From a Safe Distance

by Bishop, Julia

  ‘Point of order, Mr Montgomery.’ Max raised his hand; Dick seemed to have made a huge assumption. ‘Since it is the Centre which is, so to speak, in the dock, is it right that you chair the meeting?’

  ‘Oh, we’re not going to have all that voting nonsense, on top of everything else, are we?’ Dick was exasperated. He held onto the table as if he would rather leave.

  ‘I don’t think that will be necessary, but I do think it would be more appropriate if someone else, who is not directly involved with the Centre, were to take the chair.’

  ‘In other words, you, Dr Greenwood.’

  Max felt his hands sweating. ‘But only if everyone is happy with that. For the sake of objectivity. As far as we … can.’

  Dick gave a heavy sigh and continued wearily, speaking in the rather childish, heavy rhythm of someone who will never accept that another person knows better and who assumes that every delay is meant personally: ‘Does anybody object to Dr Greenwood chairing this meeting?’ Nobody spoke. ‘Please can we get on then? Over to you. Although I still can’t really understand why I’m allowing you to be present, let alone Mr Gates.’ He looked at Max, his mouth taut, blinking expectantly.

  Max let Monty’s words die away before beginning. It was abundantly clear than Dick did not want to be in this room, especially in these circumstances, and if he had to be, he wanted the whole business over and done with as speedily as possible and without too much controversy. Now Max was responsible for showing him that all of this was in fact important, and that he needed to focus.

  ‘Thank you.’ Max cleared his throat. ‘First of all, I don’t need to remind you that everything said in this room remains here. Confidentiality is vital. Now, the report. My wife, who has worked here for many years, gathered the information last month while in temporary charge of Grove House. She was shocked at what she found. Leaving aside administrative issues, some of the residents – two in particular – were clearly suffering from neglect. On page four is a photograph of a lady who has been kept in bed too long and not turned or washed frequently enough, so that her bedsores have become large, deep and infected. I do not think there can be any doubt that this is a case of neglect. Does anyone have anything to say on the matter?’

  There were one or two expressions of remembered disgust in response to the picture, then Sandra spoke.

  ‘Lil – that resident, I mean, was not in that state when I was on the house. And I had the paperwork in order. It must have been Jean. I knew she wasn’t up to it.’

  ‘With respect,’ Max replied, ‘this kind of bedsore does not appear overnight. In one place the bone was visible.’ He sensed Helen bristling near Sandra. He went on: ‘The other resident in question was a slightly younger woman who, my wife recognised, was afflicted with a psychotic illness. There is a detailed account on page six of the kind of behaviour she displayed. It was clear to Mrs Greenwood that this resident had been confined to one room in the house for long periods, and had not been seen by a psychiatrist. She was ostracised by the other residents, who referred to her as “Nancy Nutter”, and according to Catherine, a resident who knows everything that goes on in the house, she was deprived of food if she became aggressive. That is a denial of human rights. Has anyone got anything to say, or add, to this catalogue?’

  After a pause, Helen spoke up.

  ‘Dr Greenwood is right to say that I was shocked at what I found on Grove. These two poor ladies really needed help. Lily is now in the ITU at Okebury Hospital with MRSA and Nancy is being treated in the psychiatric unit there.’

  ‘What?’ Sandra was indignant.

  ‘Anybody else?’

  ‘I find it hard to believe,’ said Jim, standing up, scarcely able to contain himself, ‘that this supposedly caring organisation, the nationally famous Squaremile Centre, which has its Investor in People award, can allow such dreadful things to happen to the vulnerable people living here. And it could all have been prevented! If the residents had had their My Life meetings, the care managers visiting from their home areas, not to mention the families, would have picked up on these problems before they got out of hand. Presumably Sandra didn’t want anyone to see her residents though. But the finger should not only point to Sandra Wheatley. The Squaremile senior management must be held equally responsible for this shameful state of affairs. Incompetence, and I won’t hesitate to use the word cruelty, has led to extreme suffering. There was no need for things to get this bad.’

