No Escape by Josephine Bell Page B

glance that removed her doubts at once.
    â€œIt’s not important,” she tried to explain. “Only medical details. Anyhow he couldn’t persuade her and that was partly my fault, so he’s furious with me.”
    â€œIs that all? I don’t see quite how it affects Sheila.”
    â€œNo. of course not. I’m being stupid. What I mean is she won’t do as he wants and she is going home tomorrow.”
    â€œI see.”
    They drove on in silence for a few minutes, then Gerry said, “You know that doctor friend of yours isn’t far out about Sheila.”
    â€œHow d’you mean?”
    â€œShe’s been unstable before. A couple of years ago. She nearly had to go away, then.”
    â€œ Really ?”
    â€œYes. I’m not kidding. The place where she works, well, it belongs to a friend of mine—”
    â€œRonald Bream,” said Jane, remembering the photographs in Sheila’s room.
    The car swerved a little, but Gerry’s face did not alter. “Greasy in patches,” he said. Then, a second later, “She’s told you about her work, then?”
    â€œOh no.” Jane explained how she had noticed Bream’s signature on the photographs in Sheila’s room. She did not describe the photographs, but when Gerry gave her a sideways glance, full of secret amusement, she flushed and laughed.
    â€œArt pictures, most of them,” she said. “You knew she posed for them, I suppose?”
    â€œNaturally. Does that shock you?”
    â€œNot really. Anyway, it’s nothing new. And I’d rather have these photographs than most of the women on beaches with bikinis on. You have to have a really marvellous figure to take a bikini. Most of the women who wear them just haven’t. They bulge in all the wrong places.”
    â€œToo right. What was I saying?”
    â€œThat Ronald Bream, the photographer, is a friend of yours.”
    â€œYes. And a couple of years ago when Sheila first began to work for him she turned up one morning and threw a fit of hysteria.”
    â€œHad he just suggested she might model for the nude?” Jane asked.
    Gerry looked round at her again.
    â€œYou’re a cool customer, aren’t you?”
    â€œI’m in medicine,” Jane answered. “I see nudes every day. I don’t get any kick at all, from either sex.”
    â€œSo it seems.”
    â€œYou were talking about Sheila.”
    â€œYes. Well, they had to call a doctor and she had some treatment or other and was away a couple of weeks as far as I remember.”
    â€œBut she went back to her job? The same job?”
    â€œOh, yes. Ron took her back.”
    â€œThen it can’t have been anything to do with the art photos.”
    â€œNo, it can’t, can it?”
    â€œYou mean she’s really, basically, a bit twitched? Poor Sheila.”
    â€œExactly. Now are you satisfied why I was hanging around the hospital, wondering how to get in touch with her, what to do to help the poor kid?”
    Jane blushed, tongue-tied, annoyed with herself on so many counts she felt she would like nothing better than to get out of the car and run away. For she had begun to wonder if she might be the attraction that had kept Gerry waiting outside the hospital. He had certainly worn a faint air of triumph when she appeared. But really it was all his anxiety about Sheila. So much for vanity, she decided. How idiotic can you get, when the slightly older man has charm?
    In her confusion and remorse, both on her own account and Sheila’s, she said, impulsively, “I’m really grateful to you for telling me. Neither Dr Long nor I thought at first that the suicide theory held for a moment, though the other staff did. Now he agrees with them and I suppose I must too. We didn’t know what you’ve told me. We thought there must be some real reason—an outside reason, I mean—for her perfectly genuine fear. It’s