Nothing; not the slightest flicker of a response.
‘Is it your mother that’s dead? Grainne?’
Grainne seemed to be in a trance, to have returned to her earlier catatonic state. Kate tried for several more minutes but got no reaction whatsoever. She changed tack and tried to reach the child-Grainne, using everything she had learned from her file to try and provoke some form of response. Any response; even a negative reaction was better than nothing. But Grainne continued to sit there like a beautiful statue, so far removed from the real world that Kate felt her first flicker of discouragement since meeting her; all the girl’s perceived improvement had simply vanished. She sat back at last, thinking; Thank God she wasn’t like this the first day. I’d have refused the job on the spot. Had she been wrong about Grainne’s improvement? Had her insistence that the girl was healing herself from within been just so much wishful thinking? She had leapt to conclusions rather, on very little evidence.
She looked her patient over closely, particularly the soft, golden skin of the girl’s throat; in the watery autumn sunshine, streaming in at a low angle through the window, faint scars could still be seen. Scars from where Grainne had smashed a window and then drawn her own throat across one of the jagged shards of broken glass. She had cut a gash so wide and deep that, although the response by the nurses had been almost instantaneous, she had lost several pints of blood and had been not far from death by the time they brought the bleeding under control.
What could have brought the girl to despair so great that such an action was even conceivable? Kate sighed; theorize though she might, she invariably came back to the death of the girl’s mother. That had been the catalyst for the breakdown, and Grainne’s condition bore all the hallmarks of a vast, crushing guilt too great to be borne. Extreme Substance-Abuse Disorder was also a possibility, of course, and Kate wondered if she had been on anything other than the speed and cocaine Trev had already told her about. The drug-pusher ex-boyfriend might tell her, if she could discover his name. Maybe the police would help her with that; Grainne had a criminal record, and the names of any drug-pushing associates would surely be in their files.
She shook her head; there was still so much she didn’t know about her patient. And she certainly wasn’t giving any of her secrets away. Not yet anyway. Discouraged, she decided to give up for the day and was walking towards the door when she suddenly remembered another scar the girl was carrying. She turned back and, bending over, whispered in Grainne’s ear, ‘Why did Ruddles bite you?’
Grainne’s eyes opened wide and her jaw fell open in a soundless scream of horror as a long-repressed memory struggled to emerge, to be recognized. Her mouth worked for a moment or two as if she was trying to speak and then shut again with a snap of white teeth that made Kate jump. Her body sagged in the chair and a strong, pungent smell filled the air as she suddenly wet herself, her silk pyjamas instantly turning black below the waist. Then she slumped bonelessly back in her seat before sliding to the floor in a dead faint.
Kate knelt down beside her and quickly took her pulse; the girl’s heart was beating with a frantic, hammering rhythm that Kate didn’t like at all, and her breathing was much too rapid and shallow. She gently raised one eyelid with her thumb and saw that the eye had rolled back up into its socket, with only the blood-veined white showing. Before she could take any further action the door opened and a female orderly rushed in and joined Kate on her knees on the floor, her speedy arrival surprising Kate until she remembered that the room was monitored on television cameras.
‘Is she all right?’ asked the orderly, a little breathlessly.
Kate nodded, ‘I think so. She just fainted.’
‘I’ve alerted the duty nurse and she’s on her way up. She’ll check her out thoroughly. Er, could you help me get her into bed, please?’
Grainne was a dead weight and surprisingly heavy for one so small and slim, and the two women struggled but eventually managed to carry her into the next room and lift her onto the bed. Then, out of breath and with her own heart thumping, Kate gathered her things and left the girl to the care of the duty nurse. She made her way downstairs on slightly shaky legs to the reception desk and, after taking a deep breath to compose herself, asked Cathy, ‘Is Trevor finished with his patient yet?’
Cathy was rummaging through a filing cabinet and replied over her shoulder without turning, ‘Yep, he went into his office a few minutes ago. Actually, he left a message for you to pop in and see him before you left, if you have time.’
