by Sue Walker
He smoothed a yellowing page out before him.
*
Note from Sister Anna Cockborn to Dr Adrian Laurie, Consultant and Medical Director, APU
15 October 1977
Re: Group Behaviour in APU
There has been a marked change in the Unit’s group dynamics of late, and, following consultation with my Charge Nurse and other nursing staff, I judge that we may be in for some difficulties.
The group has undergone a marked sexualization these past weeks, roughly but not exactly coinciding with the admission of Innes Haldane. My opinion is that her admission is the catalyst for some other events, e.g. Lydia Young, to behave in an attention-seeking way, as witnessed by Lydia’s threat to ‘ torch the place’ on the very same day that half a can of petrol and a bag of rags were found in the grounds. Although this episode preceded Innes’s admission, it coincided with the announcement of her imminent arrival. I believe the events to be related.
However, it is the presence of Isabella Velasco that I believe is leading to the sexualization. Her obvious physical attractiveness has stimulated a number of the patients to notice her, and this has led to a variety of sexual ‘games’.
I have already reported to you on the various sexual innuendoes and comments made on a daily basis. There has also been the expected sexual fixation on members of staff as exhibited in the ‘sexual psychodrama’ game that I surreptitiously witnessed last week, as well as those intimations of violent intent, particularly from Caroline.
The viewing of staff members as sexual objects is of course not unusual and is often an extension of the emotional attachments that patients make to staff. However, the awakening of sexual dynamics within group members at this time is of some concern to me and my nursing team.
In particular, I would urge close monitoring of Danny Rintoul (bearing in mind that it is less than nine months since he raped a fellow school pupil when he was aged only fourteen), Caroline Franks and Lydia Young. We may have to consider extending the use of medication.
Copy to: Daily Nursing Log
Copies to patient files: D. Rintoul; C. Franks; L. Young
*
Gently, he placed photo and papers back in the drawer and locked it. All that material needed to be back at the house. He’d only brought it to work…to what? Allow himself some time to think, to remember? Well, he was prepared to do just that. Prepared to give the memories free flow. He saw no point in trying to stop them now. That was a loser’s game. He allowed his mind to float back to the particular day that Sister Anna had referred to, wondering how she could have known.
He knew it was unusual for them all to be together in one room unless they were in group therapy or psychodrama or a specially called meeting. But it was Thursday night. Top of the Pops had ended. The only programme watched by everyone. Except Lydia. He knew, they all did, that if she was on the down-time of her manic depression, she always went to her room, skulking away in search of her secret store of crisps and chocolate bars. Alone. Sullen. Her ability to secrete coveted snacks amazed him, and he knew it irritated everyone, patients and staff alike: patients, because they wanted to steal them; staff, because Lydia’s eating binges threatened both her body and mind. During those periods, they’d have to watch her stare out from under her curtain of unwashed hair. In a constant battle between her and Them. The staff. The other patients. They all spied on her. But she spied on them too. She was all-seeing, all-knowing. But not as good at it as him. Si-the-spy. He knew more about this place than she ever would.
He felt Carrie prodding him in the belly as he tried to read a book. He knew what she was up to. Time for a bit of Si-baiting. Torment time. She was cackling in his ear. “Hah-hah! All right, then, swotty. You’ve finished those boring history and geography essays you’ve been spending hours on. Not much homework for you for a while now. You going to your school concert? Who you taking? Why don’t you ask Isabella?”
Fuck it! He didn’t need this right now! He hated it when she was in one of these moods. His plea was almost a whisper. “Carrie. Please”
He saw Alex’s eyes fix on Carrie’s and hold them. “You must be kidding, Carrie! He wouldn’t stand a chance. Abby’s a bit First Division for you, Si.” Here we go, he thought. Alex enjoyed getting in a dig at him whenever possible. But she was worse than Carrie. There was something out-and-out sadistic about her when she had it in for you. Though, in fairness, anyone and everyone could, and was, in her firing line from time to time. She didn’t seem to run any particular vendettas.
