Chapter 8. “A Brief Mental History of My Father”

Conrad addressed me with characteristic politeness. He had my full attention, compatible with my awareness that I wanted to like him, but did not find it easy.

His attractive youthfulness and fresh complexion, suggested a healthy mind in a healthy body. The music of his charming slight accent, the pleasing oval of his face, emphasised by baldness, above all that he was the son, the only child, of Mr and Mrs Dabrowska, all these taken together, prepared me to warm to him. But my anticipation was snagged often enough by an indifference in his response. This I put down to his uneasiness with a doctor old enough to be, not his father, but a much older brother.

Not that I saw much of him, sometimes only once a year. Conrad was deputed by his parents, every Christmas Eve to visit the surgery. He would sit patiently in the waiting room, and then when his turn came, enter with a broad grin, gratified by my relief that he had come on a mission of good cheer, rather than professionally. He would then, with some formality and much earnest courtesy, present a bottle of Polish cherry brandy. When he left, bearing my compliments to his mother and father, it was with two or three slight bows, and a degree of awkward uncertainty about the possible discourtesy in turning his back on me to get out of the door.

Now, his politeness was in conflict with unmistakable antagonism that sparked from his handsome blue eyes. His shining scalp gleamed defiance. He hesitated, then plunged:

“You see, sir, it was all right up to last year. Now I have met this girl I would like to marry, but it is impossible if I am like this. I will tell you what I think, although of course, sir, I am not a doctor. I was abstinent in sexual matters up to two years ago, but after that not so much, and I am wondering if it is possible I could have damaged myself in some way? You will know better than me.”