Kate looked at her in silence for some time, viewing Trevor’s predicament with a touch more sympathy than before, though only a touch; a man would have to more than human to be unmoved by such beauty. And the body inside the silk pyjamas was pretty well perfect too; curvy yet petite enough to make Kate feel like the incredible hulk in comparison. Kate shook her head to re-focus her mind, not wanting to get hung up on the girl’s exterior; it was the damaged person inside she was interested in. Besides, Grainne’s looks hadn’t done her much good so far in life. She took her old Sanyo Talkbook out of her coat pocket and switched it on before saying softly, ‘My name is Kate. What’s yours?’
‘Grainne,’ the girl readily replied, though without any emphasis or inflexion. She was like a biological robot; physically she appeared to function normally but there was no personality, no soul looking out of those huge liquid eyes.
‘Do you know where you are, Grainne?’
She gave a radiant smile, and Kate caught her breath again; the effect was nothing short of devastating, instantly drawing an involuntary smile in response.
‘Of course I do, silly. This is the Sacred Heart convent.’
Kate blinked in surprise; whatever she had subconsciously been expecting, it was not this. And without thinking she asked, ‘Why are you in a convent?’
The same blinding, child-like smile of simplicity, ‘To become a nun, of course. Why else? Are you a novice too?’
Kate frowned, kicking herself; feeding into the girl’s fantasies by discussing them at all was probably the worst thing she could do but the words had simply slipped out. She was rustier than she had realised. ‘No, I’m not a novice and neither are you. And this is not a convent. But I would like to be your friend. I’m a psychologist, and I’m here to help you, if I can. And if you let me.’
Kate thought quickly; this wasn’t a therapy session, or an examination. It was only supposed to be an introduction, to get Grainne used to her presence, and she had expected to spend the first two or three weeks simply getting to know her and laying the foundation for the relationship she hoped to build with her. On the other hand, she hadn’t expected to find the girl so responsive; dare she ask a few questions at this early stage? Try a little gentle probing? After a moment she said softly, ‘Do you mind if I ask you some questions?’ There was a silence that Kate took for assent so, intending to destroy Grainne’s fantasy, she asked, ‘Why do you want to become a nun?’
Grainne frowned and disgust twisted her face, ‘To get away.’
‘Away from what?’
‘From men!’ hissed the girl in sudden animation, ‘They’re evil and cruel and they stink! They’re monsters and they cause all the troubles of the world. Sister Caroline, my French teacher, told me that when I was in school and she was right. I didn’t believe her at the time but I know better now.’
‘Why do you think men are cruel? Did a man ever hurt you?’
‘No,’ replied the girl tonelessly, her eyes sliding off to gaze out the window once again.
‘Then why do you hate them?’
‘I don’t hate them. I just want to be away from them.’
‘But why?’
‘Men only want to use women. They only want sex from them.’
Struck by a sudden, horrible fear, Kate asked, ‘What about your Dad? Is he like that?’
‘All men are.’
Kate pursed her lips and looked at the girl, not knowing how to proceed. ‘Is your Daddy cruel?’
‘Of course not! Men are cruel, he is my father.’ She placed an odd emphasis on certain words but overall she spoke without any heat, and her face was still wooden, without emotion, her lustrous eyes far away and no doubt looking only inward.
Hardly daring to breathe, and dreading the answer after the night before, Kate asked, ‘Does your father ever want sex from you?’
Grainne looked at her with a real expression on her face for the first time, and to Kate’s infinite relief the expression was one of confusion. ‘No,’ said the girl at last, mild surprise in her husky voice, ‘He’s my father.’
Kate blew out her breath, inexpressibly relieved that the man she had slept with was not an abuser. Not yet. Don’t jump to conclusions, she warned herself, Keep an open mind. Not that she should even have asked the question; it was far too early to probe such intimate areas. Fearing she was digging too deep, too soon, she mentally backed off and said mildly, ‘Tell me about your home, your family.’