But he felt some relief that he was going to be spared an Alex onslaught, as Carrie’s perversity started kicking in, making the seamless move from his tormentor to his protector. She would rather have a go at Alex than continue taking the piss with him. He watched with more than a bit of satisfaction as Carrie rasped back at Alex, What the fuck d’you mean, skinhead cuntface freak? There’s nothing wrong wi’ Si. Nothing that a good haircut and decent clothes wouldn’t help! He’s a fuck of a lot better lookin’ than you. You look like a fuckin’ boy, cuntface freak?
He sensed that things were about to go too far, but his plea was being unheeded for a second time. “Carrie, please don’t. Leave it.”
Danny was lighting up now: a brown-stained, half-smoked roll-up. He spat out the first lungful of smoke. Always bloody smoking, a roll-up surgically attached to his mouth, day and night. In other places it would have been a mark of defiance, but the staff didn’t bother themselves with such trifles. Fair enough. If under-age smoking was all any of them had to worry about, well…fat chance.
He watched Danny finish his smoke and knew what was coming next. Yes, Danny was going to have some fun at his expense now. “Hey, Si? Why don’t you ask the lovely Sister Anna? Or maybe she’s a bit beyond your league too.” The asinine suggestion brought most of the group out in the usual splutters and giggles.
Carrie flicked both sides of her hair over her shoulders. “Very smart, Danny. I suppose you think Anna’d have you, big boy?”
A voice from the hallway piped up. “Would you, Danny? Would you? Have her, I mean?”
Simon glanced from Danny over to the open doorway. Lydia was back and heading for the half-made, well-used, old jigsaw of the Bay City Rollers, laid out on a side table. She’d been bored upstairs obviously. Lonely too. Time to cause trouble for the rest of them. Danny was sauntering over to her, bending down so that his face met hers. “Oh, grow up, Lydia! Give us all a rest. Go back upstairs and fill yer fat, ugly face.”
He shook his head at Danny. Lydia wouldn’t have that. Sure enough, the puzzle pieces were shoved aside and she was practically jumping up and down in her seat. “Fuck off, Danny!” She was facing each of them in turn, in a weird kind of circular dance, spinning round, making herself dizzy. And her expression had changed to that—familiar to all -manic elation. “Go on! Go on! Who would everyone like to…to…” She uttered it as if it was the first time the word had left her lips. Which staff would everyone like to fuck! And if you don’t want to fuck them, what would you like to do with them?”
Not a move. Not a sound. Lydia made a silent plea to him with a plaintive look and wrinkling of the forehead. But Simon let his eyes slew away towards the floor. He felt the others do the same.
“What? What’s wrong?” Lydia’s cheeks looked hot now. He wished she’d go back upstairs.
He heard Carrie’s laugh. Shit! Her voice had that overexcited breathiness in it. “Yeah! Lydia’s right for once! Come on. Let’s do it Our own fuckin’ psychodrama! It’ll be a bastarding laugh! Come on, ye cunts!”
He joined them as, silently, they all took their shoes off and formed themselves into a ragged circle. He noticed Isabella and Innes hesitate, but then they urged each other on with secretive glances.
“First in? Me!” Bloody Carrie wasn’t waiting for anyother volunteer and was already settling her long legs across each other, centre-stage, staring down everyone. “Okay. Start!”
He was surprised that Alex was firs
t off the mark. “Dr Laurie! What would you do with him?”
He smirked to himself as Carrie held her chin in her hand, eyes heavenward, in a parody of serious contemplation. Making them all wait. Eventually she gave them it. “Maybe a big snog! But not fuck. He’s bald, for fuck’s sake!”
Someone else shouted, “Ranj!”
Carrie hooted. “French kiss! Maybe ruck.”
Comments were pitching in from all points of the circle. “But he’s got a beard! Horrid!”
“It’s soft, though. Nice.”
“Fuck!”
“What about that nurse, Sam, from the main hospital? The one they sometimes have up here?”
“No danger, I’d catch something off him!” Carrie moved out of the circle, pushing him in. “C’mon, Si, big boy. Your turn next!”
He shoved against her as she tried to push him into the circle. “No, Carrie. Please. No!”
