Elephant Man (8 page)

“Yes, sir.” Nora looked nervously between the two of them.

“Don’t be frightened,” Treves told her. “He won’t hurt you.”

“Indeed.” Carr-Gomm’s eyebrows were raised a fraction and he made a gesture toward his office door.

Nora watched the two men enter the office, then she set off for the Isolation Ward. Apprehension stirred like quicksand inside her. She was as much frightened by Treves’ last words as by the prospect of confronting the mysterious figure she had seen smuggled in. Why should he hurt her? Was he delirious from fever or—she gulped—a madman?

She stopped, drew a deep breath, and tried to stiffen her resolve. Her father had always told his children to advance with courage in the Lord.

After a few moments spent talking sternly to herself, Nora advanced with courage up the stairs to the Isolation Ward.

Francis Culling Carr was a man in whom the strain of hereditary pride had increased in direct proportion to his distance from its source. The family glory was
rooted in a faint connection with Field Marshall Sir William Gomm, the distinguished soldier who had begun a great career as Aide to the Duke of Wellington in the Peninsular war and at Waterloo.

Francis, younger son of an obscure Kent clergyman, had faced life with two weapons, his Gomm connection and his brilliant facility for the law. Together they had been enough to win him a Major’s daughter for a wife. The marriage, a happy one, had lasted ten years, during which Jeanie had given him two living sons and one dead, and died in childbirth when her husband was thirty-five.

The next five years of his life had been spent in India as a District Judge in the Madras Civil Service, until at last a desire to see how his two surviving sons had fared in his sister’s care had made him return. He had arrived in England to find Sir William Gomm on the point of death.

Grief and loneliness had toughened Francis Carr’s heart, as the Indian sun had toughened his skin. He made a swift decision. Sir William had no children or any close male relatives. His nearest kin was his spinster niece Emily Carr, who was plain, thirty-two, and on her last prayers. Carr used their distant relationship to effect an introduction and they were married within four months.

When Sir William Gomm died the Carrs applied for, and received, the Royal License to assume the surname and arms of Gomm, although to do Francis justice he thought more of his sons (who now numbered three, thanks to Emily’s efforts) than of himself. Now they were Mr. and Mrs. Carr-Gomm, and Emily played the lady of the manor to perfection.

For the last five years Carr-Gomm had been Chairman of the London Hospital. He brought to the job the characteristics of a trained lawyer, and also a mind that had learned deviousness in India. His nature was precise, proud, and subtle. He could be deeply generous, but his generosity was a considered response. There were numerous stories of his kindness, but
kindness was seldom his
first
instinct. As a clergyman’s son he practiced compassion from Christian duty. As a lawyer he practiced rectitude from a sense of good order.

His office was a large, high-ceilinged room, dominated by two huge windows that ran side by side all the way up one wall. In front of this stood the Chairman’s desk, and whether by accident or design Carr-Gomm had placed his chair exactly in the center of the space between the windows. The effect was to throw an almost blinding light on his visitors, making Carr-Gomm himself hard to see.

“I had better confess now that there is no sorcery in my knowledge,” he said when Treves had seated himself. “I saw you helping the patient down the corridor outside this office barely half an hour ago. I presume it is the same man? Or is it woman? It was rather hard to see.”

“It was a man.”

“He has been through the Receiving Room presumably, and all details given at the desk?”

“No, sir. I admitted him myself. You see—”

“In other words, if I had not happened to look out of my office door at just that moment, this man’s presence in the Isolation Ward would have remained known only to yourself?” Carr-Gomm’s sense of fitness and order was deeply offended.

“Sir, if you’ll just let me explain …”

“I do wish you would,” said the Chairman plaintively. “A hospital is no place for secrecy, Mr. Treves. Doctors spiriting hooded figures about are liable to cause comment. Why wasn’t this patient properly admitted? Is he contagious?”

“No, sir. He’s got bronchitis and he’s been badly beaten.”

“Why isn’t he in the General Ward then?”

“Well sir—” Treves hesitated between saying too much and too little. “—He’s quite seriously deformed, and I fear the other patients would find him—rather shocking.”

