this somewhat graphic display, Ashley’s
eyebrows shot high into his brow. Noticing this, Jerome twisted his face to
match his guest’s surprise.
“Well, I must say
you’re not one of the usual are you?” said Jerome.
Ashley wasn’t aware
of what “the usual” might actually be and felt slightly unnerved at the
inference.
“And I doubt you’re
one of those other young bucks either,” continued Jerome, building his
character profile. “All leather jackets, Range Rovers possessed with three-day
stubble looking for an easy lay. No, I can see that you are different.” Jerome
made this final point with an outstretched finger that segued into poking a
piece of cheese back into his sandwich.
“So,” said Jerome as
he carried on munching. “Can I presume then that if this is not a social call, then
are you - like every young person I seem to meet these days -are…”
Jerome’s tone
descended into a wearily low octave. “Just looking for some weed?”
“Weed?” replied Ashley
confused.
“Herb?” reiterated
Jerome, opening his eyes further.
“Oh, no thank you,”
replied Ashley, imagining a soggy bite from a cheese sandwich was coming his
way. “I’ve eaten earlier.”
Jerome giggled
lightly at the response. Staring at Ashley for a moment, he wondered if he was a
joker; a chancer after some sort of a favour, but the conventionality of his dress
sense informed him that he was probably cut from somewhere a more mundane. For
a moment, he imagined that he might from the tax office or a clerk from the
council, out to investigate the status of his finances or to check on the array
of people camping in his grounds.
“So what are you
then” said Jerome swallowing the last morsel of his sandwich. “Inland Revenue?”
“I beg your pardon”
replied Ashley, thrown by the randomness of the comment.
“Well alright, local
authority?”
“I'm sorry?” said Ashley
shaking his head from left to right. “I don't understand.” While he knew the
phrases, he wasn't aware of what direction Jerome was taking.
Noticing his young visitor’s
tangible bemusement, Jerome broke into a smile. In a way he was relived, as
even a cursory glance at both his tax and planning records would have provoked
a jaw dropping response from even the most liberal of civil servants.
“You have to excuse
me,” continued Jerome with a lighter air. “We’ve always had a sort of fairly laisse faire attitude to uninvited
guests over the years. It’s only now I’m beginning to wonder what draws people
to my neck of the woods, especially when folk like yourself who appear - shall
we say – slightly more in touch with normality.”
Hearing this, Ashley
put his head down - confused as to whether Jerome was being critical or just
plain odd.
“You see,” said Jerome
lapsing into a whimsical smile, “this sort of unconditional approach to hosting
has its roots firmly in my lineage. My memory might appear slightly jaundiced, but
as far as I can remember, any guest - however tenuous the connection - was
royally welcomed into the family fold regardless of any fancy overture or outstanding
invitation. In fact, they would probably be afforded more privileges then we would
bestow on ourselves.”
This prompted a light
giggle from Jerome that segued into a loud rasping burp. “I remember this one
poor chap,” continued Jerome, “He came to stay the weekend - ostensibly a
relative of some sort, well I don’t know - let's just say he arrived. Well
anyway, it turns out that the fellow had only gone and got the wrong house;
should have been somewhere miles away! Nonetheless, he was fed, watered and
entertained in my parents’ inimitable style, and he accepted the lot. It was
only on the Sunday morning that we realised he had the wrong place.”
Jerome smiled at his
sentimental vignette. Watching his visitor finding it difficult to share in his
recollection, he squared him full on with a serious, enquiring look.
“So, do you think we
might have a similar scenario here today? Ummm?”
“What?” replied Ashley,
confused at what Jerome was trying to ascertain.
“Well you know,”
said Jerome, systematically licking his fingers clean of his cheese sandwich.
“The uninvited guest arriving by mistake: that sort of thing? Umm?”
Yet again, this
obtuse statement only served to make Ashley look down in bewilderment.
“Okay, well shall we
start with an easier one shall we?” pushed Jerome, eager to elicit some information
from his young guest. “What’s your name?”
“Oh right,” said Ashley,
relieved that this could be a precursor to starting the conversation in
earnest. “I’m Ashley, Ashley Marshall.”
“Ashley?"
replied Jerome, somewhat surprised. "Well, that’s a truly androgynous
moniker if ever there was one.”
Once again, Ashley felt
unnerved at the old man’s semantics. Thinking that androgynous might be some
sort of code for homosexuality; he instinctively drew his legs together.