But Alex was holding up her hand. “Haven’t we forgotten something?”
Carrie scowled back at her. “Like what?”
“Like Anna and Sarah.”
Carrie had frozen, half in, half out of the group, one hand still gripping his arm. She was tossing her hair back, Miss Nonchalant style. “Don’t be stupid, Alexaaaanderaaaa! They’re girls. Idiot!”
He saw Alex’s glare at Carrie. It was nothing less than a challenge. “So what, Carrie? You’ve still got to say what you’d do to them.”
A twisted grimace had replaced Carrie’s usual sneer. “I’d kick their fuckin’ heads in.”
Alex was goading her on, eyes glowing with the excitement. “I doubt it. They’d have you in a neck-lock and Largactil’d up to your eyeballs before you knew it. Anyway, we were talking about fucking, weren’t we?”
Simon cringed but knew better than to say a word. Christ! Leave it alone, you bitch! He shook his head, cursing at Alex’s wanton and obvious desire to make trouble. She was out to embarrass, unsettle, and God knows what else. He wished she’d shut up. Leave it, leave them all alone. Why did she have to always stir it?
But within a second, he saw that it was Danny who was taking die whole thing up and running with it, enjoying himself now. “Yeah, Anna and Sarah? Phew! I’ll tell you one thing, that Sarah’s a goer, and I know just who she’d like to get stuck into.” His eyes slowly roved back and forth around the circle, stopping abrupdy at one of diem.
He looked away from Danny. There was some real trouble brewing in the place. No doubt about that. Everyone either hated or loved each odier. The worst combination possible. A combination that would lead to nothing but hell…
Simon shook that memory-path away and, moving sluggishly, packed his briefcase, turned off his desk lamp and headed reluctandy for the misery that was home.
FOURTEEN
He ushered his mother out to her elderly Daimler. Silently, she opened the door, slapping his helping hand away with a sharp “I can manage!” She clambered in awkwardly, anxious not to crease her skirt, and started the engine.
“Sim—”
“Please, Mother. There’s nothing else to say. You’ve said it all.”
Without a further word, without his usual insincere ‘drive carefully’, he turned on his heel and strode back into the house, fully aware of Rachel’s pale face looming above him as she peered through the upstairs curtains. He checked die vestibule clock. Twenty to midnight. He prayed to God that Lily was asleep. He wandered to his study and did die ritual window opening. A salty gust invited itself in, fluttering die papers on his desk and disappearing so quickly he might have imagined it.
He sat in his chair, staring out to die sea, only yards away. He could see the white horses dashing diemselves against the rocks. He could see die whole night cleady. He kept the light off and poured himself a drink, unconsciously rocking to and fro in his chair, reliving the events of an hour ago…
She hadn’t startled him. He knew she’d been standing diere for a while. He’d purposefully ignored her. “Simon, I’m having an early night. Spend some time widi your mother please. She’s all alone next door widi die TV and the dog for company.”
He’d ignored the barb. He’d felt her move towards him and flinched. His voice had been intentionally icy. “Why did you say those things to Mother today? And please, just don’t…don’t say ‘what things’. The old cow’s just laid into me. She can watch the bloody telly and then fuck off out of here, as far as I’m concerned. I simply cannot believe you’d undermine me to Mother at this of all times. You know what she’s like! You know what she’s done to me!”
All of this had been said with his back to her, in darkness, facing his sea. Slowly he’d swivelled round and switched on the desk lamp, the yellow glow catching the gauntness of his features. He could see his reflection clearly in the window. A skull’s head. Was this how she saw him too? “Rachel, why the fuck did you say to Mother that I wasn’t there for you? Not supporting you? I simply cannot believe that!”
She’d remained in the middle of the floor, silk pyjamas outlining her curvaceous body, in an unconscious transmission of powerful sexuality. That had always been her speciality. Sensual without knowing it. She looked better than she had a right to. But he was impervious to her charms now. He’d sat waiting for her to answer.
