‘Do you know how it started?’
‘The fire brigade say it was arson. Petrol was spilled in a storage cupboard beside Grainne’s room and then set alight.’
‘Beside Grainne’s room,’ echoed Kate thoughtfully, ‘Do you think she did it?’
He hesitated, ‘I don’t see how she could have. For one thing her door was locked. At night all the doors on that floor are electrically locked from the control room, so I don’t see how she could have gotten out to start it. And even if she did, where would she have gotten petrol? That was definitely brought in from outside.’
‘Was she in her room when the fire brigade arrived?’
‘Yeah, but that doesn’t mean much. When a fire breaks out the alarm system overrides the solenoids locking the rooms, automatically opening all the doors to prevent patients from being trapped in a burning building. So if she was somehow out when the rooms were remotely locked she could have easily slipped back into her room after starting it.’
‘But why would she start a fire and then go back inside? If she started it you’d think she would try to escape.’
He shrugged, ‘Unless it was another extreme suicide attempt. Which, with her record, can’t be ruled out. Last night, in the heat of the moment, my mind automatically turned to her but this morning, after a little reflection, I just don’t see it. I don’t think it was any of our patients, for that matter.’
‘Can’t you examine the security tapes?’
‘This is a clinic, Kate, not the White House,’ he said with some asperity, ‘Our security isn’t that hi-tec. The cameras don’t record, they just transmit to a telly at the nurse’s station, and to the control room. They’re there for sake of the patients, for the staff to keep an eye on them, not for security purposes.’
‘I see. Was there much damage?’
Trevor shrugged, ‘Mostly just to the paint work, luckily. We’ve moved all the patients that were on Two to other floors anyway, for the moment. Three of them were hurt, trying to escape through the fire, but they only needed first aid, I’m very glad to say.’
‘What was Grainne doing when the fire brigade arrived?’
‘Lying in bed, either in a faint or one of her fugue states. Which was probably just as well, actually, because she was safer in her room. All the rooms have fire doors, you know, and even the walls are made of special fire-retardant material that won’t let fire through for hours. We don’t skimp on anything here at Deacon House, and certainly not on safety. Though it looks like our security will have to be beefed up.’ He sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly, ‘This isn’t a prison and we don’t like the patients to feel they’re locked up and under scrutiny, but we’ll have to do something. Certainly we can’t risk anything like this happening again.’
‘The petrol seems to indicate that it wasn’t a patient,’ said Kate slowly, ‘So it had to be either a member of staff or a stranger. Could an outsider get in to start it?’
Trevor pursed his lips, ‘Pretty easily, I should think. Only the wall at the front of the building is really high. We have five acres of grounds here, and most of it is only surrounded by a six-foot fence. Anyone could have climbed over it and walked in the front door, which is shut at night but not locked.’
Kate looked at him incredulously, ‘Is there no security?’
His lips tightened and he said defensively, ‘We’ve never needed much. There’s a security guard in the control room day and night, which is basically a cubby-hole just behind the reception desk. No one could get in unseen while he’s there. He watches the cameras to make sure nothing is going on, and every two hours he walks around the outside of the building, checking that the doors and windows are locked. Which in future will have to include the front door.’
Kate thought for a minute; her entire hospital experience had been in a public asylum in England, where many of the patients had been dangerous and security had been intense. She far preferred working in Deacon House, but there was no doubt the security there needed an overhaul. A thought struck her and she said, ‘Are his patrols conducted at set, regular times?’
He nodded, ‘At twelve, two, four and so on. I see where you’re going. His patrols take thirty minutes or so, so anyone who knows the routine could simply walk in at five past twelve, or two, or whatever, and know that they won’t be seen or stopped. We’ll certainly have to review that.’
‘Not just someone who knew the routine, though,’ argued Kate, ‘I suppose anyone could have been lurking in the grounds outside the front door until they saw the porter leave the reception desk. Why was the front door unlocked?’