“Now, tell me Ashley,”
continued Jerome, unaware of his guest’s nervousness. “Where are you from?”
“East Halliford in Surrey ,” replied Ashley confidently. Just by mentioning his
home town gave him a much needed rush of confidence.
“Oh really,” said
Jerome - adopting an interested face. “How nice.”
“It’s near Gatwick Airport
“No, I know,”
affirmed Jerome. “My family used to hunt around there. Daddy was a member of
the Old Surrey and something or another. Quite celebrated he was in those
quarters for something so barbaric.” Once again, Jerome was taken back into his
past and he steered his gaze upwards at the ceiling. Evidently consumed by an
avalanche of memories, he maintained the stance for a few seconds.
“Sorry,” said Jerome
as he realigned himself with the present moment. “Where did you say you were
from?”
“East Halliford in Surrey ,” replied Ashley - happy to get back on track.
“Oh yes, you said
earlier,” said Jerome rather sadly. Ashley however, was eager to cut to the
chase.
“Look, I’m sorry to
bother you, but the local police said you might be able to help me.”
“Really,” returned
Jerome - visibly reanimated “Well isn’t that wonderful. The local police no less. My limited
celebrity is obviously spreading.”
Unawares of how best
to continue the line of conversation, Ashley looked down to gather his
thoughts. Staring at its unregulated patchwork of different materials, he
recalled his Terrylene duvet cover at home, emblazoned with the decal of
Formula One racing cars.
“Tell me Ashley,” said Jerome breaking his young
guest’s observations. “In what way did the local police believe that I could be
of some assistance to you?”
Sensing a cue to
advance, Ashley pulled out the photograph of his brother and held it out towards
Jerome.
“Let me see,” interrupted Jerome, swiping the
picture from Ashley’s hands. Lifting himself off his pillows, he held it close
to his face. Finding it difficult to focus, he sluggishly turned towards his
bedside cabinet and rifled through an overstocked drawer of papers and other aged
ephemera. Ransacking his belongings, his frustration accumulated to a point
when he could barely breathe. Eventually, he located a large magnifying glass
which he held close to his eyes.
“I say,” said Jerome,
clearly taken with the photo’s feral charms. “Quite glamorous isn’t he? There’s
more than a hint of Adonis about him wouldn’t you agree?”
“It was taken some
years back,” chipped Ashley, unsure who or what Adonis actually meant.
“Really?” said
Jerome as his eyes began to dart back and forth from the photograph to Ashley.
Like most, he’d noticed the difference between the two siblings, and was keen to
find some element that liked them together.
“And what’s his
name?” asked Jerome.
“David” answered Ashley.
“David,” repeated Jerome
as he lapsed into his bank of pillows. “David ‘The Beloved’ eh?”
Scrutiny over, he tossed
the magnifying glass down by the side of the bed and then began to massage the
photo between his palms. While Ashley was fearful that this might damage the print
even more, he was nervous in asking for it back.
“Are you close?”
said Jerome, as he began to pull the picture through his fingers.
“Well he’s my brother so…?” replied Ashley,
his mind more on the fate of the photograph.
“That’s even more
reason then isn’t it,” replied Jerome ceremoniously. “I had four brothers and
one sister; loved them all, dearly. Despite the numerous squabbles and disputes
we shared throughout the years, I’m still very much of the belief that blood is
evidently thicker than Guinness, wouldn’t you agree?”
Weird analogy expelled,
Jerome handed the picture back. With the photo back in his possession, Ashley
felt he had to steer the conversation into the realms of his own reality, if
only to find out whether Jerome had seen his brother.
“Alright, look my
brother David…”
“Ah yes your brother,”
said Jerome, recomposed towards Ashley’s train of thought. “I’m sorry, you had
something else to tell me, please go on.”
“He was last seen at
the music festival nearby.” continued Ashley. Well, that’s where he went to from home. And
he hasn’t contacted us since, so we’re obviously rather worried about him.”
“Rightly,” affirmed Jerome.
“That’s you and your parents who are concerned, yes?”
“Well, my mother and
I,” said Ashley slightly embarrassed. “My father died earlier this year.”
“I’m sorry to hear
that,” replied Jerome sympathetically. The announcement of his single parent status
propelled him to study his young guest again. Already in his mind, he’d drawn a
conclusion that Ashley’s conventional deportment reflected a stance well beyond
his years.
