White Walls

by HMC

  Opening one of the smaller files, within the bulky folder marked ‘highly confidential’, was a report by Green. It detailed some of their more dramatic encounters with George Barter, and contained anecdotal records of George’s violent behaviours, such as breaking another patient’s nose with a clock, to threatening to kill a nurse with a butter knife. Thankfully, by the time George was released in 1985, he was no longer showing these violent tendencies. Well done, Green.

  Jade knew there were difficult times ahead and was thankful to start with three cases.

  The automatic hall lights came on after dark and Jade decided to take some work home with her.

  Moreton Warren was the only male nurse to ever work at Rowan’s Home Psychiatric Facility. In fact, he was pretty certain he was the only male nurse to ever inhabit Fairholmes, Australia. It was difficult to be a man in a characteristically ‘woman’s’ role. Country men didn’t tolerate it so well, but he didn’t give two shits about them. He could dish it out quicker than any of the hotheads, so they left him alone most of the time.

  Morty was about to start his regular nine-hour graveyard shift. Anne was on call for emergencies, but he’d never had the need to call her. He slurped from his first cup of coffee and settled back into his chair. It was the same chair that Anne occupied during the daytime. As he grabbed a pen, ready to begin his first crossword, he thought of her. She would’ve been doing exactly the same thing, hours earlier. Morty allowed himself to feel an affinity with the nurse. He imagined himself as a woman with a large behind and began to move with her same mannerisms. He swayed from side to side and laughed at himself. Morty felt safe enough that no one was watching the security cameras, or ever would.

  The young man was just getting comfortable when an entourage slammed through the front doors, disturbing his peace. It’s going to be one of those nights, is it?

  Morty pushed himself out of his chair and tried to look interested. Four people clattered into the waiting room; all were familiar. One was a thirty-something-policeman, who towered over the others, sporting a badge that read: Inspector Clark Grady.

  Another was the beautiful Asian nurse from next door. He’d seen her plenty of times, and every time he did, he couldn’t pry his eyes off her. Next was a decrepit-looking ambulance paramedic that Morty remembered from Maine Hospital. His name was Oskar, or, as he was more affectionately known: ‘the grouch.’

  The last was a dodgy-looking man in a torn green t-shirt being held between the nurse and the ambo. They didn’t have him in cuffs, but were standing so close to the young man he could barely move.

  Oh, this is gonna be a good one. I can tell. Morty stared at them, waiting for somebody to speak up.

  ‘Morty?’ And Oskar the ambulance paramedic wins the bun.

  ‘The very one. How may I be of assistance tonight?’ The inspector looked at Oskar, with an exasperated expression. Oskar returned the look with a shake of his head. It seemed they were acknowledging Morty’s incompetence.

  What do they think? I’m a mind reader?

  The cop leaned over and spoke to him like he was a seven-year-old kid – a seven-year-old who would’ve been just as offended.

  ‘Well, obviously you didn’t know we’d be coming. We were told that you’d be ready for us.’

  ‘Is that right?’ The fact that the hot bird was listening made it worse.

  ‘This is Damon Speirlsman.’ Inspector Grady nodded towards the feral-looking man, who was in terrible need of a shower. ‘He’s being admitted this evening.

  ‘First I’ve heard about it.’

  ‘Jesus God! Now we’ll have to run his sorry arse back to the station and toss him in a cell ’til this gets straightened out. Are you positive he didn’t leave you a note or something?’

  ‘Dr. Green admits new patients, not me. I’m just the nurse on duty.’ He shuffled some of the papers on the desk looking, but not looking too hard, for a note from the doctor. Morty was still stinging from the previous condescension, and couldn’t have cared less about this bozo’s convenience.

  ‘Nope, don’t see anything here, and he always lets me know when someone’s comin’ in, and I wasn’t told about any Damon Spellman. Sorry.’ He slapped on an insincere expression of contrition.

  ‘Speirlsman. I have a court commitment order right here.’ He threw it on the desk.