  As he sat down, he rapped his knuckles hard on the table and his face was dark with anger. Ms Olubi looked up from her note-taking. Max guessed Jim was not only thinking about Lily and Nancy at that moment.

  ‘Have you anything to say, Mr Montgomery?’ Max asked. Deprived of his chairmanship, Dick had been listening in silence, as had Jack Marshall.

  ‘I have to accept responsibility,’ Dick said quietly, deflated, ‘on behalf of my staff, for these … serious occurrences. Of course things should have been handled better, and sooner.’ One hand partly covered his mouth as he spoke, and his eyes darted from Sandra to Jack with ill-concealed disappointment. He grasped the side of the table again with the other hand; this time it was more as a support. He was scarcely audible now: ‘This is a terrible state of affairs. It is not only neglect but abuse. I … ’

  ‘ … So you will write to their families, then?’ Jim was still agitated, ‘And tell them that? You do realise that if this gets into the papers, Squaremile will be finished.’

  ‘Yes.’ Dick Montgomery seemed utterly defeated.

  ‘I think … serious consideration needs to be given to the future of Squaremile’s management team,’ said Max. ‘Can I suggest we have our coffee break now before moving on to Item 2 – shall we say half an hour? Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.’

  ‘I’ll take my drink in my office, Pat,’ Dick Montgomery said to his secretary.

  Neither Sandra nor Jack moved, so Max had to sidle past them to get to the door. The union rep followed them to the bar in the lounge. After only a few steps, they were still near enough to the boardroom to hear Jack shouting. Before Helen could speak, Max put his finger to his lips: ‘Listen!’ He whispered.

  ‘I covered for you! I trusted you! Now my job’s on the line. What do you propose to do about it?’

  Then Helen and Max had to move away quickly, because it seemed as though the door was about to be opened. Helen was pale. They went and bought coffee and sat in silence. She took some more painkillers. Meanwhile a beautiful day was in progress outside and ordinary life continued at Squaremile as if nothing significant was happening.

  ‘I think a few heads will roll after this,’ Max said softly.

  Helen whispered: ‘Oh, but Max! It was as if Dick hadn’t even read the report. Did you see how his behaviour changed?’

  ‘Yes, I thought the same thing.’

  ‘I feel as if this is not really happening. We’ve been so wrapped up in it. But how am I supposed to go on working here now? That is, if … ’

  Jack appeared at the counter, red in the face and brusque with the waitress. He grabbed his cup and went smartly back in the direction of his own office, ignoring the Greenwoods. Ms Olubi took her drink back to the boardroom, with one for Sandra. Jim asked if he could sit with Max and Helen.

  ‘Of course. Pleased you could make it, Jim,’ said Helen, smiling, ‘despite the circumstances.’ Max went to buy Jim a coffee. As he returned, he heard Helen ask: ‘Do you feel confident about Item 2?’

  ‘After what we’ve seen so far this morning?’ Jim was sensing victory. ‘I should say so. It seems to be just a case of letting them hang themselves!’

  Sandra didn’t appear to have moved at all when they reassembled in the boardroom. She had obviously been discussing matters with the union rep; her papers were still spread out in front of her and she sat stony-faced as the others took their places. Pat was opening more windows. The boardroom really ought to be air-conditioned, Max thought, so that nothing could be heard from outside. Dick Montgomery
was the last to return, still subdued.

  ‘So, Item 2,’ Max began, standing up. ‘This concerns the treatment of the late Ms Victoria Gates while she was a care assistant at the Centre. I want it to be understood here that I am not in the habit of divulging anything about my patients, except perhaps to colleagues at the hospital. Even then, people remain anonymous unless and until someone needs to know about their case. On this occasion, however, I am obliged to reveal a certain amount of information in order to deal adequately with the issues in question, but only what is relevant. On these grounds I refuse, therefore, to discuss the nature and treatment of her illness.’ He took a breath. ‘To my mind, the Centre had a less than helpful attitude towards Ms Gates. It was known she had a problem when she was employed, yet – .’