“Anyway,” said Ashley.
“I’ve travelled down to see if I can find him and see if he’s alright.”
“A noble brotherly
act!” replied Jerome, smiling warmly at Ashley’s apparent concern. “And what
brings you to the conclusion that he might be staying here?”
“It was just because
the police said that because you have some er…er”
Ashley hunted around
for a gentler word other than hippies, gypsies or travellers. Instinctively, Jerome
detected this minor predicament.
“Go on, please?”
“Visitors….” It was
the best Ashley could come up with.
“Well done!” said
Jerome, mildly impressed.
“And because they
are staying here, I was wondering whether David might be with them. So that’s
why I called in here on the way home.”
“Sounds reasonable,”
replied Jerome genuinely. “Have you looked around?”
“Only a little bit,”
remarked Ashley rather nervously. “I’m not too sure that people are happy with
me asking questions.”
“You are indeed
right to think that,” confirmed Jerome. “One must indeed caution discretion as
you tread this particular Garden of Eden. You see, people retreat to my grounds
seeking refuge from a world that in their eyes has gone wildly insane. They take
time here to restore their beaten minds and bodies, and I give them that
sanctuary, asylum if you like, from the harsher elements that conspire to
pursue them. My friends rest themselves and tend to their vehicles before
moving on. And as they leave, more seem to arrive. So as you can imagine, there
is always a steady flow of “visitors” as you so warmly put it, to my little
Shangri-La.”
Following this brief
summation, Jerome gazed out of the window with a philosophical gaze. “It seems
their only crime is to strive to be different. That’s all. Perhaps that what
your brother was striving for? Um?”
The knowing tone of Jerome’s
last words suggested to Ashley that the doctor might harbour some knowledge of
his brother’s whereabouts.
“Does that mean
you’ve seen him?” said Ashley expectantly.
“What, around here?”
replied Jerome, still slightly intoxicated by his last delivery.
“Obviously,” remarked
Ashley, nervously laughing at the obtuse reply.
At that Jerome just shook
his head, his face dropping into nothingness.
“So many faces, it’s really hard to tell.”
“But do you
recognise him,” pushed Ashley.
“In all honesty, it
would be unfair to say that I did,” replied Jerome, the last words accompanied
with a downward nod.
With a mixture of
despondency and embarrassment, Ashley looked away. It was obvious that even if
David had been within the limits of the property, the doctor had little
knowledge or memory recall to be of any help. Nonetheless, despite the weird theatrics,
Ashley believed the doctor’s sincerity.
Momentarily looking
away, Ashley took in the picture frames on the wall. One particular image
caught his eye as it matched the cover of the pile of magazines he’d knocked to
the floor earlier. Sensing a point of interest that might level their conversation
before he left, he looked back towards the bed.
“Do you still
practice as a doctor?”
“Practice?” said Jerome, laughing haughtily at the unintended duality. “Well,
in another age maybe I did ‘practice’ as you call it, although certainly many
moons before your delivery. Back then, I attempted to follow my instincts
rather than by the prescribed route, although as you can imagine the moment I dared
to venture out of the furrow I exposed myself to the vultures.”
“Oh” replied Ashley, instantly regretting opening up yet another line
of bizarre dialogue.
“You see,” continued Jerome, believing his guest was genuinely
interested in his résumé. “I tried in my own way to be a little more enquiring
of what is generally accepted by rote. And for a while I enjoyed a scant bit of
celebrity for my views. Ultimately though, I fell foul of that impeccably
British requirement of knowing one’s place. And of course, the obsequious gods
that police the limits of so-called medical science deemed me to be, in their
own words, somewhat ‘dangerous,’ Can you believe that? Dangerous? What do you
make of that then?”
“I don’t know?” replied Ashley nervously.
At that innocuous response,
Jerome threw back his bedding. As he emerged from his bed, his nightdress came
fully into view, decorated with a plethora of ugly stains and dark blotches. Shocked
by the doctor’s rapid emergence, Ashley stepped back a few feet.
“You see it’s like
this,” roared Jerome as he careered across the room. “I dared to challenge that
moribund bunch of primates to widen their consciousness towards something more
imaginative than just what is demonstrable via science.”
As he walked, Jerome
let out an enormous fart that sent shock-waves through the floorboards. Reaching
a solitary armchair in the corner of the room, he threw off a large cushion that
revealed what appeared to be a vintage commode. Momentarily hovering above it,
Jerome lifted up his night-dress and squatted down. This uncensored act
unnerved Ashley, and he regretted not leaving earlier. The doctor however was well into his flow.
