by Sue Walker
Sarah laughed back, and he moved a bit closer up the rocks, peering up at where they lay, as she changed the subject. “D’you think this was a good idea? Getting them together like this?”
Anna was frowning, squinting through the glare of the sun’s rays to where Danny, Alex and Carrie were chattering. “I think so. We usually try it. But, more often than not, patients decide that once they’re out they don’t want to keep in touch. As a group that is. You often find that ex-patients will keep in touch in twos and threes, that sort of thing. But we did have one group that met en masse. It was early on, when the Unit first opened, about four years ago. I’m still in touch with a couple of them, actually. They’re doing well. You know, there’s nothing to stop you keeping in touch with former patients as long as the professional and ethical boundaries are maintained. Meaning, discussion of other ex-patients’ problems or having a rampant affair with a former patient are out. Anything else probably does both of you good.”
Sarah was looking thoughtful. “But…but how do you organize such a thing? A reunion like this, for example?”
Despite the bright sunlight, he could see that Anna’s face had taken on a seriousness. “It’s a tricky one, really. Any interest in a reunion has obviously got to be voluntary. Usually Adrian or I get in touch with former patients and suggest it. But after that, the impetus has got to come from them. This is quite a good turn-out. Only two missing. Innes is away on holiday with her parents, and Isabella didn’t respond to the invitation. Fair enough. That’s her prerogative.”
Sarah was sloshing the wine back. “Tell me, who of this lot’s been keeping in touch?”
Anna was refilling her glass. “As far as I know, Simon, Alex and Lydia have been in touch a bit, I think.”
“That’s an odd combination, isn’t it?” Simon felt a stab of irritation at Sarah’s comment. Cheeky cow! What did she mean?
Anna was shaking her head. “Actually, Sarah, it isn’t that odd. There’s a lot of evidence to show that patients like these tend to bond after release on social-class grounds. Not surprising at all. Just think about it. When they’re in the Unit, they’re in the same situation, the same physical place. They’re also all ill and in need of treatment. But after release they have to return to their ‘real’ lives. Well-off, educated kids, as a rule, don’t mix with their opposites. I mean, what have rich-kid Lydia and council-estate Danny got in common now? Nothing. But, inside, I wasn’t surprised at the Carrie/Simon relationship, for example. It was symbiotic in a perfect kind of way. Simon gets the attention and protection of a tough and sexy girl. Carrie gets the kudos of being admired by, and having power over, a top-drawer guy. She won’t enjoy that privilege again in her life, I feel, by the looks of her.”
He had to stifle the laugh. Christ! Psycho-babble gone mad.
Sarah was in more serious mode now, bobbing her head in Carrie’s direction and staling the obvious. “Drugs?”
Anna’s face was sad in reply. “I fear so. The follow-ups we did last year went badly. Caroline’s relationship with her family has utterly collapsed. She’s moved out into some kind of squat in Leith. She’s nineteen now and can do pretty much what she wants. As long as she isn’t caught breaking the law. And for some reason she hasn’t been busted yet. It’s only a matter of time, though. She was showing me her engagement ring this morning. She’s hooked up with some unsavoury-sounding jail-bird and swears blind she’s going to marry him, settle down, have kids, the whole caboodle. And she’s pregnant.”
“Jesus! Is there nothing we can do for her?” The answer to that was obvious to him and, it seemed, to Anna.
“Not if she doesn’t want help. The worst thing is, she denies there is a problem. I fronted her up about the track marks on her arms. She just shrugged, put a shirt on to cover them and ignored me for two hours. Still, she seems to be having a good time.”
He saw them both turn to watch as, barefoot, Danny, Alex and Carrie, clad variously in cool shirts and shorts, wandered out of sight down to the faraway rocks at the opposite end of the beach. He wanted to know what they were up to. In the distance he could see that Ranj and Lydia had quit their game of cricket and were heading back for a drink. He moved along out of sight, watching Lydia’s exuberant arrival at the nurses’ blankets.
She plonked herself down, grabbing for a bottle of orangeade. “Boy, it’s bloody hot! Ranj is on his way. Where the others, by the way?”
Anna nodded to her left. “Dunno ‘bout Simon but Dan, Alex and Carrie have gone down to the rocks over there. Maybe they’re having a look in the cave now the tide’s out.”
