The Novel Habits of Happiness by Alexander McCall Smith Read Free Book Online Page A

understandably worried.”
    Isabel said that she could imagine it would be unsettling for any parent. “But it’s not all that unusual, is it? I’ve heard of things like that, haven’t you?”
    “Vaguely,” said Sam. “I think I read about something of the sort. But somehow this seems rather different.”
    “Why?”
    “Because he’s very specific. He’s come up with a name for the family, as well as a very detailed description of the place he lived. And he’s been consistent.”
    Isabel looked out of the window. She wondered how she would feel if Charlie were suddenly to claim to have been somebody else? She would treat it, she imagined, as a figment of childish imagination: very young children simply did not grasp the difference between truth and falsehood. Charlie had announced a few days earlier that he had seen a squirrel wearing pyjamas. He had sounded so convincing, and had appeared hurt that he had not been believed. “He was,” he protested. “He was.”
    Sam continued: “She’s spoken to various people about it. She took it up with her doctor, and he said that he could arrange an appointment with the child psychiatry services at the Sick Kids’ Hospital. That happened, she said, and they saw him. But at the end of it they explained to her that he seemed an entirely normal young boy. They reminded her that children could create elaborate stories and then forget about them. They said it was harmless.”
    “And it probably is,” said Isabel.
    “I thought that too,” said Sam. “But she’s really concerned about it. She feels that there’s nobody she can discuss it with. Harry’s father is very dismissive of the whole thing, as is his teacher.”
    “She has you to talk to,” said Isabel. “That must help.”
    “Perhaps, but I think she wants to speak to somebody other than a neighbour. And then she said something that made me think of you.”
    Isabel was silent, but she already knew that she would have to help.
    Sam was looking at her intently. “She said that she wanted to put her mind at rest, and the way to do this would be to investigate the story. She says that Harry has half convinced her that what he says is true, and that if she could just look into it and establish that there’s no truth in what he says, then she’ll feel much easier about it.”
    Isabel inclined her head. “I can understand that, but frankly…” She was about to say that she was not sure how much help she would be able to give, but Sam interrupted her.
    “He’s given her a lot of information, you know. The description of the house he says he lived in is very specific.”
    “That may be, but how on earth could one do anything with that? If he says it was a house with a path leading to a red front door and so on, how could one possibly do anything with that? How many houses in Scotland match that description? If it’s in Scotland, that is—presumably it could be anywhere.”
    Sam shrugged. “He’s more specific than that. He describes the view from the front. He says that it looks out on islands. He describes those.”
    “There are plenty of islands in the west of Scotland,” said Isabel.
    “Yes. But he talks about a lighthouse, and she says he’s drawn it. She has a picture of the lighthouse.”
    Isabel looked thoughtful. She was imagining herself in the shoes of this woman, with nobody to turn to. She had Jamie; she had her editorship of the
Review;
she had Grace to help her in the house; she had her network of friends and contacts. She recalled what her mother had said to her:
Remember what you have and what other people don’t have.
What mothers said often seemed embarrassingly trite, but as we grew older we saw the truth in it, sometimes to our chagrin.
    “Of course I’ll talk to her,” she said.
    Sam smiled. “I knew that would be your answer,” she said. Then she frowned. “Do you believe in reincarnation, Isabel?”
    Isabel shook her head. “No. As a general rule I don’t believe in