The Philosophy of Disgrace

by Ann Troup

‘Well, Mr Pritchard has completely reviewed you anti convulsion medication, and we are trying you on a new regime. You’ll be allowed home as soon as we know its working and you are up and around on that leg. Did yourself quite a bit of damage there.’

  ‘It must have been the broken plate, when the seizure started I had it in my hand, I must have gone down and managed to ram it into my leg.’ She mused.

  The nurse paused what she was doing and looked down at her. ‘Look dear, I know it’s not my place to say, and I’m not saying that their explanation isn’t possible, but I’ve seen the marks on your back, and you’ve got bruises, old ones and new ones. If you are in a violent relationship, there are ways of getting out. I’ll bring you some leaflets, pop them in your bedside drawer, you can take a look at them and give it some thought eh?’ she said, patting Rachel’s hand.

  Why was it that people thought the cruel ones were always men? The scars on her back had healed a long time ago, as would the one on her leg. The wounds in her mind had never healed, and no man had caused them.

  There were so many hospitals in London! Amy had almost used up all her minutes for that month ringing round to find out where Rachel had been admitted. After she had finally managed to track her down, she felt mildly stupid on realising that St Marys was only a stone’s throw away.

  Outside Rachel’s room she hesitated, unsure of what she would find when she went inside. She had an ominous feeling that she could be about to make really bad day considerably worse. There was hardly a clearly defined etiquette for such things. Bracing herself she pushed open the door, walked in, and regarded the woman propped up in the bed with her eyes closed. How could everybody, but her, manage to sleep through this horrendous situation?

  This is my mother, she thought, this hollowed out, fragile, injured woman is my mother. There was something about hospital beds, drips, and machines with LCD displays and alarms, which had the effect of reducing people to something of a shadow of their selves. It was something that she had noticed during her Nurse Training, illness and dependency diminished people. The woman in the bed was just that, an older, diminished version of herself. Looking at Rachel’s careworn face, she realised how few of her father’s features her own face held. People had often said that she must look like her mother, but until now, she had only had a few old photographs from which to make the comparison. To be confronted with this faded version of herself was a shock. I am not like you, she told herself, I would never walk away from my child.

  Rachel was aware of another presence in the room; she could smell perfume, so knew it wasn’t a nurse. Whoever was there wasn’t moving, but she could feel their eyes on her, sense the appraisal. She opened her eyes and turned towards her visitor. ‘Amy’.

  The girl looked surprised, ‘you know who I am?’

  Disadvantaged, Rachel tried to prop herself up further, but her left hand was hampered by the drip. ‘Of course.’ She said breathlessly, finally managing to find purchase on the crisp sheets by using her elbows. She knew that this might happen one day, on good days she had fantasised about it, a wonderful reunion where the past had no meaning. On most days, bad days, she had dreaded it.

  ‘They told me you were dead.’ Amy said, still standing, her bag held in front of her like a shield, as if Rachel might leap out of the bed and do something untoward.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘They arrested my dad today, they thought he attacked you.’

  ‘Yes, the police came. He didn’t do anything, is he alright?’

  ‘Like you care.’

  Rachel looked down at her bandaged hands, at the tube that was still slowly dripping blood back into her body. It was hard to imagine why people would go to such lengths to keep her alive. If she were a dog, they would have let her die.

  ‘They let him go’. Amy said, finally. ‘I went to your flat. Someone found your bracelet. I found out you were still alive and I went to your flat’.

  Rachel closed her eyes, trying to imagine what her home must look like to someone like Amy, an ordinary girl, with a normal life. ‘It was my Aunts flat’.

  ‘What kind of person lives like that? Surrounded by all that junk!’ Amy said spitefully.

  ‘Does it matter how I live?’

  ‘It explains a lot, tells me what kind of person you are. It tells me you don’t care.’

  Care about what? Who I am, where I live, how I live? I don’t, Rachel thought, but she couldn’t say that, she owed this child, her child more. ‘I never got round to changing it.’ She said, knowing that it sounded lame.

