Chapter 3 Chapter 2 Confessions of Miss Amy Liseline

I don't want to pretend to be a writer and pretend to know how to write.I did it only because Dr. Rayleigh asked me to, and, for some reason, when Dr. Rayleigh asked you to do something, you didn't say no. "Oh, but, Dr. Rayleigh," said I, "I don't know literature--not at all." "Nonsense!" he said. "Then you write it down as a medical record." "Oh, of course, you may take it that way." Dr. Rayleigh went on.He said that now we desperately need a straight and unambiguous account of the events of the Aremia Hills. "If such a text is written by someone who has an interest in that matter, it is not credible. They will say that such records are always biased."

Of course, that is also true.I was always there, but, so to speak, an outsider. , "Doctor, why don't you write it yourself?" I asked. "I wasn't there—you were. And," he continued, sighing, "my daughter won't let me write." It's very embarrassing that he gave in to that yellow-haired girl so much, I kind of want to say.However, this time I saw him blinking.That was Dr. Rayleigh's biggest headache.You'd never know he was joking, and I mean it, he always spoke in the same slow, morose way - but mostly with a wink. "Well," I said uncertainly, "I think I can do that."

"Of course you can." "I just don't know how to start." "There's a good precedent for that kind of writing. Start at the root, continue to the end, and then stop." "I don't even know what the root cause of that thing is, and I don't know where it started." I said hesitantly. "Nurse, trust me. The difficulty of getting started is nothing compared to the difficulty of knowing how to stop. At least, that's what I did when I was speaking. Someone from behind had to tug hard at the back of my shirt to pull me come down."

"Oh, you're joking, doctor." "I'm very serious. What now?" The other thing troubled me, and after a moment's hesitation I said, "Doctor, you know, I'm afraid I'm prone to showing my feelings sometimes." "Why, miss, the more personal you are, the better! This is a real story—not a dummy in a window! You have to be personal, you can be prejudiced, you can be resentful—you can be Write what you want! Write what you think. If there is a bit of slander, we can always trim it after the fact. Just write it down. You are a sensible person and you can make the incident reasonable and realistic. Write it out.” So, the matter was decided in this way.I promised him to do my best.

I just started writing here.But, like I told the doctor, it's hard to know exactly where to start. " I thought I should say a word or two about myself.My name is Amy Leatheran and I am thirty-two years old.I trained at St Christopher's Hospital and spent two years as an obstetrics nurse.I did some private work and worked for four years at Miss Bendix's Sanitarium in Devonshire Street.Later, I applied to accompany a Mrs. Kersey to go abroad to Iraq.I took care of her when her baby was born.She was going to Baghdad with her husband.There was a nanny there who worked for a few years at a friend's house of hers.Now she has made an appointment with the nanny, and her friend's child will go back to China for school.The nurse agreed to come to Mrs. Kersey when the children were gone.Mrs Kersey, who is delicate, was nervous about traveling with such a small baby.In order to take care of his wife and children, Major Kersey hired me to go with his wife.Once in Baghdad they covered my travel expenses back home unless we found someone who needed a nurse on the way home.

Well, there's no need to describe the Kerseys and their baby now—the kid is adorable.Mrs. Kersey was nice too, but of the brash type.I enjoyed life on this voyage, I have never been at sea for so long before. Dr. Rayleigh was also on board, a black-haired, long-faced man, who used to say all sorts of ridiculous things in a low, mournful voice, and I think he liked to tease me, and used to say the most extraordinary things, Let's see if I believe it.He was a doctor at a local government agency called Hashani—a day and a half away from Baghdad. I was living in Baghdad for about a week when I ran into him by chance.He asked when I was leaving Kersey's.I said it was funny he asked me that, because, in fact, the Wrights (that other family I mentioned above) were going home early, and their nanny would be here soon.

He said he'd heard about the Wrights, and said, that's why he asked me. "Miss Nurse, actually, I have a job here that you may take up." "A patient?" He wrinkled his face, as if thinking about it. "Hardly to be called a patient, except that there was a lady who had—shall I say—paranoia?" "Ah!" I was a little surprised.We usually know what that means - it's caused by drinking alcohol or taking narcotics! Dr. Rayleigh did not elaborate further.He is cautious. "Yes," he said, "a Mrs. Leidner; the husband is American—more correctly, American-Swiss, and he is the leader of a large American antiquities dig."

So, he explained that this antiquities investigation team was excavating the ruins of a huge ancient Assyrian city, a place like Nineveh.The house where the delegation lived was actually not very far from Hassani, but it was a desolate place.Dr Leidner had been concerned for his wife's health for some time. "He didn't quite understand what was going on with her, but she seemed to have repeated horrific seizures." "Did they leave her at home with the natives during the day?" I asked. "Oh, no, there were quite a few people--about seven or eight. I don't think she'd be home alone, but one thing seemed certain: she was always thinking wrong, and as a result Always in a weird state. Leidner has a job that can be overwhelming. But he loves his wife deeply and he knows she's in that situation and it's very worrying."

"Is she in good health?" I asked. "Health—oh, health, I suppose. No, I suppose, there's nothing wrong with her body. But she—well, you know what I mean, fantasizes a lot." "What kind of thing?" I asked. " But he avoided the point, and murmured in bewilderment: "She often gets agitated out of nothing. I really think her fears are groundless." "Fear of what, Dr. Leidner?" He said hollowly: "Ah, it's just—nervous fear, you understand?" I think, nine times out of ten, it's the narcotics.He didn't find out, and many men don't, they just don't know why their wives are so nervous, why they have such unusual changes in mood.

I asked him if Mrs. Leidner approved of my coming.A smile appeared on his face. "Yes. I was surprised, surprised and happy, and she said it was a good idea. She said it would make her feel a lot safer," I thought that was a strange thing to say, "much safer," was a strange word to use, and I began to suspect that Mrs. Leidner might be mentally ill.He went on with a childlike earnestness. "I'm sure you'll get along very well with her, she's really a lovely person." His smile dispelled all doubts. "She thinks you'll be very reassuring to her. I feel the same way when I see you, and I don't know if you'll allow me to say that, but you look very healthy and have an air of great judgment, and I I believe that you are the most suitable person to accompany Louise."

"Well, I'll just have to try, Dr. Leidner," I said cheerfully. "I really hope I can be of some help to your wife. Maybe she's nervous about being with the locals?" "Ah, ah, no." He shook his head, amused by my thoughts. "My wife loves Arabs - she appreciates their simplicity and sense of humor. This is only her second visit here during the excavation period - we have been married for less than two years - but she already speaks quite a bit Arabic." I was silent for a moment, then I tried again. "Can you tell me what your wife is afraid of, Dr. Leidner?" He hesitated, then said slowly: "I hope—I think—she'll tell you herself." That's all I can ask from him.