by CS Savage
The nurse waved her hand towards the exit. 'Just take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly.'
Beth paced up and down the reception area, waiting for her name to be called, aware that other patients were staring at her. Her skin crept with uncertainty. Can they read my mind? She was just telling Suze she needed to leave when she was called to the Psychiatric Liaison team room. The young doctor waiting there was dressed in dark jeans and a polo shirt. After boring her with the usual questions, he suggested it would be good if she came into hospital for assessment. No surprise there…the same happened every time. She was ready with her response. 'No way. I'm a psychiatric nurse. The only way I'm going back into hospital is as a member of staff.'
Dr Dutta sighed heavily, flicked through his case notes.
'And I'm not having the home treatment team,' Beth said, 'and that's that. You're not going to section me, are you?' She turned to the doctor. 'Look, if it makes you feel better, I agree to come and see the psychiatrist next week. Everything will be fine 'til then. If they say I need to take medication, I'll start taking it again. I'm not going to harm myself, and I'm certainly not going to harm anybody else, so I really can't see why you would section me.'
'I'll go and organise an appointment,' he said, shoulders stooped, and left the room, came back and told her they would ring her on Monday. Suze sat staring at her hands.
As they drove back to Beth’s, the silence was tight. When she spoke, Suze's voice seemed to burst from her, raised and trembling with exasperation. 'I can't see why you just won't do what they say. It’s obvious what's going on. You've been here before, twice. Each time, you're just as stubborn, won't listen to anyone else, and then, you end up in hospital.'
Beth pressed her back into the passenger seat, her thoughts, already racing, felt like they had been caffeinated. She wouldn't manage without Suze, but she couldn't go into hospital.
'Please, you don't understand…'
'That's what you don't see, I do understand, too well. I know you're scared, but the reality is, you won't accept the help you're being offered. It's not fair on me. I can't cope with you having a drama every day.'
The flush that ran up Beth's face felt like sunburn. She hung her head, couldn't find the words to reply. The stony silence returned. Eventually, Suze turned into Lind Road and pulled up by the kerb. She reached her hand towards Beth, tried to take her arm, but Beth avoided her, opened the door and leapt onto the street, searching through her bag for her keys.
'Thanks for taking me, Suze. And sorry...' She darted up her path, unlocked as quickly as she could and slammed the door behind her. Now, I’m on my own.
16
For me, Sunday is the worst day. When I was small, it was a special day. Ok, so prayers were tedious…and long. In fact, every week, they seemed longer. And I never understood why I had to sit alone in the dark to say them. But at lunchtime, Mother would come for me and talk to me about the importance of repentance. If I had had a good week, she would make me a special lunch and let me sit with her reading while she knitted. I had far more memories of my bad weeks…my knees sore from kneeling on the tiled kitchen floor, my hands chapped from the cold. The dark shame washing over me at failing Mother yet again.
It wasn't until I was sixteen she allowed the routine to slip. But she still insisted I didn't leave the house on a Sunday, Sunday was “our” day. Today, she's not stopped going on at me. I look around the kitchen, it looks bare. I have emptied cupboards, cleared shelves. And I have unpacked boxes of jars and bottles, stacked them all neatly under the kitchen sides. I slide my hand over the kitchen table, fire up the computer and open your profile. I flick through your photos…you really are beautiful. I feel myself go hard as I watch. Mother immediately admonishes me.
'For God’s sake, you filthy child, is that all you can think about? Keep your mind on the job.'
I feel the flush rise up my cheeks, my penis deflates. But I carry on staring at you and know my time will come.
17
Clancy
She threw her faithful backpack on the passenger seat of the Golf, the buckles clattering against the paintwork. The only benefit of driving a shit heap was not having to worry about bumps and scrapes, not that you would have seen any under the dirt. She started the car and revved the engine, before heading off through the high street and towards the Brighton Road. The roads were quiet, Saturday shoppers not yet up and about. The sun, low in the sky, was just starting to break through as she drove past the common, making her squint against its brightness. She could just make out the patches of scrub dotted through the long grass, interspersed with golf greens that looked like they could have been sold in a carpet store. On the top of the hill ahead, she could make out a golfer, dressed in tartan trousers, the sun glinting off his golf buggy.