Grainne’s face, already expressionless, suddenly went so slack that Kate feared she had lost her, but after a long, trembling pause she began to speak, to describe a house that no longer existed outside her mind.
After listening intently for some time, glad just to have her communicating, Kate said, ‘Tell me about your parents.’
‘Mummy is beautiful. Tall and slim and shiny. Father is so big, and very strong.’
Again Kate was struck by the girl’s child-like manner and speech. Had she regressed to her childhood? To a happier time before her mother’s death?
‘How old are you, Grainne?’
‘Eighteen.’
Kate felt a hot rush of excitement; Grainne’s replies had been so simple that Kate had assumed she was talking to the child-Grainne Trev had mentioned. But not only was this the adult Grainne, but as she had been seventeen when she was brought to Deacon House she was clearly aware of her real self, and of passing time. Which could mean that her true personality wasn’t buried half as deep as Kate had feared. And in spite of her childish tone she hadn’t regressed to her childhood in her mind, either, in spite of Kate’s premature and somewhat blundering questions. All in all Grainne was far better than Kate had been led to believe and she asked, though without much hope, ‘Do you remember your sixteenth birthday?’
Nothing. That slack, blank stare again, and the absence of the slightly wistful look that Kate had already come to believe was her normal expression when fully compos mentos. She had retreated somewhere inside her own mind. Kate needed something safe to bring her back, something non-threatening. ‘Do you have a pet, Grainne?’
The change in expression was infinitesimal but Kate was already looking past the outward beauty to read what passed for expressions on that perfect, almost plastic face, and knew that the girl was back with her even before she replied, ‘A dog.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Ruddles.’
There was the tiniest hint of a break in that husky voice and Kate, fearing that rather than being a safe topic mention of the dog was bringing the girl unpleasant connotations, hastily retreated to the safety of the past before she lost her again. ‘Do you remember the day you got him?’
Still no real animation but that breathtaking, if plastic, smile flashed out again, ‘Yes. It was my tenth birthday.’
‘Describe him to me.’
‘Small. Furry. Cuddly.’ She giggled suddenly, ‘He can’t walk properly, keeps tripping over his own feet. And he pees. All over the place. Drives Mummy nuts.’
‘And Daddy?’
‘Father laughs. Says Ruddles can’t help it. Grow out of it soon. Mommy is furious.’
‘And did he grow out of it?’
‘Oh yes. But Mommy still doesn’t like him.’
‘Where is Ruddles now?’
‘Gone.’
‘Gone where?’
‘Gone.’
Kate paused; was the dog dead or did Grainne simply not know where it was? If the former any further probing might trigger unhappy memories but if it was alive, and Kate could bring it there, was the dog something she could use to ground Grainne, to keep her focused on reality? Would it help her or would seeing it simply bring connotations of an unhappy time in her life? She knew she was treading in a minefield and had to be incredibly careful because Grainne was the most suggestible person Kate had ever met. She didn’t know if it was the medication, or the reversion therapy Sarah McGrath had used, or even the girl’s own attempts to flee from reality, but for whatever reason Gr
ainne was wide-open emotionally. It was almost as if she were in a hypnotic trance, and so was mentally defenseless, and Kate was terrified of damaging the girl’s already fragile psyche by awaking the wrong memory. At last she made a decision and said, ‘Would you like to see Ruddles now?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Bad dog. He’s gone because he’s a bad dog.’
‘Why is he a bad dog?’
‘He wouldn’t protect me.’
‘Protect you from what?’
Grainne’s blank, dead face suddenly came to life as she exploded with passion, and there was vicious, furious anger blazing in her huge green eyes as she shouted, ‘Protect me from bastards like you! The bastards in this hospital!’
Kate was stunned by the sudden transformation but wanted to keep the girl animated, keep her alive, and instantly asked, ‘Why are we bastards? Why do you need protection from us?’
