Descension

by Shani Struthers

  The man’s arms tightened around her. It was so long since she’d been held, since she’d felt a stirring in her groin. This was nice. This was innocent. But hadn’t it been innocent before? Hadn’t it been lovely before? That man had smelt nice too. He’d had the brightest of smiles. He’d liked her. Really liked her. But he hadn’t stood up for her, not when it mattered. He’d abandoned her. In this place abandoned was what they all were, including this man with his arms around her; who had moved one hand lower; who was touching the small of her back. She tensed. What was he doing? His hand went lower still. There were rules about that sort of thing, strict rules. Didn’t he realise? They’d be watching out for this, the doctors, the nurses, the powers-that-be, and they’d see – nothing escaped them. There’d be repercussions, a thought she couldn’t bear. She’d suffered so much already. She started to struggle, to pull away. Stop it! Stop it! We mustn’t do this, not anymore. We can never do this. Managing to lift one hand, she struck out. She screamed. She cried. She wailed. What if she got pregnant again? What if the baby lived? If it stayed here like she had to stay here? If it never tasted freedom, not even the once? When had she been free? It was so long ago. And she’d never leave either, she knew that; never feel the warmth of the sun on her face as she walked in the meadow, a sweet man’s touch, not a mad man’s; a man who’d said he’d loved her and who she loved too. Where was he now, that man? Why was she with this man instead? He wasn’t nice, like she’d first thought, not at all, despite his soap and water smell. If he was nice he wouldn’t be disrespecting her. Why wouldn’t he let go of her? He had to let go. He had to! When you were desperate, you were strong. It lent you strength. Made you superhuman even. She giggled again. Is that what she was, superhuman? Because in here, she felt she was something else entirely – sub-human. And that’s why she was locked away. She was something evil that crawled the earth; that slunk along these grey corridors. Pining, always pining. If she shut her eyes, she could see the scrap that had been her baby. It had died, and no one cared; no one around her had even shed a tear. The nurses, they’d reach her soon; they’d tear her from this man’s arms; they’d punish them both, but before they did, she’d scream and scream as loud as she could; she’d give rise to her fury and her grief; she’d let them know that she’d cried for that baby, and that she always would. They’d stick needles in her arm; it’s what they always did, forcing those cries back inside her, the liquid adding to her tears, but not stopping them. In that they were powerless. Her screams, they’d still be as loud as ever, despite the calmness of her demeanour. The tears wouldn’t cease, despite her dry eyes. No matter what they did they could never stop the pain. She wouldn’t let them. Because pain was all there was, all she had to cling to. Pain. Pain. PAIN!

  “SHIT!” Ruby’s scream caused Eclipse to turn to her again, to reach out for her and hold her, and it caused Cash to glare at him, physically remove his hand and grab her back.

  “Cash, stop it, leave Eclipse alone. Oh God, this place, this fucking place!”

  Theo was by her side too. “Ruby, what just happened?”

  “One of them got inside my head – her story, Christ! Why would your own mother have you locked up? I can’t bear to think about it, Theo.”

  “Then let’s get you out,” she replied.

  “No, I… Aargh!”

  Corinna was gasping. “Ruby, what’s happening now?”

  “More… images… need to get out of ballroom, into corridor. Cash… help… now.”

  If she thought there might be respite in the corridor, however, she was wrong. There was none to be had anywhere in this building.

  “Ness,” Theo checked, “are you all right?”

  “I’m… dealing with it,” was her somewhat strained reply. “You?”

  “Same,” Theo responded. “Corinna? Cash? Eclipse?”

  “I’m okay,” Corinna assured her.

  “Me too,” Cash and Eclipse said in unison.

  “But… But…” protested Ruby. “I can’t leave; I have to help. They need help.”

  “Not at the expense of your wellbeing,” declared Theo, her voice firm.

  “But…”

  Beside her Ness gave a yelp. Ruby turned and looked at her; they all did. She’d dropped her torch and had doubled over, hands clutching at her stomach.

  “Ness!” Theo yelled.

  In contrast, Corinna’s voice was awestruck. “Jeez, look at the walls. I don’t know if it’s my imagination but… they look alive.”

  “Ruby,” Cash said, “what’s going on here?”

  Jed appeared, leaving his post at the entrance, but still in combative stance, growling, whining, and hopping from foot to foot as if the ground was molten lava.

  There was another noise now, not a banging or a crashing; not more screaming in the confines of her head or ill-played music. It was an alarm – loud and clear; the alarm from Ash Hill. It almost drowned out the sound of footsteps running on the floor above them; frantic footsteps that were running round and round in circles and going nowhere, because where was there to go? To what fresh hell?

  “Theo’s right,” Ruby admitted at last. “We have to go.”

  As they all, Jed included, started running, three words kept going through her mind. You. Don’t. Know. Not just a fact, it was an accusation, hissed at her. But how could you know – unless you were mad too – exactly what they’d endured; the torture that had turned them from victims into something vengeful.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Because of the alarm, Ruby expected the streets of the Brookbridge estate to be teeming with people, but nothing could be further from the truth. Instead she saw curtains being drawn. She could practically hear locks being secured on doors and windows, the residents safeguarding themselves against the possibility of a fugitive on the run. Only they, the Psychic Surveys team, were on the streets, looking at each other wild-eyed and confused, wondering if there really had been an escapee.

