I hugged her.

'It's all right, darling. You're not silly, you're anxious—and I don't wonder.'

'But I was silly. I didn't see what making a row might lead to.' She paused, kneading the handkerchief in her clenched right hand. 'I'm so afraid for Matthew,' she said unsteadily. She raised herself a little, and looked into my face. 'David, tell me something honestly ... They — they won't think he—he's mad, will they, David ...?'

'Of course not, darling. How could they possibly? You couldn't find a saner boy anywhere than Matthew, yoa know that.'

'But if they find out about Chocky? If they get to know that he thinks he hears her speaking...? I mean, hearing voices in your head ... that's ...' She let it tail away.

'Darling,' I told her. 'You're being afraid of the wrong thing. Put that right away. There is nothing — nothing at all —wrong with Matthew himself. He's as sane and sensible a boy as one could wish to meet. Please, please get it into your head quite firmly that this Chocky, whatever it is, is not subjective — it is objective. It does not come from Matthew, it is something outside that comes to him. I know it's hard to believe, because one doesn't understand how it can happen. But you must believe that.'

'I do try, but ... I don't understand. What is Chocky...? The swimming ... the painting ... all the questions...?'

'That's what we don't know — yet. My own idea is that Matthew is—well, sort of haunted. I know that's an unfortunate word, it carries ideas of fear and malevolence, but I don't mean that at all. It's just that there isn't another word for it. What I am thinking of is a kindly sort of haunting ... It quite clearly doesn't mean Matthew any harm. It's only alarming to us because we don't understand it. After all, remember, Matthew thinks it saved both their lives ... And if it didn't, we don't know what did.

'Whatever it is, I think we'd be wrong to regard it as a threat. It seems intrusive and inquisitive, but basically well disposed — essentially a benign kind of — er — presence.'

'Oh, I see,' said Mary. 'In fact you're trying to tell me it is a guardian angel?'

'No—er—well, I suppose I mean—er — yes, in a way...' I said.

NINE

Alan rang up in the morning and suggested lunch, so I joined him.

'Saw the photograph of Matthew's picture in the paper yesterday,' he said. 'What are you going to do about it now?'

I shrugged. 'About it what can I do except try to deal with things as they crop up? About Matthew, though, Landis has come up with a recommendation.' I told him what Landis had said.

'Thorbe, Thorbe,' Alan muttered, frowning. 'I heard something about him just the other day — Oh, yes. I know. He's recently got an appointment as a sort of advisory industrial psychologist to one of the big groups. * Can't remember which, but one of the really big boys.'

'Oh,' I said. 'Very high fees?'

Alan shook his head.

'Can't tell you about that, but he won't be cheap. I should have a word with Landis about it before you commit yourself.'

'Thanks, I will. One hears such things. I don't want to pay lots of money for months and months, if it can be helped.'

'Of course,' Alan agreed. 'After all, nobody has suggested that there's anything wrong with Matthew, nothing that needs treatment. All you really want is an explanation to set your minds at rest — and advice on the best way to cope with things, isn't it?'

'I don't know,' I told him. 'I admit that this Chocky hasn't done him any harm ...'

'And has, in fact, saved his and Polly's lives, don't forget.'

'Yes. But it's Mary I'm worried about now. She's not going to be easy in her mind until she's satisfied that Chocky has been driven right away, abolished, exorcised, or somehow finished with ...'