‘Like I said, I had no idea you were her GP,’ he says, holding his hands in the air. ‘I meant no offence. Oh, and Mrs Allan, your carer said to call her on this number when you got back.’
He passes me a bit of paper then slinks back down the corridor. Julia keeps her gaze on his departing figure then turns to me.
‘What an arsehole,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘He’s clearly suffering from a serious condition.’
‘What’s that?’ I say.
‘Small man syndrome,’ says Julia, giggling.
It’s a funny comment and there was a time when I would have laughed along, but all I can manage now is a forced smile.
‘Listen, I’d better go,’ she says, her smile fading. ‘You should get some rest. I’ll see myself out.’
‘Bye, Julia,’ I say. ‘Thanks again.’
As I watch her walk away I feel an odd sensation, a fleeting one but powerful none the less. She had listened to me; helped me. And she had done so without being condescending. It had felt like I was talking to a friend. Now that she’s gone I feel so utterly alone it hurts.
I shut the door and go back inside. The bed is still unmade but I flop down into its folds regardless. Closing my eyes, I try to make sense of everything that has happened today. But try as I might, the figure in red is as much a mystery as it was earlier. As for my sighting of Elspeth: could Julia be right that my brain is seeing things it wants to see? I don’t know the answer to any of it. All I know is that I need to press on with my search for Sean. When Sonia brings the new phone tomorrow I will call everyone on my list and if that doesn’t bring up anything then I’ll go back to the police. They can’t just give up on him.
I turn over on my side and try to ignore my memories. But as I lie here my mind wanders back to last Christmas. Is this something to do with what happened then?
Sean had been working extra hours all through December. The firm had just secured a big contract and it was all hands on deck. He was crazy busy and would sometimes go days without seeing Elspeth or me. His behaviour started to change too. He became irritable and would lose his temper at the slightest thing. I would wake up in the night and find his side of the bed empty. In the morning he’d tell me that he’d got in late and gone to sleep in the spare room as he didn’t want to wake me. I know I should have taken more notice of these things, should have talked to him, but I was busy with Elspeth. We had a packed timetable of school events: the Nativity play, the carol concert, Christmas parties to attend and Secret Santa gifts to buy. And I guess, if I’m honest with myself, I didn’t want to acknowledge that there might be a problem. But then it all came to a head on Christmas Eve. Sean was meant to have finished work on the 23rd but he got a call late that evening from his boss asking if he could go in the next day. I begged him not to, reminded him that we were supposed to be going to the pantomime in Lewes on Christmas Eve, that Elspeth would be devastated if he didn’t come with us. He assured me that he would only be going into the office for a couple of hours and that he would be home in time for the show. But by 3 p.m. the following day he still hadn’t come home. I called his mobile but it rang out. I sent him text messages but got no reply. In the end I called his office. The receptionist answered and when I asked to speak to Sean she said that he hadn’t been in that day, that his department was closed for Christmas and there was only a skeleton staff working. I didn’t know what to think so I tried to put it out of my mind. I took Elspeth to the pantomime, then came home, put her to bed and started wrapping Christmas presents. Sean got home at midnight. When I confronted him he told me that he’d been working at his boss’s house in Richmond and that the whole team had been there. ‘Phone him if you don’t believe me,’ he’d yelled. I didn’t think his boss would relish a phone call at midnight on Christmas Eve so I did what I always did and left it to fester inside me. The next day, Sean and I watched as Elspeth opened her presents, we ate turkey and Christmas pudding, drank champagne and watched the Queen’s speech. That Christmas holiday Sean never left our sides. We went for long walks on the Downs, had lunch at the village pub, played board games. Sean and I even made love again for the first time in months. He told me he loved me and that he was sorry. So by the time he went back to work a week later, the whole Christmas Eve incident had been forgotten. Or rather, I chose to forget.
Until now.
