by Mary Wood
Twenty-six
Patsy – A Tangled Mind
Standing opposite the shop with its subtle night-lighting in the windows giving it a fairy-tale appearance, a moment of reality hit Patsy. God! Am I mad? What am I doing?
Her body began to shake. She tightened her grip on the cold metal of the can of lighter fuel, but didn’t take it out of her pocket. If she did, that would be like she was really going to do it and she couldn’t! Thoughts of Sarah and Richard, and yes, Ian, came to her. They’d be worried sick, and devastated if she carried out her plan. What if Harri was in the flat and she got hurt? But she couldn’t be in there, could she? Ian hadn’t said she would stay in Greg’s flat. Run away with him tomorrow, yes, but if she knew Harri, Little Miss Prim and Proper who never let a man touch her, then tonight she’d be safe in a hotel somewhere and not even thinking of having sex until after the wedding.
A soft breeze flickered the net curtains of the flat above the shop. A shadow of a man silhouetted on them, elongated by the light behind him. It was him! Greg, that vile man who’d taken her sister away from her. Hate welled up and defeated the weakness she’d almost given into as a strength came back into her. ‘You have to do this or you will never have Harri with you again!’
Shut up! Shut up! Letting go of the can, her hands went to her ears in a desperate attempt to shut out the voice, but it persisted, telling her she needed to rid the world of the evil that was Greg King.
Feeling exhausted, she looked along the road. The bright light of the cafe she’d passed beckoned her. Maybe a hot drink would help. Her body was shivering uncontrollably. A tear ran down her cheek.
Once in the cafe, the cold of her still shivered her body and yet she was wet with sweat. Her chest hurt. Taking the bottle of respiratory drugs, she swallowed one, then thought about what she was doing. That had been her fourth or fifth dose. No wonder she was hallucinating! It must be that. She’d never heard voices before. But then, were they voices, or was it really just her talking to herself, urging herself to do something she really didn’t want to do? She wished she could see Greg’s flat from here. If those people would move from that table, she might be able to.
‘Oh, Greg, where is she? I’m so worried about her. She’s ill. Pneumonia doesn’t just leave you; there’s a recovery period where you are still in danger of a relapse.’
‘Your parents seemed more worried about what she might do than about her health, darling. Why was that? Is there something wrong with her? I mean, mentally? Is she capable of doing us harm?’
‘No, she would never hurt me. I think like Ian: she is very cross at our plans and has decided to come to try to persuade us against running off to get married. Hopefully Ian will be here soon. He must be worried sick, but we have no news for him so can’t ease his mind.’
‘Yes, that’s the most likely reason she is coming, and that makes me feel very guilty.’
‘Don’t, darling. Patsy knows how ill she is. She is almost a doctor, for heaven’s sake! And she has no right to dictate to me what I do and what I don’t do. She is obsessive sometimes, and very like . . .’
‘What, or should I say, who?’
‘Our dad. Well, what I’ve heard of him. Oh, Greg, you don’t know anything about me, and yet we are marrying tomorrow! Doesn’t that worry you?’
‘Well, ditto, but it isn’t stopping you!’ He rose and came over to her, holding her to him. ‘I know it is madness, but I love you. I would wait to marry you as long as you would stay with me, but I do want to marry you, and if that has to be at Gretna, then so be it.’
‘I just couldn’t settle unless we were married. And as I can’t leave you, Gretna is the only answer. Our families have taken it well. It’s just Patsy. Oh, I wish she’d just ring the bell!’
As if on cue, the bell did ring. Greg went to the window and looked out. ‘It’s Ian.’
Patsy had moved her seat. Now she could see the flat.
‘Are you buying anything else, love, or are you just in here for a warm, ’cos we’re not a charity, you know.’
‘What? Oh, yes. I’ll have another tea.’ She had just about enough to pay for it. The man had taken her attention away, but when she looked back nothing seemed to have changed. Certain Harri wasn’t there, she re-thought her original plan. If she went around the back of the shop she would find a door. There was always a back entrance to these shops. She could do what Lizzie had told her Rita had done and soak something – her cardigan, maybe – in the lighter fuel and then light it . . . No! My God! She couldn’t do that! She wasn’t an arsonist. She . . . what was she? How could she hate someone so much, even though he’d saved her life and had risked his to do so? What’s wrong with me? I need help. But who can help me?