‘Thanks.’ Kate walked over and tapped on his door, waiting for him to reply before going inside. He was seated behind his desk with a mountain of paper piled up in front of him and when she entered he gave her a rueful grin, ‘Hi, Kate. As you can see I’m up to my eyes so I’ve only a minute to spare, but I wanted to talk to you before you left. Though I must say I wasn’t expecting you to be finished quite so soon. Wouldn’t she talk to you today?’
‘No, not at all,’ said Kate, sitting down and trying not to sound disheartened, ‘I wanted to talk to you too. And I’m afraid it isn’t good news. Grainne seems to have regressed badly since Tuesday.’
Trevor nodded, apparently unconcerned, and Kate told him what had happened. When she had finished he pursed his lips and said, ‘Well, it’s not surprising she wouldn’t talk to you; that’s her default state. Tuesday was a one-off; you know that in this game it’s often one step forward, two steps back. Her fainting concerns me more.’
‘I know, I suppose I just unconsciously expected her to be the same today as last time. And in fact things may not be as bad as they look; she may have become distressed because her real memories are not just starting to return, but actually have returned. At least in part. They may be intruding on her consciousness, and since she blocked them out originally because she couldn’t cope with them, it’s unreasonable to expect her to be able to face them now. Maybe I’m being over-optimistic but her collapse might just be a further sign of healing, a sign that her memory, and her real personality, really is returning.’
His frown didn’t ease as he replied, ‘Maybe, but I’m afraid I stopped believing in Santa Claus a long time ago. If the shock of those memories are as awful as you seem to think she might bury them again, deeper than ever.’
Kate nodded, ‘I know, I know. And I know we have to go slowly and not try to rush her. In fact I think you should consider increasing her medication a little, to prevent her having this kind of collapse again when the memories start pushing against the mental wall she’s built up.’ She gestured helplessly, ‘I know it’s just guesswork but I think a great deal of her problem is caused by guilt. It was when I mentioned her dog biting her, bringing up the night her mother died, that she passed out. We need to help her to deal with these memories rather than block them out. That’s why I think it might be a good idea for you to increase her Valium, to help her face these…visions, or whatever they are.’
He raised his eyebrows and gave her a long, reflective look, ‘And if her collapse wasn’t caused by repressed memories trying to emerge?’
It was Kate’s turn to shrug, ‘Then we’re back to square one. But do you really think increasing her medication is going to do her any harm? Long or short term?’
‘Perhaps not. But if I was as enamoured of drugs therapy as some psychiatrists you probably wouldn’t be here at all.’
Kate took a deep breath to and replied evenly, ‘This isn’t just a whim, you know. You asked me to take this case not just because of my qualifications but because of my empathy with my patients. My intuition, if you like. And my strong feeling is that all Grainne’s problems, right from the beginning, stem from her battling with memories she cannot cope with. Specifically, guilty memories regarding her mother’s death. And in spite of all her efforts to block them out, and today’s setback, I still think they’re returning.’
Their eyes remained locked on each other’s for some time, until at last Trevor lowered his gaze. ‘Okay, I’ll conside
r increasing her medication. As you say, it can’t do any harm.’ He gave her a tiny smile, not untinged by regret, ‘I’m not convinced you’re right but perhaps my own intuition has been blunted by dealing with all this damned paperwork every day. It never ends. When the chance to become Director here came up I jumped at it without stopping to wonder if it was really what I wanted. And I have to say I’ve had a few second thoughts since. I don’t have the time to deal with as many patients as I’d like, and even those I do see sometimes get less than my full attention. Running this place consists of dealing with one problem after another, none of them very important but each one time consuming.’
Bemoaning his lot had never been one of Trevor’s vices and he suddenly grinned, ‘Mind you, the money’s good. And my title impresses the girls no end.’
Kate had to smile. ‘And let’s face it, in that area you need all the help you can get! Would you give it up if you got the chance?’
He shrugged, ‘I suppose I have that choice every day. In theory, at least. But it’s hard to go back to being an Indian when you’ve been a chief. Trevor Jordan’s first law of human nature. That was part of Archie’s lecture, remember? Use of power becomes first addictive, then compulsive.’