  Morty didn’t like it. He had to wonder why they were all here together, with no accompanying family members – unless the new patient had no family. There was obviously no special someone who wanted to join him on this involuntary joyride.

  Secondly, why didn’t he have anything with him? Not even a small backpack. These people had no compassion. Maybe he was homeless.

  Last of all, why did they need two people to hold him? Either he couldn’t walk himself or they didn’t want him to escape. Either way, he should still be locked up at the station until morning.

  Before he blurted all this out, Morty decided to keep it to himself. No point in stirring up a hornet’s nest when you were still a little high.

  Oskar piped up, ‘I think I can straighten this out. I picked Damon up at his house on Dr. Green’s orders. We only spoke briefly. Perhaps he forgot to tell you. I’ll help you get him settled in, Moreton.’

  Morty sighed. ‘Just let me check first,’ he said, picking up the phone. There was no answer and so Morty had no choice.

  ‘All right, bring him in.’ He grabbed his keys.

  ‘Good boy,’ said the cop. Morty had to watch he didn’t grind the fillings out of his teeth.

  Damon Speirlsman sat in his room and stared out the window at the cement courtyard and the high walls that surrounded it.

  His clothes were stained with blood and grime. He had sat, wide-awake, in his new room for most of the night. It was now morning and he’d chosen not to shower or put on the clean clothes that Morty had left for him. He smelled terrible and hoped that it gave him a more ‘psychotic’ authenticity.

  Damon wasn’t sure of what he’d gotten himself into, exactly. How easy or difficult it was going to be, he didn’t know.

  A pretty nurse entered his room. She was Rubenesque, and wore her hair in an old-fashioned way. She looked right through him – as if she could read him like an open book. The nurse raised her eyebrows and took him in at a single glance.

  Damon was immediately wary of her. She could have him pinned in a matter of moments if he wasn’t careful. She smiled too widely at him, with sparkling teeth, but the smile was insincere, he knew, and he wondered what he had already done to offend her. Oh that’s right ... I stink.

  ‘Hi Damon, I’m Anne.’ He didn’t smile at her, only looked down to avoid eye contact, executing the classic arm fold.

  ‘Get your clean clothes there; you’re going for a shower.’

  ‘But … ’

  ‘Don’t but me young man. Towel. There. You’re not going to group looking like a Fairholmes hobo. We have standards here at Rowan’s Home. Hurry up please, and follow me.’ She stormed out of the room before he could protest any further.

  Damon hurried behind the nurse through the ward, paying close attention to his surroundings – every turn, every door, and where it led; Anne’s mannerisms and her dangerous type. She was the type that was so good at making you feel like you wanted to tell her everything.

  He had to memorise every piece, and eventually put the puzzle together.

  barter Goes Down

  The Irish nurse, with the football-shaped hairdo, made Sam sit in a circle of chairs with a bunch of misfits. They were waiting to meet their doctor and Sam had been pleased to find out it wasn’t Dr. Green.

  She scanned the others and one caught her eye. Bakery Boy. Sam stared at the young man sitting across from her. The last image she held of him was etched into her brain. He’d been all bloody, sweaty and carrying a great oaf of a man across the street. That was wher
e she’d seen him last – as she had stood out the front of her apartment building. It had been just before coming to Rowan’s Home.

  She had assumed that they’d been in a punch-up and Sam had forgotten about it … until now. She gawked at the purplish bruise developing around his eye and wondered what he was doing here. Was it a coincidence? Perhaps she’d witnessed part of a violent rampage that had landed him in trouble.

  His hair was wet and flat, as if he’d just showered. The look on his face was one that Samantha couldn’t fully grasp. Was he a normal young man with a family, a house, a dog and a cat? One who had just had a really bad day? No, that wasn’t it.

  She imagined him sitting alone on a couch playing video games and smoking bongs. Wrong again. Next she pictured him gambling, poker perhaps. Frustratingly, none of her imaginings seemed to fit him. This was supposed to be her favourite people game, the one she was best at.

  After several guesses, she saw him running. Bingo. The NIKE shoes, the toned calf muscles. He was the sporty type, probably played footy and took it far too seriously.

