by Liz Lawler
From the bathroom she collected what she could see. Once the few bottles and tubes had been removed, the bathroom looked bare. On a pine shelf she spied a small makeup bag and added it to her bundle.
She ensured bottle tops were on tight and placed everything neatly inside the case before zipping it closed.
She placed it in the small hallway and saw Eric standing at an open doorway, peering into a room. She joined him and her eyes instantly went to a wall covered in Post-it notes. Dozens of yellow and green squares of paper made a frame for a map stuck with numerous pins. Newspaper cuttings with bold headlines jumped out at her:
MISSING. STUDENT NURSE. HOSPITAL PATIENT. FEAR GROWING.
She felt her throat tighten. ‘I feel we have let her down.’
Eric heaved a sigh beside her. ‘I’m sure you did everything you could to find her.’
‘I’m talking about Emily, Eric. Look at this room. She did this because we failed her.’
‘She never told me about this room,’ he said quietly.
Geraldine moved in to get a closer look at the Post-it notes. ‘Every one of these has details on. Names. Numbers. She was running her own investigation by the looks of things. I could really cry for her, you know. We did everything we could. And still we didn’t find her.’
‘I don’t think she ever blamed you,’ Eric said.
Geraldine rubbed her face. She felt tired. ‘Well, she should have. At the three-month and six-month reviews, when we were no further on and were just managing expectations, she should have raised merry hell and brought the roof down on our useless heads.’ She looked at him bitterly. ‘The yearly review was last month and I sent her a bunch of flowers to mark the anniversary. Tell me what sodding use that did. Apart from assuage my guilt.’
Eric didn’t say anything. No doubt, he knew her frustration mirrored his own.
She turned away from the wall and gazed at the bin bags and boxes covering the single bed. Geraldine realised that this was where Emily had said she’d found her sister’s photograph and the letter, and that all of the stuff on the bed must be Zoe’s. ‘Do you mind hanging on for another few minutes?’ she asked.
‘Sure. I’m in no rush.’
Geraldine pulled one of the bin bags off the bed and plonked it on the floor. She upended it, easing the bag off slowly to keep the contents piled. She got down on her knees and examined the folded clothing, before carefully pulling the bag back over it all. Eric watched her do this to a second bag before he spoke.
‘I thought you needed a search warrant to do something like this?’
‘Why would I?’ she asked, suspecting he thought this an invasion of Emily’s privacy, knowing in some way that he was right. ‘She gave you permission to be in her home and look for clothes. I’m looking for clothes.’
‘You empty them and I’ll re-bag,’ he offered.
It was in the seventh bag, in a separate plastic carrier, that Geraldine found the leather jacket. A light flowery perfume scented the room as she unfolded it. She held it up for inspection. It was the same colour and nearly the same style as the one the woman Emily chased was wearing. But it was not missing and it had not been taken by Zoe, as Emily would have them believe. She folded it back into the carrier, pressing air out of the bag. ‘I knew it had to be here. She said it was missing. You know she chased a woman wearing a similar one, believing it was Zoe?’
He looked surprised and Geraldine saw that this was news to him.
‘She said something about chasing Zoe, but I don’t know the full story.’
‘Is her mind that sick, Eric, that she goes chasing after strangers in similar clothing?’
She got up off her knees and stared at him. ‘I think Doreen Jacobs has a lot to answer for. Did you know about the type of upbringing Emily had?’
He stayed silent and she shoved past him, irritably. ‘Surely you can confirm what the bloody woman already told me herself?’
‘Yes, I knew,’ he said. ‘Her upbringing isn’t so unusual, though. In large families particularly, the older children help bring up the younger ones.’ He paused as if marshalling his thoughts. ‘In Emily’s case I believe she was an unloved child and that would have left her feeling disconnected. When her sister was born she internalised this emotion. She would have loved Zoe almost obsessively.’
‘Blimey, that almost sounds like a bad thing.’