‘’Ere, love, I don’t know what’s the matter with you and I’m sorry for your troubles, but my cafe ain’t no place for sitting crying in. You’re upsetting my customers.’
‘But . . . Oh, I . . .’ She hadn’t realized she was crying, but now she felt the wetness of her face and the desolation inside her. Getting up, she went to leave.
‘Not without paying, you don’t, miss. That’s half a crown, ta very much.’
Giving the man the coin, she pushed by him. The night air had cooled and she shivered as she stepped outside. Pulling her short jacket around her, she walked back towards the shop on legs that would hardly hold her upright as they trembled under her. Sitting back down on the wall further chilled her as the coldness of the rounded concrete capping penetrated through her skirt. She felt so ill. Every breath was painful. Things around her took on shapes she couldn’t make out. They blurred and stretched, faded, then became clear again. God! She was going to pass out!
A strong pair of arms held her. The familiar smell of a freshly washed shirt assailed her nostrils. She sank into it. She imagined it was Ian – strong, solid, Ian, who loved her . . . Whoever it was carried her up some steps and into a brightly lit room.
‘Oh, Patsy. Patsy . . .’
‘Harri?’
‘Yes, love. You’re alright, love. We’ve rung for an ambulance. Eeh, lass, what were you doing leaving the hospital? I’d have come and seen you in a couple of days.’
‘I – I didn’t want you . . . to leave me. You . . . left me for . . . for someone you hardly know.’
‘I haven’t left you, you daft ha’p’orth! We’ll see each other a lot. You could transfer to the same London hospital that I am hoping to. You could live nearby. There’s all sorts as could happen. It’ll sort out. Oh, Patsy. Look, love, you’re not well. Let’s get you to hospital.’
‘You won’t go tomorrow, will you?’
‘Yes. I can’t not go. Me and Greg love one another. I can’t explain it; it just happened. I can’t leave him and only see him every few weeks. I want to stay with him and for that we have to be married.’
‘No. No! You’re mine . . .’
‘Patsy, don’t. Harri has a life of her own and you have to let her live it. I’m here for you.’
‘I don’t want you, Ian. I want Harri!’
Greg stepped forward. ‘Well, I think you’re being very childish. For goodness’ sake! I know it is sudden and you are looking at your sister moving away, but that is a natural process, and it’s ridiculous for someone training to be a doctor to act in this manner!’
‘Greg!’
‘I hate you!’
‘Patsy!’
‘I hate him, Harri. He took you. He—’
‘Patsy, stop this. You’re ill and you’ll make yourself worse. Harri, you and Greg leave me with her. Go on, she doesn’t know what she is saying. This isn’t Patsy. It’s someone who is very sick and delirious.’
Without speaking they left the room. ‘Now, Patsy—’
‘I don’t want you, Ian, I told you. Can’t you get that through your thick skull? You’re everything I don’t like in a man; you’re soft; you’re a “yes” man; you do everything everyone wants you to even if you don’t want to do it. You make me sick!’
‘Well, at this moment, I’m all you have, so shut up and do as you’re told. Because if you insulted me till kingdom come, I’d still love you. There, I’ve said it. I love you, Patsy Crompton, even though sometimes I don’t like you. But all of that is by the by. If you don’t calm down, you won’t be here to hate anybody, because You’ll bloody well die!’
Her sob tore at his heart. Sitting on his haunches next to where she sat on the sofa, he gently laid her down. She didn’t resist. Her body trembled violently. Her breathing laboured and her eyes, her still bloodshot eyes, looked out at him, their expression pitiful. ‘Help me, Ian. Help me . . .’
‘I will, love. Lie still while I fetch a blanket.’
Going through to the kitchen he found Harri encased in Greg’s arms. Her crying – a gentle sobbing. Greg stroked her hair. ‘Come on, love. Everything will be alright. Like Ian says, she’s ill and not in her right mind. She’s probably hallucinating or something.’
