Trevor nodded, ‘Alright, I’d agree with all of that so far. Now tell me something I don’t know.’
He wasn’t being snide but perfectly serious, and Kate forced her fuzzy mind into action, cursing her lack of sleep the night before. This was too important for tiredness, for confusion. After a pause she said slowly, ‘I think she’s in a form of fugue that’s almost an auto-hypnotic trance. I don’t think her mind snapped, I think she quite consciously and deliberately retreated inside herself. Probably to escape the horror –and guilt- of her mother’s death.’
Her words hung heavily in the silence that followed. After pondering for some time Trevor nodded again, ‘I think you’re making a few leaps without much evidence but I’m still with you so far. And you needn’t be so tentative with me. I’m not a prosecutor and I’m not interested in her guilt or innocence. If I have to make a recommendation or testify at a trial it will be as to her mental state, her fitness to be tried, not her possible guilt or innocence. And if you’re trying to spare me because of my feelings for her…don’t. I will never act on any feelings I might have for her, do you understand?’
‘Sorry,’ said Kate, before adding rather tartly, ‘But that’s what happens when you cross the line and lose your professional detachment.’ Seeing his face drop, and instantly contrite, she said hurriedly, ‘I’ll play you the tape of our conversation and see what you think.’ She hit the play button on her Talkbook and Trevor listened silently and intently to the interview. When the tape was finished he leaned back in his chair and puffed out his cheeks, ‘Phew! Heavy stuff! I don’t know if I’m more hopeful now of her recovering, or less. That’s one seriously disturbed girl talking. And this is the first we’ve heard about this magic field business. What do you make of that?’
Kate shook her head, ‘I’m not sure. I don’t think it can be an actual place, unless she had a den or tree house or something in her garden as a child. It’s more likely a safe place in her own mind she goes to when she’s scared or threatened. If she was in the habit of hiding there from unpleasant realities that could even be the basis of her current disassociation. She might have spent more and more time hiding in her fantasy refuge until she could no longer recognize reality. Or until she finally just refused to come back.’
Trevor smiled, ‘All I know is that she never mentioned this secret place to anyone before, but she opens up to you in your very first session. You’re a wonder, Bennett, you know that? How do you do it?’
Kate smiled wryly, ‘Do what? I wish I could take credit for what you can hear, Trev, but I did nothing.’ She raised her hand to forestall any argument and said, ‘It isn’t modesty, Trev, it’s the simple truth. Couldn’t you hear it on the tape? Her fantasies are collapsing all around her, yes, but it certainly isn’t any of my doing. How could it be, after one session? She’s getting better, Trev. Slowly, perhaps, and there’s still a long way to go, but her mind is starting to heal itself. Her own true personality is starting to reassert itself, is trying to emerge. Her would-be alternate egos are so flimsy they shatter and dissipate under even the most rudimentary questioning. They don’t even get names.’
He was silent for several minutes, lost in thought. Then he shook his head and said, ‘Perhaps, but it’s a little early to assume she’s starting to recover.’
‘Well, you heard the tape. I think Sarah McGrath did all the hard groundwork with her regression therapy. By restoring her real childhood memories she laid the foundation for her to start healing herself. Rebuilding her early life has helped her to rebuild her personality, and now it’s starting to emerge. Couldn’t you hear it? The girl I spoke to most of the time sounded like a simple, happy ten-year-old. The voice of the friend was the adult Grainne. A Grainne who hates herself but who’s finding it harder and harder to hide from the truth of her life. Of her past.’
Trevor thought about this for some time. At last he said, ‘I think you’re right. But will the real Grainne ever re-emerge? If you pressure her too much she might really develop a split personality. Or her mind might recover but leave her without any memory of her teens. Or she could regress back to childhood altogether.’
‘I know the pitfalls, Trevor. But if she’s recovering it’s because she wants to remember, and that’s why she’s losing the protection of her fantasies. She’s not deeply hidden in her alternate world. Because of all your groundwork over the past year she’s very close to the surface.’
