Seconds to Snap

by Tina McGuff

  I could hardly believe a mother would do something like that to her own children. It beggared belief.

  Jock’s eyes filled with tears and I could hear the terrible anguish in his voice as he whispered: ‘How could she do this to our children? What am I going to say to them?’

  I felt so bad for him then but I knew one thing for certain: ‘I’ll help you. I’ll be right by your side,’ I told him firmly. ‘This doesn’t change anything between us. I love you and we’ll get through this together. I’m not going anywhere – I promise.’

  We hugged then and, after talking things through, we decided to fetch the boys’ things from the house. It was eerie. Their beds were still made with all their teddies neatly lined up. The drawers were stacked with their clean clothes and yet the rest of the house was full of rubbish Dawn and her boyfriend did not want. The only furniture that remained was a leather sofa and a table; the rest had been cleared out.

  We went back to Jock’s parents’ house, where the boys were with his mum, playing, still blissfully unaware of the dramatic events of the last few hours.

  He called them into the living room and we sat them down together. Jock chose his words carefully: ‘Boys, I’m really sorry to have to tell you this but your mum has gone and I don’t know when she’s going to be back again.’

  Steven, now eight years old, was thunderstruck. He started to cry uncontrollably, the way only a child can cry – big, heaving, snotty, gulping sobs. It broke my heart. Jock locked him into a bear hug and they stayed like that a while, until Steven had breath enough to say: ‘She didn’t say goodbye to us! Why didn’t she say goodbye?’

  We had no answers for him. At three years old, Danny didn’t really understand what was going on but the way everyone was so upset made him cry and Jock grabbed him, too. The three of them stayed like that for a while – Jock’s face obscured, buried into the heads of his now motherless sons.

  I was so very sad for these children. It was a completely different life for them now. They would live with Jock at his parents’ place until he found somewhere of his own.

  That night, after we put the children to bed, Jock sat me down. He looked troubled and I could see there was something on his mind.

  ‘Look, Tina,’ he started. ‘I know what you said before but I want you to think about this seriously now. I would understand if you wanted to stop seeing me. I mean, this situation, it’s … I’m a single dad with two boys to raise on my own. I don’t want—’

  I didn’t let him get any further.

  ‘You’re not a single dad,’ I said vehemently. ‘You have me and we’re doing this together. There’s no question in my mind that the boys are part of my future and I love you way too much to let anything tear us apart. You’re not on your own – we’ll make this work together.’

  So that was that. We were going to make it work, come what may. I couldn’t imagine what had led Dawn to abandon her children in this way – it was so cold and calculating – but I wasn’t about to walk out of their lives, too. It brought fresh tears to my eyes just thinking about it.

  Steven confided in me that night, saying his mother hadn’t even hugged him goodbye that morning. She knew this was the last time she would see her son and yet, she couldn’t even give him a hug. What sort of mother does that? No, these children needed love and stability more than ever before, and Jock needed to be supported in getting through this. I would help them all, I decided. I wouldn’t let them down.

  Chapter 18

  Breakdown

  Kilkenny. Kilkenny. Kilkenny. Kilkenny … Why? Why is this word going round and round in my head?

  I stacked the dirty glasses neatly in the dishwasher under the bar, being careful not to let them clink against one another, but still this name of an Irish beer would not go away. Kilkenny. Kilkenny. Kilkenny … As I bent down under the bar, I whispered the word to myself: ‘Kilkenny.’ If I said it, maybe it would go away – but it didn’t. Real voices now shouted for my attention.

  ‘When you’re ready, Tina?’

  ‘Pint of Guinness please, love!’

  ‘Tina, are you serving or what?’

  I tried to stack faster as I shouted over to the waiting customers: ‘Give us a moment, lads!’

  But now that strange tightening sensation around my head had started up, like someone had wrapped a band around my forehead and was pulling tightly on it. It wasn’t the first time. This bizarre feeling was happening more and more frequently. I looked up and blinked – the lights in the bar were far too bright. They almost blinded me! It was March 1995 now and, for the last few weeks, I had started to feel very odd and anxious all the time, as if my adrenalin was soaring. In that heightened state of fear, I found I could not eat. It wasn’t the anorexia – I was into good habits now and had maintained a normal weight of 9 stone for years. No, this was entirely physical. My stomach was constantly turning over with fear. Don’t be so stupid, Tina, I scolded myself over and over. You’ve got no reason to be anxious!