‘That’s right, Harri. That’s not the Patsy we know, now, is it? Look, I need a blanket or something. She’s shivering, and it ain’t a natural shiver. It’s taking all her body.’
The Harri he was used to came back in an instant. ‘it’ll be the shock to her system. We need to get her warm. Greg, have you a hot-water bottle?’ To his nod, Harri added, ‘Right, you get it filled up. Ian, you come into our . . . I mean, Greg’s bedroom with me.’
Within a few minutes they had Patsy warm and her shivering had stopped. She had no fight in her now. No insults to shout at him. She lay as if in a coma – still, and with her eyes closed. Her breathing came in short rasps, and her lips had a blueness about them.
‘For God’s sake, where’s that damned ambulance?’ As Ian finished saying this they heard the tinny sound of a siren. ‘Oh, thank God, Harri, they’re here!’
Ian had stayed all night at the hospital, and it felt to him as if he’d lived in such places for the last couple of weeks. He’d rung home and assured them that everything was alright. He and Harri had decided they wouldn’t tell Mam and Dad about the state Patsy was in or the full extent of her reactions, because both had seen something in Patsy that had frightened them, but both were worried they might be reading more into her delirium than was there. And so he’d only let his parents believe that it was as they’d surmised: that she’d made her way to London to try to stop Harri from making a rash decision. He’d explained that she was showing signs of delirium. He felt he had to do that much, but in this his dad had settled him somewhat, saying it was normal in someone with such a high fever and having been through the trauma Patsy had. Not to mention the side effects of the medication she’d taken.
His dad had promised to find out where her mother was now and to talk to her doctor about Patsy. It would be up to him or her if they would allow Patsy to visit, or at least to pave the way for her doing so.
This didn’t sit easily on Ian’s conscience. He’d have felt better telling his dad the whole truth about the extent of Patsy’s actions and asking his advice as to whether they could all be put down to her being unwell, or whether there was a possibility of some other underlying mental health problem. What if I say nothing and then she does harm someone? Harri, or her mother, even?
It all weighed heavy in him. He’d never seen Patsy like this. There had been something in her eyes, as if she was out of control. And with what he’d heard of her real dad and now her mother . . . Is it possible there is something wrong with Patsy? Am I doing her any favours not confiding my fears? These questions stayed with him as he sat at her bedside, and all of them had their root in him finding the lighter fuel. Why would she have that on her? She doesn’t smoke . . . His mind would only give him one reason, and that shuddered a horror through him.
Patsy didn’t stir for a long time, and when she did she had nothing more than fear in her eyes. Her whole demeanour was one of a fragile, hurt and scared child. She gave off an air of panic as she looked around her. This calmed when her eyes settled on him and then she’d closed them again and fallen back off to sleep. It was as if his presence was helping her. And though he ached from sitting on the hard chair and could have done with a cup of tea, he wouldn’t leave her. Not even for a second. What if she woke while he was gone?
It took a lot for him not to read something into how she seemed to want to be assured he was with her, and he told himself that any one of them would have had the same effect. Just to see someone you knew was sitting with you when you were in a frightening place, as she must be, would be a comfort. But a little part of him hoped.
An hour later when she woke, it was as if nothing had happened, and he couldn’t think why he’d had such thoughts about her as she smiled at him and said, ‘Hello, you.’
‘Hello, yourself. How’re you feeling?’
‘Better. Different. I – I did a silly thing, didn’t I? I don’t know why. It all seemed like my world had come to an end. Well, the world where I’d landed when I found Harri and all of you. I – I mean, the kidnap and . . . and the rape, and then the . . . Oh, Ian, I’m sorry. It just . . . I just couldn’t bear to lose Harri on top of all of that.’
‘It’s alright, love. And you’ve not lost Harri. How can that happen? She’s just moved on to another phase of her life. It could’ve been you doing that. But like you say, it happened at a bad time for you. It was just too much for you to cope with.’
‘I didn’t mean any of it. I don’t hate Greg, nor you.’
‘I know that, and so does Greg. You were delirious. Out of yourself. Everything will be alright, I promise. The doctor said you have been through what they call the crisis of the pneumonia. When they took your pulse and everything the last time, they said you would be on the mend from now on and probably able to recuperate at home. I’m just waiting for them to give me the say-so and I’ll have you in me car before you can think about it.’
