Chameleon's Shadow

From: Jennifer Morley [jen@morley.freeline.net] Sent: 21.02.2007 16:56 To: robert.willis@southgeneral.nhs.uk Subject: Lt Charles Acland

Dear Dr Willis

Thank you for your letter. I hope you don’t mind an email in return, but I thought it would be quicker. I’ll answer your last question first. No, Charlie hasn’t been in contact since before he went to Iraq. In fact I wouldn’t have known he’d been injured, or which hospital he was in, if his mother hadn’t phoned. I gathered from what she said that Charlie hadn’t told her we’d split up. Well, I’m not surprised! As far as I know, he never tells his parents anything.

I was extremely sorry to hear what happened, and I hate the idea that Charlie doesn’t want me to know. He must realize I still care about him. We were together for about nine months in total – dating on and off for the first two, an ‘item’ for the next four, and engaged from July of last year. I’ve written several times, but I haven’t had a reply. I’ve also phoned the hospital every few days, but the operator won’t connect me.

I assumed this meant he was unable to write or talk, but your letter says he’s up and about and doing well. His mother said he has amnesia, and from the letters after your name I’m guessing you’re a psychiatrist. Am I right? So is amnesia what you’re helping him with? I should perhaps mention that my phone’s rung a few times recently but when I pick it up there’s only silence and the caller’s number is always withheld. I was thinking it was a nuisance caller, but now I’m wondering if it’s Charlie. If so, can you tell him I’d like to speak to him?

I can’t believe he’s forgotten me – that wouldn’t be possible, would it? I mean, we were so close. I’m not sure how amnesia works, but I’m quite hoping Charlie’s forgotten why we split. It was a stupid row about nothing and I feel awful about it now. I get the feeling the person on the other end really wants to talk to me but loses courage when he hears my voice. Do you think it’s Charlie?

You say it will help his recovery if you know more about me and the relationship we had together. Which means Charlie hasn’t told you anything. Why aren’t I surprised?!!! (You’re looking at the original zipped mouth. Charlie never talks about anything to do with himself, and it all goes back to his mother. She’s the original control freak. You could have knocked me over with a feather when she phoned. I only met her once and she didn’t like me one little bit. Too much competition in the ‘looks’ department, according to Charlie!)

Charlie’s a chameleon. He projects different images of himself to different people. With his regiment, he’s a man’s man. With me, he’s a woman’s man. With his parents, he clams up and pretends he’s not there. I accused him once of lacking the confidence to be himself, but he said there was no point getting into arguments unless he had to. The trouble is, when the arguments finally happen, it’s always red-mist stuff. That’s why we split. A silly little row turned into a full-scale war.

I’m not what Charlie’s parents wanted in a daughter-in-law. He was supposed to marry a home-maker, not an ambitious London-based actress. I’ve had a few small parts on TV but most of my work’s in the theatre, and Mary and Anthony went from approval of the engagement to disapproval in ten seconds flat when I said I wasn’t planning to leave London or have babies any time soon. If at all, in fact. Charlie then dropped his bombshell about the farm – that there was no way he would ever take it on – and his parents blamed me for setting him against the place. It caused a huge number of rows between them, which inevitably spilled over into our relationship.

We met at a New Year’s Eve party at the end of 2005. Charlie was more smitten than I was at the beginning – he told me it was a coup de foudre when he first saw me – but he’s the kind of guy who grows on you. He’s very persistent, very generous and very difficult to say no to. In some ways, he’s every woman’s idea of the perfect man – respectful, patient, good-looking, determined, kind – Mr Darcy in fact. But in others, he’s a bit of a nightmare, because he keeps his emotions bottled up and only says what he really thinks when he’s angry.

Yes, I did send a ‘Dear John’ letter the day before he went to Iraq. We’d had this huge bust-up (the row) the last time I saw him – the week before – and he hadn’t bothered to apologize. I think now that he was stressed out about going to war, but he did and said some things that were unforgivable and I decided the relationship wasn’t worth it. I talked it over with a friend and she said there was no excuse for violence. She also said it would be fairer to tell him sooner rather than later.

I regret the letter now because I should have been more understanding. Charlie masks his feelings so much that it’s difficult to tell when he’s nervous or afraid, and I truly believe he was both before he left for Iraq. He said once that manoeuvres were no real test of ability under fire because soldiers knew they wouldn’t die in training. Another time he said that a commander had to be up to the task or he’d be letting his men down. I think those worries may have been preying on his mind and I feel so guilty that I added to them by taking my friend’s advice. I shouldn’t have listened to her. Perhaps he would have come home in one piece if I hadn’t.

There’s not much else I can tell you except that I’d love to see him. I did wonder if your letter meant that he feels similarly . . . I’m not saying that we can retrieve what we had immediately, or in precisely the same way – I can’t take that level of possessiveness again – but we were very close for a long time and on my side there’s still a huge amount of love and affection. Will you tell him that?

Thank you.

With best wishes,

Jen Morley