‘And that’s the time of greatest danger,’ he said heavily, a frown knitting his brows, ‘One slip from you, Kate, and we might lose her for good. Think of the stress such conflicting forces will put on an already fragile mind. Half of her wanting to remember who and what she is, the other half still wanting to flee, to hide from reality. If the two elements are of nearly equal strength her mind could simply disintegrate again.’
Kate managed a short, rather shaky laugh, ‘Thank you, Trevor. The best part of working for you is the way you don’t put people under pressure! Don’t worry, I know how fragile she is, and I’ll tread carefully. But no matter how careful I am there’s always the possibility of losing her forever.’
Trevor waved his hand with a carelessness he clearly didn’t feel, ‘I’ll leave it all to you. This is your specialty, after all, and you have a free hand. Provided you keep me updated, of course. What’s your next move?’
Kate pursed her lips in thought, ‘For the moment I’ll just keep having these informal talks with her. Try and work on her memory blocks and chip away at any fantasies she tries to hide behind. But it’s going to take a long time. I actually got a bit carried away today and pushed further than I intended but in future I’ll have to watch out for my own over-enthusiasm.’
Trevor nodded, ‘Time we’ve got. She’s only eighteen, after all. And Riordan can afford you, however long it takes. By the way, we never got around to discussing your fee yesterday. How does two-fifty per session sound?’
Kate’s eyes widened, ‘Excessive, that’s how it sounds! Are you sure?’
‘Like I said, he can afford it,’ Trev replied callously, ‘Besides, between your books and now your lecturing at Trinity you’re becoming quite a heavyweight player. And they don’t come cheap. Please don’t think our friendship has any bearing on this because it doesn’t. You can bill me by the week or month, by the way, whichever you prefer. Is there anything else?’
Kate hesitated; she didn’t need the warning voice in her head to tell her that things were moving too quickly and smoothly, even at this early stage. It was all a little too easy, a little too pat. And, tired or not, she was suddenly convinced that there was something she had missed in the interview, something important. But what? She didn’t know, and right now her mental powers were not at their peak; she would have to listen to the tape again at home. She gave up and said, ‘Well, she mentioned her dog. What happened to it?’
‘She mentioned it to me too so I made enquiries. Riordan had it put down.’
Kate looked at him with a shocked face, ‘Why? Because he lives in an apartment now instead of a house?’
Trevor gave her a curious look, ‘How did you know he lives in an apartment?’
Without a ready answer Kate simply shrugged and he thought about it for a moment before deciding to let it go. After a slight pause he said, ‘That wasn’t the only reason. Apparently the dog turned vicious. It bit a paramedic that tried to treat Grainne the night of the fire. And when they took her to the hospital they found deep bite marks on her leg where the dog had bitten her.’
Kate felt a sudden tingle of excitement; this was important. She didn’t know quite why, she just felt it. And she had learned to trust her feelings. Well, in some areas. She thought this new information over; what was its significance? It could be just that the girl remembered being bitten, and wondered why the dog wasn’t biting people she viewed as tormentors instead of its mistress. Was it that simple? Kate didn’t think so but the moment of possible epiphany was lost as another thought struck her, ‘Trev, do any
male orderlies have access to Grainne?’
He gave her a long, considering look, ‘I heard what she said about being molested but it isn’t true. I know it’s not unheard of, unfortunately, but not here, Kate. She’s under female supervision only. And there’s a video camera in her sitting room, though not in her bedroom, of course. And she’s never needed to be strapped down. I’m afraid that part is pure fantasy.’
Kate shrugged, ‘I had to ask if it was possible. Like you said, it isn’t unheard of for mental patients to be abused by members of staff. And Grainne’s looks are absolutely out of this world.’
His face was carefully neutral as he said, ‘Yes, well, I told you that. But nothing prepares you for her impact, does it?’
Kate looked at him with a softened expression, ‘Having met her I don’t blame you so much for developing feelings for her. And at least you were able to walk away.’