  “Ruby, don’t worry,” Eclipse said, singling her out, “it’s unlikely.”

  Immediately, Cash challenged him. “What makes you so sure?”

  “Well—”

  “Eclipse is right,” Theo replied before he could. “Security is very tight in there.”

  “But how do you know for sure?” It was Corinna checking this time, still worried.

  “Because…” Theo shot a brief look at Ness before continuing. “Look, darling, I think it’s all about unrest – the whole estate seems to be jiggered up at the moment. God knows, we’re jiggered up. I consider myself a tough old bird, but look at my hands and how much they’re shaking! It’s getting late, it’s past ten already, let’s just go home, grab some sleep and then we can reconvene tomorrow.”

  Eclipse seemed disappointed in Theo’s decision. He nodded towards the main building, the alarm still ringing in everyone’s ears. “We never made it as far as the theatre; we never went upstairs even. We actually didn’t get very far at all.”

  “For a reason.” Ness’s voice had a slight edge to it. “We’re psychics, which makes us susceptible, more so than those whose psychic abilities aren’t particularly developed, who go more on instinct. We don’t do that; we know what’s there.” She turned her attention to Ruby, batting her black hair out of her eyes. “I presume you made a connection in the ballroom, with an individual, I mean?”

  “I did, a woman, a young woman; her boyfriend had got her pregnant and she was sent to Cromer because of it. Her mother was instrumental in that decision. Her baby was born at the asylum, born dead I gather. After that, it was back to the mass again and tuning into them as a whole. There are so many of them; too many.”

  Ness agreed. “There are hordes. And when you’re dealing with something on this scale, it can’t be rushed.”

  Eclipse looked stricken. “The building’s being torn down soon!”

  “You don’t know how soon,” Cash remonstrated. “You haven’t got a timeframe.”

  Ruby was on Eclipse’s side.
“Whatever’s happening here, it’s hurtling towards climax. As much as I don’t want to, we have to go in there and try again. Not tonight, I agree with Theo; we need a breather, but we have to sort this out and soon. What concerns me, as Eclipse said, is we didn’t get very far. It’s like those inside are doing everything they can to prevent us. But that’s no good for anyone, least of all them.”

  The alarm ceased. “Thank God for that,” muttered Theo. “You’ve explored everywhere, haven’t you, Eclipse? The doctor’s office? The theatre? Upstairs?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And the atmosphere in those places, is it worse?”

  “Oh yeah,” he answered. “It’s far worse.”

  * * *

  The team eventually dispersed. When they got home, Ruby was so tired she prayed for nothing more than a dreamless sleep and was surprised when her wish was granted, waking the next morning to bright sunlight. For a few moments she stared at the ceiling and then she turned to Cash, who was also staring at the ceiling.

  “Cash?”

  “Uh huh?”

  “What have you got against Eclipse?”

  He looked at her. “I haven’t got anything against him.”

  “You forget I’m able to sense things, especially when my boyfriend is jealous.”

  “Jealous!” He was incredulous. “Seriously, Ruby, have you lost your mind?”

  Stunned, she could only stare at him.

  As realisation dawned, he had the good grace to look sheepish. “Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say all things considered, but no, I’m not jealous. Why’d you even think that?”

  “Why? Because you’ve barely said a civil word to him and when he tried to help me when I almost fell in the ballroom, you smacked his hand away.”

  “I did not!”

  “You did.”

  “For God’s sake, Ruby, he’s just… he’s all over you, isn’t he? It’s like no one else exists; his focus is entirely on you.”

  Ruby pushed herself upwards into a sitting position. “I barely know the guy.”

  “And yet you’re putting yourself out for him and he’s putting himself out for you.”

  “Cash, I’m putting myself out for the spirits that are grounded in that bloody awful building! Do you know, I wish sometimes that you could see what I could see – the terrible things. I know you’re not psychic, but you’re a bit bloody casual at times. Eclipse isn’t psychic either, but he empathises so much, and his determination to help those he can’t see, only sense, I admire it. I do, I think it’s incredible.”

  Cash pushed himself upwards too, a vein in his neck pulsating. “If you think he’s incredible, then good luck to you both. I hope you enjoy your little case together.”

  As he rose from the bed, she pulled him down again, causing him to sit with a thump. “It’s not a little case, Cash, it’s a bloody big one. And I said I think it’s incredible, not him: how he feels so passionately about the cause. You know what? I never had you down as a jealous type. You learn something new every day, I suppose. Why are you jealous? Is it because you can’t stand the competition?”

  Rising again, this time shooting her a look that told her she’d better not try the same stunt twice, he located his clothes and began pulling them on. “You know what, Ruby, perhaps I’m just human. Sorry if that leaves you disappointed, being as you always bang on about how perfect I am.”