He nodded. ‘It can be. She had disconnected from her parents and discounted them as being capable and, in all bar name, had taken on the role of a mother. She would have been under enormous pressure, especially when Zoe wasn’t in her care. Leaving lists was a way of maintaining control. Emily told me she used to sniff her sister when she got in from school to check if her mother had been smoking over her.’
‘Christ, that is extreme.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘I don’t know how you do it. Listening to all that stuff would depress the hell out of me.’
They walked back out of the room, away from Emily’s wall, both silent and contemplative.
Maybe Emily really was in the best place to get better, thought Geraldine. She felt uncomfortable with Eric’s theory that Emily would have loved Zoe almost obsessively. She loved her sister. Geraldine was sure of that. Yet . . . as a police officer she had come across men who had stabbed the women they loved because they left them. Women who stabbed the men they loved because they cheated on them, and one thing she learned from all of them was that love was no barrier to being killed. Not when it became obsessive. The thought now clung to her mind like an unwanted visitor. Obsessive love can turn to hate.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Emily was beginning to wonder how many corridors were in this place, and how many doors you had to go through to get to the exit. Ben, the psychiatric nurse, kept her company. His and Dr Green’s were the only names she’d kept hold of. Ben’s, mainly because he was the only psychiatric nurse who’d dealt with her so far; she’d seen a handful of others, flitting in and out, but usually just to take a patient away with them. And Dr Green’s because he was the psychiatrist she was about to meet. They made small talk along the way. So far they had discussed the weather, the hot summer and global warming.
He stopped outside a room and knocked on the door. There was no sign indicating the purpose or occupant of the room. It was a door she feared opening. Behind it lay the unknown. She felt powerless, defenceless as her mind jumped to endless possibilities that could befall her this day . . . She calmed her giddy thoughts as a voice beckoned. Ben nodded at her to open the door.
The room was an unexpected delight. The walls were a pale gold, the floor was dark oak. Plantation-style pale cream shutters framed the window. Racing-green velvet armchairs begged to be sat on.
The man who invited her in smiled. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Jacobs.’
He was standing by a fish tank built into the wall. Its size was extraordinary. It was like an aquarium at a zoo, bringing ocean life straight to you. ‘Come and take a look.’
She moved closer and stared at the rainbow of colours gliding in water. The coral bed swayed in slow motion. Her eyes fixed on the seahorses with delight. She laughed.
‘They’re beautiful, aren’t they? They change colour very quickly. They’re masters of disguise. Truly unique. They are among the only species on earth where the male gives birth. They take fathering to a whole new level and they stay with Mum for ever.’
She gazed at the seahorses, transfixed. She didn’t want to look away from their beautiful world. She felt her eyes fill.
‘They make me cry, too,’ he said, and handed her a white linen handkerchief.
She smiled at him, dabbed her eyes and handed it back. ‘Thank you for telling me about them.’
‘Come and sit down,’ he said.
Dr Green waited until she had sat down. He wore an aura of calmness. His suit was well fitting, the colour matching the silver of his hair. The plain dark grey of his tie neatly knotted at the collar of his pristine white shirt. His black shoes
were shiny and new. Emily had imagined him to be dressed in a brown suit and brogues, not this picture of elegance. She tugged at her less than clean summer top. She’d worn it last night and was now wearing it again. Eric would be bringing some clean clothes soon. She’d been surprised when the ward manager told her that he was happy to get her some things, and she hadn’t refused the offer.
‘So what would you prefer to be called? Miss Jacobs or Emily?’
Her mouth was already dry. ‘Emily’s fine.’
‘Well, Emily it will be then.’
The table between them held a jug of water and two tumblers. He poured water in both glasses and set one close to her.
‘Talking is thirsty work.’
She smiled again. She was liking this man. She just prayed that he liked her too.
‘So Emily, I’m going to tell you a little about why you’re here and why we want you here. You can stop me any time you like. And please, try not to be alarmed.’