“Rather innocently,
“said Jerome, settling into his ablutions. “I aimed to present a radical
blueprint for the science of mental health. And I suppose in all honestly I was
asking a lot to expect anything more than just a humorous rebuttal. But it was
nothing more than this; I felt we could learn more about the complexities of
the human condition from the artists and poets rather than from the stuffy
corridors of scientific academia. I saw that there was more to be gained from studying
the likes of Baudelaire and Blake than from conceited intransigents like Freud
or Jung. I presume you’ve read Blake?”
“No” replied Ashley.
He’d never heard of a Blake, or what he or she had done.
“Well, you are ill-informed
aren’t you?” hissed Jerome dismissively. He accompanied the curt response with
a further loud breaking of wind. For the most part of this untamed display, Ashley
had his head down, still finding it improper to see a grown man squatting in such
a position. Even when his father was in the last throes of life, he’d managed
to close the door to the toilet, even though he was well and truly
incapacitated.
“Let me tell you
about Blake,” continued Jerome from his commode. “He came to this particular
seat of England
looking to unravel a few of the mysteries that have plagued the human condition.
And it was here, while roaming around countryside much like you’ve seen outside,
that he pondered on the very nature of the human experience. Like many others, he
came to the conclusion that there had to be more to this pitiful existence than
fighting, fucking and finance. Do you see where I am coming from?”
Despite not having a
clue, Ashley kept his head down. Privately, he was looking for an exit although
he felt awkward as Jerome was still on the toilet. In tandem with Jerome’s fevered
hyperbole, the sandwich toaster at his bedside started again to billow dark
smoke. Sensing a small inferno, Ashley felt the urge to inform the old man of
this disaster in waiting, and yet such was the force of the old man’s delivery
he decided against interrupting him.
“Far be it from me
to impose anything on one so evidently innocent,” said Jerome with more than a
hint of patronising, “but let me put it to you this way if I can. Do you believe
that nature, evolved with an imperious hierarchy that ensured that the
strongest would always survive over the weak?”
Ashley turned his
head to one side in an attempt to process the quandary, but the sight of Jerome
engaged in wiping his rear with an old rag was too much to take and he looked
away. Jerome, however, wasn’t waiting for a response.
“You see, to some of
us the answer was, and still is, no!”
With that, Jerome bounded away from the commode, his night-gown falling
down over his midriff. Moving over to the corner of the room, he picked up a
bunch of dried flowers from the floor and tossed them on top of his recently
departed detritus. Adding to the surrealism of the moment, the muted television
was now showing an advert for deodorant. As a parade of antiseptically dry
individuals paraded themselves over the screen, Ashley wanted desperately to be
absorbed in their normality.
Arriving back at his
bed, Jerome grabbed at the covers and collapsed on top of the mattress.
Entering the small inferno that was hovering over his head, he yanked a lead from
the rear of the sandwich toaster, reducing its noisy bubbling to nothing.
“Seeing as evidently
the cat has got your tongue,” said Jerome through a mist of dark smoke. “Let me
try and simplify things for you. I have always believed that it is the duty of
every man and woman to realise a paradise here on Earth. I am certain that it
once existed, indeed I have proof that it did, and yet only through the
insanity of greed and ambition has this once beautiful vision been perverted
and destroyed.”
“Oh,” replied Ashley,
trying to appear upset at the dismal picture Jerome was creating.
“There’s proof of it
everywhere,” continued Jerome. “You only have to look around. And when one has
it confirmed from no less an authority as biblical tracts, you start to ask
questions.”
“Questions?” said Ashley,
attempting to be sympathetic to the old man’s rant.
“Yes, questions,”
confirmed Jerome – fired by Ashley’s attempt at a response. “You see, one of
these queries concerns an imposed hierarchy of species, something that clearly
no beneficent god would impose on its creations. But look around you. Is this
what really our Lord god envisaged? Was it really his vision to impose such a gross
pecking order that would reward the strongest and forever damn the meek and the
mild? Um?”
Short of anything to
say in response, Ashley just smiled.
