290 A Dangerous Turn in the Conversation started a daily psychoanalytical column in the early thirties. It appeared under the byline ‘Freudiano,’ and readers were invited to send in their dreams for analysis by Freudiano. The paper then told them what the dreams revealed – all in Freudian terms.”
“But what a brilliant idea!” said Irene. “Perhaps The Scotsman could do that.”
“Are we not perhaps a little too inhibited in Scotland?” asked Dr Fairbairn.
“But that’s exactly the problem,” said Irene heatedly. “If we were to . . . to open up a bit, then we would all become so much more . . .”
Dr Fairbairn waited. “Like the Argentines?” he ventured.
Irene laughed. “I’m not sure,” she said. “They’ve had a tendency to go in for dictators, haven’t they?”
“Father figures,” said Dr Fairbairn.
“And generals too,” added Irene.
“Military figures,” said Dr Fairbairn.
“But they do dance so marvellously,” mused Irene. “And there’s something deeply appealing about a Latin American type.
They’re so tactile.”
Dr Fairbairn watched her. This conversation was fascinating, but it was straying into dangerous territory. He should bring it Bertie and the Baby: an Expert Explanation 291
back to the topic in hand, which was not the history of Freudian theory in Buenos Aires, nor Latin American sultriness, but Bertie.
How was Bertie doing? And, in particular, how was he getting on with his new brother, Ulysses? But that triggered another thought in his mind: where exactly was Ulysses? He asked the question.
86. Bertie and the Baby: an Expert Explanation
“Ulysses is in the waiting room,” said Irene. “In his baby buggy.
Sound asleep.”
“I see,” said Dr Fairbairn. “And how is Bertie reacting to him?”
Irene was always ready to see psychological problems, but she had to admit that in his dealing with his brother, Bertie showed very little sign of resentment.
“He’s very accepting,” she said. “There appears to be no jealousy, although . . .” She hesitated. She had remembered Bertie’s comments on the baby that had been mistakenly brought back from the council nursery. That had been slightly worrying.
Dr Fairbairn raised an eyebrow. “Although?”
“Although he did make a curious remark about exchanging Ulysses.”
This was greeted with great interest by Dr Fairbairn, who leaned forward, eager to hear more. “Please elucidate,” he urged Irene. “Exchange?”
Irene had not intended to discuss the incident in which Ulysses had been parked in his baby buggy outside Valvona & Crolla –
she was not sure how well either she or Stuart emerged from that tale – but now she had to explain.
“It was a most unfortunate slip on my husband’s part,” she said, almost apologetically. “He left Ulysses outside Valvona & Crolla.”
292 Bertie and the Baby: an Expert Explanation
“A handbag?” said Dr Fairbairn and smiled; he thought this quite a clever reference and was disappointed when Irene looked at him in puzzlement.
“The Importance . . .” he began.
“Of being Ulysses!” capped Irene. She had understood all along of course, and had merely affected puzzlement.
Dr Fairbairn had to acknowledge her victory with a nod of the head. “But, please proceed. What happened?”
“Well, he was found,” said Irene. “Somebody must have called the police and they took him off to the council emergency nursery. We went there very quickly, of course, and retrieved Ulysses, or the baby we thought was Ulysses. In fact, it was a girl.” She paused. “And unfortunately, Bertie made the discovery.
He saw that this baby didn’t have . . . well, he thought that the relevant part had fallen off.”
Dr Fairbairn made a quick note on his pad of paper. “That’s most unfortunate,” he said. “But it clearly reveals castration anxieties. As you know, most boys are worried about that.”
“Of course,” said Irene. And she wondered for a moment about Stuart.
“And the interesting thing is this,” went on Dr Fairbairn.
“As you’ll recall, one of the main concerns of Freud’s famous patient Little Hans was that he would suffer this unfortunate fate through the agency of dray horses.” He paused and looked at Irene with bright eyes. “Isn’t it extraordinary how real life mimics the classic cases. Don’t you agree, Dora?”
Irene frowned. “You called me Dora.”
Dr Fairbairn shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’re mistaken.”
“No, you made the mistake. And a classic one, if I may say so. Surely you don’t regard me as Dora?”
Dr Fairbairn smiled urbanely. “Of course not. Perish the thought. But I didn’t call you Dora, anyway, and so let’s return to this issue of baby exchange.”
“He suggested that we keep the girl,” said Irene. “For Bertie and the Baby: an Expert Explanation 293
some reason, he seemed quite happy that Ulysses had been mislaid.”
“Well, there you are,” said Dr Fairbairn. “He obviously feels that a girl would be no threat to him in his mother/son relationship with you. He’s Oedipus, you see, and you are Jocasta, mother of Oedipus and wife of Laius. Bertie resents his father – obviously – because he, Bertie, wants your unrivalled attention. Ulysses is a rival too, and that’s why Bertie secretly wishes that Ulysses did not possess that which marks him out as a boy.
“When he saw that the baby whom he took to be Ulysses did not have that, then it was the fulfilment of his wildest dream.
Now there was no danger for him – and that, you see, is why he would have wanted to keep the other baby.”
Irene had to agree with the perspicacity of this analysis. He was really very clever, she thought, this doctor in his crumple-free blue linen jacket; so unlike virtually all other men she had ever met. Men were such a disappointing group, on the whole; so out of touch with their feminine side, so rooted in the dull practicalities of life; and yet here was Dr Fairbairn, who just understood.
She sighed. Stuart would never understand. He knew nothing of psychodynamics; he knew nothing of the unconscious; he knew nothing, really.
“Of course,” she said suddenly. “There’s always Ulysses.”
Dr Fairbairn said nothing. He picked up his pen and stroked it gently. “Oh yes?” he said noncommittedly.
“Ulysses will have identity conflicts, will he not? When he’s old enough to question who he is?”
“We all wonder who we are,” said Dr Fairbairn distantly.
“Who doesn’t?”
“So Ulysses will look at his family and think: who are these people? Who’s my mother, who’s my brother, who’s . . .” She broke off. She had almost said “Who’s my father?” but decided not to.
Dr Fairbairn was staring down at his desk. Then he looked 294 A Fantasy Sail on That Slow Boat to China at his watch. “Gracious! Is that the time?” He looked up. “I have somebody coming, I’m afraid. Is there anything else you need to tell me about Bertie before I see him tomorrow?”
There was. “He’s had a bit of trauma at school,” said Irene.
“That will probably come out. His class teacher has been suspended, and he’ll no doubt lose her. She pinched one of the girls. A nice child called Olive.”
“Goodness me!” said Dr Fairbairn.
“Yes,” Irene continued, “I heard about it from Bertie, and of course I had to raise it with the school.”
“You reported it?”
“Yes,” said Irene. “I couldn’t stand by.”
He thought for a moment. “But Bertie was very fond of that teacher, wasn’t he? He always spoke so warmly of her. Don’t you think that he might blame you for the fact that he’s losing her?”