Thorn by Sarah Rayne Page A

offhandedly, as if, thought Freda, half resentful, half complimented, he expected Briar House to be able to supply vacant rooms on demand, never mind the inconvenience to everyone and the staff shortage.
    She explained, as she always did, that she did not cater for psychotic cases, nor for the
really
insane, only those who were a little distressed by the world. This having been made clear, she asked the nature of the young lady’s problem. It was certainly good to hear that it was neither drink nor drugs this time. Dr Sterne, drinking tea with the brusque manner of one simply intent on refuelling (it could not be dislike for the tea which was grand and strong), said, ‘I don’t know any details. Teenage hysteria, I expect. Probably breaking her heart over a boyfriend.’
    Freda interposed a delicate question.
    â€˜
Virgo intacta
if the GP’s to be believed,’ said Leo Sterne.
    So it was not a case of an abortion undertaken for convenience and emotionally regretted afterwards. Freda changed tack and asked if a private room would be required. ‘That, of course, comes a little more expensive. But we have several double and even triple suites which quite often meet the case—’
    â€˜Oh, they’ll want a private room,’ said Leo. ‘The family aren’t without money. I wouldn’t be here pleading the case if they were.’
    Eccentric and distinguished men could be allowed their little jokes. Freda smiled indulgently and lifted the teapot in implicit invitation.
    â€˜No, thank you.’ The tea was so strong it was barely drinkable. Leo said, ‘I’ll get them to bring the girl in tomorrow, then.’
    â€˜And will you be attending her, Dr Sterne?’
    â€˜God, no, I’m only making the contact as a favour for someone. I haven’t the time or the inclination to pamper hysterical teenagers, Matron. I don’t suppose I shall even see the child. In fact, I’m driving to Northumberland straight from here.’
    â€˜Ah yes, we’ve all heard about your work with the Rackham Commission. What a busy and worthwhile life you lead. We should be grateful you can spare time for Briar House.’
    The elephantine coyness of tone grated on Leo like a nail being scraped across slate, but he said, ‘I was dragged on to the Rackham thing protesting volubly, Matron. I’ve no patience with bureaucracy, and no time for it either.’
    â€˜Oh, but such worthy work, surely.’ It would not do to comment on the extremely public row that Dr Sterne had recently waged with a Government minister about the dreadful things he had found inside Thornacre. Freda permitted herself a small twinge of complacency. There was nothing like that at Briar House and she hoped Dr Sterne knew this. It was not beyond the realms of possibility that he might mention Briar House to Professor Rackham and the commission. ‘Excellent place, Briar House,’ he might say. ‘An example to us all.’ Or even, ‘My word, Freda Porter does a superb job there; we might consider her for a more responsible post sometime.’
    This was a new and promising daydream; Freda tucked it away to be considered later on, smiled her company smile at Dr Sterne who was about to leave, and said they would look forward to receiving the new patient in time for supper.
    Even though Dr Sterne had said he would not be attending Imogen Ingram, it would be only courteous to send him a little written report on the girl’s progress from time to time. Freda flattered herself that she had something of a way with the written word. She could concoct a few very nice little letters, couched as businesslike reports, of course, but actually drawing Dr Sterne into the care of Imogen Ingram. And thus into the environs of Briar House and Freda herself.
    Leo had fought against being part of the Rackham Commission, the body set up to investigate malpractice in mental institutions, but Professor