23
Dear Mummy,
It was a weird day today. When I woke up I forgot where I was and for a moment I thought this had all been some horrible dream. But then I heard Zoe swearing at her phone and I realized I was still here. I lay on the bed thinking about my friends and my old school and that sadness lump in my chest got bigger and bigger until it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I must have made a choking noise because the next thing I knew Zoe had jumped off her bunk and was leaning over me asking me if I was okay. I told her I felt poorly and didn’t think I’d be able to go to school. She looked at me for a minute then did this weird laugh and said that if I wanted to survive here it would be best if I went along with what they want. But she said it in a nice way, like she was letting me in on a secret that was for my benefit. At breakfast she poured me a glass of orange juice and buttered some toast for me. ‘If you’re ill you need to eat,’ she said. She was right, the food did make me feel a little bit better.
At school I kept my head down. Luckily we have maths every day and I just worked my way through the worksheet. The sums are easier than the ones we were doing at my old school but I didn’t say anything. I just kept quiet then went and sat in my usual spot at break and hoped nobody would notice me. But then that boy who had thrown the pebble at me the other day came over and started kicking soil at me. I asked him to stop but he just kept going. I got really upset and ran inside. The teacher found me sitting in the cloakroom. I was crying so much it made my voice all shaky. I told her that I wanted my mum and then she took me to see the school counsellor.
The school counsellor’s name is Geoff. He’s got a beard and he’s quite fat. By the time I got to his office I’d calmed down a bit and didn’t really feel like talking. But Geoff started asking me all these questions about how I was feeling and what was making me so sad. He was trying to get me to talk about you I think. But I didn’t want to think about you or my sadness because then the stone would be back, sitting in the middle of my chest, and it would take me even longer to get rid of it. So I turned the tables and started asking him about himself. I asked him if he’d ever dissected a human brain and he said he hadn’t. And I said that it was foolish of him to think that he could get inside people’s brains if he’d never held one in his hands. He didn’t know what to make of that so he just asked me a couple more questions, scribbled my answers in his notebook and then I left.
I’ve been reading the sections on the human brain in my science book. I’ve figured that if I learn everything there is to know about the brain then maybe I can figure out what was going on in yours when you sent me away. And if I can figure that out then maybe I can convince you to come back for me.
Anyway, at home time I was coming out of the main doors when pebble boy – Alex is his name – grabbed my bag from off my shoulder and went running off with it. He threw it to his friend and shouted, ‘Catch the skank’s bag.’ They headed for the gate and I ran after them. I knew that Weasel Face would be furious if I lost my bag. When I caught up with them I asked them to give me it back. Alex laughed and said I had a funny voice. Then he threw it to his friend and said, ‘Watch out for the fleas.’ The friend flung it back at him and I jumped to try and catch it but I lost my footing and fell over. They burst out laughing and started chanting ‘skank, skank’ over and over again. Then I heard someone say my name. I looked up and saw Zoe. She was heading towards us, her face all angry. At first I thought she was angry with me but then she grabbed Alex by his neck and told him to give me the bag back. What she actually said was, ‘Give her it back now or I’ll kick your head in, you little fuck.’ (Sorry for swearing.) Zoe was
really scary. Alex dropped the bag immediately. Then he and his friend ran off. I said thank you to Zoe but she just shrugged her shoulders and we walked home in silence.
I wish you had been waiting for me at the gate, Mummy. I wish it with all my heart. I’m beginning to think that you have a really important reason for sending me away.
Anyway, when you are ready, please come and get me.
I love you.
Your lovely daughter xxx
24
Thursday 3 August
Sonia stays close beside me as we make our way along the high street towards Riverdale Surgery. Though I assured her when she arrived at the B & B this morning that yesterday’s trip to Larkfields hadn’t upset me, she could see by my swollen eyes that it had taken its toll.
‘Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?’ she says as we turn down a narrow side street and the sign for the surgery looms into view. ‘It’s just that I think the fact that the doctor is living in your old house could hamper your recovery process, Maggie. She’ll be a constant reminder of everything.’