She took a shaky breath and nodded like a fool. It was happening right now. He was going to mention a word she was terrified of hearing and there was nothing she could do to stop him saying it. She swallowed hard and dug her nails into the palms of her hands.
‘Eric has become a little concerned about you. He tells me that you have been doing very well up until recently. He’s apprised me of the last twelve months and it does indeed seem as if you have made great progress. Something, though, in the last few weeks appears to have knocked you out of kilter and it is this that concerns us. Your physical examination shows that you are fit and well and your scan shows a remarkably normal brain. So that’s all good news. It’s what’s going on inside that brain that we have to get to the bottom of and see if it’s a little unwell or maybe, Emily, very unwell. All good so far?’
‘Yes,’ she managed to say. ‘All good.’
‘So here’s the thing, Emily. You can help us to help you by staying here so that we can find out what’s put you out of sync. Today is about helping us find out what may be causing you a problem. I want to discover what challenges your well-being and see if there is a way to support you better and make life easier for you.’
Emily nodded, though no words had yet formed in her head. She was scared about saying the wrong thing. Her shaky breath sounded loud to her own ears. She was finding it hard to hide how nervous she was. ‘Yes, I think I do know why I’ve become a little unwell, to put it that way, if you like. The last year has been painful for me, to say the least. When my sister went missing it was as if my whole life had been turned upside down. So far, my sister has yet to be found and this uncertainty, this lack of knowing what has happened to her, has felt like a black hole that I’ve fallen through and can’t get out of. There had been no light at the end of the tunnel to guide me until recently, when I went back to work. Working has been my salvation; helping others and focusing on their needs has given me back a life. In view of everything I’ve gone through, I feel I’ve coped well.’
Dr Green nodded encouragingly. ‘Eric would agree with you,’ he said. ‘He believes that going back to work was the right step forward. I’m a little concerned, though, that one step forward has now taken you two back, as it appears that things then started to go wrong and you stopped coping as well as you had been.’
She sat forward, her expression earnest. ‘Look, I know that everything I said I saw, and tried to prove was real, was just a way of coping. I completely accept that I had a post-op nightmare, probably caused by the anaesthetic, and in my need to take me out of my own painful reality I stepped into a world where I was no longer just looking for Zoe, I was looking for someone else too. Recently I had to pass the second birthday of Zoe’s without her there, and Eric said particular dates are harder to cope with. Accepting that she may never come back is something that I am struggling to come to terms with. I can’t believe that I may never see her again . . . ’
The psychiatrist sat silent and Emily didn’t know that there were tears on her face until he reached forward and handed her his handkerchief a second time. For a moment she looked at it and wondered what to do with it.
‘You must have a big supply of these handkerchiefs,’ she said with a watery smile, ‘if you have to hand them out to all your patients.’
‘I do,’ he said. His eyes were amber, like a silverback, she thought. Restful and watchful and unobtrusive. ‘It’s hard to imagine never seeing someone you love again.’
‘I’ve imagined finding her for so long that to even consider it not happening is a betrayal. As if I’ve given up on her. Looking for her is all that has kept me going. To be honest with you, last night felt like it was the final straw. I felt like I wanted to die.’
Concern showed in his eyes when she raised her head, and she immediately wished she could retract this last statement. ‘I don’t feel that way now. It was only a passing thought. I’m being truthful with you. I’ve told you I fully accept that my behaviour has been at odds with what is seen as normal, but I’m completely well now. I’m not seeing imaginary people or hearing voices that are not there. I imagined these things only as a coping strategy, and the fact that I know this surely tells you that I am in control of my mind now?’
‘Eric tells me that last night you believed you had found this missing patient. Had you seen her?’
Emily looked away, not knowing how to answer. To admit she had seen the patient could go against her. To deny seeing her would mean that she would have to come up with a different reason for why she was at the hospital, at that time of night, in the first place.
