The Dog Who Came in from the Cold by Alexander McCall Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

sprouts back into her shopping bag. “I’ve seen you before, I think,” she said. “We haven’t met, of course, but we’ve seen one another, haven’t we?”
    “I live back there,” Caroline said, nodding in the direction of Corduroy Mansions.
    The woman extended a hand. “I’m Berthea Snark. I think I’m just behind you. You know the little mews?”
    “Of course. I sometimes walk past those houses and think how nice they are. I’ve often wondered what they’re like inside.”
    Berthea Snark smiled. “They’re very comfortable.
Gemütlich
, even.” She paused. “But why don’t you come in for a cup of tea? I was going to put the kettle on when I got back. You could satisfy your curiosity—mine is a typical mews house.”
    Caroline hesitated. One did not accept invitations from complete strangers, and yet surely that rule did not apply to invitations from middle-aged women whose bags contained nothing more sinister than Brussels sprouts. No, this was not a “Have some Madeira, my dear” invitation; this was one neighbour inviting another in for acup of tea after she had helped her pick up dropped Brussels sprouts. What could be more innocent than that?
    Caroline accepted, and began to retrace her steps with Berthea Snark.
    “Tell me about your boyfriend,” Berthea said as they walked along. “Does he worry about germs all the time?”
    Caroline laughed. “Of course not. In fact, I think I may have given you the wrong impression. He uses hand steriliser, you see, and is worried about handling coins, but I wouldn’t say he’s obsessed.”
    Berthea raised an eyebrow. “Some degree of concern about germs is quite natural,” she said. “But, if you’ll forgive my saying so, your young man seems to be rather too concerned.” She hesitated for a moment before continuing. “You see, perhaps I should explain. I’m a psychotherapist. I’m professionally interested in these matters.”
    Caroline attempted to make light of the situation. “I assure you, James is quite normal.” Is he? she asked herself. Is he really?
    They were now at the entrance to the mews, and Berthea Snark was pointing to a red-painted door halfway along the row of houses. “My place,” she said. “Let’s talk further once we’re inside. You can tell me all about your James.” Then she added, “And his fears.”
    Caroline frowned. Perhaps she should not have accepted this invitation after all. Hansel and Gretel, she thought.

12. The Wound in the Psyche
    “A CUP OF TEA ?” asked Berthea Snark. “Or would you prefer coffee?”
    Caroline chose tea, explaining that she could not drink coffee in the afternoon or early evening. “It’s the wrong taste,” she said.
    “I couldn’t agree more,” said Berthea. “Coffee is possible between seven-thirty in the morning and eleven-twenty. And then again after eight-thirty at night.”
    Caroline laughed. “That’s very precise,” she said.
    “I’m not entirely serious,” said Berthea. “And I’m quite happy to bend the rules I set for myself. But we do need some rules in our lives, you know. As a psychotherapist, I can assure you that we need rituals and rules to anchor ourselves.” She paused. They were standing in the entrance hall to her mews house and she now directed Caroline along the small corridor, which led to a room at the back. “You know, we did ourselves a great deal of damage in the sixties and seventies. Which was before you were born, of course, but will be affecting your world every bit as much as anybody else’s.”
    Caroline looked about her. They were in a comfortable sitting room, neatly furnished in a surprisingly contemporary style, with one wall entirely taken up by shelves. A row of CDs, stacked two deep, occupied one of the shelves, the rest being filled with books.
    “What did we do?” she asked.
    Berthea gestured to a chair. “Please sit down. What did we do? Well, I suppose I should have said something was
done to us
. We, in the sense