‘Then corruptive,’ finished Kate with a grin, ‘Human frailty means use of power invariably leads to abuse, remember? Think of that next time you’re trying to lure one of your female employees out for a night of debauchery.’
‘I wish. I can’t remember the last time I had a good debauch.’ He leered at her happily, ‘Or even a bauch.’ He went quiet for a moment, his smile fading, and then said, ‘There was something else, Kate. The reason I wanted to see you before you went. I was talking to Peter last night. He didn’t go into details but I heard the gist of what happened between you two yesterday.’
Kate took a deep breath and steeled herself for what was coming; friend or no, if he presumed to lecture her on her personal life she was prepared to tell him where to get off in no uncertain terms.
As usual, he managed to surprise her, and took the wind totally out of her sails by saying, ‘I don’t want to interfere but I thought you might want to know the reason Peter’s in Ireland at the moment. It’s nothing to do with you. His mother died on Tuesday, Kate. He came home for the funeral.’
Kate hadn’t known she was holding her breath, and only realized it when she suddenly let it out in a sharp gust. ‘Oh no. Poor Peter! He never said a word. No wonder he seemed so fragile.’ Guilt clawed at her heart and she added, with her eyes closed, ‘And I was such a bitch to him.’
She shot Trevor a guilty look, ‘Why didn’t he tell me?’
Trevor shrugged, his face impassive, ‘I suppose he didn’t want you to think he was looking for sympathy.’
She shot him such a scornful look that he laughed and held up his hands protectively, ‘Hey, don’t blame me! You know what he’s like. He’d rather crawl across broken glass than have you think he was using something like that to...’
His voice trailed off uncomfortably and Kate replied fiercely, ‘I wouldn’t have! I know him, Trev, and I know he wouldn’t use something like that to worm his way back into my life. Bloody men! You’re all the same; big babies at heart, but you all have this, “Oh I don’t need any help handling this” attitude! Why can’t you just say; I need some sympathy, I need some help, some comfort?’
He shrugged again, ‘Don’t ask me, I’m not like that. No man is an island, and so forth. Trust me, when I’m in trouble I look for all the sympathy I can get. But Peter’s family are a pretty macho lot, and he was raised to believe that men are the problem solvers of the world. So he deals with his problems on his own, and in his own way.’
Kate shifted uncomfortably; she was only too aware of this side of Peter’s personality. In fact, looking back it was one of the things she had found attractive about him; being in a relationship with him wasn’t emotionally demanding. Not until he decided it was time they got married, that is. But he had never been needy. And what did that say about her? That she wanted a relationship where she could take, and not give? That she was too self-absorbed to want to share the burdens of someone she was supposed to love? And it crossed her mind; Peter hada lucky escape.
‘It isn’t that uncommon,’ said Trevor gently, reading her mind with a perception that belied his earlier comments about losing his intuition, ‘With your background it isn’t unusual that you should have trouble ever fully loving and committing to someone. Ever fully trusting them. You direct your warmth, your giving side, somewhere safe; toward your patients rather than your partner. It makes you a good counsellor but a bad lover.’
‘And good old I’ll-muddle-through-it-alone Peter was my ideal mate, is that it?’ she finished, with a biting sarcasm she didn’t feel; she knew it was the truth.
He ignored the sarcasm and nodded, ‘Of course. You’re a special person, Kate, but you’re still a human being. And you react to trauma in much the same way as everyone else. I’d even go so far as to say you’re a typical example of an abused child, with absolutely typical emotional retardation.’
She was shocked into silence. This was a sacred, taboo subject that no one who wanted to remain in her life ever mentioned. Not twice, anyway. What her father had done with her -to her, the rational part of her mind quickly amended- was never to be spoken about. Or dealt with? that cold little voice asked. But she ignored it, as so often before; she dealt with things her own way.