  Amy moved to the end of the bed, braver now that she knew Rachel wasn’t going to fight back. ‘Why did you come back? If you hadn’t come back none of this would have happened.’ She said, gripping the bed rail, her knuckles white.

  ‘My mother died. There were things to sort out. I’m sorry, I never meant you to find out about me like this.’

  Amy felt her emotions shift a little, thrown off by the revelation of a death. ‘Well I’m sorry about your mum.’

  ‘Don’t be, no one else is. She wasn’t much of a mother. It seems to be a family trait.’ Rachel said with a wry laugh.

  Amy felt defeated, she had expected something quite different to this, she wasn’t sure what, but it wasn’t this. All of a sudden, she felt incredibly tired and overwhelmingly sad. There was a chair by the bed, she dragged herself over to it and flopped down. ‘I don’t know why I’m here, I don’t know what I expected to find. I want to hate you, but look at you, lying there looking like you’ve been hit by a truck. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.’

  Rachel regarded her daughter, and denied the rush of regret that would threaten them both, Amy most of all. ‘You want to know why I left, well this is why.’ She said, indicating her battered body. ‘Last night I had a seizure, I had a piece of broken china in my hand, I managed to mutilate my own leg, and I didn’t have any control over it. Imagine someone capable of that in charge of a baby? What might have happened to you if I’d stayed?’

  Amy shook her head, ‘No, that’s not it. You had help, my gran, dad, they would have helped you. No, it’s more than that.’

  Rachel plucked at the cotton blanket, ignoring the discomfort in her hand from the big needle that insistently dripped life into her veins. ‘It’s hard to explain, because I don’t know how much you know about your dad’s past.’

  ‘If you mean that he was in prison for bumping off his first wife, yeah, I know.’ Amy said drily.

  ‘Right. Well, what you might not know, because he doesn’t talk about it, or didn’t use to, was that I was there when Patsy was found. I saw what happened, and I know your dad didn’t do it.’

  ‘So why did he go to prison then?’ Amy demanded. She had not expected things to go in this direction.

  Rachel sighed. ‘It’s complicated. I was only ten when it happened, I was a kid who had fits, and no one believed me. See, your dad had the knife in his hand; I was the only one who had seen him find Patsy like that. She had been having an affair with my sister’s husband, so he had a motive. Lots of people gave evidence against him, my family included’.

  Amy hadn’t known that they knew each other before. It made her feel weird, her father being a grown man when her mother was still a child. ‘Look, I know he was innocent, anybody who knows him would say the same.’ Though she had to admit she’d had her doubts when she had gone into the flat that morning.

  ‘I know, but that’s not what I’m trying to say, I’m trying to explain the background. We got together not long after he came out, I suppose we gravitated towards each other, like we were the only friendly faces each other could see. I’d stayed in touch with your Gran, she was a good friend. My family weren’t, aren’t, decent people.’

  ‘Yeah, I gathered, I read the papers.’

  ‘Quite. Anyway, I was lonely and unhappy, so was your dad, so we just drifted together for the wrong reasons. I doubt it would ever have worked, and for the reasons I’ve given you, I couldn’t take you
with me. I thought the only option I had was to leave, for good, and give you all a chance of a decent life. My family would never have left us alone. It’d difficult for me to explain to you what they were like, but they knew I had been left some money, and they would never have left us alone until they got hold of it. I’m not saying I did the right thing, but I did what I thought was right at the time.’ Rachel explained, knowing that elements of it were true, but as an explanation, it was so full of holes, it could give a colander a run for its money. At best, it would leave Amy despising her but not asking her to say any more.

  ‘So, you came into money and buggered off, leaving your family behind and you want me to believe it was a noble gesture?’ Amy said, already on her feet. ‘I don’t know why I came here, I wish I could just wipe out the last few days and have still gone on thinking you were dead! Well, I hope you’ve enjoyed your freedom, because I can tell you now none of us have. My dad never got over you leaving us, never! He doesn’t trust anyone anymore, not even me now because of you. You did that to him!’ She was shouting now, Rachel looked towards the door afraid that the staff would hear, ‘so, thanks a lot you selfish cow! Take a good look before I go, because you won’t be setting eyes on any of us again, I promise you that!’ She yelled, barging towards the door and pushing past an astonished nurse who had come to see what the problem was.

