‘Right. So … what’s the story? Fill me in.’
‘Well, this is the third time she’s made allegations about the parentage of her babies. All denied by the gentlemen concerned.’
‘Right.’
‘First it was her boss at work, secondly the window cleaner. Charles Tissot is in third place. They encountered each other at a party last November.’
He worked it out quickly. ‘The dates fit.’ He paused, adding awkwardly, ‘Listen, Claire, I’ll have to return the notes in the morning or there’ll be hell to play. But I thought you’d prefer to see the originals than have me pick out just one or two letters I thought were relevant.’
‘Yeah.’
The coffee arrived, which took their attention for only a minute or two, then she started scanning through marked passages. There was a lot to read. Simon kept up a patchy running commentary, peering over her shoulder as Claire tried to absorb the contents.
‘I had a quick look. Laura saw her a few times during the pregnancy and after Eliza’s death.’
They both took a sip of the coffee. Rita had got it off to a fine art with the new Krups coffee maker, a present from a grateful patient who knew about Claire’s caffeine habit.
‘It was only during the second pregnancy that she became more heavily involved. It’s a shame she’s off and you’ve just got me.’
Claire looked up. The comment invited a denial. No, no, you’ll do fine. Yes, it’s a shame that Laura’s sick but … and so on.
She started but in a half-hearted way. ‘No. It’s …’ before telling the truth, swivelling round in her chair and looking up to meet his perceptive eyes. ‘Yeah. Laura would have been good but hey, you’re better than no one.’ It was a frankness which caused them both to laugh and had the result of relaxing them equally. There. The ice was broken.
She read on, absorbing the information, beginning with the initial referral letter.
Claire quickly realized that the GP had made up his own mind, using the words, Deluded … Strange story … Appeared to believe … Recently married … Exacerbated by the baby’s tragic death.
It was a murky tale but Dr Barker had still managed Heather’s case himself, right up to the point where he had been asked by a solicitor acting for an anxious Mr Timothy Cartwright to provide evidence of his patient’s mental health.
A copy of the solicitor’s letter was enclosed, dated a month after Eliza’s death. And it gave a different angle from the one she had previously seen. This time it was Cartwright’s view.
Dear Doctor,
Mrs Krimble is making a claim for unfair dismissal from Mr Cartwright’s printing firm.
My client, Mr Timothy Cartwright, has been very much upset at an allegation of a sexual and romantic liaison which Mrs Krimble has made against him and which has almost resulted in bankruptcy for a previously successful business, a small, family-run firm which his grandfather began in the mid-fifties.
Mrs Krimble alleges that she and Mr Cartwright had been indulging in an affair and that her daughter, Eliza, is the result of this union. The little girl has, unfortunately, died quite recently, the result of a cot death. She has been cremated so it is not possible to ascertain the baby’s paternity through a DNA test.
Mr Cartwright asserts that he has not and never has had any carnal contact or romantic attachment to Mrs Krimble. He was not attracted to her, and further claims that he has never had a girlfriend but is instead very happy living at home with his mother. Mrs Krimble has worked for him for a number of years as his secretary and she was perfectly competent at her job. Loyal was the word he used.
His statement had the ring of truth.
Around a year ago, he said, Heather started making suggestive remarks, asking him very personal questions about his private life. He tried to get her to stop but she continued, even making these claims to her work colleagues. It was not only untrue, it was embarrassing. He tried to get her to stop but she did not, simply mocking him for his embarrassment.
What was my client to do? Mr Cartwright further states that her actions then included suggestive remarks made in front of some of the workforce and included physical contact which became even more overt when she was pregnant and she alleged that the baby was his. He thought they were the result of a mind disordered by pregnancy. I asked him whether, prior to these incidents, she had any cause to resent him, to feel angry or slighted by him, whether he had discriminated against her, but he said absolutely not. In view of the situation, he felt he had no option but to ask her to leave.
