Garrod could think of only one way to describe his reaction to Esther’s courage and self-possession—he had been humbled.
The whole way down to the street level in the elevator he tried vainly to think of something to say, but his silence seemed not to trouble her. She stood holding his arm with both hands, head well back, smiling slightly. In the main entrance of the Medical Arts building several men were waiting with cameras.
“I’m sorry, Esther,” Garrod whispered. “There are television crews waiting—they must have been tipped off we were in town.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re a famous man, Alban.” She held his arm even more tightly as they passed through the group of newsmen and got into the waiting limousine. Garrod refused to make any comment for the benefit of the microphones, and in a few seconds the limousine was surging away towards, the airport. Esther had not been exaggerating about his fame. He was at the centre of two separate stories which had caught and held public interest—one was a sensationalized version of how he had single-handedly exposed a Portston gambling syndicate’s attempt to ruin his father-in-law; the other was a multi-layered story of secret slow glass research producing a fearsome new weapon which had claimed the inventor’s wife as its first victim. Garrod’s early attempts to make the news media get the facts into perspective had achieved exactly the opposite effect, and he had adopted a policy of non-communication.
Arriving at the airport, Garrod picked out Lou Nash’s red-bearded face above the crowd and steered Esther towards him. Other reporters and cameramen were waiting near his aircraft but they got airborne quickly and made the brief northwards hop to Portston. A larger crowd of newsmen were waiting but at this end he had the help of Manston, his public relations manager, and in a surprisingly short time they were at home.
“Let’s sit in the library,” Esther said. “It’s the one room I can see without eyes.”
“Of course.” He ushered her to her favourite armchair, and sat down opposite. The cool brown silence of the room closed around them.
“You must be tired,” he said after a minute. “I’ll have some coffee brought in.”
“I don’t want anything.”
“A drink?”
“Nothing. I just want to sit here with you, Alban. There are so many adjustments I have to make…”
“I see. Is there anything I can do?”
“Just be with me.”
Garrod nodded and sat back to watch the late afternoon sun cross the high windows. The old clock in the corner ticked stolidly, creating and destroying distant universes with each sweep of its pendulum.
“Your parents will soon be arriving,” he said once.
“No—I told them we wanted to be on our own tonight.”
“But the company would be good for you.”
“You’re all the company I need.”
They had dinner alone then returned to the library. Each time Garrod tried to start a conversation Esther made it clear that she preferred not to talk. Garrod glanced at his watch—midnight was far away, at the crest of a mountain of time.
“How about the sound books I got you? Wouldn’t you like to listen to something?”
Esther shook her head. “You know I never cared much for reading.”
“But this would be different. It would be more like listening to radio.”
“I could listen to real radio if I wanted.”
“The point is…Forget it.” Garrod forced himself to remain silent, picked up a book and began to read.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing—just reading.”
“Alban, there is something I would quite enjoy,” Esther said after perhaps fifteen minutes.
“What is it?”
“Could we watch some television together?”
“Ah…I don’t know what you mean.”
“We could wear a set each.” Esther seemed childishly eager. “I’ll listen to the sound on my set and if I’m missing anything on vision you can tell me what’s happening. That way we would both be taking part in it together.”
Garrod hesitated. The word “together” had cropped up again, as happened so frequently in Esther’s conversation these days. Neither he nor she had ever again referred to the question of his divorce.
“All right, honey,” he said. He went to a drawer, took out two tri-di sets and placed one of them on Esther’s patiently expectant face. The uphill climb towards midnight had become longer and steeper.
On the fourth morning he gripped Esther’s shoulders and held her face-to-face with him. “I accept it,” he said. “I accept that it is partially my fault that you’ve lost your sight, but I can’t take any more of this.”
“Any more of what, Alban?” She looked hurt and surprised.
“This punishment.” Garrod drew a quavering breath. “You’re blind, but I’m not blind. I have to go on with my work…”
“That’s why you employ managers.”
“…and with my life, Esther.”
“You still want a divorce!” Esther twisted away from him, ran a few paces and fell over a low table. She made no attempt to rise, but lay on the floor sobbing quietly. Garrod stared at his wife for a moment, helplessly, then gathered her up in his arms.
That afternoon he received a call from McFarlane. The research chief looked pale and tired, but his eyes—diminished by their concave lenses—glinted like zircons. He began by enquiring about Esther in a casual manner which failed to hide his excitement.
“Esther’s all right,” Garrod said. “There’s this adjustment period…”
“I can imagine. Ah…when will you be down at the lab again, Al?”
“Soon. A few days perhaps. Did you call me just to pass the time of day?”
“No. As a matter of fact…”
Garrod felt a premonition. “You’ve done it, haven’t you, Theo?”
McFarlane nodded solemnly. “We’ve got triggered emission with control. It was a fairly straightforward pendulum effect, but with a variable frequency controlled by feedback on the X-ray frequency. The boys have a section of slow glass in the rig right now and they’re running it just like a home movie. Speeding it up to an hour a minute, slowing it down where they feel like it, almost freezing the images.”
“Perfect control!”
“I told you I’d have it within three months, Al—and that was only ten weeks ago.” McFarlane looked uncomfortable, as though he had said something he would have preferred to keep back, and Garrod took the point immediately. If he had not been egotistical enough to try making the breakthrough, in spite of being years behind on lab development, on his own his wife would still have her sight. The responsibility and the guilt were his, and his alone.
“Congratulations, Theo,” he said.
McFarlane nodded. “I expected to feel elated. Retardite is perfected now. The fixed delay was all that was holding it back—but from today on a simple piece of slow glass is superior to the most expensive movie camera in the world. All that went before is nothing to what’s coming.”
“So what’s your problem, Theo?”
“I’ve just realized that I may never be truly alone again.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Garrod said quietly. “That’s something we’ve all got to learn to live with.”
Sidelight Three