Free Mesmerised by Michelle Shine

is stifling . I can smell stale hops and garlic on the policeman’s breath. ‘Your friends started a riot in the street whilst they were waiting for you,’ he says, motioning with his head towards Monsieur Breton. ‘He says you’re a doctor, but I’ve listened to the evidence about your behaviour. You have followers amongst the common people and I just want to warn you that the government will not take kindly if you’ve started your own anti-establishment party.’
    ‘I am not a politician.’
    ‘We don’t need another revolution.’
    ‘I’m a doctor. I’m also an artist and I rushed back from a painting session with some of my peers because I was informed that those people who were queuing outside here were potential patients … all of them not well.’
    ‘They were overheard discussing that this was because of a defect in the new water supply.’
    ‘Apparently an article in a newspaper made that suggestion.’
    ‘And you found a crowd to prove it, isn’t that so?’
    ‘I had nothing to do with it.’
    ‘Don’t worry , I am not going to arrest you,’ he says, moving away from me. ‘I am sure that Monsieur Breton will do his job and keep an eye on you. I don’t want you to be the cause of any more fighting on the street – in my area – do you understand?’
    I remain silent with indignation . His open palm slaps my ear. I hear the crack then a ringing sound. The flesh of my lobe burns
    ‘Monsieur Breton, you didn’t see that, did you?’
    Monsieur Breton slowly shakes his head.
    I say that I understand.
     
    When Blanche arrives at eight o’ clock with wine and a cassoulet, there are not many left outside my door, I advise the remaining few to come back tomorrow. She is cold and I put the fire on whilst she warms up the food which she tells me took all afternoon to shop for and cook. Then we sit on the floor facing each other with our plates in our laps and I tell her how my day has been.
    ‘I didn’t realise that to be true to myself my life would be so controversial. Sometimes it’s like fighting the whole world.’
    ‘If you want,’ she says. ‘You can give me a remedy.’
    ‘You have to answer some questions. Did I tell you already that this is delicious?’
    Her smile is magnanimous. ‘Yes,’ she says ‘And Paul, you can go ahead and ask.’
    ‘Ask what?’
    ‘You know. Ask.’
    She is h olding me steadily with her gaze. For one moment I think that she is giving herself to me.
    ‘Ask the questions you have to ask , for the remedy.’
    ‘Yes, of cours e, of course, when did the coughing start?’ I say, rising up off the rug and almost dropping my plate. I run over to my desk to get paper and a pen. ‘Hold on,’ I tell her. ‘I don’t want to miss a thing.’ I run back, pen in mouth, paper flapping underneath my plate. She laughs, tells me I look like a kid in an egg and spoon race and kisses me spontaneously on the cheek as I once again sit down. Her eyes glow warmly in the firelight.
    ‘It started two months ago. I was teaching violin to a pupil in a school. It was nearly the end of the lesson and I was writing down instructions for the boy’s homework practice.’
    ‘You haven’t had it on and off since childhood?’
    ‘Yes I have, but this is different.’
    ‘How is it different?’
    ‘It’s gone on longer and it’s worse.’
    ‘And this bout first began two months ago, you said.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Is there any reason for your cough to have started then? Did anything happen that could have upset your system?’
    ‘The boy upset me.’
    ‘Forgive me for prying but it will help me find your remedy; in what way did the boy upset you?’
    ‘He’s a very sensitive child.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘I’m sorry Paul, but I would be breaching a confidence if I told you. I know that you know his father and I’m not going to say.’
    The fire crackles and spits embers into the flue.
    ‘Blanche, I only need to know your reaction.’
    ‘I felt upset for the boy.’
    I wait