by helping with my camera bags as I dragged him around the show. It was not long before he spied the ‘beer tent’ and complained of a thirst. We moved toward the refreshment. The place was a heaving mass of humanity and Julian and I headed vainly into the throng looking for the beginning of the beer queue. There were hundreds of people jostling for space and we had just entered, when a couple who were seated not far from us started to call to a child who was weaving his way. The father was attempting to buckle the younger brother into a buggy, when their not much older offspring ran directly towards us flailing his arms, his face gleefully enjoying his quick bid for freedom. His mother ran after him but did not manage to reach him until after he had tripped and fallen headfirst onto the pathway almost in front of where we were standing.
Immediately the little boy’s face changed to one of shock, then hurt. His mother scooped him up, cradling him in her arms and spoke softly to him. I realised then that she was speaking in Italian. She was dressed in an attractive trouser suit and colourful scarf which, now I came to think about it, betrayed her continental origins. As Julian and I looked on she carefully passed her fingers through the boy’s hair, caressing his head, willing the pain away as he sobbed into her blouse.
“Alessandro, Alessandro” soothed the woman.
Almost immediately, the sobs that had shaken the little boy’s body earlier started to reside and were followed instead by loud sniffs. His mother responded automatically by fishing a tissue from the pocket of her trouser suit and proceeded to wipe the little one’s nose.
“Alessandro, Alessandro”
Her voice continued to soothe him and had the effect of implanting a glimmer of a smile where once before the lips had been curled in shock and pain. A loud sniff and then a nervous giggle signified the end of the disaster.
The spectacle over, I turned to Julian and found he was not there! Looking around, I glimpsed his back as he moved briskly through the crowd towards the rear of the beer tent. I had no alternative other than to abandon our place in the queue and run after him.
“Julian?” I enquired. “Are you OK?”
Julian started shaking inside; I could see him physically trembling. He looked back at the Italian couple who were now pouring a drink into a feeding bottle. I followed his stare, not understanding the connection. The little boy, tragedy now forgotten, was attempting to put his smaller brother’s hat on his own head, shrieking now with laughter instead.
“What’s the matter, mate?”
Julian stood holding his head as if in great pain. He looked up after a minute and mumbled to me;
“Sorry, Michael but something is wrong again…” he clutched the side of his head and I helped him sit on the grass. We had veered off a bit into the shrubbery and were more or less alone, the noise of the crowd audible, but muffled.
Julian continued to clutch the side of his head and with tears in his eyes, said;
“My head is so sore; it feels like it’s actually burning!”
When Julian indicated he was feeling better, we went over to a small refreshment stall where I purchased two icy Cokes and we sat on the grass swishing away the occasional greedy wasp. I asked him to try and decribe what had happened. Julian however remained restless and started to insist on us returning home. I started to worry and asked:
“Julian, look, maybe you need a doctor?”
“No, please, let’s just go home. Now!”
He said it so forcefully, any idea I might have had at talking him out of it vanished and I resigned myself to cutting short our stay.
“OK! Let’s go, but tell me, what has this to do with the Italian women and the baby? Do you know her?” I had seen the look on his face as he stared back at the couple.
“No, of course not! Don’t be stupid Michael.”
“Well, why the reaction? It looked like you had seen a ghost.” I added, rather cruelly, “What are you going to tell me? That you saw them in your dreams?”
To my surprise, Julian looked at me rather strangely before replying.
“Michael, I have never met this woman or her child before in my life. Not even in my dreams.” He paused a little, “…. but I know that it has already happened to me before…”
Julian completely lost me. “What happened?” I asked.
“The same thing: Alessandro! Alessandro!….. and then the experience of horrible pain and the real fear of death.”
I ceased to tease Julian further. He looked terrible and appeared to genuinely be in pain. I drove him back home and advised Julian’s mother that he had not been well, not enlarging on the conversation Julian and I had at Beaulieu.
When I returned to my flat that night, I was exhausted and settled into my favourite armchair with a large Scotch to contemplate the events of the day. I wondered what Nicola would make of it and if I should call her, only then realising that I did not even have her telephone number. I made a mental note then to obtain it from Julian. It might prove useful in the future.
I then began to wonder if Julian needed a different type of help. Nicola’s interest in Julian was totally self-motivated. What he really needed was a doctor who would see him as a patient, not as an object of study. Maybe Nicola could suggest the name of a doctor she thought might be of help. I was now sure more so than ever that Julian needed help to come out of this predicament, it was not normal to have an inexplicable fear and reactions to simple things like a child crying.
At the very least I felt he should be referred to a psychotherapist and he probably needed to get some rest, preferably a complete break.
“A seaside resort is the right place to go. I must suggest it to Julian”, I thought aloud, “I also need to discuss Julian with Pamela first and see what we can do for him in this situation. She must know that her son is not well. Maybe she can persuade him to see a doctor?”
I decided to check up on Julian and gave Pamela a ring. She told me that Julian was still asleep and I invited her over for dinner, explaining that we needed to talk privately. I changed and freshened up a little before Pamela arrived a little later. I offered her a drink, which she declined claiming she was driving. Pamela looked worried and told me that she suspected something was going on with her son. Her quizzical look informed me she was waiting to hear what I had to say. I wondered where to begin. I decided to tell her everything I knew, as I did not want to hide anything any longer. Apologising for my previous half-truths, I promised to be more open with her from now on. She could not help crying as she revealed that Julian had an incident when he had been 4 years old. He had fallen from a swing and broken his arm. Pamela feared it was possible that they had concentrated their attention on his arm and not paid sufficient attention to his head. Maybe they missed some trauma of his head and it only now had started to manifest itself? Pamela was beside herself with worry and together we agreed to convince Julian to at least see a doctor as soon as possible for an investigation. Julian would never have listened to me, he dismissed all my suggestions that he see a doctor, but with Pamela’s help… I believed she would insist on it.
The telephone rang making us both jump involuntarily. It was Nicola.
“Michael, I have tremendous news! I don’t want to call Julian yet because I wanted to discuss this with you first before I tell him.”
“Tell him what, Nicola?”
“Listen, you won’t believe this. I have just returned from Spain. I spent 10 days there and I think I have made an important discovery.” She paused for a second; “Do you remember Julian told us about an engraving which he and Roberta had found in one of the Spanish museums?”
“Yes, I do. It was something about an execution,”