  She then looked over at George, another face she knew. He would often peer down at her from his window, like a psychotic stalker. He was definitely in the right place. His cold, grey eyes lacked depth. Everyone in Fairholmes knew he was a nut-case artist and that he only ever drew himself. He also stayed in his flat most of the time, so Sam was happy that she’d get to hear more juice about this one first-hand.

  He scowled. ‘What are you lookin’ at?’ George mouthed.

  He couldn’t have been speaking to her, surely he wasn’t that stupid. But he was looking right at her, and George was lucky that Anne was close by. ‘Somethin’ ugly.’

  This time George didn’t keep quiet. ‘You keep away from me. I know all about you!’

  Sam grinned and watched as Anne turned from her conversation with Freddy, and glared at George.

  ‘Now what’s this nonsense? Don’t you be giving me grief, George, I’m not a morning person and you don’t want to find out about that the hard way, trust me.’ Anne pointed a finger.

  George sunk in his chair. That was too easy.

  Sam noticed a small tattoo on the side of his wrinkled neck and was close enough to see four numbers. She stiffened. Her breath caught in her throat and she held it, hoping that no one in the room observed her silent reaction – especially George Barter.

  Dr. Jade Thatcher was feeling nervous about her first group session. When she arrived no one even looked up at her. But before she could announce herself and wish everyone a good morning, Anne caught her eye, and, with a slight gesture of her head, indicated the extra person in the small circle of chairs. Jade evaluated the young man. No one had mentioned him. George, Sam and Freddy she was prepared for – not this newcomer.

  Anne had begun lifting herself up out of the chair when Freddy jumped up and wrapped his arms around her. He grappled with her large waist in a graceless attempt to help her up. ‘Thanks, Kiddo.’

  Anne made her way over to Jade. The nurse moved slowly first thing, and had no qualms about telling anyone who had a problem with it. No one said a word. Everyone loved Anne and knew that she really wasn’t paid enough for the work she got through in a day.

  ‘Morty admitted him last night.’ Morty, the nightshift nurse. Jade hadn’t met him yet. ‘Said a police officer, nurse and an ambo from Maine brought him in. Claimed we had been previously informed with ample notice of his arrival date.’

  ‘And you hadn’t?’

  ‘Not likely. I spoke to someone on the phone who was sharp as a beach-ball. They said we were contacted via post and telephone. Green knows nothing of course. The documents they sent spell out everything we needed to know about the patient.’ Anne drew breath only to re-load. ‘Don’t ask me who took that call or got the letter, because no one remembers it, and it wasn’t me!’

  ‘It’s okay, Anne. I can handle it.’

  ‘Of course you can. If you need anything just call out. I’ll stand by with some tranquilisers.’ Anne smirked.

  ‘You’re really not making me feel better.’

  ‘Righto, I’ve got to get back to work.’ She took off out the double doors and didn’t look back.

  All four patients gazed over at Jade and she realised they had just heard the entire conversation. Anne wasn’t so inconspicuous and Jade would have to remind her about ‘inside voices’ next time. If she were the new guy, she wouldn’t have been too comfortable, but he looked like he couldn’t care less.

  Sam had overheard the nurse mention that Damon had been brought in by a policeman. It had to be linked to the beaten-up old man from the deserted building. Maybe he killed him. If that were the case, Sam was now an unknown witness. She looked forward to finding out about him when the session began.

  Perhaps he was bipolar, or maybe his problem was substance related. No, he looked way too healthy to be a junkie.

  Freddy broke her train of thought and whispered into her ear, ‘That new guy looks like he has something stuck up his butt.’ She laughed out loud and Damon gave her a cold stare.

  Ouch!

  Samantha Phillips watched her new doctor. She was lovely, even with her sleek dark hair pulled tight into a bun. She wore very little makeup and had deep brown eyes that were friendly … perhaps a little sad, though. Sam wondered what her story was. She knew the doctor had only been in Fairholmes a little while, and she used to live in this town a long time ago. Why anyone would actually volunteer to come back was anyone’s guess. Mind your own damn business!

