by HMC
Dr. Clancy Green was standing over her, a concerned expression on his wombat face. She hadn’t even heard him come in, but it was a comfort to see a live person – even him.
‘You slept well last night. I’m glad to see the prescription is working.’
When she spoke, her voice was crackly and strange. ‘How is everyone?’
‘Everyone?’ Green looked confused.
Jade rolled over and sat up, leaning against her pillows. ‘Yes. Everyone. Sam, Freddy, the others.’
‘I’m sorry, Jade, but we’re going to have to wait to talk about this. How about after breakfast?’
‘What?’ Jade searched his moon face to see if he was joking. ‘Are they safe – alive? I need to know that everyone made it out of the fire.’
He completely ignored her. ‘What the hell do you mean you’ll tell me after breakfast!’
Green, obviously nervous, fussed over her in a way that was completely unlike him. His awkwardness was unsettling. The certainty and arrogance that he usually came fully equipped with seemed to have fallen by the wayside.
Oh no. He must’ve had terrible news. Then Jade remembered the padlock and chain.
‘Calm down, Jade. Everything is okay.’
‘What does that mean?’ She tried to get up off the bed, but her head swam.
‘Tell me who made it out of the fire. Someone locked us in there. It wasn’t an accident!’
‘Everyone made it out of the fire.’ He held his breath and waited.
Jade couldn’t understand for the life of her, how he couldn’t see why the question had been so important. It was all that she needed to hear – why hold out on her?
‘I need to speak to the police,’ she said.
‘Dr. Jade Thatcher?’
‘Yes?’
‘Please wait here a moment.’
Jade watched as Clancy Green left. Unable to help herself, she smoothed out the creases in the sheet over her legs and assumed that because Green hadn’t mentioned it, she must not have suffered any serious injuries. There was a dull ache on her head and a small bump, nothing more.
When he locked the door behind him, Jade realised that something wasn’t quite right. Dressing and visiting her patients were on the agenda, however, being locked in could be a problem.
She dreaded to think how Sam would be taking all of this. It would be just another confirmation that someone was trying to assassinate her.
When she placed her feet down on the cold floor, they were weak and her muscles were slightly numb. She saw a strong-looking wooden cupboard in the corner. An old piece of furniture, made to last, solid and beautiful. Perhaps there was something she could dress herself in, other than this horrible hospital gown.
One side of the closet was filled with dresses, shirts and pants all hanging neatly on coat hangers. The other side had drawers filled with underwear, bras, hats, bags and shoes. But these were not just normal clothes – they all belonged to Jade. Strange. She wondered why someone would go to all this trouble.
She pulled a small box down from the top of the cupboard and inside she found a photo of her family, her knitting and a few of her favourite books. It didn’t make sense that all of these belongings should be brought here. She would only be staying for a night or two. Why have they put these things here?
Underneath the box was an old, red, beautifully bound book that resembled a diary that Jade used to own. She moved her hands over the soft cover and opened it.
It was her diary.
Flipping back and forth through all of the pages, she found that the book was completely full. She hadn’t seen this diary in over a decade. In fact she was sure it had been stored away in a box at her father’s house in Fairholmes.
Her fingers prickled.
What the fuck is going on?
Jade threw the diary hard, back up on top of the cupboard and dashed to her locked door, shaking and pulling the knob with all the righteous anger she could summon up.
‘Let me out!’ she shrieked. ‘Let me out now!’ Was she behaving inappropriately? She paced the room from corner to corner, like a caged animal, her frustration building, until a familiar face peered around the door.
‘Anne!’ Jade ran over to embrace the nurse. When she pulled away she saw that her lovable friend looked different.
‘Did someone get hurt?’
‘Jade.’ Anne pushed her gently, to sit her down on the bed, and Jade prepared for the worst. Had they lost Freddy? Perhaps he ran back inside to save something and couldn’t get back out in time. Green was too much of a pussy to tell her.
‘What?’
‘You’re not a doctor, Jade.’ Anne sat down casually beside her, as if this was familiar territory and she’d had this conversation hundreds of times before. It took a few seconds for the words to penetrate. ‘I’m sorry, honey bear. But you’re not who you think you are.’
Her body went numb. The room began to spin. It was unfathomable that Anne could say such a thing.
Jade sank into nothingness.
She was probably dreaming again, and there was nothing to do but wait until it was all over. Perhaps she was still unconscious from the fire, maybe in a coma.
Anne spoke with the same tone that Jade had heard her use with patients at the home a thousand times before. But why use that tone with her?
‘You’ve been here at Maine Hospital for longer than I have. It’s my job to bring you back to us, Jade. It’s always my job. No one else here can do it quickly and easily like I can. Come and we’ll have breakfast then we can talk some more. You need to see where you are. I will stay with you through this until you come back. I’m here for you every step of the way, honey.’ Her words filtered through to an unknown place and Anne’s voice became an echo there. Jade’s body was trembling. Anne’s words were practised – she’d said it before. Had she heard this before? Jade looked down at her feet and felt as if she was having an out-of-body experience.