He shrugged, embarrassed by his own weakness, ‘I don’t know about feelings, exactly; more an unhealthy attraction. Anyway, I had no choice but to walk away if I wanted to keep my self-respect.’
There was a silence that threatened to stretch so Kate said hurriedly, ‘Listen, I have to go. I’m busy all day tomorrow, unfortunately, but can I come out again on Thursday afternoon?’
‘Of course,’ Trevor assured her, ‘You have the run of this place. After all, she’s your patient now. Come and go as you please. You certainly don’t need my permission.’
She beamed at him happily, ‘It feels good to hear the words your patient again. To be back in harness.’
His answering smile was warm and the look in his eyes showed he understood exactly how she was feeling. As if struck by a sudden thought he leaned forward and said, ‘What about dinner tonight? Or even just getting drunk together? We could discuss old times.’ He leered at her horribly, ‘If you’re in the mood we could even relive a few of them.’
She gave him a sideways glance, ‘I see you’re as irresistibly charming as ever. Grainne had a point; men really are pigs! But -contrary to what we’re trying to do with her- sometimes the past really is best left buried.’
He shrugged, ‘You can’t blame a man for trying! Man is a predator, remember? Especially when it comes to sex. Men just can’t resist attractive women. They’re designed to find women irresistible, and women are designed to be irresistible.’
‘Try your receptionist,’ she said dryly, ‘She looks like ready prey as far as you’re concerned. Of course, she doesn’t know you like I do.’ She sighed, ‘Besides, I don’t feel attractive. I feel like an old sock; tired and wrung out.’
He smiled, ‘If you’re fishing for compliments, forget it! Go home, get something to eat, and get a good night’s sleep. You’ll feel like a million dollars in the morning.’
‘As long as I don’t look like a million dollars; all green and wrinkly!’ She managed a smile, her mood lifting, ‘I’ll have a million soon, too, the amount you’re paying me! All right, I’m going.’
She got up and walked to the door. Just as she was leaving he called out airily, ‘And if you change your mind about dinner, or the sex, just let me know!’
Kate slammed the door behind her, but couldn’t help a smile crossing her face. She couldn’t help liking him. Even loving him. But she was not in love him. And even when they had been together; she had known, deep down, that he wasn’t the one for her. Then who IS the one for you, Kate?
That wasn’t a question she wanted to think about, so she ignored it and went out to her car, collecting a copy of Grainne’s file from Cathy on the way. And this time she intended not to be sidetracked but to study it until she knew its contents by heart. There was so much to be learned; why had Grainne needed this magic field in the first place? And what had she meant when she spoke of her mother drinking, and of having visitors? Kate had no idea, but she was determined to find out. She was hooked, and whatever it took, and however long it took, she was going to solve the mystery that was Grainne Riordan.
Chapter Nine
Battling through Dublin’s rush-hour traffic was a stern task at even the best of times, but for an already tired Kate driving home from Deacon House that afternoon was a form of purgatory. By the time she finally reached Monkstown -having made one important stop at a florist’s along the way- she was ready to drop, and doubted that even her residual fear of the burglar’s returning would keep her awake that night. But the day had another surprise for her; when she reached her flat she found Peter’s red, five-series BMW parked outside the building.
As soon as she recognized the yellow-plated English registration number Kate went cold all over, her tiredness instantly forgotten. Her first, immediate reaction was one of guilt; had he somehow found out about her and Michael Riordan? Of course not, don’t be silly. How could he? But her stomach sank and her heart started pounding even as she tried to tell herself that even if he did know, it was none of his concern. Not any more. Perhaps you feel guilty because Peter is still unfinished business, that hateful little voice whispered in the back of her mind. But before she could banish it she got yet another, more unpleasant surprise; seated on a bench across the road from her flat, and undoubtedly waiting for her, was Martin Wilson.