Lydia was guzzling her drink. Then she bounced up. “Think I’ll go and join them.”
He edged away, determined to follow. He wasn’t going to miss out on any action. But Dan and the others had moved much faster than he had, and suddenly he heard shouts coming from the cave beach. He heard Anna’s bark above him.
“Sarah! Ranj! Hear that? Quick, get up!”
He heard their feet thump along the springy grass, but he’d misjudged the distance over rocks. He was last to reach the cave and had to wait until his eyes adjusted to its darkness.
Within lay a weeping Lydia, a thin stream of blood flowing from her mouth where the lower lip had been badly split. Lunging at her was a demented Carrie. Danny had her in both arms but needed the help of Ranj and Alex to pull her off the writhing Lydia. Anna was kneeling down comforting her, a brilliant white handkerchief soaking up the bright red blood.
“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” Sarah, to his astonishment, was on the edge of hysteria or rage. He wasn’t sure which.
Anna was cooing at Lydia. “Sssh, sssh. It’s okay. Okay.”
But Carrie’s screaming drowned out her soothing words and the cries of the gulls above. “It’s not fucking okay! That fat, ugly bitch is as bad as ever. Eavesdropping on our private conversation. Listening in. Little cunt!”
“Fuck it! Just leave it, will ye!” Danny pushed Carrie to the ground and ran away out of sight.
Simon caught his look of anger and fear as he brushed past. Then he noticed Sarah surveying the wreckage of their day. And he knew that she was thankful beyond words that these bastards were no longer in the Unit…
He was snapped back into reality by the freezing spray of an exceptionally strong wave. From his pocket, he withdrew the plain postcard. She hadn’t taken long to respond to his letter. Just a couple of weeks. Not long at all for such a big decision. What did that mean?
Agreed. 8 PM Nov. 8th—how apt. Your place, St Monans.
Alex
But it was the terseness of the answer, rather than the speed of it, that had him most worried and fearful. Twenty-odd years since their last meeting there, up on the headland, and one or two parties since. He had absolutely no idea of the Alex Baxendale that he was about to confront. And, if he was honest, he’d never been able to fathom her. Nor, he guessed, had anyone else. Danny would be furious, but he’d come along. Present the reunion as a fait accompli and Danny would come. No doubt.
But never mind Danny. His thoughts slipped back to Alex. No matter what they’d all been through, experienced together, she was the one he hadn’t a clue about. Had never had a clue about. Certainly, he could postulate several professional psychological theories about her, as he remembered Alex from the past, and from her annual ‘missives’, as she loved to call them. But what of her now? Whatever she was like, whatever she’d grown into, it wouldn’t be long before he found out; In two days they would meet again. And he was fully aware that the thought more than unnerved him.
TWENTY-FIVE
“It’s a bloody awful night. You sure she’ll get here okay? She if coming?”
Simon sipped at his drink and watched as Danny looked for the umpteenth time out of the small living-room windows. Rain was battering itself against the panes, and the wind shot in unpredictable gusts down the chimney, blowing billows of smoke from the log fire on to the hearth. He wished Danny would sit the fuck down! So the man
was edgy. Big deal. So was he. So would they all be. And where did Dan stand in it all anyway? He’d been as sympathetic as he reckoned Danny could be. But what about Alex? What was she like now? What would she have to say about his nightmare situation? He glanced out into the night, imagining her at whatever stage in her journey she was.
He felt Danny’s tension hit him full force again, and he offered more reassurance. “She’s coming. Believe me. Look, there’s her card. You know where it is. On the mantelpiece.”
At that, Danny’s restless checking out of the windows stopped. Simon watched him give a cursory glance at the postcard, which he’d brooded over for hours when he first arrived. At last, he sat opposite Simon and took a long mouthful of beer, impatiently tossing the end of his cigarette into the flames. “So, how long did you keep in touch with Alex, after the Unit? Apart from our yearly letters, I mean?”
Simon gently leaned his head back against the lace antimacassar. “Not long. And it wasn’t really ‘keeping in touch’. We sort of kept together by accident really. Someone Lydia’s dad knew also knew mine, and there was some connection with a friend of Alex’s family. We ended up being invited to the same parties, weddings, dinners. But I stopped seeing her and Lydia towards the end of 1982. I was starting my postgraduate work. Kind of shut the whole world out then.”