‘You know!’ hissed the girl, ‘You strap me down so I can’t move, then men come in and touch me! Use me! And you let them. You’re not a doctor, you’re a torturer!’
‘That’s not true,’ said Kate calmly, ‘No one touches you here. You’re safe here.’
‘No!’
‘Yes!’ insisted Kate, ‘No one touches you; you’re safe here. You know where you are, don’t you? You know you’re in a hospital, not a convent; you just said so. But no one can touch you here. You’re only treated by women! Do you understand me, Grainne? No men can touch you in here! You’re safe!’
Nothing. She was gone again, the eyes beautiful but empty. With an inward sigh Kate sat back in the chair, not sure whether she had helped or hindered her new patient. Well, so much for baby steps, for getting to know her for a few weeks before starting to probe!
She started again at the beginning, asking innocuous questions about the girl’s childhood to try and slowly draw her back. Nothing. It was like talking to a zombie. After a further, fruitless ten minutes Kate was ready to leave, defeated. But only for today. She would be back, and would keep coming back until the girl was free of whatever emotional fetters were holding her from reality. The real Grainne was much closer to the surface than she had dreamed, and Kate knew she could help her dig her way out of the mental fog currently enveloping her. Weeks, months, years; it didn’t matter how long it took. She would help bring her back to the real world, and hopefully to a full life. There would be pain, no doubt, and an ocean of tears to be shed, but however harsh it could be, real life was infinitely better than the empty, dream-like existence the girl currently had.
Kate was about to leave the room when a sudden thought struck her; there were no signs of a complete personality split but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a partial fracture. And an earlier thought resurfaced; Why would a blatantly promiscuous girl hate and fear men? Show disgust at the mere thought of them? Disassociation. Disassociation from her past, from her own actions…from herself? Was is possible?
She sat back down, ‘Where is Grainne?’
The slack, empty face didn’t change but the girl replied, ‘Gone.’
Kate’s heart leapt with excitement; her shot in the dark had struck home! Was it possible that when Grainne withdrew like that another persona took over? Maybe, she warned herself, Slow down, slow down. She forced herself to stay calm as she asked, ‘Where is Grainne gone?’
‘The magic field.’
Kate leaned forward and stared intently into those empty eyes, puzzled and curious; this was new. There had been nothing about this magic field in the file. Nor had Trevor mentioned it. ‘Where is this magic field?’
‘Behind her house. Behind her father’s garden.’
‘Why does she go there?’
‘To play.’
‘Play with whom?’
No answer of course; the magic field was clearly a private escape, not a playground, and Kate again cursed her rusty intuition before asking, ‘When does she go there?’
‘When there are visitors. When Mummy drinks.’
Kate frowned uncomprehendingly, ‘What do you mean?’
No answer. Of course not. Kate shook herself internally; it had been another stupid question. It didn’t seem as if she were dealing with a fully-formed separate personality, but rather a fractured side of Grainne; a functioning but simple shard of her mind, and complex opinions and emotions would no doubt be beyond her. But would she respond to simple, factual questions?
‘What did Grainne do on her sixteenth birthday?’
Was there a hint of a sneer on that alabaster countenance? ‘Got drunk, probably. Fucked someone.’
Kate’s mind raced; severe personality disorders were often caused by self-hate and disgust, a desire to disassociate from one’s own actions. So separate identities were formed, and the despised acts blamed on the original personality. Careful, Bennett, she warned herself, there are other reasons for multiple personality disorder. If that’s what this is. Impatient for further progress, Kate pressed on, ‘Who are you?’
There was a very long pause that Kate somehow knew was different to the earlier withdrawing, and at last the girl replied, ‘Her friend.’
Kate nodded to herself; not even a name. There were very few instances of genuine multiple personality disorder documented, and certainly she had never come across one. Nor did she believe she had now; this was just a shadow of a separate personality, almost a pretense.
