Zugzwang by Ronan Bennett Read Free Book Online Page B

shrew look coming over him. When I did not answer, he said, ‘Has the numbness also returned?’
    â€˜I am not at liberty to discuss my patients’ condition,’ I said.
    â€˜Even with a father?’
    â€˜I’m afraid not.’
    â€˜I hope you understand that Anna is, sadly, a confused and unstable young woman.’
    I said nothing. He stared past me to his own reverie. ‘She was such a beautiful child,’ he said, making his voice nostalgic. ‘Everyone loved her. When a child is happy, completely untroubled by anything in the world, or indeed anything in herself, she is surrounded by a glow. You’re a father, Spethmann. You know what I mean. A real, physical glow that adults can actually see with their eyes. If you could have seen her face then, Spethmann. When you were with Anna you felt as though you were being touched by magic.’
    He paused to draw in a deep breath. ‘Her mother died,’ he said. ‘That was it – the beginning of her troubles.’
    â€˜I understood the nightmares began before her mother’s death?’ I ventured.
    â€˜Is that what she says?’
    â€˜It is the impression I have received,’ I said.
    â€˜No,’ he answered firmly. ‘She is either deliberately deceiving you – why, I have not the least idea – or she is genuinely confused and cannot remember. She was sixteen when her mother died and she changed overnight from a carefree child to a troubled young woman with a rather disturbed imagination.’
    â€˜I have to say I have never seen evidence of a “disturbed imagination”. ’
    â€˜Haven’t you?’ he said. ‘I have.’ He sipped his wine before continuing. ‘And then of course came the marriage. You know her husband?’
    â€˜I have met Boris Vasilevich once or twice.’
    Zinnurov shook his head dismissively. ‘An odious little man – vain, pompous, ambitious. A violent temper, too. I could never understand what she saw in him. He’s not exactly handsome either. And there are no children, which says a great deal about a marriage, wouldn’t you say?’
    â€˜Who really knows what goes on between a husband and wife?’ I said blandly.
    â€˜Does she tell you what goes on in her marriage?’ When I did not answer, he asked with brutal and surprising directness, ‘Has the marriage been consummated, do you think?’
    He peered at me. Again I said nothing. In our early sessions I had asked Anna, as I would any patient, about the state of her relations with her husband. Her answers had given me no reason to suspect the marriage was white.
    I said, ‘How would you describe your relationship with Anna?’
    Zinnurov gave me a sad, wise smile. ‘I have not seen or heard from my daughter since last September. It is not my choice. I’ve tried to get in touch with her. I’ve tried to get to the bottom of it. When she telephoned this evening I thought it might be because she had forgiven whatever it is I have done wrong. I thought she wanted to see me.’
    He searched my face for sympathetic understanding. I did not have to struggle to convey it. The Mountain I detested, the father was myself.
    â€˜Have you any idea why she severed relations with you?’ I asked.
    â€˜There’s never a reason. She never accuses me of anything, she doesn’t shout at me or blame me for something. She simply … withdraws. When a daughter rejects her father, the pain is insupportable. I think about Anna every day.’
    â€˜You imply there have been previous estrangements.’
    â€˜Many,’ he said. ‘Then after a time, she comes to see me and she is suddenly once again the loving daughter I used to have. It’s as if nothing has happened.’ He refreshed our glasses and lit a cigar. ‘Does she talk about me?’
    â€˜Psychoanalysis is a deep investigation of one’s past and present. A