by K. L. Slater
‘I’m sorry, I can’t let you go, Freya. I just can’t until we sort this out . . .’
Suddenly there’s a hefty banging on the other side of the door. I can see uniforms and torches through the stained-glass panels. I fall to my knees and begin to sob.
I have not written here for some time.
I have been unwell myself with nerves and have tried to focus on helping Douglas readjust after his ordeal at the hands of Professor Watson and Dr Rayner.
When my sister died, shortly after the experiment, my son and I moved away. Professor Watson’s study made him very famous worldwide but fortunately, for us, there are a small group of eminent doctors who disagree with his Little Albert experiment and who have challenged his findings.
These people have raised funds and made it possible for me to give up work and care for Douglas.
He has been left in an awful state, afraid of everything . . . every object that is white.
It has been explained to me by our supporters that the professor had a moral obligation to ‘de-condition’ Douglas after the experiment.
He failed to do this and I believe he simply lost interest after writing up his findings, leaving my son emotionally harmed.
There are people who blame me for allowing Douglas to take part in the study in the first place and believe me, had I fully understood the implications, I would never have agreed to it.
But I did not understand.
I was pressured and convinced by Dr Rayner that it would be a harmless exercise with no ill-effects to Douglas. The professor was an eminent man who everyone admired. Who was I, a mere wet nurse, to defy him?
Now, we must try to build a new life. I find it hard to trust strangers but I must, in order to get the help Douglas needs.
I pray to God every single day that my son will one day fully recover and grow to be a kind and loving father himself. Everything Professor John B. Watson is not.
My son and I will be happy now. I can feel it.
EPILOGUE
Six months later
‘I just knew deep inside there was something wrong when you wouldn’t answer your phone,’ Brenna had explained when I called her close to midnight on the day it all happened. ‘When I thought about everything that had been happening there and Audrey rang to express concern over your confusion . . . I knew something wasn’t right.’
Dr Marsden admitted to the police that while I ran downstairs to the garden to ask for help with the flies, he went in and opened the windows to get rid of them. They controlled almost everything I saw in there but in the end, he seemed almost relieved it was over.
‘You can stay here as long as you like,’ Audrey had said quietly as the police officers led her away. ‘We want you to think about staying for good, rent-free, in an apartment of your choice.’
But it was a bit late for her to start to make amends.
Audrey was named in Lily’s will as the new owner of Adder House. Dr Marsden is being charged by the police, but as he was unaware of the extent of Lily’s activities, he’s not expecting to serve a custodial sentence.
But I can’t think about that right now. There’s so much other stuff to get through. The door opens and Skye runs in. I stand up and wrap her in my arms.
Documents, including my great-grandmother’s journal and footage the police found in the apartment next door to ours categorically proved that Sophie was groomed and hounded by Lily to the point that she became mentally ill. They discovered photographs taken of Skye outside her school and accounts of Lily sneaking into the apartment at night to rearrange things in Skye’s room, hide things . . . all designed to make me think I was losing my mind.
It very nearly worked.
Sophie’s sister, Linda, has been back in touch with me, and she is about to begin a challenge to the coroner’s verdict of suicide and manslaughter, finally clearing Sophie’s name.
Brenna walks over and puts her arm on my shoulder.
‘I’m can’t say enough how sorry I am that I doubted you, Freya. You were living a nightmare and I made it worse.’ Brenna has been apologising for six months, but what she says next surprises me. ‘I’m researching now, and when you’re ready, I’ll tell you the full story of how you were related to Beatrice and Dougie.’
I’ve already read and researched everything I can get my hands on regarding the unethical Little Albert experiment.
Watson and Rosalie Rayner were not objective in their evaluation of the experiment. They relied on their own subjective interpretations and opinions. They didn’t de-condition Little Albert’s fear. He may have lived the rest of his life in the grip of the illogical terror they had infected him with.
It makes my blood run cold and after reading Beatrice’s final journal entry, if there is one thing I can do for my great-grandmother, it is to love and defend my daughter always, to the best of my ability.
I give Brenna a little smile and hug Skye tightly to me.
The door opens and Mark walks in. The head wound Lily inflicted has scarred his temple, but if anything, it makes him look even more rugged and slightly dangerous. Apart from that, he’s back to his normal, healthy self.
Skye runs to him and he picks her up and whirls her around as she squeals with delight.
Mark has been an absolute rock to us. I’ve seen him every day and we’re officially ‘together’ now.
He owns a small flat in Fulham that he’s been renting out. Skye and I are planning to move in there when his current tenants leave. For now though, and until things settle down, we’re staying with Brenna and Viv.
‘Let’s go to the park and see the ducks, Mummy,’ Skye says. ‘Me, you, and Mark.’ It sounds like the best offer I’ve had all day.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
K. L. Slater is the million-copy bestselling author of nine standalone psychological crime thrillers. Kim is a full-time writer. She lives with her husband in Nottingham.
