“A few days later, when I was taking some books back to the university library for Professor Palfreyman, I mentioned his nightmare to Mr Martin, who was in the library, working on his thesis. I didn’t want to appear a gossipmonger, but I felt the need to speak to an educated person about it. I think I had thought that Tim might laugh it off and thus cheer me, but his response was surprisingly grave.
“‘I am not sure it is entirely wise for you to stay with the old fellow any longer,’ said he, shaking his head.
“‘Why, whatever do you mean, Tim?’ I returned. ‘Professor Palfreyman has been very kind and considerate to me. I could not simply walk out and leave him just because he had a bad nightmare!’
“‘Of course, I understand that,’ said Mr Martin, ‘and I understand the gratitude you feel towards him. But,’ he added after a moment, ‘I still find it a little worrying, Georgina. You must know that when people start to lose their grip on reality it can be a very steep downward slope.’
“I was shocked that he should say such a thing and protested vigorously. ‘You sound just like our housemaid,’ I said, and told him what Beryl had said.
“He laughed. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, Georgina,’ said he, ‘but I’m just speaking my mind. How would I feel, do you imagine, if I simply said something to soothe your nerves and told you that there was nothing to worry about, and then heard later that something terrible had happened and you were hurt? I should never forgive myself! It is always better to err on the side of caution, Georgina, even if it means offending someone.’
“‘You don’t know the professor at all if you think he might do anything which would hurt me!’ I retorted, annoyed by his response. ‘Why, the professor is the very last person on earth who would ever do anything of the sort! He is the kindest, gentlest man I have ever known, and is, I fear, much more likely to cause harm to himself than to another!’
“‘No doubt. But I am only thinking of you, Georgina. You cannot always be taking on other people’s problems; sometimes you have to think of yourself. And don’t forget that most people who have ended up being described as “mad” didn’t start off that way. Rather, they slipped by tiny, imperceptible steps away from normality. So, for all we know, may it be with Professor Palfreyman. He has been a very great scholar in his day and everyone has admired him. He has also been very kind to you. But that does not mean that there cannot ever be anything wrong with him. Come away from there, Georgina, if not for my sake, then for your own safety and peace of mind. Leave Bluebell Cottage.’
“By this time, I was so annoyed that I flatly refused to listen to any more such remarks, and we left it at that. As I travelled home on the train later that afternoon, however, Mr Martin’s words came back to me, rattling around in my head, and I found that I could not dismiss them so easily then as I had done earlier in the day. What the future might bring, I could not say, but I determined there and then that I would try my best to remain hopeful and cheery, and that if anyone were gloomy or downcast, it would not be because of me.”
Miss Calloway paused and sipped her tea in silence for a few moments, a thoughtful expression on her face.
“Some weeks passed, the bright spring turned into a fine summer, and our existence at Bluebell Cottage settled down once more into a peaceful and placid routine. Professor Palfreyman worked on his manuscripts most days and, once I had attended to the routine work of the household, I assisted him in keeping his papers in order, and also proceeded slowly in identifying and cataloguing his archaeological and artistic specimens. I was also able to indulge my own interest in botany by making sketches of the many wild flowers that grow in the woods behind the house. Sometimes the professor accompanied me and made sketches of his own. He is quite an accomplished artist. One of the books he is working on is an account for younger readers of daily life in Ancient Greece, which he hopes to illustrate with simple drawings of his own. He asked me if I would mind posing with a small amphora on my shoulder, so that he could make a naturalistic sketch of it, which of course I didn’t, and he subsequently made numerous other drawings of me in a variety of interesting poses, so one day I may be immortalized in an illustrated book!
“During this period, the professor’s academic colleagues continued to drop in to see us from time to time, and in August we had Professor Schultz of Berlin University to stay for two weeks. During the summer vacation, Mr Martin came more frequently, too. Sometimes he would help me in attempting to bring order to the chaos of the professor’s possessions, and sometimes, if the weather was fine, we would go for walks through the nearby countryside. Of course, throughout this period, Professor Palfreyman continued to talk to himself, but in a subdued, amiably eccentric sort of way, and I never once heard him sound alarmed or angry. Sometimes, too, I heard him talking in his sleep, but there was no repeat of what had occurred that night in the spring, and if he suffered any nightmares, he kept the fact to himself. A new problem now arose, however, concerning the professor’s memory, which had become a little unreliable. Sometimes, he would put something down somewhere and then forget where he had put it, and I would have to search round the house to find it for him. Generally, I was successful, but on one particular occasion I was not, although my failure led to the professor’s making an interestingly philosophical admission. The object in question was an ancient Phoenician terracotta oil lamp, which had in the past stood on a low shelf at the side of the study, although it had often been buried under mounds of loose papers and other things. On the day the professor happened to miss it, I searched high and low for it, but in vain. Eventually, although I was reluctant to blame Beryl as she was no longer there to defend herself, I suggested that she had perhaps knocked it off the shelf and broken it some weeks previously, while dusting, and, afraid of admitting what she had done, had simply hidden the pieces somewhere. Professor Palfreyman did not seem very convinced by this explanation at first, but at length he conceded that it might be correct.
“‘Although Mrs Wheeler is a charming and warm-hearted lady,’ said he in a low voice, closing the study door so that we should not be overheard, ‘her children, I regret to say, do not take after her, but rather follow her late husband, who was something of a bad lot.’
“‘Children?’ I repeated. ‘Do you mean to say there are more than just Beryl?’
“The professor nodded his head. ‘Mrs Wheeler also has a son, Sidney. His father was often in trouble with the police, and Sidney has followed his father closely in that respect, causing his mother considerable anxiety and unhappiness. He came to visit her here once, and although I tried to be welcoming, I found him rude, charmless and unpleasant. It turned out, anyway, that the only reason he had come here was to try to get some money from his mother, to help him escape from the police, who had a warrant out for his arrest. Where he is now and what he is doing, I have no idea. Anyway,’ he continued with a shake of the head, ‘with regard to the Phoenician lamp, I felt sure I had seen it since Beryl left us, but I suppose I must now accept that my memory is not as good as it used to be. Ah, well!’ he added in a philosophical tone. ‘Perhaps it will turn up again, some time in the future. Then again, perhaps it won’t! Life is too short, Georgina, to waste it in fretting about inanimate objects, however much one might feel attached to them!’ This remark, I felt, rather typified the professor’s new attitude: a reluctant acceptance of his slightly declining powers, and a sort of resolute determination to make the most of what remained. All in all, then, I think I could be forgiven for believing that the troubled times were behind us and that our future prospects were in the main only happy ones. Alas! Our troubles, like some foul beast of mythology, were not dead, but simply sleeping, and about to burst upon us anew.