“Deformed? Is that it? Then I am to assume that he is ultimately incurable?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What are your plans then, Treves? You are aware that the London does not accept incurables? The rules are quite clear on that point.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that. But this case is quite exceptional.”

“Oh?” Carr-Gomm’s eyebrows lifted coolly. “Is he a friend of yours?”

“No, more of an acquaintance. I’ve—examined him a good deal over the last fortnight and—the fact is I feel rather responsible for him.

“Am I to assume that this is the Elephant Man with whom you caused such a stir with the Pathological Society yesterday, Treves? I was regrettably unable to attend myself but the reports—glowing reports I may add—of your success, reached me almost at once.”

“It
is
the same man—”

“And naturally you take an interest in his general health even though your need for him as a specimen is now a good deal less? That is very proper and humane, and what I should have expected of you. But my dear fellow, let us not lose our sense of proportion. You naturally feel an obligation—even perhaps gratitude to a man who has been of so much benefit to you. But you cannot be responsible for him for the rest of his life. Presumably he has a home?”

“Not a home I should ever send him back to. He is kept by a man called Bytes who describes himself as his ‘owner’—as if he was an animal. He exhibits him wherever he can—for twopence. I first encountered him at a fun-fair sideshow, which the police were in the process of closing down as an affront to decency.”

“Good grief!” said Carr-Gomm, genuinely appalled.

“When he is not on display he is abused and beaten and fed just enough to keep him alive. And the next time Bytes is not permitted to display him for profit I’m afraid he will be abandoned to starve altogether.
In the circumstances I didn’t feel I could leave him where he was, and this hospital is the only place I knew of to bring him.”

“I certainly sympathize with your problem, Treves. Why don’t you try the British Home, or the Royal Hospital for Incurables? Perhaps they would have a place for him.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll look into that.” Treves hesitated. “Would you like to meet him, sir?”

Before Carr-Gomm could answer the peace of the hospital was shattered by a shrill, terrified scream that echoed down through two floors. Treves leapt to his feet. He didn’t have to ask where it had come from or what had caused it.

“Excuse me!” he said tersely, and was out of the door, running fast down the corridor and past the shocked faces of nurses and doctors. He took the stairs like a madman until he reached the small landing outside the Isolation Ward, where he found the sight he’d most dreaded. Through the open ward door he could see the Elephant Man, his hideousness nakedly apparent crouched on the bed, trying to squeeze himself out of sight in the corner. On the floor lay the shattered ruins of his breakfast where Nora had dropped them. Nora herself was on the landing, one hand clutching the railings, the other covering her face as she fought to control her hysterical sobs.

Hurriedly Treves closed the door and put one arm round Nora, holding her in a strong steadying hug.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I should have warned you. I’m so terribly sorry. Please forgive me,” he said gently.

With a valiant effort she forced herself to seem calm and wiped her face with her apron. When she looked up at him she was biting her lips to stop them trembling but she had herself under control again. Treves kept his voice to a soothing monotone.

“There, you’re all right now?”

She nodded, still not able to speak.

“Go downstairs and please ask Mrs. Mothershead
to come up. Tell her
to knock on the door
and wait for me. All right?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” Drying her eyes Nora went down the stairs and made a thankful escape.

Treves stood on the half-lit landing and cursed the ill-fortune that had intervened in his plans this early. In his mind he could reconstruct the scene only too easily. Nora’s approach, the man’s growing nervous awareness of her footsteps, the opening of the door, her first unprepared sight of that shocking body and even more shocking head, her scream that had driven him cowering into the corner. And now what did the Elephant Man think? That he had been rescued from one jeering hell only to be plunged into another?

He stepped into the Isolation Ward and closed the door behind him. The Elephant Man was still crouched in the corner of the bed, but he had stopped cowering and was looking directly at Treves.

“I’m very sorry about that,” Treves said quietly. “Are you resting well?”

He regretted the idiot question as soon as it had escaped his lips. It was one of the standard questions you asked patients, but for this man none of the standard questions were applicable. Treves felt uncomfortable as he edged his feet forward onto uncharted territory. The Elephant Man garbled a noise that could have meant anything, and Treves seized on it.