I pause as we reach the automatic glass doors, standing back to let a woman with a pushchair out.
‘I know what you’re saying, Sonia,’ I say as we go through the doors and head into the large reception area. ‘But I like Julia. She seems to understand what I’m going through. And I need to start getting myself back together. I need to be strong if I’m going to have any chance of finding out what happened.’
Sonia nods her head as we approach the reception desk.
‘One moment,’ mouths the receptionist, holding her hand up. She is busy taking a call.
I smile then turn to Sonia.
‘Did you manage to get the phone?’ I say.
‘Oh, shit, I completely forgot,’ says Sonia, grimacing. ‘I’m so sorry. I was running late this morning, then my flatmate was hogging the bathroom. I tell you what, how about we pick one up on the way home?’
‘That would be great.’
‘Okay, ladies,’ says the receptionist, putting the phone down. ‘Sorry to keep you. How can I help?’
‘I’m here to see Julia, er, Dr Mathers,’ I say.
‘And your name is?’
‘Maggie Allan.’
I watch as she types my name into her computer, shaking her head as the phone starts ringing again.
‘Here you are,’ she says. ‘Ten thirty emergency appointment with Dr Mathers. She booked you in herself. You’re a new patient, is that correct?’
‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘Dr Mathers said that it would be –’
‘No problem,’ interrupts the receptionist as another phone starts to ring. ‘If I could just ask you to fill in these forms while you wait.’
She hands me a black clipboard with a purple and white form attached.
‘Here’s a pen if you need it,’ she says, handing me a black biro. ‘Dr Mather’s waiting area is just over there. If you take a seat she’ll be with you shortly.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, but my words are swallowed up by the telephone ringing again.
Sonia leads me towards the seating area, which is on the left-hand side of the room. We sit down and I look at the people around me. There’s an elderly woman with painfully swollen legs, a young man in his twenties with a bandaged arm, a mum reading a tatty cardboard-backed book to her pink-cheeked toddler who wriggles on her knee like a seal.
‘He’s teething,’ I say to Sonia, who catches me looking at the child.
‘How do you know?’
‘Look,’ I say, and we watch as he grabs the book and begins to gnaw it like a beaver.
‘Elspeth got terrible teething pains,’ I say. ‘I remember I used to hold a pack of frozen peas on her face. It was the only thing that seemed to soothe it.’
My eyes fill with tears but I blink them back. Swallowing hard, I turn my attention to the registration form. I read the first line that asks for my status: Mr/Mrs/Miss/Ms. Taking the pen, I draw a circle round ‘Mrs’ but my hand shakes so badly I drop the pen on the floor.
‘Here, I got it,’ says Sonia, bending down to pick it up.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘It’s like my hands have forgotten how to use a pen.’
‘Listen, how about you tell me the answers and I fill it in?’ says Sonia, taking the clipboard from my lap. ‘Now, let’s see. Date of birth?’
‘10/03/74,’ I reply, glad to at least be able to remember that.
‘Ah, a fellow Pisces,’ says Sonia. ‘I’m the 15th.’
She smiles then carries on with the form.
‘Previous surname?’
‘Carrington.’
‘Home address?’
‘Larkfields, Rodmell, Sussex, R–’
‘I think it means current address,’ says Sonia. ‘Which would be the B & B. Don’t worry. I can fill that bit in. I’ve got the address here on my phone.’
She takes her phone out but before she can get the address up someone calls my name.
I look up and see Julia standing in the doorway of the consulting room opposite us. She’s wearing a pale-blue trouser suit with kitten-heel shoes.
‘Maggie,’ she says, her face beaming as I walk towards her. ‘Do come through.’
I turn to Sonia, who has also stood up.
‘I haven’t finished filling in the form yet,’ I say to Julia.
‘Oh, don’t worry. You can finish it after the consultation.’
‘Do you want me to come in with you, Maggie?’ asks Sonia.