  ‘– We did not know the extent of that “problem” at the time,’ Jack interrupted. ‘You have to see this from our point of view. I mean, she took inordinate amounts of sick leave, which cost us money, and she could have become violent, or … ’

  ‘I think we have established that you have a duty of care towards your residents, don’t you, Mr Marshall?’ Suddenly all eyes were on Max, who realised he had raised his voice. He composed himself. ‘In the same way, I have a duty of care towards my patients. And as I said in answer to the questions you sent me when she was working here, there was no likelihood of violent or aggressive behaviour. I’m assuming you did see those answers, that they were forwarded from Personnel?’

  Dick nodded.

  ‘Nobody was in danger. Ms Gates was known as a hardworking member of the staff team on Forest House. Brendan Donnelly, her first boss, valued the skills she could offer: she was a trained teacher looking for a new career. She didn’t know if or when she would be ill, but every time she was at her most vulnerable, when she had been in hospital, when she needed support, how did Squaremile respond? By talking to her and trying to help? No! By subjecting her to a disciplinary hearing each time and issuing warnings, by punishing her for something she could not help. That is unfair!’

  Dick Montgomery spoke at last. ‘Er, are you unwell, Dr Greenwood? You seem a little unsteady on your feet, that’s all. Shouldn’t you be taking some sort of medication for the old ticker? We wouldn’t want you off sick again, would we?’

  Sandra smirked.

  ‘No sir. It’s just hot in here’, replied Max.

  He had stopped Max in full flow, deliberately, as if he could not completely relinquish control. After another pause, Dick grimaced, suggesting that a compromise was coming:

  ‘In connection with those hearings, I do agree that the term “disciplinary” was inappropriate, unfortunate even, and I said as much at the time, but we had to do something.’ He leant forward in a travesty of confiding in Max. ‘As much as anything, you understand, we had to let other junior staff be shown that lengthy absences would not be tolerated, you know.’ He finished with an assertive nod and frown.

  ‘In other words, Vee was used as an example?’ Max replied. ‘And do you think that she could – to use your word – tolerate being ill? Have you the slightest notion of what it’s like to have your world ripped apart by an illness like this?’

  Dick studied Max for a moment. ‘I admit, I have no personal experience of mental illness, but you are a psychiatrist, so … ’

  ‘Yes, and in my professional judgement, the Centre exacerbated her condition. She did not choose to be ill, or do it to annoy others, or for attention. Life was made even more difficult for her by being here. In my view, residents and staff should be treated with the same degree of respect.’

  Dick folded his hands together in front of him on the table.

  ‘So in your opinion, a couple of hearings and warnings drove her to suicide, Mr Chairman. Is that what you expect us to believe?’ The Chief Executive’s confidence seemed to have returned; he was adopting his dismissive stance once more, complete with the glasses act. Max continued.

  ‘Oh no. It was much more than that. Ms Gates was eventually promoted, then moved, after the fire on Alder, to Grove House, run at the time by Ms Wheatley. I believe that, in the first instance, Sandra was jealous of Vee’s qualifications, and saw her as a threat.’

  Sandra was staring at Max. Then she flung herself back in her seat, shaking her head and smiling incredulously. ‘You are joking! I can’t believe I’m hearing this! You’ve got a bloody nerve!’

  ‘That’s how it appeared, from what Ms Gates told me.’

  ‘And you’d believe the word of a … a … ’ Sandra’s eyes darted round the group.

  ‘A what, Ms Wheatley?’ Max collected his thoughts again, trying to concentrate and ignore the feeling in his chest. There was no reply. ‘Whether it’s true or not, you soon found her Achilles heel. You gave her a hard time, I know that. I can only conclude that you allowed your personal feelings to get in the way of a professional, working relationship of the kind Ms Gates enjoyed on her first house. Vee’s illness became your preoccupation. You gave her no credit for doing a good job when she was well. Everybody knew she worked hard – relied on it, in fact. I have read what Vee wrote about you.’ Max was building to a climax. ‘If you hadn’t bullied her, we might not have needed this meeting because she might still have been alive.’ With that he sat down.