Kate parked her car and began walking quickly towards her flat, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t spot her, but there was to be no such luck. Wilson was on the alert and as soon as she got out of her highly distinctive TVR he bounced to his feet and hurried across the road to intercept her. He was a squat, balding little bulldog of a man, and his resemblance to that animal increased as he approached her and truculently growled, ‘I want a word with you!’
Kate sighed internally and turned to face him, saying tiredly, and a little nervously, ‘Well, I don’t want any words with you, Mr. Wilson.’
‘George Meagher is innocent,’ he snarled, ‘and you’ve no right to smear his name. Poking your nose in where it’s not wanted, asking questions. Who do you…’
Kate raised a hand to forestall him and said quickly, ‘I no longer care, Mr. Wilson. I’m not putting Meagher in my book. In fact, the book itself is on hold and will probably never be written. Satisfied? Now leave me alone.’
This gave him pause for a moment but then he took a step closer and said threateningly, ‘On hold or not, you better not put him in it if you know what’s good for you.’
Before she could reply a deep voice from behind interjected, ‘Is there a problem here?’ It was Peter, looming up like an iceberg, and when Wilson took in his sheer size his eyes widened in alarm and he took a step backwards.
Kate felt a rush of relief that she immediately tried to suppress, unsuccessfully, but she didn’t turn around. Instead she kept her gaze on Wilson and said dismissively, ‘I told you; I’m no longer interested in George Meagher and I’d like you to tell him so. Now leave me alone. If you bother me again I shall call the police.’ Only when Wilson had scuttled off did she turn to Peter and say with gratitude, ‘Now that’s what I call timing.’
Peter grinned at her, ‘Hello, Kate. Always glad to be of help.’ It was his grin that got her, as always; the cheeky grin that made his dark eyes gleam like those of a mischievous little boy. He was six-feet five of solid bone and muscle, with black curly hair to go with the brown eyes, yet she could still see the cheeky kid he must once have been. He had a long jaw and high cheekbones and might have been too good-looking, almost pretty, were it not for the hooked nose, which he had broken years before in a rugby match. Kate had always considered him the sexiest man she had ever set eyes on and now, as ever, he had the effect of making her feel a touch weak at the knees. To hide her sudden confusion she avoided his eyes as she said, ‘This is a surprise, though a welcome one in the circumstances. I thought for a minute that idiot was going to attack me.’ She briefly explained who Wilson was before adding, ‘But what on earth are you doing here?’
He shrugged, ‘I got in this morning on the Holyhead ferry. I rang Trevor Jordan to tell him I was home for…for a few days, and he
told me that you were working with him. He also told me you were burgled last and that you were on your way home so I came out to make sure everything was okay. I brought a guy I know with me to install a burglar alarm for you. When I got here I saw the broken glass so I called a guy from the Yellow Pages to come and replace it. He’s doing it now. He was here within an hour. Not bad, eh?’
Her lurking, irrational guilt about Michael Riordan infused her voice with a touch of ice as she said, ‘It was a nice thought but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of these things myself, you know.’
His face closed inwards and he replied stiffly, ‘I thought I was doing you a favor.’ He shrugged again and half-turned away, ‘It was meant to be a surprise for when you got home.’
Kate felt guilty for feigning ingratitude but she knew herself all too well, and knew that if she softened at all she would be finished; she might just weaken all the way. So she said coolly, ‘Thanks, but there was no need to bother. I had it all in hand.’
‘I see. Still, it’s done now. Harry’s practically finished the alarm so there’s no point in stopping him.’
‘No, I suppose not. And thanks for trying to help, even if it was unnecessary.’ She walked past him down the steps to her flat, taking care not to brush against him as she went by. And that was easier said than done because with his massive girth he pretty much blocked the narrow gate. At the front door there was a stranger replacing broken glass whom she greeted with a perfunctory smile as she passed and, avoiding another man at work in the hall –Harry, no doubt- she made her way into the sitting-room. She threw her coat and bag, along with Grainne’s file and the bunch of flowers, onto the sofa and turned to face Peter, who had followed her into the room and was looking at her uncomfortably.
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