‘Come with me, sweetie.’ Anne had to help Jade to her feet. ‘This is your room and out here is the hall you have walked down many times. You’re right near the staffroom and common area. Does this hallway look familiar?’
Jade shook her head, uncertain whether to speak or stay quiet. Nothing at all was familiar. Not even her own body.
‘This is the common area where you interact and socialise with the other patients. Perhaps talking to one of them might help you to remember.’
Talking to someone? Everything was in fast forward. She wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. Jade peeked up in the hope of seeing someone she knew but the faces were all strange to her, except for one.
‘Carmen!’ Jade ran over to the old woman and knelt in front of her. Carmen had arrived at Rowan’s Home a week or so before the fire, and had been there when it had happened. The woman glanced up to meet Jade’s eyes, but there was no recognition or welcome in them, only a grey, glassy storm.
‘Carmen?’ The old woman’s face was drawn, she drooled a little and Jade’s heart sank. ‘What happened to her?’
‘Well, it’s good to see you remember someone. You like to read to Carmen, Jade. You say she likes to listen to The Chronicles of Narnia.’ Jade now saw that the woman clutched a copy of the book to her chest.
‘What happened to her?’ Jade stood head on with the nurse. This was all so surreal … ‘What happened to her?’
Anne spoke back in a harsh whisper. ‘Calm down. If you disrupt my patients, we’ll be saying good night to you again.’
‘Is that a threat? I know my rights. I know who I am and if you don’t get the hell out of my way ... ’
Jade blacked out, before she could finish.
The soul-sucking lights in Jade’s hospital room were switched off. A hot sharp needle had gone into her arm and she rubbed the tender spot, where the jab had been. A brand-new, flashing, red
digital clock flickered on 12:05 AM. Had that been there before? One full day, and half a night had gone by. Maybe it had been more. She wasn’t too sure. It was such a ghastly thing to live with no windows and artificial lights that acted as night and day. Not being able to see out into the real world made it seem less real. Jade now began to realise how serious her situation was. Was she still dreaming? Yes, that was probably it. She would soon wake up.
Jade did wake up again and was afraid to open her eyes, worried that whatever she saw was going to change everything. It was definitely daytime – she could see the light though her eyelids. Do it. Her voice screamed at her, inside her head.
There were two choices, she was crazy or she wasn’t.
She opened her eyes and her stomach roiled. This time she was less groggy and very well rested. Her head was clearer and it was time to seriously look at her state of affairs. One) She was now a patient and no longer a doctor. Two) This may or may not be the truth, but the moment she had stepped out of line yesterday (or the day before), she’d been put straight back here. She assumed she was going to have to do that a couple more times at least, before she was going to get some real answers. Three) This wasn’t going to be easy. Four) She’d always been smart and although this was the worst set of circumstances she’d ever found herself in (at least that she could remember) there was always a way out. Five) Sam’s voice whispered to her: Don’t let anyone tell you who you are.
Anne arrived and Jade chose not to speak, for safety’s sake. She dressed herself and was taken to breakfast and still she was silent. Unfamiliar faces stared at her, expressions anxious.
She and Anne went for a walk after breakfast. Rooms, hallways, more rooms. She tried to allow her mind to be open, to take in what Anne and Green had told her. She had to look at all scenarios, but that was hard to do when nothing made sense.
So she watched – quietly, patiently – and took in as much as she could. Small things, things that she remembered, were strangely linked to Maine. Carmen, George’s book, Anne and Green. Small things, like the numbered doors: 1850, 1851. Anne tried to explain things but Jade couldn’t really hear her.
1842.
She sat in silence next to the nurse, in a poky, unknown room with no windows. In fact, none of the rooms had windows. Jade supposed that it was easier to keep them locked in.
There was only one thought that did laps in her mind, back and forth, back and forth.
Why would anyone make this up?
Was this a question or an acknowledgement? Jade didn’t know.
All she did know was that her world was being turned upside down. While trying to play detective in her own life, Jade Thatcher was being shaken to her very core.
CHECKING OUT
Dr. Clancy Green marched in and sat before her.
‘Jade, you are my patient.’ She stared at him showing no reaction. ‘You have been here at Maine Hospital for many years. I am here to help you remember.’ Jade had stayed completely quiet for days. Now was her time to find some answers.
‘When was the fire?’ Perhaps it wasn’t the most important, but it was the one that came to mind.
‘Rowan’s Home did burn down, but it was five years ago.’ Green looked uncomfortable. ‘You were there and survived it. You were brought to Maine a couple of months later and have been here ever since. This hospital is now one of the best psychiatric facilities in Australia.’
She cleared her throat. ‘I see. Before the fire?’
‘Before the fire you were a nurse at Rowan’s Home.’
She allowed the story to sink in.
‘The fire was obviously a traumatic experience for you, Jade. In fact you suffered from Acute Stress Disorder so dramatically that you developed a very strong Dissociative Disorder. In fact, the strongest case I’ve ever seen.’