She shook her head. ‘No, I hadn’t seen her. I made that up because I was there for another reason. I wanted to check the hospital CCTV recordings and discover who had stolen something from me. When I was a patient here I had a piece of jewellery taken from me and I wanted to see who had taken it.’
‘So it wasn’t a missing patient you were looking for?’ he asked, sounding interested.
‘Yes. I mean no,’ she said, desperately trying to hang on to her train of thought. ‘I was looking for another patient, the one who took it. I’d found it, but I still wanted to find out who took it in the first place. You see, I mean . . . ’ Emily could no longer think straight. She had a hard job even remembering what she’d just said. ‘She was wearing it. I could see the glint of it on her tiny wrist.’
‘Take your time, Emily,’ he suggested calmly. ‘Who did you see?’
She stared at him, desperate. His voice was hypnotic, his manner calm, eyes kind. She needed to tell him the truth.
‘Her!’ she cried at last. ‘It was her! I found her and now she’s dead.’
Dr Green leaned forward, his eyes not leaving hers.
‘Are you talking about Zoe, Emily?’ he asked gently.
‘Zoe?’ she cried in disbelief. ‘I’m talking about the patient who’s gone missing. The one they’re all denying. They’re covering it up, which is the only reason I’m in here. They have to shut me up!’
The silence was deafening following her outburst. The air stilled. Emily sat perfectly still, desperate to be out of the silence and hear something that would put her back together. Her heart rate slowed when she heard the sounds of the aquarium reach her ears; the soothing hum of the water pump, aerating the water to keep the beautiful creatures inside the tank alive. Her eyes sought out the bright colours of the seahorses and she envied them their perfect world.
‘Am I here voluntarily?’ she asked, hoping it was the case, so she could walk out of here.
He tilted his head, his eyes meeting hers. ‘Being here must come as a shock to you. For the moment, Emily, we’d like to keep you here. Dr Hudson and I discussed your care late last night. He’s concerned that your health and safety could be at risk. Therefore an application has been made to detain you for seventy-two hours. During this time we’d like to monitor you, give you time to talk through any worries and basically let you rest while we carry out further assessments. You have the right to refuse treatment, and
I’m glad that so far you haven’t, but you don’t have the right to leave here just yet.’
Emily only remained seated in the chair through sheer willpower. She wanted to hurl herself from it and demand he let her go right this instant.
She sat, pale and shaken, as she stared back at him. The word SECTIONED screamed in her head. A strike three! Eric had put her here. She reached for the glass of water and gulped, feeling its wetness dribble down her chin and soak through the thin material covering her chest.
‘It’s always a shock to hear this,’ he said, reading her mind. ‘It can make you feel very scared, but you have nothing to fear.’
‘There really isn’t anything wrong with me,’ she said as calmly as she could.
He smiled encouragingly. ‘Perhaps tomorrow, when you’re rested, we can talk some more then.’
She let herself out of his office, on legs that would barely hold her, and saw Ben waiting for her. On the journey back to her room there was no small talk, no exchange of pleasantries. She moved one foot in front of the other all the way back to her room. He departed silently and after she closed the door she made the last few steps to her bed. She picked up a pillow, pressed it hard against her face and stuffed it into her mouth to muffle her screams.
Her life, her freedom, had just been taken away. Everything that she had experienced in the last year had led to this day. The voice in her head taunted her loud and clear. Tell them what you did, Emily. Tell them and this can all stop.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Meredith was pleased she was on duty this morning. Realising her night out with Emily would no longer be happening she’d offered to work, and was now able to keep an eye on Mr Jeffries. She pressed the dressing back in place, satisfied the wound in the man’s throat was closing naturally and wouldn’t need to be sutured. She’d removed the tracheotomy tube from his throat an hour ago and he was maintaining good oxygen saturation levels. The swelling had completely subsided and the rash had diminished to a scattering of pale pink spots. But he still looked shattered, which was to be expected considering what he’d gone through. He was recovering from major surgery and yesterday’s emergency had set him back.