‘Oh, Ian, that would be good. I can’t wait to get back to normality. How’s Lizzie coping?’
‘Well, she hadn’t had much time to settle when the worry of where you’d popped off to hit us all. I think she’ll be alright. It must all be a bit strange for her. She’ll settle, especially when you come home. You’ll be company for each other.’
‘I’m not stopping at home. Just as soon as I can get back to my studies I’m going to get Dad to fix it so that I can work as a student doctor in the same hospital as Harri.’
His heart sank at this, and it wasn’t just because she would leave him behind, though that would hurt, but because he was afraid of how that would pan out for Harri and Greg. He decided he wouldn’t say anything. Not now. He didn’t want to upset her again. He wanted her well and at home where Mam could take care of her and Dad could work his magic on her and hopefully get her to change her mind.
‘Di-did you find . . . I mean, was . . .’
‘Aye, I’ve got it. What were you thinking to do with it, Patsy?’
‘I don’t know. I was, like you say, out of myself, but then I kept realizing what I was doing. It was very weird and a horrible feeling. One minute I . . . Oh, I can’t believe it all now, but I do know that in my sane moments, I knew it was something I wouldn’t . . . couldn’t do. The real me couldn’t do it, only the demented me. You believe me, don’t you, Ian? You know I wouldn’t harm anybody. Don’t you?’
He didn’t know what to believe any more. He only hoped he’d never see the likes of the evil he’d seen in her again, but felt he could give her the reassurance she needed, with reservations. ‘I do, but I’m worried, love. I think as you need help, just to make sure you’re . . . well, I mean, after all the trauma and that.’
‘I know. I’ll talk to Dad. I’ll tell him everything and he’ll sort it. He’ll get me some counselling, but in a discreet way so that it isn’t in my records, as that could affect my career. They won’t allow someone who is unstable to work as a doctor. And I’m not that. I just had a sort of breakdown due to what had happened, that’s all.’
Ian felt better at thi
s. Of course that was all. It would happen to anyone who’d experienced what she had. He couldn’t give his mind to the horror of it, let alone think about what it would be like to actually go through it. ‘I reckon as that’s it. And your breakdown manifested itself in how possessive you are of Harri.’ She looked cross at this. ‘Now there’s no use denying it. In fact, it would be harmful to your recovery to do so. You know you have become more and more attached to Harri. You seem to look on her as the only person who could make you happy.’
She was quiet for a long moment, then she said, ‘You’re right, of course you are. I know that. I just don’t know why. Anyway, since when did you become the psychiatrist in the family? I thought you were only interested in farming?’
‘I was. Well, that’s not true, not really. I was just lazy and took a while to make me mind up what I really wanted to do.’
‘Wow, this is a new Ian! What are you thinking of doing? Not medicine?’
‘Yes, just that. I haven’t spoken to Dad yet, but I will. I want to be a psychiatrist. I am fascinated with the workings of the mind, how it can play tricks, and how it can jumble up the memory . . . oh, everything really. But I’ll probably be a GP first.’
‘Well, well. Good for you! I’m really glad to hear it. It annoyed me how you wasted your brains and education – things that came easy to you while I had to work after school and miss out on stuff my friends did, and then look for crappy work to do to pay my way through college. Not that it turned out that I had to in the end, as I found all of you, and your dad and mam saw to everything, but . . .’
‘Aye, I know. I must have appeared such a wimp to you. I was, in a way. A lazy bloody wimp!’
She laughed and put out her hand to him. As he took hold of it, she smiled at him through a haze of tears. ‘Help me to get better, Ian. I don’t want to be like . . . Like me dad was.’
‘I will, love. And you won’t be like him. From what I’ve read about what ailed him, there’s only scant evidence that a second generation can develop the disease, and you haven’t shown any sign of a split personality. You’re always the same. You have a jealous streak in you that has at times been obsessive, but that is due to your background, and you’ve had a bad episode due to trauma. But that is all, and both can be sorted with help. So forget all that. Just don’t think of it, then it won’t be another obsession. You will get well, I promise.’