  But still the feeling wouldn’t leave and, as I started to lose weight, I noticed this tightening around my head, as if my skin was shrinking. Lights became an issue. It was too bright everywhere I went. I had to shield my eyes just to get out of the house in the morning. And random words began to haunt me. Today, the word was ‘Kilkenny’. I knew it was the name of one of our beers but I couldn’t stop it from marching round my head, pulsating in my brain like a metronome. The word filled my mind and stopped me from hearing the interactions in the bar. Nothing I did could get rid of it. I was also very aware that my eyes felt as if they were staring madly, and when I spoke my voice sounded like I had a tin pot on my head. I became scared to speak or look at people in case they noticed it or become scared.

  What’s happening to you, Tina? I asked myself over and over again. Every day, I woke up, hoping these strange feelings would have left overnight, but they just got worse over the next three weeks. My confidence took a rapid dive and it got to the point where I didn’t want to be alone. I never told a soul what was going through my head in case they thought I was going mad and locked me up. But all my fears from the years on the ward came flooding back and I recalled the people I had met there, with all their different illnesses. My mind summoned up Lorraine and the big black shape she had seen in the road, swallowing people up. Was that happening to me now? No! I refused to let the thought get any further – I was so terrified and ashamed at the idea of losing my mind, I just tried to ignore the butterflies that constantly lived in my stomach. Every day, I told myself to carry on and forget it, but I was still living my life at breakneck speed and now I had Jock’s boys to look after, too.

  My sister now Sophie lived on the top floor of a beautiful old building and, on the first Saturday in April, I went to see her. It was a beautiful spring day and, as usual, the sun shone so brightly, I had to wear sunglasses. I climbed the giant stone staircase up to the fifth floor of the building to her flat, where Sophie let me in with a great big hug. We’d grown so close recently and it was always lovely to see her. She sat me down with a cup of tea but, within a few minutes, I was overcome by a powerful, almost magnetic urge to run and jump out of the window. I planted my feet firmly on the floor, trying to root myself to the wooden floorboards to stop the force, but now there was a voice in my head that kept repeating the word: JUMP. I struggled to resist the voice but, with every second that passed, it was becoming louder and more urgent: JUMP. JUMP. JUMP. JUMP.

  My hand gripped the arms of the chair – I was terrified.

  ‘Hey, Tina – are you all right?’ Sophie’s eyes creased with concern. But I couldn’t answer; I was too frightened to allow my concentration to drop in case I ran to the window. I had to fight the force inside me, which was so overwhelming I couldn’t let go of the chair. Why? Why was it doing this to me? I didn’t want to die. Still, the voice inside kept making me turn back to the huge bay windows that looked out over the River Tay. Just run and get it over with. NOW! JUMP!

  A
t that point, I knew I was fighting for my life and, whatever happened, I had to leave the room safely. I stood up and, as I did so, I could feel part of me pulling my body towards the window. It felt like an invisible rope was around my torso, tugging me and pulling my legs. No! No, I don’t want to do it! I yelled inside my head. Then I turned and ran out of the flat and down all the flights of stairs. I was so determined to get down, I fell and stumbled, landing on my bottom and back a few times, but I didn’t care and hardly felt the bumps – I had to get to the bottom before the voice took over.

  Somewhere up above my head, I could hear desperate shouts from my sister: ‘Tina? TINA! WHERE ARE YOU GOING? WHAT’S WRONG?’

  But I couldn’t stop for a second – this was a matter of life and death. Once safely on the street, I jumped straight in my car, tears now coursing down my cheeks, and turned my key in the ignition. There was no time to waste. I knew I was losing my mind and I had to get help fast, before I hurt myself. I drove home and threw some clothes in black bin bags. Brodie’s mother was in the house and he was playing football across the road at his friend’s. I was meant to be looking after him later that day.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I garbled to his mum, Devon, when she came to the door. ‘I can’t take Brodie today, I’ve got to leave. Something’s happened and I need help.’

