Clifton stopped washing his hands. ‘I thought you wanted to see me professionally. I’m a doctor, not a witch doctor. What are you planning now, Renthall? Last week it was a fte, now you want to hypnotize an entire neighbourhood, you’d better be careful.’
Renthall shook his head. ‘It’s not I who want to carry out the hypnosis, Doctor. In fact I’m afraid the operation has already taken place. I don’t know whether you’ve noticed anything strange about your patients?’
‘Nothing more than usual,’ Clifton remarked dryly. He watched Renthall with increased interest. ‘Who’s responsible for this mass hypnosis?’ When Renthall paused and then pointed a forefinger at the ceiling Clifton nodded sagely. ‘I see. How sinister.’
‘Exactly. I’m glad you understand, Doctor.’ Renthall went over to the window, looking out at the sunshades below. He pointed to the watch-towers. ‘Just to clarify a small point, Doctor. You do see the watch-towers?’
Clifton hesitated fractionally, moving imperceptibly towards his valise on the desk. Then he nodded: ‘Of course.’
‘Good. I’m relieved to hear it.’ Renthall laughed. ‘For a while I was beginning to think that I was the only one in step. Do you realize that both Hanson and Boardman can no longer see the towers? And I’m fairly certain that none of the people down there can or they wouldn’t be sitting in the open. I’m convinced that this is the Council’s doing, but it seems unlikely that they would have enough power—’ He broke off, aware that Clifton was watching him fixedly. ‘What’s the matter? Doctor!’
Clifton quickly took his prescription pad from his valise. ‘Renthall, caution is the essence of all strategy. It’s important that we beware of over-hastiness. I suggest that we both rest this afternoon. Now, these will give you some sleep—’ For the first time in several days he ventured out into the street. Head down, angry for being caught out by the doctor, he drove himself along the pavement towards Mrs Osmond, determined to find at least one person who could still see the towers. The streets were more crowded than he could remember for a long time and he was forced to look upward as he swerved in and out of the ambling pedestrians. Overhead, like the assault craft from which some apocalyptic air-raid would be launched, the watch-towers hung down from the sky, framed between the twin spires of the church, blocking off a vista down the principal boulevard, yet unperceived by the afternoon strollers.
Renthall passed the caf, surprised to see the terrace packed with coffee-drinkers, then saw Boardman’s marquee in the cinema car park. Music was coming from a creaking wurlitzer, and the gay ribbons of the bunting fluttered in the air.
Twenty yards from Mrs Osmond’s he saw her come through her front door, a large straw hat on her head.
‘Charles! What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you for days, I wondered what was the matter.’
Renthall took the key from her fingers and pushed it back into the lock. Closing the door behind them, he paused in the darkened hall, regaining his breath.
‘Charles, what on earth is going on? Is someone after you? You look terrible, my dear. Your face—’
‘Never mind my face.’ Renthall collected himself, and led the way into the living room. ‘Come in here, quickly.’ He went over to the window and drew back the blinds, ascertained that the watch-tower over the row of houses opposite was still there. ‘Sit down and relax. I’m sorry to rush in like this but you’ll understand in a minute.’ He waited until Mrs Osmond settled herself reluctantly on the sofa, then rested his palms on the mantelpiece, organizing his thoughts.
‘The last few days have been fantastic, you wouldn’t believe it, and to cap everything I’ve just made myself look the biggest possible fool in front of Clifton. God, I could—’
‘Charles—!’
‘Listen! Don’t start interrupting me before I’ve begun, I’ve got enough to contend with. Something absolutely insane is going on everywhere, by some freak I seem to be the only one who’s still compos men tis. I know that sounds as if I’m completely mad, but in fact it’s true. Why, I don’t know; though I’m frightened it may be some sort of reprisal directed at me. However.’ He went over to the window. ‘Julia, what can you see out of that window?’
Mrs Osmond dismantled her hat and squinted at the panes. She fidgeted uncomfortably. ‘Charles, what is going on? — I’ll have to get my glasses.’ She subsided helplessly.
‘Julia! You’ve never needed your glasses before to see these. Now tell me, what can you see?’
‘Well, the row of houses, and the gardens…’
‘Yes, what else?’
‘The windows, of course, and there’s a tree..
‘What about the sky?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, I can see that, there’s a sort of haze, isn’t there? Or is that my eyes?’
‘No.’ Wearily, Renthall turned away from the window. For the first time a feeling of unassuageable fatigue had come over him. ‘Julia,’ he asked quietly. ‘Don’t you remember the watch-towers?’
