The House of Sleep Read Online Free PDF Page B

sleep laboratory. There was room at the clinic for thirteen patients: a shifting population, as changeful as the ocean which lay at its feet, stretched towards the horizon, sickly green and heaving with endless disquiet.
    ∗
    The next morning, Dr Dudden stood outside the room where his colleague was conducting a seminar with three of her patients, and listened to their voices through the closed door. His body tensed with disapproval: the atmosphere sounded nothing short of raucous. A medley of voices babbled almost continuously, to be interrupted every so often by blustery gales of laughter in the midst of which he could clearly make out Dr Madison’s distinctive low chuckle. Then he heard her launch into a monologue which lasted for perhaps half a minute: followed, this time, by wave upon wave of screaming laughter, accompanied by the thumping of tables and all the other sounds of helpless mirth. Dr Dudden stepped back from the door and shuddered with fury. A rumour had been circulating for some time that Dr Madison’s patients had been enjoying their seminars, and here was the concrete proof. It was outrageous; and, what’s more, it was unscientific. It was not to be tolerated.
    He called Dr Madison into his office at midday. It was a gloomy room towards the back of the house, looking out over an unkept patch of garden. An elaborate calendar and timetable took up half of the largest wall, and alongside it was a floor-plan of the house, showing the day rooms and bedrooms, and the names of the patients to whom they were currently assigned. There were four shelves filled with textbooks and bound journals, while the other walls were covered – brightened is hardly the word – by posters obtained from drug companies and American software manufacturers. Baroque keyboard music played quietly on a cassette player in the background.
    His first question was: ‘Have you brought the SAQs with you?’
    The Sleep Awareness Questionnaire was a document of his own devising, on which patients were required, every morning, to rate various aspects of their previous night’s sleep on a scale of one to five. They were asked if they had experienced racing thoughts at bedtime, had needed to urinate during the night, had suffered palpitations or leg movements, nightmares or long periods of wakefulness, and more than eighty other questions. The questionnaire was supposed to be completed at the beginning of every morning seminar, and to form the basis of any subsequent discussion.
    ‘No,’ said Dr Madison.
    ‘I find that rather extraordinary.’
    ‘We didn’t have time to fill them all in.’
    ‘I find that even more extraordinary,’ said Dr Dudden, ‘because from what I could hear, you seemed to have plenty of time for telling jokes, and giggling, and gossiping away like a bunch of washerwomen.’
    Washerwomen? thought Dr Madison, but let it pass.
    ‘Since you weren’t in the room with us,’ she said, ‘I assume that you were eavesdropping on the other side of the door. And since you were eavesdropping on the other side of the door, I assume that you couldn’t hear what we were talkingabout. If you had been able to hear, you would have found it perfectly germane to the business of the clinic.’
    She placed a small, icy emphasis on the word ‘business’, which Dr Dudden either failed or affected not to notice.
    ‘That,’ he said, ‘is not in dispute. I’m prepared to believe that you confine yourself, during these… chats, to the subject in hand. But might I remind you that you are employed here – by me – to approach this subject from the point of view of the clinical psychologist rather than the stand-up comedian.’
    ‘I don’t quite understand,’ said Dr Madison, smoothing down her skirt in an abstracted way.
    ‘A few minutes ago I was speaking to Miss Granger, one of the patients at your seminar this morning. I asked her what had been causing such amusement, and with some reluctance she told me. She quoted a