As she turned into the car park, she saw it was nearly empty, drew up and parked by a track deep in churned mud, hoof-shaped craters a testimony to the many horses that had passed this way. She climbed out of the car, reached for her coat and slipped it on over her fleece. She loved the feel of her outdoor clothing, the knowledge that the weather could throw its worst at her, but she'd still be warm and dry. A shout from across the car park made her look up, and then, she was nearly flattened by a ball of yellow fluff with brown eyes. She pretended she didn't feel her cheeks flush at the sight of Hamish, it was freezing cold, after all. He wore a broad smile.
Without needing to discuss their direction, they walked west out of the car park into the woods on Headley Heath, skirting around the deep puddles. She immediately started to fill him in on her work week, or, more specifically, the challenges that Mr Lowe had thrown at her.
'Not really sure what my next step is going to be…Salim's been round there again, still no sign. I could refer to the AMHP desk, ask them to get a warrant, but not sure it’s worth it, if he's not there.'
Hamish was striding out beside her, arms swinging. He didn't reply immediately, looked pensive. Then, finally, opened his mouth. 'Has he got any family?'
'Not sure…I can check…actually, I think his mother may still be alive…doesn't live locally, though.'
'Good place as any to start? She may at least have some idea where he might have gone to?'
'Yeah…good idea. Any other gems where that came from?'
'Well, while you're at it, may as well get Salim to go and hang out, speak to his neighbours. You never know, he may be coming and going at night.'
Clancy turned and high fived him. At least now she had some way forward.
'How's Jill?' Clancy asked, trying to keep her voice neutral, her tones flat.
'Oh, no change there,' Hamish replied. They were walking up towards Box Hill, through the woods; she had started to get a little breathless with exertion.
'Still on the bottle?' She kicked a pile of decaying leaves as she spoke, watched as they fluttered through the air.
He nodded. The smile had left his face. The effect was dramatic, as if a lightbulb had gone out in his head. Clancy reached out and touched his shoulder; the pair stopped climbing and turned to face each other for a minute. It was Hamish who dropped his eyes first.
'If there's anything I can do,' Clancy said, but Hamish shook his head and called Millie, who came bounding towards him. All three turned and continued up the hillside.
Two hours later they were seated at a round table in The Cock Inn, perusing the menu. The dog was lying at their feet, fatigue making her still for once. The room was full of matched male-female pairs, sitting together, sharing bottles of wine.
'You should leave her, you know that,' Clancy said. She would not admit to herself any ulterior motive she might have. Clancy knew Jill, used to be friends with the pair of them. But over the years, Jill had withdrawn, stopped socialising, become hostile, even.
Hamish stared out of the window, took a few seconds before replying. 'I know…it's hard, though, I feel so sorry for her…She wouldn't manage on her own… She can't even work at the moment.'
/> 'She would be able to, if she gave up the drink.' Clancy stopped talking as she saw an emotion flick across his face, knew she was on the brink of going too far. She knew he felt protective towards Jill, hated others criticising her. Eventually, he broke the silence.
'Hmmm…anyway, how's Ro?'
The subject was changed, for now, at least.
18
Clancy
'Four of these are urgent,' said Dan, grimly. His forehead was furrowed as he flicked through an alarmingly thick sheaf of papers, which must be this week's referrals. He stroked his goatee. Clancy looked at the greasy flakes of dandruff in his hair and shuddered.