“Did Alex and Lydia keep meeting?”
Simon shook his head. “Doubt it. It was me Lydia liked. Not Alex.”
He felt Danny’s scrutiny as the next question was fired at him. “And did you ever see Alex on her own? That would’ve made more sense.”
Simon smirked, aware of what his visitor was up to. “Not a chance, Danny, mate. Being alone with her was the last thing on earth I would’ve wanted. I think you know that. Let’s be honest, neither of us liked or took to Alex in any way. She didn’t invite that sort of response now, did she?”
Danny offered him an uncomfortable smile of acknowledgement. “Eh, you’ve got that right. She was…was creepy. Every time she walked into a room she changed its atmosphere. Quite a power, when you think about it. Especially if you’re an adolescent. I mean…she had that sort of animal aggression, but what made it worse was that you knew that wasn’t all she had. Like us all I suppose, you knew she had a lot up top. She was bloody clever. Scary combination.”
Simon inwardly agreed but wanted to stop things there. Speculation about Alex was a waste of time. She’d be here in minutes. “Cool it, Dan. You make her sound like a bloody Lady Macbeth. She was just a middle-class, pretend hard-nut girl of ambivalent sexuality. Off her trolley like us, all because of seriously bad parenting.”
Simon wanted a subject-change and went for it. “Anyway, what about you? Did you try to…eh…keep up any connections with anyone in particular, and not let us know?”
“I told you before. No. I wanted to.” Danny sat up a bit, animated now at what still seemed, to Simon, to be Danny’s favourite, if obliquely expressed, topic of conversation. “But wanting and doing are very different things. That picnic thing we had here in ‘79 was the first and last time I’d seen anyone, any patient from the Unit. Sure, I had follow-ups with Dr Laurie and Anna, I think I saw that student, Sarah Melville, at one of the sessions. Well, she wasn’t a student any more. You know what I mean…a…a proper psycho nurse. But that was that.”
Simon went next door to the kitchen and came back with another cold beer. He stood over Danny, handing it down to him. “Ah, that wretched picnic. Lydia went on for the best part of a year about Carrie splitting her lip. What a bore she was about it. On and on and on.”
Danny was twisting uncomfortably in his seat, staring at the fire as he spoke. “Did…did Lydia hear anything that day, d’you know?”
Simon shrugged. “Who knows? She was always a bit of a nasty little game-player, at her worst. I know Alex used to try and get it out of her when we met. What she was doing at that picnic, trying to listen in, snooping, all the usual attention-seeking Lydia stuff. But no joy, as far as I know. She remained tight-lipped, so your guess is as good as mine.”
“But that’s a bit worrying, isn’t it?” Danny was frowning now.
Simon knew he needed to keep Danny calm. “Not really. I know where she lives if we ever have to ask her anything.”
“By the way, how the fuck d’you know where the others live?”
He let Danny sweat for a minute. “It’s really not that difficult. Most parents of our generation don’t move house. They’re always listed in phone books, and the older they get, the easier it is to chat them up and get them talking, about their children and their whereabouts. Failing that, over the years I’ve called in a favour or two from a solicitor friend of mine. He occasionally uses someone to track people down. It’s never been a great challenge to find out where everyone is. Everyone that matters, anyway.”
Danny was letting the silence lie between them. For that Simon was grateful. He wanted a minute to ready himself for Alex’s arrival. He was much more nervous than he must seem to Danny. He sat back, taking long, slow breaths. Silence, except for the occasional spitting of the log embers, accompanied by the hammering of the rain, was all fine by him, for now. He took another look at Danny. He was an odd-bod. Hard to read. For one thing, he had no idea how Danny felt about seeing Alex again. He was clearly uptight. But then, that was hardly surprising. Could he trust Dan? To support him? He didn’t know but comforted himself with the knowledge that it was Danny who had got in touch with him when he heard about Katie. That was a kind act, wasn’t it? He sneaked a glance at the man, still staring at the embers. Or did he have another reason? Wanted to check that he, good old Si, was still ‘on-side’? Not going to be a loose cannon?
He shook the unwelcome questions and doubts away and thought about Alex. Alex was coming here! Over twenty years since he’d last seen her at that God-awful picnic and those dreadful snobby parties…Jesus! What was she like now? Not a skinhead any more, surely. She’d almost grown out of that in-your-face rebellious phase when he’d last seen her.