‘We close it but we never lock it,’ he said in surprise, ‘For a start quite a few of the staff live here, including me, and some of us keep late hours. And then there are the cleaners and the night staff changing shifts and what have you, so we keep it open all the time.’ He shrugged, ‘At least, we did until now. I guess we’ll have to change that too.’
‘Which you don’t want to do?’ guessed Kate, ‘So how many staff are here at night?’
‘Apart from the security guard? Uh, two orderlies and a nurse. But they mostly hang around in the staffroom until they’re needed. They’re really only here in case of emergencies so they don’t have any set duties. The laundry people come in at night too, usually between ten and midnight.’
‘I see. What about the doors at the end of each corridor? Aren’t they locked?’
‘No. Like I said, the patients’ rooms are locked anyway.’
‘So it would be easy for an outsider to nip in, light the fire, and then nip back outside. It would only take a few minutes and provided the guard was on his rounds he would never suspect a thing.’
‘I know. We’ll have to tighten up security now, but we’ve never experienced anything like this before. What security we have is designed to keep people in, and to be honest we’ve never needed much. Our patients are usually a lot happier here than in the outside world, and rarely try to get out.’
Kate smiled wryly, ‘Most institutionalised patients feel that way, and it’s hard to blame them. Sometimes I feel like shutting myself away from the world too.’
Trevor looked at her quizzically, ‘I doubt it, Kitty. Many people would have been broken by the trials you’ve endured, and not just recently; I mean throughout your whole life. But you just keep getting up and dusting yourself down and carrying on.’
Kate shifted uncomfortably at this allusion to her forbidden past but then smiled, ‘Remember that funny song from years ago? I get knocked down, but I get up again? That’s how I feel sometimes. But you know something, Trev? It gets harder to keep getting back up every year.’
She shook her head and said wistfully, ‘Why do I seem to attract trouble? Why does tragedy seem to stalk me?’ She laughed self-consciously, ‘Sorry for being melodramatic but it really does seem that way sometimes. I guess I was just born under an unlucky star.’
Trevor shook his head, ‘There’s no point in my telling you that you should have undergone therapy years ago, because you know it already. As you also know that most psychiatrists and psychologists attend counselling themselves at some stage. Indeed, many of us are drawn to the profession not just because we want to be healers but because we have problems ourselves and want to acquire the knowledge with which to resolve them. But not you. You refuse to acknowledge your problems and keep trying to struggle on alone. Why?’
‘Leave it,’ said Kate quietly but with finality.
He leaned back in his chair, ‘Fine. I’m too tired to argue anyway. And I suppose you do pretty well, considering. That last attack, in Trinity, have you had nightmares about it? Depression? Loss of appetite?’
He clearly wasn’t finished, was only just beginning, in fact, but Kate interrupted him incredulously, ‘Are you trying analyse me for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? I don’t have it, all right? And if I did I could handle it without your ham-fisted attempts at therapy! Now leave it alone!’
He laughed softly, ‘Oka
y, okay! Though the “ham-fisted” bit hurt! I guess you’re a survivor, and as long as you’ve got someone who loves you as much as Peter does, you’ll be okay.’
Kate tried to keep her face expressionless but he read something there anyway, and asked in concern, ‘What did I say? Did you and Peter have another fight?’
Kate stood up, ‘Mind your own business. Where’s Grainne now? I’d like to see her.’
He got to his feet and said doubtfully, ‘She’s on the third floor of the East wing. I can take you to her new room but she’ll still be pretty much out of it from the sedatives we gave her. Couldn’t you leave it until later?’
‘I’d rather not. If she’s awake I think she should talk about this now, in case it compounds her disassociation. Which is chronic enough as it is. A fresh trauma like this could undo all the progress she’s made, particularly if she did start the fire herself.’
Trevor clearly wasn’t convinced and opened his mouth to argue, but then he shrugged and said, ‘She’s your patient. But take it easy... Whoops, sorry! Please don’t take my head off! Not trying to teach you to suck eggs and all that!’
