his hands clasped, as if he were praying for Alice’s redemption. ‘I don’t know why you are so angry with Mrs Bland, Alice,’ he said, in his special marital-counselling voice. ‘It makes me wonder what it is that you are so angry about in yourself?’
‘Oh no,’ Alice said again. ‘Not that one. I am not angry with myself. I am angry with you, Charles. You are pompous, you are a liar, and I will not be ditched by you for some stupid undergraduate.’ Alice swung around on Mrs Bland. ‘And you,’ she said. ‘You are One of Them!’
The counsellor’s placid smile did not waver. Her eyes flicked to Professor Hartley as if seeking expert opinion. He nodded at her. ‘Delusional Paranoia,’ he said softly.
The counsellor’s face grew yet more serene. ‘Why are you abusing your husband, Alice?’ she asked. She gave a little humble smile. ‘And why are you insulting me?’
Alice choked on her anger. ‘I don’t trust either of you!’ she said, stammering. ‘You know! You both know! You both know what I am angry about!’
‘And what is that?’ asked Mrs Bland. She looked to Charles. His face was a portrait of hurt bafflement.
‘What do we both know?’ he asked gently.
‘You both know that Charles is having sex with Miranda Bloomfeather. You both know that he wants a divorce. You both know that I left him last night. And you both should know that I am never, never going back!’ Alice proclaimed.
Mrs Bland put in a wonderful performance of utter mystification. ‘I think you had better explain this to me, Alice,’ she said. ‘I can assure you I know nothing of this!’
Alice hammered the arms of her chair with her fists. ‘You do! You do!’ she said, her voice rising with her frustration. ‘I don’t believe that Charles hasn’t told you. Half the university knows about him and Miranda. Even I know!’
‘Oh, I see now what is happening here,’ Mrs Bland said gently. Alice glanced at her, momentarily hopeful.
‘You have forgotten our little rule,’ she said, smiling and holding up one finger. ‘D’you remember which one I mean?’
Alice shook her head.
‘Do you know which one I mean, Professor Hartley?’ Mrs Bland asked him, smiling.
Charles smiled back, like a big child in a nursery class who is prepared to play nicely to help the little ones learn. ‘Would it be the one about not bringing gossip into our counselling sessions?’ he asked.
Mrs Bland clasped her hands together as if struggling not to applaud. ‘That’s the one!’ she said gaily. ‘And anything which needs to be said, is to be said here and now.’
She turned to Alice. ‘Now,’ she said. ‘Do you want to ask Professor Hartley about his relationship with his students?’
Alice was twisting a dark lock of hair around her finger, her face black. ‘Yes,’ she said sulkily.
Mrs Bland nodded. ‘Go on then, Alice,’ she said. ‘Ask the Professor whatever it is you wish.’
Alice tugged on the lock of hair, and then looked directly at Charles. He leaned towards her, his face a picture of kindly concern.
‘Do you want to divorce me?’ she asked. ‘Are you having an affair with Miranda Bloomfeather?’
‘No, and No!’ he said triumphantly. ‘Alice, how could you even think such a thing? Miranda is one of my brighter students, but a mere girl. And you and I have been married for sixteen years! It is obvious that I am committed to the success of our marriage, Alice! Why! Just look at my commitment to the success of our marital counselling! Who was here first today? And who was late, Alice? And who was rude to Mrs Bland?’
Alice goggled at him. ‘But you said last night…’ she started.
Charles sat back in his chair and glanced at Mrs Bland. Promptly she held up one admonitory finger. ‘Stay in the Here and Now, Alice,’ she said sweetly. ‘How do you feel about what Professor Hartley has said to you now?’
‘You’re lying!’ Alice said flatly. ‘I know you are having sex with Miranda. And I know you want to end the marriage.’
Charles smiled at her pityingly and shook his head. ‘Alice, Alice, Alice,’ he said softly. ‘It makes me so sad when I see your jealousy drive you out of control like this. You have delusions, Alice. All this is the product of your jealous imagination.’
Alice glared blankly at him and then at Mrs Bland.
She nodded. ‘Your husband is right, Alice,’ she said. ‘You have to work on trusting him. I want you both to come to me for an extra session this week and we will do some exercises around trust. Would Friday morning at this time be possible, Professor?’
Charles reached for his briefcase and made a great play of checking his diary. Neither of them asked if Alice was free. Alice was always free.
‘Yes,’ he said at length. ‘And I think, Mrs Bland, that we should seriously consider whether Alice should have separate therapy sessions to help her cope with her paranoia.’
Mrs Bland nodded, looking thoughtfully at Alice.
‘Perhaps even medication,’ Charles said softly. ‘Perhaps even a period of hospitalization…’
Mrs Bland nodded, thoughtful again. Alice, her world whirling around her, listened to her husband making the first moves to have her put away, and could not find the power to protest.
Charles glanced at his watch, and snapped his briefcase shut. ‘Before we close I want to ask Alice for an agreement,’ he said in a bright, businesslike voice. ‘I want my furniture back in my house by the time I come home this evening – and not a scratch or a dent or a chip on anything.’
Alice got up slowly and walked towards the window. From where she stood she could see the blue roof of Michael’s pantechnicon. It was like a rebel flag. Her spirits suddenly soared. There lay her freedom, there was the open road away from this claustrophobic room and these two experts. Charles could plan what he wished, Alice was Born Free. With new courage Alice swung around and opened her mouth to claim her freedom, to deny Charles’s power, to shriek her defiance.
‘Time’s up,’ said Mrs Bland blandly. No one was ever allowed to prolong the session.
Mrs Bland picked up her pale grey suede music case, shot a quick look at Alice and a longer smile at Charles, and slid unstoppably from the room.
Charles stood up. His smile at Alice was triumphant. ‘See you at home tonight, darling,’ he said loudly enough for Mrs Bland to hear from the next room where she tidied her paperwork. ‘Don’t forget our agreement about the furniture.’
He went from the room without another glance at her. Alice stood by the window and watched him go. As he entered the tower block of the Psychology Department she saw Miranda Bloomfeather in a white miniskirt and high white boots lounge towards him and fall into step beside him.
Alice clutched her skirts in her hands and whirled out of the counselling room, down the stairs and across the lawns to Michael as if she were running for her