  ‘How dare you say such a thing! Flinging wild accusations at me! And don’t you think the way she died goes to prove she wasn’t up to it?’ Sandra lost her cool, as he’d hoped she would. Everyone in the room was aware of the tension. Sandra looked at Ms Olubi, shook her head in mock despair and shrugged as if she didn’t have any idea what Max meant; but her reaction had already shown the opposite. Ms Olubi stared at her, then went on writing notes.

  ‘Fascinating, I’m sure, Dr Greenwood,’ said Dick Montgomery, with a cough. ‘But there’s something missing in all this: you have given us no evidence whatsoever for the claims you make regarding Ms Gates. This is all hearsay, empty allegations.’ And – he raised his hand to prevent comment, ‘I think our chairman is too involved with the case.’

  ‘We can’t change the chairman half way through the meeting!’ Helen exclaimed in her Scots accent.

  ‘Unless that chairman is ill.’ Dick threw Max a glance, eyebrows raised.

  Jim stepped in: ‘Look, since when did anyone have to prove their innocence, eh? What happened to “innocent until proven guilty”?’ He was becoming more and more frustrated. ‘What I’m trying to say is, what evidence can you produce, Sandra, to prove Vee was doing anything wrong? No resident was injured or died as a result of her actions, did they?’

  ‘What about June and Catherine in the Alder House fire?’ Sandra was desperate.

  ‘But Vee didn’t start the fire, did she? And where were you when she was getting people out to safety, eh?’ Jim glared at her.

  The intensity of the meeting was taking its toll. At the same time, Max was anxious not to let anyone else take over, or for things to get out of hand.

  ‘Presumably you thought you were doing the right thing, Ms Wheatley,’ he continued. ‘Treating Vee as you did. For yourself, perhaps, your own advancement. Now, Mr Montgomery, you say you want evidence. My wife and I were aware that you would, so Helen interviewed the junior staff who knew Sandra in Birch and Grove.’

  ‘So you got your wife to do the dirty work?’

  ‘I suppose you could say that, but she is on the spot. She recorded the interviews, two of which I propose to play to you now. But before we come to that, I would like to suggest that we take our lunch break now. This morning’s business has taken longer than expected. Shall we reconvene at two o’clock?’

  As he stood up, Dick Montgomery said, ‘I’ve no doubt a good many of your patients would like you to be their champion, Dr Greenwood. Are you planning any more sorties into other organisations, I wonder? Flying the flag of justice? With a flick of his eyebrows, he added, ‘I wasn’t aware that a psychiatrist’s job was to treat the whole world, especially when he is unwell himself.’

  28

/>   The Boardroom (2)

  ‘This is not normal practice,’ said Ms Olubi, sitting down and nodding her head in the direction of the tape recorder. ‘There had better be a good reason for it.’

  Helen replied, ‘I think the recordings allow an insight into everyday life on a house and into Sandra’s behaviour, two things which we would probably not be able to convey to the meeting in any other way.’ She moved to the other end of the table, opposite Jim, and set up the cassette player.

  Max remembered their practice run at home the night before. ‘Perhaps, Mrs Greenwood, you would be kind enough to talk us through them.’

  ‘Thank you, er, Mr Chairman. In the office at Grove, I interviewed several staff who had worked with Sandra in Alder, Grove and Birch, with their knowledge and consent. Of these recordings, some had too much background noise or were interrupted beyond saving, and one was too faint to be of any use. The two remaining are fairly self-explanatory.’

  She reached into her bag for the tapes. After some frantic rummaging, she looked up in horror. ‘They’re not here! I put them ready in this bag last night! With the player!’ She stared at Max. ‘You didn’t take them out for any reason, did you?’

  ‘No. Didn’t touch them.’

  ‘Please excuse me, everybody, but I need a word with my husband outside.’ She closed the door quietly and they stood in the corridor. ‘I know I put them in there! Last night!’ Helen’s desperation showed once again in her Scots accent.

  ‘Just stop and think for a minute. Did you leave the bag unattended at all this morning, when you were on the house?’

  ‘Oh … yes … it’s coming back to me. I had to leave the office to go and help somebody.’

  ‘Who else was around?’

  ‘The usual staff.’ They looked at each other intently. ‘But why?’ asked Helen.