There now, you can't say I haven't been frank. You could oblige now by being frank with me, and telling me why on earth you're afraid of doctors. What's a doctor ever done to you?" "Nothing. Nothing has been done to me.

But I'm afraid that they might - " "Might what?" "Shut me up." Dr. Stillingfleet raised his sandy eyebrows and looked at her.

"Well, well," he said. "You seem to have some very curious ideas about doctors.

Why should I want to shut you up?

Would you like a cup of tea?" he added, "or would you prefer a purple heart or a tranquilliser. That's the kind of thing people of your age go in for. Done a bit yourself in that line, haven't you?" She shook her head. "Not - not really." "I don't believe you. Anyway, why the alarm and despondency? You're not really mental, are you? I shouldn't have said so.

Doctors aren't at all anxious to have people shut up. Mental homes are far too full already. Difficult to squeeze in another body. In fact lately they've been letting a good many people out - in desperation - pushing them out, you might say - who jolly well ought to have been kept in.

Everything's so over-crowded in this country.

"Well," he went on, "what are your tastes? Something out of my drug cupboard or a good solid old-fashioned English cup of tea?" "I - I'd like some tea," said Norma.

"Indian or China? That's the thing to ask, isn't it? Mind you, I'm not sure if I've got any China." "I like Indian better." "Good," he went to the door, opened it and shouted, "Annie. Pot of tea for two." He came back and sat down and said, "Now you get this quite clear, young lady.

What's your name, by the way?" "Norma Res - " she stopped.

"Yes?" "Norma West." "Well, Miss West, let's get this clear.

I'm not treating you, you're not consulting me. You are the victim of a street accident - that is the way we'll put it and that is the way I suppose you meant it to appear, which would have been pretty hard on the fellow in the Jaguar." "I thought of throwing myself off a bridge first." "Did you? You wouldn't have found that so easy. People who build bridges are rather careful nowadays. I mean you'd have had to climb up on to the parapet and it's not so easy. Somebody stops you.

Well, to continue with my dissertation, I brought you home as you were in too much of a state of shock to tell me your address.

What is it, by the way?" "I haven't got an address. I - I don't live anywhere." "Interesting," said Dr. Stillingfleet.

"What the police call 'of no fixed abode5.

What do you do - sit out on the Embankment all night?" She looked at him suspiciously.

"I could have reported the accident to the police but there was no obligation upon me to do so. I preferred to take the view that in a state of maiden meditation you were crossing the street before looking left first." "You're not at all like my idea of a doctor," said Norma.

"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.

"Right. What do you see? A perfectly ordinary hallway, wants redecorating but it's not worth having it done when I'm just off to Australia. Now go to the front door, open it, also no tricks about it. Go outside and down to the pavement and that will show you that you are perfectly free with no attempts to shut you up in any way. After that when you have satisfied yourself that you could walk out of this place at any minute you like, come back, sit in that comfortable chair over there and tell me all about yourself. After which I will give you my valuable advice. You needn't take it," he added consolingly. "People seldom do take advice, but you might as well have it. See? Agreed?" Norma got up slowly, she went a little shakily out of the room, out into - as the doctor had described - the perfectly ordinary hallway, opened the front door with a simple catch, down four steps and stood on the pavement in a street of decorous but rather uninteresting houses. She stood there a moment, unaware that she was being watched through a lace blind by Dr.