  The doctor took a seat among the four uncertain people. Sam thought she looked just as unsure as the rest of them. Her hands shook, and Sam felt a pang of pity.

  ‘Good morning, everyone.’ Dr. Thatcher expressed her words with an authoritarian tone. Sam was impressed and smiled at her from across the room. The doctor didn’t seem to know how to take it.

  ‘I’d like to start by going around the circle and having each person introduce themself.’ No one spoke. The doctor fidgeted until Freddy stood up.

  ‘Hi everyone, my name is Fredrick, Fred or Freddy and I have been here for three months, 25 days and 13 hours. It’s nice to meet you, everyone. You are nice, Dr. Jade.’ She flashed a grin at him and moved her attention to Damon who was next in the circle. He looked up from his folded arms.

  ‘Ah, yeah, hi. I’m Damon.’ They waited for more but he just sat there, looking like he’d been sucking on lemons.

  Sam was next, before George. ‘I’m Samantha Phillips and I have been here for 36 hours.’ She threw out a random number close enough to the truth – just for Freddy. It was hard for him to contain his excitement.

  ‘Thank you. Is there anything else you’d like to share with us about your coming here, Samantha?’

  The young woman nodded.

  She wanted to please her doctor and it was important to start out on the right foot. ‘Sure. And please, call me Sam.’ George grunted and she was instantly annoyed. She had consciously decided to make an effort for Jade, and this rude old man with the receding hairline was breaking her concentration. The glare she sent his way was ignored. He would die along with Green.

  ‘Right, well. We’re here to listen. Everything you share with us, Samantha, ah ... Sam, will be appreciated and respected. If there is anyone who feels they are unable to listen without judgement, they may leave the room now.’ Jade glared at George and he didn’t look up. ‘Please, continue.’

  ‘I’ve lived in Fairholmes all my life. My father is a psychiatrist. He’s not really my father, though. He adopted me when I was six. But he’s great.’ Sam looked up to find everyone watching her and was, for a moment, overwhelmed. She felt that she might as well go for it. ‘I screwed up. I mean I’ve screwed up a hundred times before this … but this is by far the last thing I wanted to make him do. Have to put me here. No offence to anyone else, but being here, it’s my
rock bottom.’ She paused, for someone to intervene, but no one saved her. ‘I think this is my last chance to prove to him that I’m not a complete train wreck.’ Jade seemed pleased with her.

  ‘Sam, your being here might hurt your father a little now, but it sounds like he wants a new beginning for you. In the long run it’s the best thing. It’s not about your proving yourself to him, either.’

  Sam nodded and Freddy put his arm around her. As uncomfortable as it was, she was surprised it didn’t annoy her too much.

  ‘Oh, god, take me now!’ George threw his head back. For two cents, Sam would’ve had him on the floor in a whimpering heap.

  She’d just opened up, and this wasn’t a normal thing for her to do. It had been for the doctor’s benefit. However, she couldn’t help but notice some relief within herself apart from the resentment towards her newly sworn enemy.

  ‘Is there something you would like to share today, George?’ Jade pounced and her tone brooked no nonsense.

  He shook his head. ‘Then don’t interrupt others,’ she snapped. ‘It’s rude and I won’t tolerate it.’ Jade wasn’t afraid of him now, and Sam was pleased. The doctor did have some balls. Sam would just have to help her pull them out and polish them up every now and then.

  George Barter watched Sam glaring at him and wasn’t intimidated. Harlot! He wondered whether her policeman friend Travis had brought her to the home, too. George had seen her with the young officer many times and was perturbed as to why she hadn’t been taken to the police station instead. She looked to be a normal young woman, but he knew she was a thief and a liar. That made her a criminal – not insane. Floozy.

  George decided he couldn’t care less about his new and obviously incompetent doctor. She had snapped at him earlier and now wanted him to speak.

  ‘Why don’t we finish with you, George?’ She was talking to him again and he wouldn’t have it. They’d all been chattering away for what seemed like forever.