“Funny eh?” said
Jerome with an enquiring glance. “Well let me make it more elementary for you. Did
you blissfully sing ‘All Things Bright
and Beautiful’ each Sunday only then to witness the beast tear the flesh
out of the weakest for its satisfaction, and then have the gall to call all of
that God’s will? Have you noticed how this imperious pecking order has extended
itself to every tier of humanity? While it has certainly been glossed over and
buffed up over the years, an atmosphere of supremacy still rules over our
wretched existence. Have you never noticed this?”
“I haven’t really thought about it,” replied Ashley. With that Jerome looked
towards the ceiling. Instinctively, Ashley took his eyes skyward too.
“The deer that can
only offer a tearful whimper when locked into the wolf’s jaw. The moth trapped
in the spider’s web, its fate irrevocably sealed from the moment it first flapped
its wings. The bird caught by the cat – tortured and quartered just for fun.” Jerome’s
gaze then returned to earth. “Can you say that’s right? Can you honestly pay
homage to a god that would endorse such barbarity?”
The slight pause
allowed Ashley to look towards the door as if to signify his departure.
“Erm,” whimpered Ashley,
his body language indicating everything other than wanting to listen to this
crazed diatribe. “I’m sorry, but it’s getting rather late.”
“You see,” rallied Jerome
- impervious to Ashley’s thinly veiled intention to depart. “Is it too far-fetched
to suggest that at some point man had advanced beyond what we could have thought
was possible? Could he then have perverted evolution to benefit someone’s
grubby desires? You see, what I was suggesting was that at some point in
earth’s infinite history, a bullish and pernicious illuminati rewrote and reprogrammed
god’s wonderful paradise and then had the gall to call this new hierarchy ‘nature’!
Do you see where I am coming from now?”
Ashley looked around
and drew in a large quantity of air. He’d heard enough and even his polite
tolerance had now been fully exhausted. To reinforce this, he started to move
towards the door. Jerome however, was in
no mood to retreat.
“No, no, no, please,”
said Jerome as though he only had minutes to live. “What I am saying is vitally
important. You must listen. It is vitally important that you do. It could even help
you in your quest for your brother.”
It was a cheap shot
from Jerome, but it succeeded in stopping Ashley in his tracks.
“You must try and
understand,” implored the doctor. “What I and many others were suggesting was
there was meddling. Meddling on a far grander scale that you or I would dare to
imagine, not even in our wildest hallucinations. I suggested all of this at a gathering
with the executives of my so-called profession. Delivered it to them over their
profiteroles and cognac. And for that, they raked me out. Discredited me as a lunatic and a fool. And with
precision swiftness, they chained my tongue in silver and erased me from their
books. As I seemingly didn’t exist anymore, I moved here, a place where the
mind is allowed a chance to germinate. I do hope you understand what I’m
talking about. It is vitally important for anyone who comes here to understand
why we live like this. We’re fugitives, outsiders if you like - trying
desperately to tell the world what is going on.”
“Alright,” said Ashley,
his mind totally congested. “So I take it you haven’t seen my brother?”
“Aren’t you
interested in what I have to say?” replied Jerome, slightly wounded that his
guest was evidently more interested in moving on.
“Well, yes,” lied Ashley
to keep the peace. “But I have to leave soon to avoid the rush hour.”
“Pish the blessed
rush hour!” yelled Jerome, clearly annoyed.
“This is more important than a damned traffic jam. Young folk aren’t
that keen to listen to me these days, but you have, well for a short while at
least. Look please stay. Are you sure I can’t tempt you to some food? You do
look rather famished and I know you have a long journey back.”
Jerome leaned over
to his stash of cheese and accompaniments, and then back over at Ashley with a
desperate smile.
“I understand,” said
Jerome philosophically. “It is distressing you, I can see that. Oh well, go if you
must. I only wish I could have been of more help to you.”
“Thank you,” said Ashley
relieved that he’d finally been excused. He then walked towards the door. Before he
exited, Ashley took a final look back at the room. Jerome had now turned his
attention back towards the television, and was playing haphazardly with the
volume button. Despite their obvious differences, the old man harboured a peculiar
charm, although not something that Ashley was eager to expand any more time on.
Opening the door, Ashley
walked out into the hall. While it had been an eventful 30 minutes to say the
least, the weight of all this accumulated strangeness had taken its toll on him.
Nonetheless, he was satisfied that his upsetting odyssey had come to an end.
Exhausted and hungry, he set his sights on returning home. Whatever awaited him
there was evidently going to be more predictable than he’d met on his travels