Kate smiled, ‘Shut up, idiot! And I will be careful. But I don’t want this to fester in her mind and cause further problems. I think she has enough already, don’t you?’
He made no further comment, silently opening the door for her and leading her up to Grainne’s new quarters. As before, he left her outside the door, but before he went he put one hand on her shoulder and gently kissed her cheek. Kate paused before knocking on the door, blinking away the sudden tears his show of affection engendered. She might not have post-traumatic stress disorder, but she had certainly been very emotional and vulnerable over the last couple of days. Which was not the ideal state for a trauma therapist to be in.
A few deep breaths steadied her a little and she tapped softly at Grainne’s door. To her surprise a man’s voice answered, ‘Yes?’
Michael. She would recognize his voice anywhere. Kate opened the door and looked inside. Riordan was seated next to his daughter, who was lying in bed, reading her a story. Kate blinked; it was a children’s story, Fantastic Mr. Fox. It seemed a bit of an odd choice for a young woman of her age but perhaps hearing well-loved stories from her childhood gave Grainne a sense of comfort. Or gave Michael one. Kate gave him a small, mechanical smile, though her face clearly showed that she was anything but pleased to see him. And she said, ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, Trevor didn’t tell me Grainne had a visitor.’
He looked at her guiltily, ‘That’s because I didn’t tell him I was here. I was worried when I heard about the fire, and the girl at the reception let me come up without an appointment. It’s against the rules, I know, but this is an exceptional circumstance, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I suppose so,’ said Kate reluctantly, understanding his concern but still not best pleased. She knew how important routine was for mental patients, and how upsetting even a seemingly trivial thing like an unscheduled visit could be. In a mental home, unlike in a normal hospital, visiting hours were for the benefit of the patients rather than the staff. ‘But I wonder if I could to talk to Grainne alone for a few minutes?’
He stood up immediately, ‘Of course.’ He bent over and kissed Grainne’s flawless, peach-like, but utterly unresponsive cheek, whispering in her ear, ‘I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.’
The girl was clearly still heavily tranquilised, because she showed no awareness of his presence, and no reaction to his departure.
He stopped beside Kate and said quietly, ‘Can I talk to you? About us?’
‘Not now,’ Kate replied sharply, not wanting his daughter to see any signs of intimacy or collusion between; the unfortunate girl was suspicious enough of her as it was. Riordan hesitated but then left without speaking again. Kate closed the door behind him, her eyes on Grainne; was she in one of her trance-like states of retreat?
This question was quickly answered as the girl raised glassy, tear-filled eyes to Kate’s face and said, quite distinctly, ‘I didn’t do it.’
Kate smiled with intense satisfaction, ‘Good morning, Grainne. Of course you didn’t; you were locked in your room when the fire started. No one thinks you did anything wrong.’
Grainne closed her eyes and shook her golden head, ‘My father does. He asked me if I did it.’
Kate sat in the chair Riordan had just vacated, utterly furious with him. But she kept her voice gentle as she repeated, ‘No one thinks you did anything. Besides, if you tell me you didn’t do something, of course I’ll believe you.’
Grainne looked at her with those big, glassy green eyes and said with a childish, heartbreaking air of hope, ‘Really?’ Heartbreaking because it showed the bewildered, frightened little girl inside the woman’s body.
Close up, Kate saw her dilated pupils and thought she could discern traces of drug-induced confusion, but not as much as she had expected. No doubt she had developed a resistance to chemicals from her years of substance abuse. And she said quietly, ‘Yes, really. I want to believe everything you tell me, and I want you to believe me, so I have a proposal to make. A pact, if you like. Suppose we both swear never to tell each other a lie, no matter what? No matter how much we lie to other people, we will always tell each other the truth. What do you say?’
Grainne blinked slowly, ‘Why should I? And why should you?’
Kate smiled, ‘Because I like you and I want us to be friends. I think we’re very much alike, and I think we can help each other. But to be real friends we have to be able to trust each other, and to know that neither of us is lying to the other. Ever. So now I promise that I will never lie to you. Never, about anything. I swear it.’