She did. “It’s true. It’s like you’re not really here with me and Lily in this nightmare. You say the right things, do the right things, but your soul’s not there. You’re not there. I’ve known you a very long time, Simon, and you’re not connecting. Our child is missing. I believe she’s dead. I’m not frightened to say it, see? It is an agony like no other I’ve ever known. But I cry. I talk to my friends. I hold Lily. You? You’re cold. You’re polite. Demonstrative in a false way. I just don’t know you now, Simon.”
She’d held herself in check well. He had to give her that.
The corners of her mouth only hinting at the weeping that would follow, alone, upstairs…
He imagined that he could hear that weeping now. He threw his head back, staring at the ceiling, as if he could penetrate the layers of plaster and wood and see his wife foetally curled, rocking herself to sleep.
He refilled his glass, nudging the window open an inch further, inviting the breeze in. It was pitiful how far his marriage had descended into this. It was no secret that the parents of abducted children could look forward to their relationships foundering. But usually that was well after the event. The norm was for them to hang together, even become closer than they had been. Just for a while, just until the child was returned or…No, he didn’t even want to say the words to himself.
And they had been happy, hadn’t they? He and Rachel? Until this. He had, certainly. And not telling her about his adolescent past? Well, that was a well-worn deceit. It didn’t even register as deceit any more. No, Rachel had been happy with him. It was her second marriage. She had been looking for stability, kindness. And children. He had given her all those. And that was what he’d wanted for himself. And it had worked. They fitted well together. By the time they’d met, he in his mid thirties, she a few years younger, he had an established career. He’d done a lot of work on himself, externally and internally. He looked okay, better than okay. Being fit and fashionable had come late to him, but he’d enjoyed the journey and the female attention it had rewarded him with. Though all the encounters with women, even the longer-term ones, had been largely empty. Until Rachel.
And that first meeting! At a mental-health charity dinner in Glasgow, where he’d been working. She’d been there with a psychiatrist friend, who thought she was his date. But she didn’t think so. The guy had never spoken to him again. And later when she was going home with Simon, she’d said with the loveliest smile, “You’re different. Don’t know how but just different.” It could’ve been a cliche, but she wasn’t like that. She was direct, honest, knowing. Yet, not knowing enough. “You’re different.” And she was right. He was different…
A sound above roused him. Rachel, padding to and from the bathroom. She was
awake. He half rose. He’d go to see her…comfort her…maybe she would comfort him. But no…he sat down again. There was no point. All would be futile, all dishonesty. On his part.
Within a moment, he bent his head forward and began the night’s work. On his journal.
FIFTEEN
Girl found—police search for serial abductor
A four-year-old girl, Katie Calder, of St Monans, Fife, is recovering at home after a two-and-a-half-week ordeal during which she was kept captive.
Yesterday, police confirmed that they are linking die abduction to the disappearances of four other girls that have occurred in the north-east of England and Scottish Borders over the past two years. This is the first time the abductor has struck so far north, and Katie’s disappearance is the longest to date. Although all the girls have been returned, police confirmed that there was evidence of sexual assault on them all, including Katie. A police spokeswoman said, “We are deeply anxious that this man should be found. His crimes are escalating and we fear that the next abduction could end in tragedy.” A middle-aged man is being sought in connection with the abductions.
Details are sketchy about the abduction and imprisonment, but it is believed that police were tipped off yesterday afternoon via an anonymous telephone call, thought to have come from the abductor himself. This is the way all the previous abductions have ended. Katie was found, with a puppy she apparently had for company during her ordeal, at a lay-by on the B940 near Baldinnie. The cottage where it is thought Katie was kept prisoner was destroyed by fire before police arrived, in what fire officers are describing as ‘an act of arson’.
Last night, Katie’s father, Dr Simon Calder, a clinical psychologist, made an emotional plea from the family home in St Monans: “We are relieved beyond words to have our precious Katie back and all we wish to do now is get her on the long road back to full physical and mental health. My wife, Rachel, and my second daughter, Lily, would like to take this opportunity to thank the community for their kindness during this dreadful time. We also thank the press for publicizing the case. However, we would ask all in the media to leave us in peace as we try to heal our wounds.”