Read Online Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead by Barbara Comyns - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Comyns
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description of the last few minutes of the butcher’s life and a not quite so lurid description of the miller’s end. The article ended with the words, “The inhabitants of this remote village are asking each other ‘Who will be smitten by this fatal madness next?’”
This article caused a panic in the village. Already there was another case of violent madness. The victim this time was the man who had helped Ebin Willoweed on the bridge—the man who had complained of nightmares. He lay screaming in his bed and his two brothers had to hold him down. They had tried drugs; they only acted for a short period and then he would start up in bed again yelling that monsters were trying to devour him and that he was a wicked sinner. People gathered outside his cottage on the Broom Road. The cries made their blood run cold, they said, and they did not ask each other “Who’s next?” because they had already decided it would be Ebin Willoweed. It must be catching, they said, as they moved a little further from the cottage. Notices appeared in prominent places saying, “Do not Drink Water Unless It has Been Boiled,”—“Trying to pretend it’s the water when we know it’s the microbes,” they muttered. That evening reporters from two newspapers appeared in the village, asking questions and generally prying. They stayed at the White Lion.
Francis Hatt and the Medical Officer of Health were furious when they read the article in The Daily Courier . Francis suspected Ebin Willoweed the moment he read it. It could have only been written by an eye-witness; also he remembered The Daily Courier was the newspaper from which Ebin had been dismissed when he first returned to his mother’s house years ago. At lunch the previous day Ebin had muttered something about a phone call and had reluctantly offered him half-a-crown, which he had refused at the time and now regretted. He was not free now to attack Ebin with his disgraceful behaviour, as the poor demented man on the Broom Road was taking a considerable amount of his time and there were several other patients, mostly suffering from internal trouble, to be attended to, besides frequent discussions with the Medical Officer of Health. They decided to engage a temporary assistant, and a young man from London who had been specialising in brain diseases was on his way to the village. “But I expect the whole thing will be over by the time he arrives,” the Medical Officer observed.
The assistant—Philip Andrew—arrived the next day, and by that time there were two more cases of the madness, two unrelated children. Their illness had started with stomach trouble; but, when they had almost recovered, their brains became affected. They moaned and shouted, and screamed that terrible monsters were pursuing them, and they clung to their parents in terror. Their poor little legs were drawn up to their stomachs by violent pains, and they frequently vomited. The man who lived on the Broom Road appeared to be recovering, although he was very weak and could take little nourishment and still suffered from hallucinations and insomnia.
There was a joint inquest on the miller and the butcher. It was held at the Assembly Rooms and Ebin was one of the chief witnesses. It was noticed that when he was not giving evidence he was scribbling away on a small pad on his knees. The other journalists were scribbling too. The doctors frowned on them for bringing unwelcome publicity and causing alarm in the village. When the inquest was over, Francis Hatt asked his old friend why he was doing this and pointed out the harm he had done and ended with “Can’t you see the village is almost on the verge of mass hysteria?”—and then he regretted the words in case they were scribbled down too. Ebin looked bewildered and hurt and said he had to do it: he couldn’t have stopped himself writing the first article; it just came pouring out as if it was writing itself and then, when it was finished, it seemed a
This article caused a panic in the village. Already there was another case of violent madness. The victim this time was the man who had helped Ebin Willoweed on the bridge—the man who had complained of nightmares. He lay screaming in his bed and his two brothers had to hold him down. They had tried drugs; they only acted for a short period and then he would start up in bed again yelling that monsters were trying to devour him and that he was a wicked sinner. People gathered outside his cottage on the Broom Road. The cries made their blood run cold, they said, and they did not ask each other “Who’s next?” because they had already decided it would be Ebin Willoweed. It must be catching, they said, as they moved a little further from the cottage. Notices appeared in prominent places saying, “Do not Drink Water Unless It has Been Boiled,”—“Trying to pretend it’s the water when we know it’s the microbes,” they muttered. That evening reporters from two newspapers appeared in the village, asking questions and generally prying. They stayed at the White Lion.
Francis Hatt and the Medical Officer of Health were furious when they read the article in The Daily Courier . Francis suspected Ebin Willoweed the moment he read it. It could have only been written by an eye-witness; also he remembered The Daily Courier was the newspaper from which Ebin had been dismissed when he first returned to his mother’s house years ago. At lunch the previous day Ebin had muttered something about a phone call and had reluctantly offered him half-a-crown, which he had refused at the time and now regretted. He was not free now to attack Ebin with his disgraceful behaviour, as the poor demented man on the Broom Road was taking a considerable amount of his time and there were several other patients, mostly suffering from internal trouble, to be attended to, besides frequent discussions with the Medical Officer of Health. They decided to engage a temporary assistant, and a young man from London who had been specialising in brain diseases was on his way to the village. “But I expect the whole thing will be over by the time he arrives,” the Medical Officer observed.
The assistant—Philip Andrew—arrived the next day, and by that time there were two more cases of the madness, two unrelated children. Their illness had started with stomach trouble; but, when they had almost recovered, their brains became affected. They moaned and shouted, and screamed that terrible monsters were pursuing them, and they clung to their parents in terror. Their poor little legs were drawn up to their stomachs by violent pains, and they frequently vomited. The man who lived on the Broom Road appeared to be recovering, although he was very weak and could take little nourishment and still suffered from hallucinations and insomnia.
There was a joint inquest on the miller and the butcher. It was held at the Assembly Rooms and Ebin was one of the chief witnesses. It was noticed that when he was not giving evidence he was scribbling away on a small pad on his knees. The other journalists were scribbling too. The doctors frowned on them for bringing unwelcome publicity and causing alarm in the village. When the inquest was over, Francis Hatt asked his old friend why he was doing this and pointed out the harm he had done and ended with “Can’t you see the village is almost on the verge of mass hysteria?”—and then he regretted the words in case they were scribbled down too. Ebin looked bewildered and hurt and said he had to do it: he couldn’t have stopped himself writing the first article; it just came pouring out as if it was writing itself and then, when it was finished, it seemed a
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