  “Bang on…? Cash, what the hell is—?”

  “Perhaps Eclipse is like you, as determined, or perhaps together you’re just a little bit overkill. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  “I don’t understand this! What are you doing? Where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  “This is your home… technically.”

  “Yeah? Well right now I don’t feel very welcome in it.”

  As he stormed from the room, Jed materialised by Ruby’s side, both of them staring at the door he’d slammed behind him with open mouths.

  * * *

  Still breathing fire after such a stupid argument, Ruby drove to the high street as it was raining, let herself into her cramped and dusty office, and switched on her computer, intending to lose herself in a bit of research. The way Cash had acted, how he’d jumped down her throat, she couldn’t believe it. Then again, maybe she should never have mentioned the possibility of his being jealous of Eclipse – perhaps it was like waving a red rag in front of a bull. Even so, to go for her like that, to storm out… Focus, Ruby, just focus. Give both of you time to calm down.

  There’d been male wards at Cromer to the west of the building, and going by the plans she’d seen, they were equal in size to the female wards on the east side. In her visions, however, it had been mainly women she’d seen. She opened Google. Much of what she read supported past research. In Victorian times, women who rebelled against domesticity risked being declared insane – she took a deep breath, appalled at the gravity of it – insane, for God’s sake, because you didn’t fancy being someone’s slave? A woman’s husband or father could get her committed and she had no right to contest or appeal. There were those that bucked the trend during that time, Elizabeth Packard for example, who won her freedom after being confined to an asylum by her husband, and then wrote a bestselling exposé about it, advocating asylum reform and women’s rights. Dorothea Dix also lobbied successfully for reform in public asylums throughout the US and the UK; but overall, women were still considered more fragile and sensitive than men, more prone to breakdown and mental ill health. Yeah right, thought Ruby, pursing her lips. Even as late as the 1960s and 1970s, women’s lives were still organised around Victorian stereotypes of the loving mother and dutiful housewife. Women deemed not to be behaving appropriately risked ending up in psychiatric care, like the woman whose eyes she’d looked through in the ballroom; who’d become pregnant out of wedlock and both she and her baby condemned because of it. What about the man who’d got her pregnant? Had he been blamed for his part in it? Or had he got off scot-free? That woman’s plight was typical of so many; of thousands. Ruby shook her head, her blood beginning to boil. ‘Moral infidelity’ it was called by those that did the locking up; men predominantly, hypocrites that they were. Women were more vulnerable because usually they had less money and therefore less power. Bethlem, which was widely dubbed ‘Bedlam’, was a notorious London asylum and she discovered ‘overwork’ was another reason women were incarcerated in it. One example, Daisy Ladd, who was no more than twenty years old, had been in sole charge of looking after a ten-bedroomed town house in the city and its resident family. The author of the article had visited the Bethlem archives and matched Ladd’s story and photograph together, describing it as an ‘explosive experience’: the girl’s face when she was admitted to the asylum, had been covered in bruises. Had she been beaten for not being able to keep up with such a vast amount of housework created by a demanding family? An official declaration lodged by the family declared she was ‘feebleminded’, but to Ruby’s mind exhaustion seemed more likely. At any rate, her case highlighted that it wasn’t just husbands, fathers and even mothers who could have a woman committed; their employers could too. All it took was two people to persuade a doctor that a person was of unsound mind and off to the asylum they went, and clearly some doctors didn’t need much persuading.

  If Ruby had been pissed off before, it was nothing to the mood she was in now. Even in modern times a popular newspaper had featured the headline: ‘Women are 40% more likely than men to develop mental illness’, thus ensuring that the stigma was still alive and kicking; that women were far more emotional than men. But men, well, men could be jealous; very jealous.

  Trying to get a handle on statistics, she read an extract by none other than Charles Dickens, who’d visited St Luke’s Hospital for the Insane in 1851. He wrote: The experience of the asylum did not differ… from that of similar establishments, in proving that insanity is more prevalent among women than among men. Of the eighteen thousand seven hundred and fifty-nine inmates
St Luke’s Hospital has received in the century of its existence, eleven thousand one hundred and sixty-two have been women. The article made it clear he was writing from a ‘sympathetic’ viewpoint, but his continuing sentence – Female servants are, as is well known, more frequently afflicted with lunacy than any other class of persons – caused Ruby to sigh heavily. It seemed odd that such an intelligent man, whose empathy with the poor and downtrodden was such a feature of his literature, should be so blind as to assume that incarceration was proof of insanity and not social injustice.

  What had become of St Luke’s Hospital, she wondered. What flats or houses now stood in place of it, and, more to the point, what spirits lingered there? She shook her head, trying not to get carried away. There were plenty of abandoned asylums in the UK; plenty given over to building sites too – she couldn’t save them all. But she’d do her best by those spirits that remained at Cromer. She’d promised Eclipse and she’d promised herself, and despite feeling fed up to the back teeth with Cash, she mustn’t get all het up about the feminist aspect of madness and its history either; plenty of men had been incarcerated; were victims too.