  ‘What? What are you talking about?’ Devon replied, both cross and surprised.

  ‘I’ve got to go, I’m sorry,’ I repeated.

  ‘Come on, Tina!’ she barked. ‘Pull yourself together. There’s nothing wrong with you. Just give yourself a shake now. Your face is all squint – what a mess!’

  It was too much – she had no idea of the gravity of the situation and I couldn’t cope with her anger. I mumbled ‘sorry’ then dashed to my car, her angry shouts still ringing in my ears: ‘How can you do this to us, Tina? Why are you abandoning Brodie like this?’

  It was horrifying and I couldn’t believe that, after being ‘normal’ for so long, this was happening. I needed help and I could not stay there another minute. It broke my heart. I loved that boy more than life itself but I needed to get myself sorted out.

  I drove straight to Liff Hospital, as I didn’t know whether the units at Ninewells were there any more. I ran straight into the unit, bags in hand, and started shouting: ‘Please help me! Can someone please help?’

  A few nurses came rushing forward – they could see I was in distress.

  ‘Please,’ I started to cry. ‘I’ve been under Dr Ballinger for years but I think I’m actually going mad. My name is Tina Halford and I need some help.’ I was desperate to tell them who I was and my history before I lost it completely. I had never experienced anything like this before and didn’t know how long I had before my mind went completely. A smell filled my nostrils – it was a dark, foreboding smell, as if something very bad was about to happen. I tried desperately to cling onto the real world, to make sense of the thoughts in my brain and force the words out in the right order. It wouldn’t be long now …

  ‘It’s okay, Tina,’ said a nurse gently as she took my arm. ‘It’s okay, just calm down. Take your time, we’ll get a doctor to come and see you.’

  They led me into a side room with a big table, and the relief at being in a place of safety where I knew I couldn’t hurt myself was overwhelming.

  ‘I need to tell my dad,’ I said to a nurse. ‘I need to let him know where I am.’

  It was a race against time – someone had to know where I was before I lost it completely. My dad was called and, in the next few minutes, I was assessed, given some tablets and taken to bed. As I was led to the bed, the walls of the ward faded in and out, and the people around me became blurry and distant. I sensed a scream bubble up from deep inside and, in that moment, it felt like I was falling, falling backwards into a dark hole, and I was powerless to stop it. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. Down I went, down, down, down …

  Chapter 19

  Hospital Again

  ‘… my mum with these pillows. These pillow here.’

  I fought my way through the fug of sleep to hear a voice from somewhere overhead. The voice belonged to a woman and, slowly, very slowly, I managed to prise my eyes open, despite sticky, uncooperative eyelids.

  Where am I?

  For a moment, I had no recollection of coming to hospital, so I couldn’t work out why I was in bed on a ward.

  A very strange-looking woman was standing over me, staring at a point just above my head. She was a large, middle-aged lady in a nightdress, with short, wiry hair cut erratically, wearing tartan slippers on the wrong feet. She seemed fixated by something behind my head and nodded, as if I had just spoken, confirming her point of view.

  ‘Yes,’ she repeated. ‘It was these pillows.’

  ‘What?’ I asked, still very dazed and groggy.

  ‘These pillow here, yes,’ she said, nodding again, more emphatically this time, her pale grey eyes boring into me. ‘These pillows were used to suffocate my mum; these ones here.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ I said, and nodded back; to which the woman, as if sensing I had finally got the message, shuffled away to another bed, and I breathed out a long sigh. Now I knew – I was back on a psychiatric ward after nearly five years! Immediately, I recalled the terrible events that had led up to this: I remembered the feeling of being dragged towards the windows in my sister’s flat, the certain knowledge that I needed help or I would kill myself. I looked around and sighed again – it was depressing to be back on a ward. I’d forgotten what a strange world this was, how the people and the place moved to its own rhythms and rules. Like Pillow Lady, I felt disconnected from reality, cut off from the rational world, unable to make it fit with my own internal logic. Something had gone very badly wrong and I still had no idea what it was.

