Unlocking the door for the doctor, Weeks allows him to enter first. He doesn't look at either of us, which is just as well. I can tell from her expression that Weeks doesn't think much of him. She nods at me to enter.
The room is small, windowless. There's nothing in it apart from an examining couch, a desk, and a chair. Putting down his bag, the doctor sits at the desk and turns to me. "Ah, take a seat on the couch—"
He seems nervous. Perhaps he is missing the matron's support. Maybe the imposing bag and cuffs are not to show off but to boost his confidence.
"Now, Miss—"
"Childs," says Weeks. "Lucy Childs." She hands him the file.
He is opening it, when I say in a loud, firm voice, "I told you, that isn't my name. I am Louisa Cosgrove. And I'm not meant to be here. There's been a mistake."
He pauses, glances at Weeks, then turns to read the page of cramped writing I can see inside the folder.
It suddenly occurs to me—perhaps they're pretending they don't know who I am. Perhaps they're trying to drive me mad.
I take a deep breath. "I'm not mad, Doctor. You can see that, so—"
"Just a minute, Miss Childs. I'm reading your notes."
I glance at Weeks, who's watching me narrowly. Perhaps it's better to play the game for now. Make them see how rational you are.
"Put out your tongue, Miss Childs."
Obediently I stick my tongue out and the doctor inspects it. Then he feels my forehead. His hands smell of soap and black hairs curl out from under his cuffs. He takes my pulse, writes.
If he is trying to find out how mad I am, this won't tell him.
He takes a stethoscope from his bag. A stethoscope. I catch my breath. It's just like the one I have in my box—my box that they've taken from me. Instantly, I'm back in Papa's study, hearing his voice...
Dr. Bull misunderstands my reaction. As he unscrews the stethoscope and tips out the contents, he says, "Don't be alarmed, Miss Childs. With the aid of these, I can check the condition of your heart and lungs."
"I'm not alarmed. I know what those are." I point at each item, naming it. "Stethoscope. Pleximeter. Percussor."
His mouth drops open. Weeks frowns.
"You seem very familiar with these instruments, Miss Childs."
"My father taught me how to use them. He shared a lot of his medical knowledge with me."
"Oh?" He seems surprised and something else. Disapproving?
After he has listened to my chest, he makes a brief note, then turns to Weeks. "Have you anything to report?"
She speaks rapidly, mechanically, Dr. Bull struggling to keep up with his notes. "Miss Childs keeps denying her name. She has been argumentative at times."
"I haven't!"
Weeks ignores me. "She has not been eating. She attempted to conceal some scissors."
"Doctor, that isn't true!"
But the doctor is sweeping on. "I would like a urine specimen. And has Miss Childs opened her bowels today?"
This is for me to answer. But Weeks says, "No, and not since she arrived."
My face goes hot. No privacy, not even in this.
The doctor turns to me again. "You haven't been eating?"
"Would you eat that food? It's not fit for pigs."
He blinks at that and writes something in his notes. "And, um, do you menstruate regularly?"
I can feel my face flushing again, but I'd better say. They'll find out. "No."
"When was the last occurrence?"
"I can't remember." This is true. I can't remember exactly. About six months ago?
I suddenly go cold with anxiety. What if Dr. Bull gives me a physical examination? His hands are white, like lard.
But he's pulling out his watch, frowning as he writes some more. Time is running out.
I take a deep breath. "Doctor, I must speak with you. Alone."
Startled, he looks at Weeks for help. "I don't think—"
"Please. I am entitled to a private consultation." I don't know if I am or not, but I say it assertively and I can see him hesitating.
He makes up his mind. "Very well." He nods at Weeks, who purses her lips, but she goes.
As soon as the door is shut, I drop my voice. "I have to see Mr. Sneed. I have to explain to him that I shouldn't be here. As I told you, I'm not Lucy Childs."
"Right." He nods thoughtfully.
Encouraged by his apparent willingness to listen, I press home my advantage. "Please don't take any notice of Weeks—she's not telling the truth about me." As I say it, the sense of injustice that I've tried to repress, wells up, and I can't help myself. "Do you know, yesterday afternoon, I wanted to read and she said I couldn't. She behaves like a tyrant, making up petty rules—"
Dr. Bull interrupts me. "You're misjudging Weeks, Miss Childs. She's merely carrying out orders."
"Orders?"
"Yes. Mr. Sneed has prescribed a period of rest from reading for you—"
"But that's absurd!"
Ignoring my outburst, the doctor continues, "...and I would support him in that recommendation. Excessive study, especially in one of the fair sex, often leads to insanity..."
I gape at him. I've never heard anything more ridiculous. But he is standing up as if the interview is over.
"Wait! There's something else about Weeks—she terrorises the patients."