  ‘What was all that about? Are you alright?’ the nurse asked, peering down the corridor to observe the girls hasty flight.

  ‘I’m OK, it’s OK, she’s just a bit overwrought that’s all.’ Rachel said, still shaking, desperately trying to hang on to her senses.

  The nurse fussed with her bedding and pulled up her pillows. ‘You’re telling me, we could hear the shouting at the other end of the ward. Are you sure you’re all right?’

  Rachel nodded, ‘Just tired.’

  The nurse frowned, ‘OK. Well, we’ll be round with the medication in a minute. I’ll get someone to bring you a cup of tea too. Then you can get some rest.’

  Rachel gave her a weak smile, and sank back onto her pillows. It was all for the best really, better that Amy despise her than know the truth. Even so, it had been harder to do than she had thought. One of the hardest, other than walking away in the first place. If she could get out of the damned bed she would do that now, walk away. Make her way down to the embankment, stand on a bridge and contemplate throwing herself into the Thames. It had been a favourite pastime over the years, Blackfriars Bridge at 5 am always being the favourite. But the fact that Amy already thought she was dead had always stopped her. That and the thought of the poor person who would find her body. The same with the underground, an overdose, hanging, all of it, she had weighed the options so many times. Someone would always have to suffer for her actions; there had never been an easy way out.

  Charlie was roused from a deep, deep sleep by the screeching insistence of an alarm he hadn’t set. For a moment, he had forgotten where he was, the sight of the unfamiliar surroundings catching him off guard and bringing him instantly upright on the bed and instantly alert. Irritated, he fumbled with the alarm in a vain attempt to switch it off, eventually resorting to pulling the plug out of the wall. Though his brain was awake, his body didn’t seem to want to follow suit. Still exhausted he rubbed his face and looked round the room. His mind was telling him that something important was missing. His thoughts fumbled around for what it could be. Amy! Suddenly energised by an abrupt shot of anger, he leapt to his feet, looking for his shoes. Only when he went to retrieve his jacket did he see her note. ‘Oh for God’s sake!’ he said out loud, dropping back down onto the bed, then, ‘Fuck! The bloody van!’ What was it with kids that they could never just do what they were told, why did they always think that they could go one better with their insatiable need for instant gratification?

  He was still champing on his temper when he reached the van, figuring he had better move it before it was clamped or towed away. While fumbling for his keys he realised that he was being watched. Someone was peering at him from behind a net curtain in the flat below Rachel’s. He could hear a dog frantically barking from somewhere inside. He gave the voyeur a wan smile. Immediately the curtain was dropped and the face disappeared. Shrugging he got into the van and drove it around the block until he found an empty parking space, then he went back to the flats and rang the doorbell.

  Anyone else who owned a building in London would have had some kind of security system fitted, but not Rachel. The front door was solid, but anyone could have got in if they’d had half a mind to. Besides, both he and Amy had been able to walk in to the flat that morning, not even the police had thought to release the latch on Rachel’s front door. He rang the bell again, and saw a dim light through the glass, someone was coming, but they didn’t open the door.

  ‘If you do not leave immediately I will have no choice but to telephone the police,’ came a tremulous yet imperious voice from behind the door.

  ‘Please, I need to speak with you about happened, I need to explain.’ He called loudly, both to penetrate the glass of the door and to rise above the persistent yapping of the dog.

  ‘Please leave immediately!’ The woman shrieked.

  ‘Dad? What are you doing?’ Amy was at the bottom of the steps peering up at him.

  He gave up on trying to persuade the woman to let him in, he was clearly getting nowhere. ‘I was trying to get her to let me in; someone needs to clear up that mess upstairs.’

  Amy looked aghast, ‘You’re what? I don’t believe you, after all that woman’s done you want to go in and clean her kitchen?’

  Charlie reached the bottom of the steps and sighed, ‘You don’t understand, there isn’t anyone else to do it, and I can’t let her come back to that.’ He said.