Grainne hesitated for a long time, and at last Kate smiled and said, ‘It’s okay if you can’t promise just now. But please, always try to tell me the truth. And remember that I will never lie to you. Do you believe that?’
After another, perceptible hesitation the girl nodded and Kate smiled all the wider, ‘Good.’
She took a deep breath, trying to control her mounting excitement and reining back the million questions crowding into her mind; this was the most approachable she had ever seen her patient and she didn’t want to blow it through being over-zealous. ‘The story your father was reading to you, is it one of your favourites?’
Grainne lowered her great green eyes, ‘I don’t know.’
‘Weren’t you listening?’
A pause, then, ‘Not really.’
‘Were you thinking about something else?’
The girl just shrugged, and after a moment Kate said carefully, ‘Do you remember the fire last night? Do you want to talk about it?’
The girl froze but then said, through numb lips, ‘I was asleep. I woke up and smelled smoke. I was scared and tried to get out of my room but the door was locked. I don’t remember what happened after that. When I woke up I was being given oxygen by firemen. Then I was brought to this room and put to bed. But I couldn’t sleep for a long time, even though the doctor gave me an injection.’
Kate nodded, ‘When the fire started you must have fainted. How scared were you before you passed out? Did you panic? Scream? Bang on the door?’
Another hesitation as the girl bit her full, red lower lip, then, ‘I’m not sure. I think I screamed but I don’t remember banging on the door. I just remember being scared and then...nothing.’
‘Why were you so scared?’
The girl shrugged her slender shoulders and made no reply.
Kate hesitated, ‘Was it because you were reminded of...the other fire?’
Grainne went very still and a set, tense expression appeared on her face. At last she said, through gritted teeth, ‘I... DON’T... REMEMBER.’
Kate wasn’t sure whether or not to believe her and she was reluctant to push too hard, particularly as the girl was clearly trying to keep her promise to be truthful. But on the other hand she couldn’t let fear stop her regress so after a pause she said softly, ‘Can you
talk about the other fire, Grainne?’
No answer, but Kate was encouraged by the fact that her patient had not retreated into one of her fantasies, nor a fugue-like state; by her fixed, scared expression the girl was still very much there. Kate reached across and gently clasped her cold hand, ‘I know it’s difficult, and painful, but if you are to get well again you must remember. I know you don’t want to, but you need to talk about it, Grainne.’
The girl shuddered and reached down to rub nervously at her right calf, rubbing hard, over and over again in a disturbingly compulsive manner that must have hurt. Kate frowned in confusion; what was that about?
Grainne blinked rapidly, again and again, before saying, ‘Please, I can’t remember!’
In her gentlest voice Kate said, ‘Listen to me, Grainne, your memories can’t hurt you. All the bad things that happened to you are in the past. You can remember them without fear because they no longer have any power over you. There may be pain but remember this; no matter what you’ve done in the past I’m on your side. Do you believe me? No matter what, I’m your friend and I will help you.’
Grainne shook her head, tears spilling down her face, ‘No, no, no! No! Why won’t they let me have my cigarettes? Why won’t they give me back my lighter? I didn’t start the fire! I didn’t start the fire. I DIDN’T START THE FUCKING FIRE!’
Kate tightened her grip on the girl’s hand, ‘I believe you, Grainne, I believe you! Calm down, everything is going to be all right. I’ll arrange for you to get your cigarettes back.’
Grainne was suddenly silent, and her hand gripped Kate’s fiercely and her suddenly blazing eyes locked on Kate’s as she said, ‘You promise? You promise?’
‘Yes,’ said Kate evenly, ‘I promise.’
Grainne let go of Kate’s hand and slumped back on the bed, her eyes closing. Kate stared at her in puzzlement; exactly what had she just promised? It certainly wasn’t about cigarettes. In fact it felt as if she had just entered a sacred covenant, had made a pact with the girl. But to what end? Was it just a promise to believe and trust her? To protect her? To be her friend no matter what secrets lay in her past, as she had already promised?
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