Involuntary Witness Read Free Page A

off alone. So I mooned about, parking myself in the holiday homes and the trulli of friends, either at the sea or in the country. I’m sure I didn’t make myself very popular during these peregrinations.
    People would ask me if I was a bit under the weather, and I would say, yes, a little, and as a rule we didn’t pursue the matter. After a very few days I’d realize it was time to pack my bags and find another bolt hole, trying as far as possible to put off going back to town.
    In September, as things got no better, and especially as I couldn’t bear the sleepless nights, I went to my doctor, who was also a friend of mine. I wanted something to help me sleep.
    He examined me, asked me to describe my symptoms, took my blood pressure, shone a torch in my eyes, made me do slightly demented exercises to test my balance, and at the end said that I’d do well to see a specialist .
    “Eh? What do you mean? What kind of specialist?”
    “Well ... a specialist in these problems.”

    “ What problems? Give me something to make me sleep and let’s have done with it.”
    “Listen, Guido, the situation is a bit more complicated than that. You have a very strained look. I don’t like the way you keep glancing around. I don’t like the way you move. I don’t like the way you’re breathing. I have to tell you, you are not a well man. You must consult a specialist.”
    “You mean a ...” My mouth was dry. A thousand incoherent thoughts went through my head. Perhaps he means I should go and see a consultant. Or a homeopath. Or a masseur. Even an Ayurvedic practitioner.
    Oh, that’s fine if I have to go to a consultant, masseur, Ayurvedic practitioner, homeopath. To hell with it, that’s no problem, I’ll go. I’m not one to shirk treatment, not I.
    I’m not a bit scared because ... a psychiatrist ? Did you say a PSYCHIATRIST?
    I wanted to cry. I’d gone mad and now even a doctor said so. The prophecy was coming true.
    I said, all right, all right, and now could he give me that damned sleeping pill, and I’d think about it. Yes, all right, I had no intention of underestimating the problem, see you soon, no no, there’s no need to give me the name of a – mouth very dry indeed – of one of those. I’ll call you and you can tell me then.
    And I ran for it, steering clear of the lift.

4
    My doctor had agreed to prescribe something to help me sleep, and with those pills the situation seemed to improve. A little.
    My mood was still mouse-grey but at least I wasn’t dragging myself around like a ghost, dead of insomnia.
    All the same, my output of work and my professional reliability were dangerously below safety level. There were a number of people whose freedom depended on my work and my powers of concentration. I imagine they would have been interested to learn that I spent the afternoons absent-mindedly leafing through their files, that I couldn’t care less about them and the contents of their files, that I went into court totally unprepared, that the outcome of the trials was to all intents and purposes left to chance and that, in a word, their destiny lay in the hands of an irresponsible nutcase.
    When I was obliged to receive clients the situation was surreal.
    The clients talked. I paid no attention whatever, but I nodded. They talked on, reassured. At the end I shook them by the hand with an understanding smile.
    They seemed pleased that their lawyer had given them their head in that way, without interrupting. He had evidently understood their problem and requirements.

    I was a really decent sort, was the opinion confided to my secretary by a pensioner who wanted to sue her neighbour for putting obscene notes in her letter box. I didn’t even seem to be a lawyer at all, she said. How true.
    The clients were satisfied and I, at the best of times, had only a vague notion of the problem. Together we proceeded on our way towards catastrophe.
    It was during this phase – after I had managed to get some sleep