His eyes came back into focus on Danny’s empty chair. What the hell? There was the sound of muffled voices in the hall and then she came in.
“Life’s obviously treating Danny rather well, don’t you think, Si? Yes, Mr Rintoul. Glad to see you’ve put on weight. And muscle. God knows you needed to.”
Danny was standing behind her looking astounded, awkwardly bent forward, hands hurriedly smoothing down crumpled jeans. Alexandra Baxendale was transformed. The hair was long, glossy and very dark. The make-up was thick. So was the dark red lipstick. The face was still strong-featured. Especially the jaw-line. The overall facial effect was certainly not soft, though there was a distinct sensuousness about the full lips that she held naturally or otherwise in a tempting pout. That was a feature of hers he’d never before been aware of. Perhaps it had been cosmetically enhanced along with some other body parts? The outfit of black turtleneck and slinky black trousers deliberately showed off her curves. Unfeasibly prominent breasts made Simon more sure than ever about the cosmetic surgery argument. But what was unarguably natural was her athletic, muscular but distinctly feminine body. She worked out. Looked after herself. Quite simply, she was very, very sexy.
She handed her raincoat dismissively to Simon, addressing him as if she saw him every weekend, her voice deepened and roughened as if from too much smoking and drinking. “God, Si. Hope you’ve got a decent Scotch. I’m parched. Nice little cottage, by the way. So you bought it after all. Clever, Si.” Her gaze taking in all it needed to at this stage.
He poured the large single malt and handed it to her, trying to keep his hand steady. He motioned for her to take a chair between him and Danny. Danny was trying to spark up conversation. “You look very well, Alex. Do y—”
But she cut across him as if he didn’t exist. “Hah, Simon! This little get-together almost had me asking when Carrie was going to arrive. Really! That would be our little quartet complete, eh?”
Simon shifted to face he
r. Christ, she was still a cold bitch! And she was playing widi them. The spectre of Carrie and the significance of the ‘quartet’ screamed at him, though he ensured that he kept an outward cool. “Funny, Alex, very funny.”
He waited for her reaction to his challenging sarcasm. And felt Danny stiffen in his chair, as he did the same.
But all she offered was an ugly moue of her lips. “Oh, well. Far from surprising, I suppose. Carrie was born to die from an overdose. It was axiomatic.” She raised her glass as if in a macabre toast. “Anyway, I think we should get on. Si, I want to know what you’ve been discussing since…since all this nasty business of yours.”
She waved her hand in a non-specific direction and sipped at her drink. Simon was reaching his limits akeady, finding it hard to seem unruffled. Trying not to let his anger show. For fuck’s sake! She’s just casually passed off the abduction, assault and imprisonment of his Katie as ‘all this nasty business’.
He raised his glass to match her and answered enigmatically, “In a moment. Another drink, Dan? Whisky this time?” He got up and went over to the drinks table, playing for time. She was not what he had expected. Though expectations of what someone would be like after so long were sheer folly. But he had to admit it. Alex was bloody impressive. Physically. But she was still Alex. Something about the sneer of the mouth and the stare of the eyes clearly remained eternal with her. An e’xternal manifestation of the immutable aspects of her character? Perhaps. And still a queen bitch but using sex now as part of her armoury. The skinhead Alex of old had largely hidden her sexuality. Felt uncomfortable with it. And so she’d buried it. Apart from…well, no, he didn’t want to go down that road just yet.
Anyway, she’d obviously learned how to use it during all these long years. No doubt used it against both genders. But, on the whole, she was a push-over to analyse. Ten minutes in her company and he could see it. Control. The big issue with her. Not surprising, given what he knew of her upbringing. And violent? Possibly in bed. A penchant for S/M? Maybe. No, probably. But as a dominatrix only. She’d do the fucking. Perhaps difficulties with penetrating Alex went beyond fathoming her personality. Whatever, he reckoned she was definitely an ‘on top’ woman. And she was planning to make Danny’s life a misery tonight. Prick-tease the poor bastard with those flirtatious looks and periodic touches of her hand to his knee. But one thing was obvious. She was hiding her anxiety at this meeting well. Very well. An effective act. That worried him. If he had to make a guess now, before they even talked, he reckoned that she was going to stand in his way.