was an honest hard working man and with sober habits. He worked aboard the ‘St. Sebastian’, an old but durable tub, for some two years before he was able to afford a home of his own with which to house Loura who had lodged at Botella’s tavern whilst he was at sea. When Mauro finally bought their house, Loura, who was already pregnant, moved from the tavern to become a housewife and await the arrival of the baby.
Ana announced her displeasure at Loura leaving her tavern. She had been useful there and Ana had enjoyed taking advantage of Loura’s hard working nature to have more free time for herself. With Loura gone her husband Francisco was reluctant to pay decent money for a replacement and told Ana she would have to do any additional work herself. Ana found herself with many of the unpleasant tasks she had managed to avoid for so long, and her resentment of Loura was matched only by her dislike of the chores.
When Alessandro was born, Loura happily devoted herself to her son and the house. At about that time, Mauro befriended Philip, a seafarer on the ‘Española’, a beautiful modern merchant sailing ship. Philip was the leading seaman and was charged with finding an experienced replacement, which they needed desperately before their next voyage. It was a great opportunity for Mauro and a good change of fortune in their lives, especially now that they had a child. The downside would be that as the ‘Española’ was a merchant ship that travelled to distant lands as far as India, it would mean that Mauro would be away from home for long periods of time.
Spain had developed a trade route to India at the bequest of Charles V since the discovery of the Indian continent at the end of the previous century. Competition was high, and many nations strove to secure the routes that meant lucrative contracts for the ship owners as ships returned laden with spices. It was a prestigious job for Mauro; the ‘Española’ being the largest ship in port in Cadiz and his wages had almost tripled.
In this environment, Alessandro grew up, learning to read and write and appreciate art. He was a clever boy and talented in whatever he chose to do. He loved to spend many hours listening to his father’s tales about the mysterious places in India. It was every boy’s dream to go to sea and being a port, most families were involved in maritime commerce one way or another, many being fisherman. Not many children though, had a father who went abroad and returned with strange gifts and interesting tales to tell of life in strange lands. Loura, however, saw other opportunities for Alessandro and when he was 10, arranged drawing lessons for him with Don Pedro who taught at the church school. Her dream was that her son would use his gentler talents and become an artist rather than take the risks involved in going to sea like his father.
Loura had talents of her own. She had learned a lot about the medicinal properties of herbs from her mother and her grandmother in the old country. She busied herself with growing and drying remedial herbs and made a small business of her own helping the local people with their health problems. At first the local pharmacist made fun of the poultices and herbal mixtures she peddled. As her popularity increased however, he had a grudging respect for her knowledge, although he would never admit to it in public.
CHAPTER SIX
Julian: Sussex, England
15th October 2003
We sat in the doctor’s reception area, a rather elaborate room in art décor style reserved for clients of a wealthy nature. Julian underwent his session with the doctor. Pamela looked calm, just happy that Julian had agreed to attend. She only wanted what was best for her son and she was a very patient woman. I, on the other hand, found myself to be surprisingly tense and nervous as if I was attending the doctor myself. I pretended to look calm, but to be honest, I was rather worried.
Nicola had been allowed to be present in the initial consultation between the psychoanalyst and Julian only on the understanding that she did no more than observe. I hoped that it would be made clear today what really was happening with Julian. Was he experiencing a mental episode and if so, how serious was it?
Before we involved a doctor, Nicola took on board my concerns and especially those of Pamela. She told us that she felt it was best she approaches Julian and explain that his health was important.
“Personally,” she advised us, “I cannot see any abnormal signs myself, and I have been working closely with Julian, but maybe I am too close. It requires an objective view of someone not too bound up in Julian’s problems to make that judgement!”
Nicola talked to Julian several times and explained to him the importance of his health. She did not hide the fact from Julian that such symptoms like recurring dreams, premonitions, fears (it does not matter whether they are well founded or not) although very interesting for her to study, may constitute a real hazard to his health. The only way to be sure would be to see a psychoanalyst, and she recommended that he check himself out anyway.
Julian only agreed to see a doctor when Nicola offered to arrange an appointment with an ex-tutor of hers. He was one of the best private psychoanalysts in Harley Street, London. Doctor Edward Humphries had an excellent reputation and Nicola knew him from her days at University. He was usually quite busy but did not refuse Nicola when she explained Julian’s problem. He was a mild mannered man, with a slim frame and sagging shoulders. Thick rimmed spectacles perched on the end of his nose, which he peered over rather than through. You immediately got the impression on meeting him that you were in safe, if not eccentric hands. He explained;
“The first consultation must be a minimum of one and a half hours for us to get to know each other and discover the background to the problem. I do not expect much from the first session, but it will give me an indication on how to structure the following sessions.”
He looked at each one of us in turn.
“After that I will decide what the best course to take is.”
Having completed his preliminary session, Dr Humphries had his nurse collect us from the lounge and ushered us into his office. Julian and Nicola were already present, and Pamela and I sat on the leather sofa under a large bay window. Dr Humphries sat behind an old-fashioned heavy mahogany desk, his arms resting on an ink blotter. He made a steeple out his fingers whilst he patiently waited for us to be seated.
Clearing his throat, Dr Humphries nodded towards Julian.
“I regret that the young man is suffering from overt mental strain. We will need to get down to the underlying cause of this. Until we have a precise idea what is causing it, he will continue to have symptoms, but that is something we need to work on.”
He inclined his head to gaze at Julian over his spectacles.
“What immediately makes it more difficult is that Julian himself has no idea what is causing his stress, although this is not unusual. In those instances where something tangible is the cause, such as work worries or debt etc. it would be so much easier. Until the source of the problem is identified, we cannot even begin to remedy it.
He looked in Pamela’s direction to placate her.
“This is of course contributing to his insomnia, which in turn leads to lack of sleep and even higher stress levels which have exacerbated the symptoms he is now exhibiting.” He glanced at his notes; “Unpredictable reactions to common occurrences, a lucid imagination, paranoia and a proneness to place complicated explanations to simple events. These are all quite classic symptoms.”
He paused to allow us time to absorb the information;
“Take the example of Julian’s reaction to his birthmark for instance. This is just a banal combination of events. It happens quite often and especially when people find something unusual after a bad dream, but I really do not think we have much to worry about.”
I felt jubilant! It was good to know Julian did not have a serious problem. I also felt a little smug at being vindicated in my belief that he was merely over stressed.
Dr Humphries continued, breaking into my thoughts;
“To be