‘No, it’s fine,’ I say. ‘It’s probably best if I do this alone.’
‘Okay,’ says Sonia. ‘But I’m right here if you need me.’
I smile then follow Julia into the consulting room.
‘Do take a seat, Maggie.’
She points to a high-backed wooden chair that is wedged in front of her desk. As I sit down I look around. The room is sparse and white and there are what look like medical diagrams running the length of each wall like the stations of the cross.
‘So how are you feeling this morning?’ she asks brightly as she sits down at the desk.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘I’ve just taken my morning dose of codeine so the muscle pains have subsided … for now. And I had to stop a few times on the walk here to take my inhaler.’
She nods then types something into her computer.
‘How about emotionally,’ she says, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands together. ‘When we spoke yesterday you seemed rather low.’
‘I feel confused,’ I say. ‘My emotions go up and down throughout the day.’
‘Okay,’ says Julia gently. ‘Well, that’s normal.’
‘Is it?’ I say. ‘Because, believe me, nothing about my state of mind feels normal. You know, when you left the B & B I went back into the room feeling determined to get strong, to find Sean, but this morning … it’s just so hard.’
I start to cry then. Great big wet tears. Julia passes me a box of tissues and I pull out a big clump of them.
‘Thank you,’ I say in between sobs.
‘That’s okay,’ she says. ‘Take your time.’
I wipe my eyes and try to compose myself.
‘Are you all right to continue?’ says Julia.
I nod my head.
‘Right,’ she says. ‘Well, your notes were sent over to me first thing this morning and I’ve just about managed to read them. You’ve got your first out-patient appointment at the hospital in two weeks, is that right?’
I nod my head.
‘That’s good,’ she says. ‘Though looking at the results of your recent CT scan, the recovery process is coming along extremely well. Your brain function was normal, though they did detect slight frontal-lobe bruising which will explain the short-term memory loss. Your last X-ray, taken before you were discharged, shows slight scarring on the lungs, though that is more likely to have been caused by the breathing tube. The scarring should heal within a couple of months.’
I instinctively put my hand to my che
st.
‘Are you in pain at the moment?’ asks Julia, looking up from her computer screen.
‘No more than usual,’ I reply. ‘Like I said, my lungs feel sore if I walk long distances or if I get agitated but the inhalers are helping. The muscle pain eases within about ten minutes of taking the codeine.’
‘Okay,’ says Julia. ‘The muscle pain sounds normal for someone who has spent several weeks in the ICU. As for the lungs, we’ll monitor the progress of their recovery closely. You’ll have another X-ray when you go for your out-patient appointment and that will pinpoint any anomalies. Otherwise, it appears that, physically, you’re recovering well.’
I look down at my fingers. The skin is regrowing. It is pink and wrinkled, like a newborn baby. It makes me angry. The fact that my body, its skin and cells, are regenerating while my beautiful daughter is decaying in a grave.
‘It’s your psychological recovery that I’m more concerned about,’ says Julia.
I look up. She is staring at her computer screen, her chin resting on her hand.
‘Maggie,’ she says, turning to me. ‘If it’s all right with you, I’d like to ask you some questions.’
‘What sort of questions?’
‘Don’t look so worried,’ she says, smiling. ‘It’s nothing scary, just part of the check-up.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I reply. ‘Worry seems to be my default setting at the moment.’
Julia nods her head then pulls her computer keypad towards her. I watch as she begins to type.
‘I’ve noticed your hands are very shaky,’ she says, without looking up.
‘Yes,’ I say, placing my hands palms down on the desk. ‘They’ve been like that since I came round.’
‘It’s very common for that to happen after suffering hypoxia,’ says Julia. ‘Though your CT scan shows very little damage to the brain, your nerves will have been affected by the lack of oxygen when you were in the water. But in your case I think the tremors may be exacerbated by your emotions. So if we’re going to treat it I think we come at it from a psychological rather than a physical angle.’
Day of the Accident Page 10