  ‘Oh. My. God. You’re honestly telling me that after everything, you still care about her? Are you mad?’ Amy said, incredulity written all over her face.

  Charlie felt his anger flare again. ‘Don’t you dare speak to me like that! You don’t have a clue about what’s going on, so don’t even pretend to have a valid opinion on my actions!’

  Amy blinked in surprise. He had never raised his voice to her. ‘She pretended to be dead. You lied to me. And now you don’t think I have a right to be upset?’

  Charlie’s anger fizzled out like a cheap indoor firework. ‘OK, ok. I think we both need to calm down a bit. I know you need an explanation, we need to talk, but I need some food first, I’m absolutely bloody starving and it’s making me irritable.’

  Amy was equally hungry; she’d had nothing since that morning except too much caffeine, which was making her nerves jangle. ‘There’s a Burger King round the corner, we could get a takeout, go back to the room?’

  ‘That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. Come on, but you’ll have to pay. I put the last of my money in the parking meter.’ He said, finally relenting and putting his arm round her shoulder.

  ‘No problem. I’m loaded. I nicked your stash from under the sink.’

  ‘I know, you’re not supposed to know about that. Anyway, what the hell are you doing wandering around London with that kind of money on you? Anything could have happened!’

  ‘Christ dad, look at the state of me? Any would be mugger would probably take pity on me, not rob me.’ They were at the door of the burger bar. ‘What’re you having, the usual?’

  They took their food back to the room, past the suspicious gaze of the hotel receptionist, and ate it sat on the bed. Charlie propped against the headboard, Amy sitting cross legged at his feet. ‘Why does crap food always taste so nice?’She asked, cramming the last mouthful of burger into her mouth, mayonnaise dribbling down her chin.

  ‘Because you’ve had to survive my cooking for twenty years’. It was true, because at best Charlie’s culinary style could be described as ‘rustic’.

  ‘Was she a good cook?’ Amy asked. It was a good ‘in’; they needed to get to it sooner or later.

  Charlie laughed, ‘Rachel? Cook? She wa
s abysmal, she could burn water.’

  Amy tried to smile, but it wouldn’t happen. ‘I saw her, earlier. I went to the hospital.’

  Charlie nodded, ‘I got your note. What did she say to you?’

  ‘Why she left, that she couldn’t cope, that you and her would never have lasted because you were together for all the wrong reasons.’

  Charlie frowned and nodded slowly. ‘We didn’t deliberately lie to you about her. It was just an untruth that was more convenient than it ought to have been. I’m sorry, I should never have let it go on so long.’

  After she had left the hospital, Amy had gone for a walk in the park, had done some thinking and had concluded that, though it was totally out of order, her Gran and her Dad had only lied to protect her. She didn’t like it, but she got it. ‘I get it, it’s OK. Better than growing up knowing your own mother didn’t want you I guess.’

  Charlie raised his eyebrows. ‘If that’s what she told you, she was lying.’

  ‘Well what else could it be, yeah sure, I know the story, the epilepsy and all. But if she loved us at all, she would have stayed. I mean life wasn’t easy for you, but you didn’t bail out on me when it got tough’.

  ‘You’re wrong; she left because she did love us. Believe me. You don’t know her. She would never have gone if she hadn’t had a really good reason to think it was for the best.’ He didn’t want to tell her the truth, but he couldn’t see another way. If he lied she would hate Rachel forever, and that wasn’t fair, if he told the truth he would open up a whole new wound full of confusion and hurt. Lies had brought them to this, the truth might hurt, but at least there was a chance.

  ‘What possible excuse could anyone have for doing something so selfish?’ Amy asked, her tone heavy with derision.

  Charlie exhaled slowly, and leaned forward. ‘A pretty good one as it happens, and I only found out about it myself this morning, so don’t fly off the handle with me and think I’ve been keeping things from you again. It’s kind of hard for me to tell you this, because there is a lot of history behind it, but bear with me, OK?’ He told her what Delia had told him that morning, and watched as a melee of emotions clashed on her face, twisting her features into a hundred kinds of shock.