Free The Eye in the Door by Pat Barker Page A

hid the sun; columns of shadows flitted rapidly across the city. Rivers felt calm, suddenly. There were worse ways to die, and he’d seen most of them.
    Again the engine faltered, giving way to the mosquito whine as the plane began to fall. Dundas came out of the spin, white, giddy, confused and clearly finding it difficult to focus on his instruments. Rivers could see him peering at them. He yelled, ‘DOWN!’ and jerked his finger at the ground. Dundas leant out of the plane and was sick.
    They had a bumpy landing, though not worse than many others Rivers had experienced. After the plane had taxied to a halt, Dundas stayed in his seat for a few moments before jumping down. He staggered slightly and held on to the wing. Rivers climbed down and immediately went up to him.
    ‘I’m all right,’ Dundas said, letting go of the wing.
    Two mechanics were walking towards the plane. Dundas turned to them and made some comment on the flight. The three went into a huddle, and Rivers walked to one side. Dundas was smiling and talking cheerfully, but then Dundas was a very good actor.
    When he came across to join Rivers, he said, ‘Sorry about that.’
    ‘Shall we go and sit down?’
    Dundas looked towards the canteen, but shook his head. ‘I think I’d just as soon get back, if you don’t mind.’
    Rivers’s legs were trembling as they walked back to the car. He was angry with himself for getting into such a state – angry, ashamed and inclined to pretend he’d been less frightened than he knew he had been. He observed this reaction, thinking he was in the state of fatigue and illness that favours the development of an anxiety neurosis, and behaving in the way most likely to bring it about. He was doing exactly what he told his patients not to do: repressing the awareness of fear.
    In the car going back to the hospital, Dundas examined his reactions minutely. During the first spin, in addition to the squashed head feeling, he’d felt sick. ‘Not so much sick. More a sort of bulge in my throat. And then during the loop I felt really sick. And faint. The sky went dark.’
    ‘And in the last spin?’
    ‘That was terrible. I felt really confused.’
    After leaving Dundas in the hospital entrance hall, Rivers went into his room and threw his cap and cane on to the chair. Henry Head came in a moment later. ‘How was he?’
    ‘Bad.’
    ‘Sick?’
    ‘And faint.’
    ‘Are you all right?’
    ‘No, I seem to be suffering from terminal stiff upper lip. You know the way I go on about not repressing fear? What did I do?’ He spread his hands.
    ‘It’s the Public School Factor, Will. We’re all too well trained.’
    ‘It’s the Silly Old Fool Factor. Too many young men around.’
    Head smiled. ‘No, well, I know what you mean. One doesn’t want to seem totally decrepit.’
    ‘I had this sudden sense that Dundas was hiding something. And that didn’t —’
    ‘He is.’
    Rivers looked surprised.
    ‘He’s got a bottle of Bumstead’s Gleet Cure in his locker.’
    ‘Has he?’
    ‘Sister Mitchell noticed it. Syphilis wouldn’t make him go faint, mind.’
    ‘Lying awake worrying about it might.’ Rivers sat in silence for a moment. ‘Well. Redirects the investigation a bit, doesn’t it?’
    ‘Makes it a helluva lot simpler.’ Head dropped into a sergeant-major’s baritone. ‘“Show us yer knob, lad.” Are you coming to dinner?’
    ‘Yes, and then I must dash. I’m supposed to be seeing somebody at eight.’
    Rivers had the top floor of a large house near Hampstead Heath. The house was within a hundred yards of the great gun, and there were times when its proximity showed in every line of his face.
    Prior arrived exactly on time, and was about to ring the bell when he saw Rivers walking rapidly up the hill.
    ‘Have you rung?’ Rivers asked, getting out his key.
    ‘No, I saw you coming.’
    Rivers opened the door and stood aside to let Prior in. Mrs Irving, Rivers’s landlady, was hovering in the hall,