How ridiculous. She wanted to say it out loud but held her tongue. She was still a little jumpy from whatever drugs they had been pumping into her, and was finding even the simplest task of sitting still hard to manage. They probably put it in her food. Now she understood how her delusional patients felt when they were rambling on about conspiracies.
Jade had little strength but really needed to challenge these new constructs that everyone was urging on her. It was nearly impossible to start shifting the paradigm, when your entire life and all that you knew it to be was a lie.
Rather than attack what Green was saying, she attempted to keep her composure and use her intellect – as functional as it was at that point.
‘If I’m not who I think I am, then how do I even know what you’re talking about right now? How would I know that derealisation or dissociative amnesia are symptoms that I would be suffering, if you were telling the truth? You are talking about Dissociative Fugue – a very rare disorder that only last for weeks or months, NOT years. I even know the diagnostic criteria by heart. Want to hear them?’
He shook his head.
‘What nurse knows that? None that I know of.’
‘Psychiatric Nurses know a damn lot more than doctors give them credit for.’ She cringed. He was right. ‘Yes, it’s extremely abnormal for one to suffer on and off for so many years. Abnormal, but not impossible. There was one other case. Less than forty years ago, 1963. A young man in his adolescence suffered for a decade and never really returned to being the person he was before the trauma. He started to develop schizotyp ... ’
‘That’s enough.’ Jade gulped in a few deep breaths. ‘What are you giving me?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The drugs, what are you giving me? My heart is pounding.’
‘Just some diazepam for anxiety.’ Green actually looked concerned.
‘They’re making me sick. How long have I been taking them?’
‘A while now, Jade. They’ve never made you ill before.’
‘Well, now they do. Please, I don’t want any more.’ She reasoned with him. ‘Perhaps a different prescription or smaller dosage?’
Green shifted in his chair. ‘I can’t allow you to make those types of decisions. Would you like to know your real name?’
She glared at him. ‘No.’
‘I understand. If you would like to reschedule this session we can. If you are feeling vulnerable ... ’
‘No, I need to talk about it. Sitting in my room and thinking is not getting me anywhere.’
‘Besides, you know it because you studied so well.’ He placed a copy of a psychology text on the table in front of her.
She opened it to find her name scrawled across the first page in her own handwriting. As she flipped through the pages she saw that she had written all over the margins, drawn lines everywhere. Jade didn’t remember doing any of it. Placing the book gently back down on the table, she shook her head in frustration. She could feel the adrenaline rush, that fight or flight response that had saved early humans from predators, making her hands sweat and tremble. His last statement made her angry. How to react? Fight or flight?
Fight.
‘Oh, I read a book did I? I know all of this because I read a book? That’s rich. I even remember the faces of my lecturers, Dr. Green. One I had a particular crush on during Research Design Analysis who was French and always stank of cigarettes. My friends were mortified by it. Is that in this book, too?’ She pushed it back across the desk. ‘What about when I went down on my husband late one night in the tutorial computer rooms at Grisham University, when no one else was around? I’m pretty sure you won’t find that in this text.’ He averted his eyes, but she continued: ‘I know this because I studied clinical psychology and graduated with honours – not from this goddamn text book!’
She fought back tears.
‘Jade, these memories are not just from the text. Many of them are real experiences, just misplaced in time. The people, the occurrences, many of them did actually happen, just not the way that you reme
mber them.’
‘Okay. Let’s assume what you are saying is correct. Then, I need more.’
‘More what?’
‘More proof, and make it concrete. Because your case is not as strong as you think it is, Green.’
He thought for a moment. ‘You have old scars on your abdomen from the fire. You were very brave, Jade. You saved many people. But you were a young naive nurse. You hadn’t seen enough in life for you to know how to process the experience in a healthy way to get you through. You watched people burn to death, and you blamed yourself for those deaths.’
‘I remember the fire, but not anyone dying in front of me.’
‘You had to block it out. Psychologically you weren’t prepared to deal with it in any other way. You even went missing for a few months. Some thought you just needed to get away for a while. Others thought that you believed it was your fault so whole-heartedly that you couldn’t face the families of the victims. No one filed a missing persons’ report on you. You were never close enough to any of your acquaintances for them to assume anything other than that you needed time away. You even told your brother and father that you’d be back and phoned them often … ’
‘I want to see my brother,’ she cut in.
‘You will, Jade – in time.’ He went on. ‘You never really had any strong friendships, not even in high school, which explains why you must have felt that you had no one to turn to. No support network, except for your brother, Angus, whom you have never wanted to burden with your troubles, because he already looks after your father.
‘Eventually you were found in the city, claiming to be a psychiatrist. You even applied for a job. When you were taken into Psychiatrics at Grisham Hospital, you worked with a Dr. Thatcher. A Dr. Redman Thatcher.’
The tears began without her consent.
‘When you were identified and brought back to us you had fabricated an entire life. A degree, a thesis, a divorce, you claimed your scars were from a childhood accident. We’d never seen anything like it. No one has come across anyone as believable as you, Jade. Here is a letter from Dr. Redman Thatcher.’ He passed it to her.
