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nose. But what happens when you `see' people"—his voice put quotes around the verb—"that Leo knew? Imagining a woman that he was fond of, or people he didn't like—that'd be normal enough. But it's hard to tell a data-sorting function like that from the real thing. That's why I want you to take things easy. We don't want to confuse internal and external realities."
    "Look, I saw a van. A grey van, with painted windows and rear doors with a black line along them. That's not part of Leo's past. I bet somebody saw it at the Zoo—it had to get into and out of the car park."
    "Fine. Feel free to go and look for it, if you want to." He clumped the Indian club back hard on the floor. "If you can come back here with witnesses, and a license plate for that van, I'll eat my Sunday boots with Branston Pickle. Haven't you noticed that everything that happened to you was with no witnesses? An' a broken thumb hurts like hell, but your man didn't let out a peep. Yer see, you've no idea how cunning the human brain can be at protecting its constructs. If you talk to a man who thinks the earth is flat, or that he's Napoleon or Hitler, he'll give you a hundred good reasons why he has to be right."
    He shook his head sadly and stood up. "I was hoping we could move you to outpatient status, but I think we should wait a bit longer. Let me know if anything else happens. I've got to go an' scrub."
    He was a hard man to argue with, yet I still felt like Galileo as he stood down from the witness box after facing the questioning. Subdued, but unpersuaded.
    " . . . but she was there."
    Proving it might be another matter.
     

- 5 -
    There had to be one more go-around with Sir Westcott before I could get out of Queen's Hospital Annex. The day before my release I hung about the top floor all morning with Tess Thomson, waiting until there was a gap in his schedule. It took a long time and by eleven-thirty I was feeling more and more impatient.
    Tess did her best to calm me down. "Remember that blood pressure. Keep it low, or he'll want you to stay another month."
    "I'll go mad first." Apart from passes at Tess, my only satisfaction came from the daily sessions on the old piano down in the basement. I had tuned it myself and ground my way through hour after hour of left-hand exercises. The dexterity was coming back—but it was slow. And I had the terrible feeling that my playing had been drained of all its emotional content.
    Tess was fidgeting by the door, trying to see through the frosted glass that led to Sir Westcott Shaw's reception area.
    "You'd get used to being here after a while," she said. "Look at me, I've been in the place for four years. And I don't get to use the fancy equipment, it's the same old round of emptying bedpans."
    I went over to stand next to her, and put my hand on her arm. "Tess, be serious for a minute. You've done a fantastic job looking after me, bedpans and all. How about dinner tonight? I owe you at least that, as a farewell thank-you for everything. Look." I held up my left hand and wiggled it. "See, it moves. If you hadn't made me exercise, I'd be all lopsided."
    She turned around, smiling. I was always delighted when I could make her lose those frown lines on her forehead.
    "Never give up, do you? What do you think my boyfriend would say?"
    "Why tell him?" I had decided a month earlier that he didn't exist—he was a useful invention to keep the patients in their places.
    "I don't keep secrets from him. Women are different from men; we don't like to live a double life."
    "You know all my secrets—you've seen bits of me that I didn't know I had. What do you say? Dinner and dalliance?"
    She stuck her tongue out at me. "I'll let you know. Later. All right?"
    "When?"
    "By three o'clock. I've got work to do on some of the records."
    I nodded. Before I could talk restaurants the door to the reception area opened. Sir Westcott's secretary, a plump, middle-aged woman who was rumored to also be his mistress, appeared. As