The Healing Place

CHAPTER 39

  On Saturday after work, Ella went along with Franz to meet Pat at the club. Once there she left them with Jake, the young doctor in charge, and wandered off to talk to some of the parents and carers of the disabled children and to some of the adults who came there regularly, all of whom talked in glowing terms about the difference the facility had made to their lives, and about Doctor Jake and his volunteers.

  Across the room, she noticed that Jake had not stopped talking since meeting Franz, waving his arms and using his hands to express his ideas as he spoke. He was clearly a man of enthusiasm, committed to his work. Franz was saying little, listening intently. Ella thought that was a good sign. She wasn’t sure what, if anything, would come out of this meeting but she felt glad it was happening.

  She wasn’t surprised to find that Franz had invited Jake, as well as Pat, to come back after the club and see round The Healing Place. She went with them, curious to see the two men’s reactions.

  They were both sincerely impressed.

  ‘What a fantastic building!’ Pat kept saying. ‘Solidly built and designed like a dream.’

  Professional interest made him examine every pillar, test the door-opening mechanisms and ask questions about materials used in the construction and fittings.

  Jake was more interested in what went on at The Healing Place, which therapies had proved valuable in certain cases of injury or physical impairment, and whether The Healing Place attracted many clients with disabilities. He raised his eyebrows slightly at some of the items on the list of workshops and courses Franz showed him but made no comment.

  Both men were impressed by the size of the place, the number of treatment rooms upstairs and the flexibility of the internal space with its multiple options of movable partition walls.

  Jake spent some time in the basement, where Franz talked of the possibility of adapting the existing flotation pool into a hydrotherapy pool and using the solar rooms for light and colour therapy as well as utilizing the heat. Jake was the one to go quiet then, envisaging it all as Franz spoke, and his eyes shone. Ella felt he was struggling with emotion, wondering if this was a pipedream or a real possibility.

  Ella had no such doubt. She had seen that look on Franz’s face before and he would never have volunteered so much information, she knew, if he didn’t have the intention of converting the vision into reality.

  They went back upstairs to Franz’s office, where he showed them the framed plans of the building on the office wall, showing measurements of the floor space and the layout of the individual rooms.

  ‘It’s a fantastic building, right enough,’ said Pat again. ‘Jeez, you could really do something with it, Mick!’

  Ella, catching the bemused expression on Franz’s face, laughed. ‘Pat,’ she said, ‘he has really done something with it!’

  ‘Oh, of course! I didn’t mean that you hadn’t already,’ said Pat quickly.

  ‘I know what you mean,’ said Franz. ‘Tact was never his strong point,’ he said to Ella, as an aside.

  ‘Always one for putting my foot in it,’ Pat agreed. ‘But think of the great potential for this place, Mick!’

  Franz nodded. ‘I’m listening,’ he said.

  They adjourned to the pub and Ella left them, calling in to see Maz on her way home. Maz asked more this time about the trip to Ireland but Ella didn’t want to talk about Franz’s father. She confined her account to the beauties of Glendalough and the waterfall near Enniskerry and Maz was satisfied with that and was keen to talk about the successful result of her hypnotherapy exam.

  She wanted to try out her hypnosis techniques on Ella there and then, but Ella deferred it. Since expecting the baby, she found she was less open to experimenting with things she would have been willing to try before. She had been thinking about giving birth to the baby at home, if Franz had meant it when he had talked about looking for a bigger flat for them and she wanted time to think about the options.

  On the way home, she saw Sharma and Phil sitting in Phil’s car opposite a tall apartment building. She leaned down and knocked on the car window.

  ‘Hi. How are you?’

  ‘Fine.’

  Sharma looked terrible, not fine at all, she thought.

  ‘Are you on your way somewhere?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ Phil said. ‘We’re just watching. Sharma feels certain the boys are somewhere not far from here.’

  ‘How are things going at home?’ Ella asked. ‘Are Sarita and the children settling down?’

  ‘We’re still at Phil and Jan’s,’ Sharma said. ‘I should be looking for accommodation. I gave up the room I was living in before and we need to find a flat to rent.’

  ‘There’s no hurry,’ Phil said. ‘I’ve told you, Sharma. We’re very happy to have you.’

  ‘But we are putting pressure on you, keeping your son out of his own room,’ Sharma said, worried. ‘I must go and look for a place.’

  ‘I thought you had lots of spare rooms?’ Ella asked Phil.

  He grimaced. ‘They’re not exactly habitable at the moment. Especially not for kids who’ve come back from a warm climate to an English February. The boiler’s broken so we’ve just got heaters in the few rooms we’re using.’

  ‘What’s happening with your house, eventually? You said the Church hadn’t decided whether to improve it or sell it off.’

  ‘Jan and I have submitted an application to turn it into a hostel of some kind,’ Phil said, ‘with living accommodation for us included. We thought about taking single homeless people but the children are still young and Jan was wary of the risks.

  ‘So we’re thinking more along the lines of families or possibly students. The hospitals and university colleges are always looking for accommodation for them. In the meantime, Sharma and family are very welcome to stay with us. For as long as you want,’ he told Sharma. ‘You’ve got enough on your mind at present without going flat-hunting, and our children seem to have adopted yours as new relatives!’

  ‘There’s movement at that downstairs window,’ said Sharma suddenly, quietly.

  ‘The basement?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I didn’t see anything,’ Phil said.

  ‘Not physical movement. An impulse of fear. I’m sure they’re in there,’ Sharma said.

  ‘Can the police go in?’ Ella asked.

  ‘Only if there’s some concrete information or evidence,’ said Phil.

  ‘And I fear very much,’ said Sharma, ‘that if the occupants are alarmed their first reaction may be to dispose of the living evidence.’

  Ella shuddered. ‘Those poor parents,’ she said. ‘I saw them on television earlier, appealing for the kidnappers to come forward.’

  ‘They won’t do that,’ said Sharma softly. He looked haggard, all colour drained from his face. He has aged, Ella thought, in the days since this began. She hoped it would soon be over, one way or the other, for the sake of Sharma’s family as well as for the boys’ parents. And for Phil. He looked tired as well, though patient, prepared to wait for as long as necessary.

  Ella touched him on the shoulder, waved at Sharma, and walked on. Passing the flats, an old four-storey Victorian conversion, she glanced down at the basement window, which was shuttered and showed no chink of light, but saw and heard nothing.