Crooked Vows Read Online Free Page A

little.’ Then worries: does that amount to a lie, a sin, then? Not a mortal sin. Perhaps a venial sin. Probably. Certainly.
    Macpherson thrusts the open book into his hands.
    â€˜Here it is. A marvellous passage. Just look at it.’ He points to a short section, heavily underlined. The younger man focuses, realises with surprise that the book is in Latin. ‘You read Latin, of course. I’m aware that it’s the official language of your church. How would you translate that?’
    Thomas is caught off balance. He is familiar with the Latin formulae of the liturgy, but this is something else altogether. He makes a tentative beginning.
    â€˜I have tried—–’
    The older man cuts in with a spontaneity and enthusiasm that he has not shown before. ‘ Sedule . How would you put that into English? Sedulously won’t do. What about earnestly ? Or conscientiously ?’
    Thomas goes on, secretly glad of the prompt. ‘I have tried conscientiously not to laugh, or to weep, or to lay blame, but to understand.’
    â€˜Just so. Isn’t that wonderful? It should be the official motto of the psychoanalytic profession. And Spinoza our patron saint. If it ever became possible for a non-religious Jew to qualify as a saint. I suspect that he might not be an eligible candidate at present.’
    Thomas catches a fleeting glimpse of the same slight smile.
    â€˜We are not in the business of blaming people, you see. So no mention of sin, as I said before. No laughing at what people do, or weeping over it. Just an effort to understand how people think and act. And why. And in particular to help them understand for themselves. So …’
    Macpherson reclaims the book and replaces it on the shelf, returns to his chair, sits back, silent for a moment.
    â€˜I would expect to be able to do something about your problem. Probably. Given a little time. This immediate problem, at least.’ He leans forward, bringing the fingertips of his hands together, his elbows resting on the desk in front of him. ‘I imagine that your training has introduced you to some of the ideas of Freud, Sigmund Freud. Another non-religious Jew, as it happens.’
    Thomas can’t summon up a response. Freud. Another of the dangerous thinkers they were warned against at the seminary. Sceptic. Atheist. Materialist. He looks away from the doctor’s face.
    â€˜No? Another pity. But it doesn’t matter for our purposes. I work with the idea that there is a great deal in our minds that we’re not aware of. We have thoughts, memories, that have been pushed out of consciousness. Back around a corner, so to speak, out of sight, out of mind. It’s usually because they were shocking, or frightening. We can’t comfortably think about them. So they’re turned off. But they’re still there, somewhere. And we can get them back into consciousness, if we can find the right switch to turn them on again. That’s a way of putting it.
    â€˜I would assume, you see, that your lost memories are like that. Something happened that was extremely upsetting, and the memories around it have been pushed into the unconscious part of your mind. But people recover repressed memories much older than yours. Years. Even decades. Yours can be recovered. Almost certainly. If it is important to you to recover them.’
    Thomas, listening, suddenly becomes aware of how tense his shoulders are and how tightly his fists are clenched. He goes back over Macpherson’s last few words, wondering whether there was a trace of a suggestion that he might be hiding something deliberately.
    â€˜It’s not that … I really can’t remember. I try, all the time. But nothing comes.’
    â€˜No, no. You misunderstand. Most people do at first. I understand. You genuinely can’t remember. Repression of memories isn’t deliberate. It just happens. Remember this. No blame, no sin. These