Everyone was sitting round the tatty table on threadbare mismatched chairs. Clancy had chosen the last remaining chair, a maroon-backed swivel version, almost throne-like amongst the blue. Someone had put a packet of custard creams in the centre of the table, which already looked half eaten. She noticed Salim dunking one into a mug that advertised his prowess as a grandfather, despite his youthful appearance. The heating was still on and it was like a furnace in the room. No wonder the NHS is running out of money.
Dan started reading the referral letters to the team. Clancy was particularly struck by one of them, Miss Bethany Poole, who worked as a psychiatric nurse. The referring doctor described her as having a history of bipolar disorder. Apparently, she'd been well for years, had stopped her medication recently and been seen in A&E. She'd refused the offer of admission and resisted a referral to the team, but had reluctantly agreed.
'I'll see her...' Clancy said. She opened her diary, ran her finger down the page. God I’m busy. 'I can fit her in tomorrow, in the morning?’
'Thanks.'
Amazing. A nice word from Dan. Things must be looking up.
When the meeting was finally finished, she made her way back to her office. Her stomach sank at the thought of the stack of emails she knew she had to work through. She needed to get her head in the game. But she couldn't prevent her fingers from tapping out a quick message to Hamish. She wanted to know why he hadn't been in the meeting, to check everything was OK. She knew she shouldn't hassle him, she didn't want to scare him off, but still, she pressed send. Now, all she had to do was stop herself from checking for a reply every five minutes.
Before she went home, Clancy had a memory flash – she needed to get hold of Mr Lowe, try to track him down. She typed his ID number into the patient record system, clicked on the demographic page, scrolled down for next of kin. She gave a contented sigh as she saw a name and telephone number – it must be his mum as he had never had a partner, to her knowledge. She picked up the telephone receiver and dialled the number, waited for the ring tone. Redialled, but the same again…no ring tone, and then, “this number has not been recognised.” Shit. Dead end. She'd have to think of something else.
The following morning, she was in her office reading emails when her phone beeped. She grabbed it from her bag and jabbed the screen. At last, a reply from Hamish.
Sorry didn't get in yesterday, Jill had a fall. All ok your end? What's happening with Lowe?
Good question, Clancy thought. She quickly typed out a response.
Nothing. Got number for the mum but number not recognised. Any ideas?
She tapped her pen on the table as she waited for a reply, felt a little ashamed that she hadn't asked if Jill was ok. She didn't really care. The phone bleeping interrupted her thoughts.
Try Steve again. I'll phone you later. Take Care x
Better than no idea at all, but she wasn't that hopeful. She picked up the phone again and tapped in Steve's number. Predictably, she got the answer phone and left a message, asking for him to ring her back. As she put the phone down, it rang immediately, the receptionist calling her to tell her that her patient, Miss Poole, had arrived. She had a quick check through the patient notes before walking to the waiting room to meet her.
Bethany had well-cut, shoulder-length, straight blonde hair, which looked in need of a wash. She was not wearing make-up. She was tall and striking, with green oval eyes set in a symmetrical even-toned face. But her casual sports clothing was creased and stained in places. She was twisting her hair around her finger and staring intensely in front of her, and Clancy thought she was muttering to herself under her breath. As she approached, Bethany jumped up.
'Come through,' Clancy said, and took Beth to her office. As she led her in to the room, she noted – with embarrassment – that like the rest of the hospital, it was unseasonably hot and stuffy, and there was a faint smell of musk and sweat – perhaps a gift from the last patient. She had opened a window, but the smell still lingered. Beth didn't seem to notice, just sat down, wriggled in her chair and glanced at the clock.
'Thanks for coming to see me today, I–'
'I had no choice,’ Beth interrupted. ‘I can assure you, I don't want to be here. But they said in A&E that I had to come, or they would refer me to the home treatment team. I'm fine, though. I'm a psychiatric nurse. I think I'd know if I was relapsing.'
'So…why were the doctors in A&E so worried?'
Clancy saw Beth ease a little, the shifting movement reduced, but her expression was intense, she blinked rapidly.
