Free Asylum by Patrick McGrath

realized that regardless of the cost there is an impulse in us that cries out to declare our truth. Or destroy ourselves. She certainly felt it then; what pleasure it would give her to announce to Max, to me, to all of us that she loved Edgar Stark and found it intolerable to have to conceal it! Though she was not so abandoned as to allow this feeling to surface for more than a few seconds; pragmatic concerns are never far from the thoughts of the secret lover. Then she heard a car in the drive and all her vague ideas of exposure vanished: It must be Brenda returning from her shopping expedition, hours before she was expected. Edgar sat up and she told him they had to get dressed,she’d heard the car. They stared at each other for a second then scrambled out of bed, laughing like a pair of wicked schoolchildren.
    Brenda was coming in through the front door as Stella came downstairs.
    “Too hot, my dear,” she called, “I simply cannot function in this heat. Oh, and there was nowhere to park, and some dreadful little man kept honking his horn at me, so I thought I’d just forget the whole thing, come home and get cool and relax.”
    “What a good idea. Shall I put the kettle on?”
    “A cup of tea would be heaven.”
    She went upstairs. Stella paused at the kitchen door. She heard the bedroom door close. Then Edgar was coming down with his boots in his hand like a character in a farce, and she ran ahead of him across the kitchen and opened the back door to make sure no one was in the yard.
    She turned to him and saw that under his arm he had a bundle of Max’s clothes.
    “What are you taking those for?” she whispered.
    He put a finger to her lips, then walked boldly across the yard. She went back upstairs. The cupboard door was open, and clothes were missing from several hangers on Max’s side. She heard Brenda coming out of her room. She was making the bed for the second time that morning, this time with clean sheets, when Brenda spoke from the doorway.
    “Would you mind if I ran a bath? One gets so sticky.”
    “Of course not,” she said, not turning.
    She went downstairs and sat at the kitchen table. Why had he taken Max’s clothes? What could he possibly want with Max’s clothes? What on earth was he up to?
    Max came home from the hospital just after one, so there were four for lunch. Stella became more animated when she felt under pressure, and she most certainly felt under pressure that day. Even a couple of large gins could not reduce the magnitude in her mind of the risk they’d run. She couldn’t begin to imaginethe consequences if they’d been caught. So she gaily served cold meat and new potatoes with butter and chives, and a tomato salad with a garlic dressing, and energetically pursued a semblance of normality. Max was quiet and preoccupied throughout, and when it was over he asked her to bring his coffee to the study.
    He was at his desk. He turned toward her as she came in, and his expression provoked a fresh flare of anxiety in her. She was very much on the defensive, and her response was to assume a blithe unconcern; but she was afraid they’d been seen and reported, and this seemed confirmed when he said: “What dealings do you have with Edgar Stark?”
    “I see him in the vegetable garden most days,” she said, frowning slightly as though attempting to fathom the source of this unusual inquiry. “Why?”
    “Has he ever come into the house?”
    Has he ever come into the house! The bed was still warm with the impress of his body, the sheets in the laundry basket stained and damp!
    “Only the time he brought Charlie in.”
    Max sighed. He took off his spectacles and rubbed his eyes.
    “There’s no doubt now that alcohol’s being smuggled into the hospital. The nuisance of it is, the attendants get so badly rattled. We have to be seen to be taking it very seriously indeed.”
    “Is it out of the question that an attendant brought it in?”
    She was unsure of the wisdom of putting