  I leaned back gingerly on my arms, pushed myself up to a sitting position and then swung my legs over the side. How long had I been asleep for? I felt very odd and woozy but, at the same time, there was a familiar pressure on my bladder and I knew I couldn’t delay a visit to the loo for much longer. My bones seemed to crunch in revolt as I eased myself down onto my feet; my whole body was stiff as a board. Just then, a nurse came past and her eyes widened with surprise when she saw me.

  ‘Ah, Miss Halford!’ She smiled, looking very pleased to see me. ‘You’re awake! How are you?’

  ‘Okay, I think,’ I replied, rubbing my forehead, to chase away the last remnants of sleep. ‘I’m not really sure. What’s going on? How long have I been here for?’

  ‘You’ve been asleep a very long time, Miss Halford,’ she replied. ‘Two days! Your dad and boyfriend have both been in several times to check on you and they’re coming back later today.’

  Jock! My heart at once soared and crumbled. What would he think of me now? I was terrified he wouldn’t want to be with me any more. And who could blame him? I might never recover my senses – or I could be in and out of hospital for the rest of my life. I still had no idea what was happening to me – all I knew was that I felt emotionally and psychologically drained. I was empty, sad and very, very frightened.

  ‘What’s wrong with me?’ I asked the nurse, suddenly gripped with impatience. ‘Have I gone mad?’

  ‘Noooo!’ The nurse smiled indulgently. ‘Don’t be daft! You just need to rest and now that you’re awake, the doctor will come and see you. Don’t worry, Tina – everything’s going to be okay.’

  I smiled and asked if I could have a cigarette – she gave me one of her own and took me to the smoking room. She held a lighter at one end, while I greedily sucked at the other. But it had been two days since I’d last smoked and the powerful nicotine hit made my head spin so much, I thought I was going to pass out.

  ‘Careful now!’ the kind nurse said, laughing, as she grabbed at my arm. ‘We don’t want to lose you!’

  Twenty minutes later, a doctor came round, to tell me that I was to be transferred to Ninewells for my treatment, since it was an environment I was used to.
Then I was taken by ambulance to the old psychiatric ward where I had spent most of my teenage years, the place I used to call my second home. Only this time, I didn’t want to go; of course I didn’t – it felt like I was taking a massive step backwards. But at the same time, I couldn’t prevent the horrible thoughts from crowding my mind any longer. It was too much – terrifying scenarios played out in my head almost constantly now and I was gripped by an intense fear I couldn’t shift. It was like living in a waking nightmare. If I had to get help, if I had to be incarcerated, this was probably the best place for me.

  The unit was unchanged – almost exactly as it had been years before – yet I was different. I didn’t feel like I fitted in here now; I was an outsider. Just like many of the people I’d met years before, my mind was suddenly being ripped apart and I didn’t know what the hell was going on. I was lost, confused and scared. I didn’t even recognise any of the patients or nurses – I felt so out of place but, also, out of time. It was like being taken back to your old primary school as an adult and asked to fit in. Uncomfortable and unsettled, I waited to see somebody I recognised.

  Eventually, my spirits rose when Dr Ballinger came to see me. She was just like before – small, kind, ruddy-cheeked and full of life. I was worried she would be disappointed with me but she didn’t betray any emotions like that. If anything, she appeared very happy to see me. We chatted for a while about my symptoms and everything that had been happening in my life.

  ‘What’s wrong with me?’ I asked her after a while. ‘Is it to do with the contraceptive injection, a chemical imbalance?’

  I was determined to find a physical cause of my mental breakdown, frightened to admit that my mind had snapped of its own accord.

  ‘No, it’s nothing to do with that,’ Dr Ballinger said. ‘You are suffering from psychosis brought on by anxiety. It appears you’ve gone through a hell of a lot recently – what with losing the baby and your partner’s wife leaving the country. This stress and uncertainty has created a heightened state of agitation. What you describe as light sensitivity is due to the fact that you have dilated pupils. This is because your body is flooded with adrenalin since you are constantly in “fight or flight” mode. That’s why you’ve been unable to eat or relax. Your body hasn’t rested in a long time and now you need to take some time here to relax so we can treat you for this. Okay, Tina?’