Notes from an Exhibition Read Online Free PDF

small but slightly protuberant. She stirred sleepily, then, seeing who was visiting her, tried to sit up, which was when he saw that both her wrists were thickly bandaged.
    ‘Antony’ she slurred.
    ‘Don’t,’ he said, pulling up a chair. ‘Don’t try to speak.’
    ‘Not drunk,’ she said. ‘It’s pills. Oh amazing pills. When I shut my eyes I don’t dream, I just switch off like a light and the darkness is so soft and pillowy.’
    She shut her eyes for several slow seconds during which he distinctly heard another woman on the wardmurmuring the Lord’s Prayer. She opened them again, took him in afresh and said, ‘You brought me flowers .’
    ‘Yes. Sorry. They’re not very …’
    ‘They’re hideous. You’re so sweet. Sweet Antony.’
    ‘And this.’ He put the brown paper parcel from the bookseller on her blanket. ‘But maybe it’s a bit heavy going for here.’ He had a growing sense of being surrounded by female patients who were all in a more or less similar state of wretchedness. She looked unimaginably lovely to him. ‘What can I do?’ he asked, trying not to weep but feeling tears welling up. It was as though he could feel her damaged spirit fluttering between his hands. ‘Who can I tell for you? Your parents?’
    ‘Christ, no.’
    ‘A tutor?’
    ‘I’m not a student.’
    ‘Professor Shepherd, then.’
    ‘Fuck!’ she said loudly, startling him. She giggled and shook her head. ‘Nobody,’ she sighed. ‘Just you’s nice,’ and shut her eyes again.
    The nurse was approaching so he stood to forestall her. She took the flowers from him with a hint of disdain. ‘I’ll put these in a vase for her,’ she said. ‘Time to go now.’
    ‘When can I come back?’
    ‘Tomorrow. Visiting hours are two until four. You left your parcel on the bed.’
    ‘Oh. No. That’s for her.’
    ‘Ah.’ She shut the books, still bagged, in the locker by Rachel’s bed.
    When he visited the next day, bringing fruit this time, a smuggled bar of chocolate and a Georgette Heyerromance from the bookstall because it looked more comforting than Dante, he was waylaid by a woman doctor about the same age as Professor Shepherd and as severe as a nun, with a stethoscope where her crucifix should have hung. She was kinder than the nurse, however.
    ‘Are you the father?’ she asked.
    ‘I’m sorry?’
    ‘You’re Miss Kelly’s friend?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Perhaps she didn’t tell you. She’s two months pregnant.’
    ‘Oh.’
    He sat, unwittingly confirming her assumption.
    ‘You’re not engaged or …’
    ‘No but …’
    ‘Hmm?’
    ‘I can look after her.’
    ‘Can you take her out of Oxford?’ she asked. ‘A complete change of scene would be best.’
    ‘I live in Penzance.’
    ‘Perfect. She’s held on to the baby despite the overdose and losing all that blood. She’s a toughie. They both are.’
    ‘Oh,’ he said, reeling. ‘Good. When could she leave?’
    ‘End of the week? She hurt herself quite badly and I want to be sure she’s strong enough. The antidepressants will keep her pretty woozy. Presumably you have a doctor at home she could see?’
    ‘Yes,’ he said, having no idea because he was never ill and neither was his grandfather. He thought of his best friend, Jack, who had recently qualified and returned homebut seemed uncertain whether to set up as a GP or be a painter.
    And that was it. At no point was Rachel consulted. She was simply told. She was asleep that day so he just sat and held her hand for an hour until people started to stare at him but when he came the next day she was sitting up, waiting for him. She said, with the woozy slur he was beginning to find worryingly attractive, ‘They tell me you’re taking me home with you.’
    ‘Well … They assumed all sorts of things and I just … I could just take you back to your digs if you like. The doctor needn’t know.’
    But that upset her and she shook her head and started to cry.
    So it was settled. He called on his