'It always happens to me…everyone always misunderstands me, no-one ever believes me. I'm not ill. There is somebody following me. I went out the other night, and when I came back, I could hear footsteps behind me. I'm not stupid, I know what I heard. But when I turned, I couldn't see anyone. Since then, I know I've been being watched. I can't explain how I know, I just do. It's creepy. Would you be happy if someone was following you?' Beth spat it all out within the one breath.
Clancy could see the irritation written across her face. She wanted to be careful with her words, didn't want her to think she was the same as all the others. Fortunately, Beth continued.
'People around me have got something to do with it. I know it sounds odd, but I promise you, people are reacting to me differently, they know something. I can't go anywhere without people staring at me, and on public transport, there are announcements coming over the tannoy saying things about me. Even characters on the television are saying things about me.' Beth shifted in her chair, her eyes flickered around the room.
'Your referral letter says you've had some problems with your mental health in the past?'
Beth pulled her lips into a grimace, muttered her words. 'Well, I've been sectioned twice, if that's what you mean. But I'll be quite honest with you, I don't think I've ever really had bipolar. For some reason, other people just seem to like to interfere with my life.'
Clancy gave an understanding nod. 'When did it first start?'
'When I was twenty, at University,' she said. 'I met some guys in a bar one night. One guy bought me a drink, and I could tell he was in love with me, but for some reason, he didn't want to tell me himself. Every time I saw him, I knew nothing had changed, but he still didn't say anything, even though I made sure I saw him all over the place and I sent him letters. I think his secretary must have been intervening.'
'Did people think you were unwell at the time?'
'Yes,' said Beth. 'And for some reason, I ended up in a bloody hospital and on Olanzapine, and since then, whatever I do, everyone says I'm relapsing, even the people I really trust.'
Clancy tapped her pen on the table. 'Have you been under any particular stress recently?'
'I split up from my boyfriend three months ago…'
Clancy could see the pain in her eyes. 'Why did you split?' she asked.
'He finished it. I wasn't expecting it. It was…a shock. I thought things were going ok. We saw each other a lot and seemed to enjoy doing the same things. But he said I was too emotionally distanced…’
Prick.
'Have you ever had any counselling?'
'No, I'm not interested. All it would do is make things worse. You really think that it would help me to get a relationship if everybody thinks I'm crazy? That's one of the reasons I have such a problem meeting peopl
e in the first place, it would just make it worse. And before you ask, I'm not going to take those tablets anymore, either; they do nothing to help, just slow me down. Maybe if I hadn't been taking them, I would still have a boyfriend.'
The silence sat heavily in the room. Clancy was uncertain what to say, trying to form her words. 'All I'm asking now is that you see me again. Can I at least ring you tomorrow, give you an appointment for a couple of days, see how things are going?'
Beth looked at her. At least she didn't say no. Clancy watched as she gathered her things together, leaving hastily and not looking back. A small ball of tissue fell on the carpet behind her. Now this was going to be tricky. Clearly, she was ill. Distressed and deluded. But Clancy really didn't want to have to section her – another hospital admission and the poor girl risked losing her job. Although Clancy was well aware that unless she could get her to take some medication, she would end up in hospital anyway. It was worth one last try to talk her around at home. She would try and pop round there, see if she could get through to her. If she couldn't, fair enough, she'd do a medical recommendation. She gave a deep sigh before pulling her keyboard towards her and writing up the notes.
The next day, Clancy’s head was killing her as she sat in the meeting room sipping her coffee. She gently rubbed her temple, had left her bag in the office, knew she had some paracetamol in there and thought of rushing back to get them. She was aware it would just piss Dan off – even more than usual. The atmosphere in the room was tense. Dan spoke little, his face set grimly, his expression pinched. Hamish was sitting with shoulders slumped, hadn't even met her eyes as she walked in. There were three members of the team off, annual and sick leave coinciding, everyone was feeling stretched as the work was shared out.