‘No,’ contradicted Kate gently, ‘You are Grainne. You don’t want to be because you hate some of the things you’ve done but you are her. You aren’t a separate person, just the disapproving voice in the back of Grainne’s mind that everyone has. You may hate her because of the things she’s done, because you think she’s bad, but she isn’t. You aren’t bad. Just ill.’
‘Grainne is a pig rooting in filth,’ the girl enunciated in a clear, precise tone.
‘No,’ contradicted Kate, wondering if Grainnee was quoting someone else, ‘You may hate yourself, the things you’ve done, the things you’ve allowed others to do to you, but you can’t escape your past or yourself by becoming someone else. You are Grainne. You might not want to be but you are. You can’t help it and you can’t hide from it. You have to look inside and see who’s really there.’
Grainne looked at her with a bright, friendly smile but her eyes were clouded and her voice was ominous, portentous, as she said, ‘Are you a novice here too? I want to do good, to be good and help other people. Will you be my friend?’
‘I am your friend, Grainne, and I want to help you. But I can’t help you unless you want to be helped. Unless you help yourself. You tried to hide from yourself already, from your life, but it didn’t work then and it won’t work now. You know you’re not in a convent. You know you’re in a hospital. You have to face the truth. I can only help if you let me. If you trust me and talk to me. If you face yourself.’
‘WHY DOESN’T RUDDLES BITE YOU!’
Kate recoiled from the sudden hatred and fury twisting that lovely face but almost instantly it was gone and the placid, empty mask was back. And this time Kate knew that Grainne was truly gone. For today, at least. How she knew she didn’t understand and didn’t try to analyze; she just felt it. It was part of the strange empathy she often felt with other vic…with patients! With a hot flood of excitement filling her body she thought; Especially with those 1 can reach! Those I can help!
She stood up and turned off the little portable Dictaphone and put it in her pocket, ready to leave. But before she reached the door a sudden impulse made her turn back. She crossed the room and lightly squeezed the girl’s shoulder and kissed the top of that golden head before whispering in her ear, ‘I can help you if you let me. If you trust me, and talk to me. I’ll help you in any way I can, and I promise I’ll never let you down. I promise.’
There was no response, of course, but then she hadn’t been expecting or even hoping for one. Not yet, maybe not for months. But someday, perhaps. She wouldn’t give up until someday there was a reaction. From a
whole, fully functioning human being.
Chapter Eight
As soon as she left the room all the nervous energy drained out of Kate, leaving her tired and deflated and reminding her that she had had a sleepless night. But she was not unhappy, in spite of this preliminary session taking a wildly different path than she had intended. She slowly made her way down the wide, sweeping staircase to the granite-flagged vestibule and crossed to Trevor’s office. She tapped on the door and opened it when she heard his distracted voice saying, ‘Come in, come in.’
Kate walked inside and closed the dark, heavy old door. Trevor glanced up irritably from a sheaf of papers he was reading, but when he saw who it was he put them back on the desk and sat up straight, ‘Well, well, look who it is! That didn’t take long. Sit down, sit down. Would you like some more coffee?’
Kate shook her head as she sank into the chair in front of his desk, ‘Not right now, thanks.’
‘How did it go?’
Kate considered the question for a moment before replying, ‘Bloody marvelous, actually. Considering.’
Trevor raised his eyebrows, ‘Well, that sounds promising! Come on then, tell all.’
Kate took a deep breath, ‘First of all I agree that Grainne is not suffering from schizophrenia and certainly is not psychotic. Nor does she have multiple personality disorder, though I think she’d like to. She has a deep self-loathing that has led to severe disassociation but she hasn’t quite managed to fracture her own personality. She has retreated from reality but not nearly as far as she’d like. Cracks quickly appear in her fantasies when she vocalizes them and she can’t sustain them for long, which may be why she’s so often catatonic. And she certainly can’t sustain a whole separate personality. On some level, however deep in her unconscious, she’s aware of her real surroundings and situation. And of passing time. The cause of her retreat into make-believe, of course, is far more deeply buried but hopefully it will surface in time.’
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