‘That was the real reason we split up, all those years ago,’ he continued remorselessly, ‘You couldn’t deal with me trying to get inside your heart and mind, and trying to draw you inside me. So you ran away.’
‘So why aren’t I a lesbian?’ she sneered, not wanting to listen even though her head knew all this already, though her heart had never accepted it, ‘Or a nun?’
His eyes were kind but his voice was firm as he replied, ‘You know damned well your problem is with commitment, with intimacy, not sex. And part of you wants, needs to give yourself totally to a man, which is why you keep looking. And then running away when you think you’ve found him. I really don’t think I need to tell a psycho-dynamist like you anything about the nature of conflict, do I? And there are darker elements at work in your mind, in your heart. Not just guilt, you’re confused about your mixed feelings at...’
‘We were discussing Peter, and his mother’s death,’ she interrupted coldly. Glacially. And with finality.
Trevor sighed and held up his hands in surrender, ‘You’re my friend and I love you dearly. I just wish you’d analyze yourself the same way you do your patients.’
‘It must be doubly difficult for him,’ she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken, ‘Especially with his father dying only last year. When’s the funeral?’
He knew when a cause was lost and gave up. For now. ‘Tomorrow, at half-past twelve. At St. Luke’s. Are you thinking of going?’
She nodded distantly, not forgiving him for intruding into her private pain. And guilt, of course. Never forget the guilt, however irrational and undeserved.
He paused and then said, ‘I think Peter didn’t invite you out of concern for your feelings. You know what his sisters are like; he was afraid they’d plague you with questions about your break-up.’ He gave her a wry smile, ‘Even a big tough macho-man like Peter can show sensitivity sometimes. In fact, his size is one of the things that attracted you to him. Your unresolved…’
‘Do you wish to remain my friend?’ she asked almost gently, but with an unmistakable edge to her voice, leaning forward to glare at him across his desk with those huge eyes, ‘And have me continue to treat Grainne? Because if so you will stay out of my personal life! Is that clear? Because if you ever pry into my affairs again I will walk. And you will never set eyes on me again!’
He eyed her reflectively, more concerned about her wellbeing than worried by her threat. And in fact now that she had begun he doubted if anything would stop her treating Grainne; part of her own psychological profi
le manifested itself as a compulsive need to help others with similar emotional problems. But he said only, ‘Very well. I can’t force you to deal with your own problems. I only spoke out because I care about you. But if you insist I won’t speak of them again.’
‘I do insist,’ Kate said instantly. She got to her feet, ‘I think Grainne needs a little time to adjust to whatever conflict is going on inside her so I won’t come back tomorrow. I’ll see her every second day for the moment. We can see if there’s any change in her condition then.’ And she walked out of the room without another word, forgetting to ask him why he had been hanging around Monkstown the previous evening, as she had intended. She went in a sedate, controlled manner, careful not to slam the door behind her because she wanted to so much. And because she knew he would only smile at such childish antics.
Once out of his sight, however, she stormed out of the clinic to her car, seething with fury and ready to kill. Kill him, that is. Just who the hell does he think he is? She got into the car and roared off, the spinning wheels sending gravel flying in all directions. She had to slow down at the gatepost but when the gates swung open she shot through and headed for home at a maniacal pace, trying unsuccessfully to focus only on the road ahead. And trying too not to see her compulsive love for her fast, powerful but hard to control car as a metaphor for her equally tenuous control over her life. And God knew no sports car could compare in power or volatility to her emotions. She snapped down on this train of thought with an effort, thinking instead, How dare he throw her past back in her face? Things she had told him in confidence, and only with difficulty, with unspeakable pain? How could he?
By the time she got home she had calmed down a little, now more upset than angry, and she allowed the thought to surface that anything he had said was prompted by concern for her. Mistaken concern, of course; as if she didn’t already know how flawed she was! She parked her car and made her way down into her apartment, too preoccupied to worry about burglars. She was hardly inside the door before the tears started; He was right, wasn’t he? That was the problem. The little voice that tormented her so often told her that he was, and this time for some reason she could not ignore it, as so often before.
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