“Ah, good. Well then … oh yes, we’ll have to get you some more food. I’m sure you must be simply famished, him?”

The Elephant Man stared at him. He did not seem reassured by the hearty tone that was normally such a success with patients.

“Of course you are. Now then, I think you’ll be quite comfortable up here for a while. I’ll see to it you have everything you need, and—uh yes …”

It was a relief to come to the end of the meaningless words. There was only one thing for it, Treves thought, and that was to do as he would do with an animal. He stretched out his hand and laid it gently
on the Elephant Man. He could feel the instant flinch backward, but the man made no other move, and for a moment his eyes were as they had been in the cellar, human, pleading. Treves sighed.

The knock on the door came as a relief. He opened it and went out onto the landing where Mrs. Mothershead was standing with an iron face. He closed the door behind him, taking care to keep himself between her and the creature inside the room.

“Ah, Mothershead. How are you feeling today?”

The heartiness succeeded no better with her than it had with Merrick. But where the Elephant Man’s rejection of it had been caused by incomprehension, Mrs. Mothershead’s had an ironic tinge.

“Perfectly well, thank you, doctor.” Her eyes met Treves, filled with suspicion.

“Good, excellent. Now then, Mrs. Mothershead, I want you to come into this room with me. Inside there is a man with a rather—unfortunate appearance.”

“I’ve heard,” Mothershead said drily.

“Yes—well, I want you to clear up a little mess. A breakfast tray was spilt. And bring up another breakfast.” He hurried on as he saw her eyebrows rise. “I would not normally ask someone in your position to undertake this kind of duty, but this is rather special. In view of the circumstances I don’t feel I can entrust this man into the care of a less-experienced nurse.”

“Since they appear unable to stop themselves screaming the place down, I imagine you’re right,” the Matron said crossly. “Will there be anything else, doctor?”

“Yes. When you’ve done that, you and I shall give the man a bath.” He moved toward the door, then stopped. “Mothershead, I’m counting on your many years of experience to get you through this. Above all, do not scream, do not cry out, or in any way show this man that you are frightened of him …”

“Sir, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not the sort to cry out. Shall we go in?”

“Yes—yes, let’s go in.” He opened the door and
stood back hastily as she swept past him, going right up to Merrick and standing in front of him as though he were nothing out of the ordinary. Treves had to hurry to close the door and catch up with her. He found her regarding Merrick with an impassive face.

“I would like you to meet Mrs. Mothershead,” he said to Merrick. “Mrs. Mothershead, Mr. John Merrick.”

Merrick had averted his eyes from the tall woman standing over him, but now he looked up at her and realized that she was gazing at him steadily. She plainly had no difficulty being in his presence, or looking at him.

“How do you do?” she said coolly.

When he made only a garbled sound in response she turned briskly away and stared at the mess on the floor. It took her only a few minutes to clear it up, but when she had lifted the tray and was turning to leave they were all pulled up short by a knock on the door. Mrs. Mothershead answered it, making sure her body filled the gap, just as Treves had done earlier. But she need not have bothered. It was Nora who stood there, holding another tray on which stood a fresh breakfast.

“I thought I’d better bring another one up, Mrs. Mothershead.”

“I’m glad to see you do think sometimes, Nurse Ireland.” Despite the hard words Mothershead’s tone was kind enough. “Give it to me, and take this one back.” She held out the tray containing the debris.

“Wouldn’t you like me to take this one in, Mrs. Mothershead?” Nora’s face was pale but determined.

“There’s no need for that girl. I’ll take it in. You get this one down to the kitchen, and tell them I want some buckets of hot water up here, quickly. And then tell the Supply Department I want a large wooden tub sent up, and some soap and towels. But make it clear to them that they’re to knock on the door and wait. Nobody is to come in.”

“Yes, Mrs. Mothershead.” Nora turned back down the stairs, but halted as Mothershead called her.

“Nora.”

“Yes, Mrs. Mothershead?”