I had no reason to disbelieve him. I may add that the subsequent distasteful gossip surrounding Mrs Krimble’s allegations have had consequences. It has taken hard work and some skilful negotiation to save the printing company from bankruptcy. Also, two longstanding female employees have resigned, stating that they no longer feel comfortable working for Cartwright Printing Company. And while he extends his sympathy to Mr and Mrs Krimble for the tragic death of their daughter, he nevertheless intends to countersue Mrs Krimble for the defamation of his character, unless she:
1. Withdraws her complaint of unfair dismissal
2. Issues a confession that her claims of romantic entanglement were fabricated, or
3. Produces a statement from a psychiatrist testifying she has been diagnosed with a recognized mental condition.
‘Phew,’ Simon said. ‘Scary stuff.’
‘Yes. A tricky one for Laura to pick up.’
Any diagnosis would be well beyond the skills of an ordinary general practitioner. Dr Barker had had no option but to refer her. And so Laura and Heather had been set on a collision course. It had been a brave decision by the GP to try and manage her condition himself. Claire remembered Roy Barker as an unimaginative, traditional doctor. Very good with physical illness, its signs and symptoms. Less so with mental disturbances. If he couldn’t see the disease, touch it, feel it, read it on a CT scan or do a blood test to prove or disprove it, he didn’t believe in it.
An old-fashioned view, one Claire might not sympathize with but could understand. Laura had begun her own assessment with notes that were crisp, clear, concise and easy to read. Cleverly, she had focused initially on Eliza’s death rather than the actual reason for the referral.
Heather appeared less emotional than I would have expected, almost detached from her six-month-old baby’s death. I questioned her how Eliza’s father was taking it, to which she didn’t respond. But when I used her husband’s name she first of all became angry and then started laughing. ‘He isn’t the father. My boss at work, Mr Cartwright. That’s who the father is. Was,’ she quickly corrected.
Claire glanced at Simon. ‘She set the trap.’
He nodded. ‘Probably a good way round,’ he said, ‘rather than tackling it head on.’
Claire bent back over the notes and continued reading Laura’s account of that first interview as she had written back to the GP.
I asked her how Mr Cartwright was taking the baby’s death. She became disturbed, jumped up and banged her fist on the desk. ‘He’s denying he’s the father.’
‘Why would he do that, Heather?’
She had her explanation ready. ‘He’s embarrassed at his love for me.’ She had a strangely inappropriate smile as she continued. ‘He’s crushed under the weight of it. Afraid of his mother’s reaction if she finds out we’re lovers.’
‘And are you still lovers?’
‘No. Not any more, although he is still very much in love with me. I’ve had other things on my mind.’
‘You don’t work for him any more.’
She shook her head. ‘No. He thought it better if I left.’
‘So how do you know he is still in love with you?’
‘He sends me messages.’ She was smiling all the time. A smile I would describe as smug.
‘How does he send you messages? Over the Internet? Mobile phone? Do you meet?’
She shook her head. ‘We communicate.’
I already knew that
no contact between them was documented and that Cartwright himself absolutely denied that he had ever had any communication with her other than work details when she had been his secretary. Therefore, this was either a deliberate and conscious fabrication or an illusion or a delusion. When I asked her why she thought he had asked her to leave, she had her answer ready.
‘Well, it’s impossible, isn’t it? Being infatuated with someone and working alongside them. Employing them.’
As is often the case, her answer was logical. I had no doubt that she believed her allegations absolutely.
But her description of their liaison was peppered with inconsistencies. Notes, phone calls, flowers sent, secret, coded messages. And the other question that bothered me was why had she married Geoff Krimble? It was all very bizarre.
‘Nice lady,’ was Simon’s comment, ‘but dangerous, eh?’ He’d pulled a chair up now and was reading by her side.
Claire glanced across at him, conscious of his nearness. He smelt of soap and, inexplicably, of the sea, a sort of briny, salty smell like the breeze that strokes the sea, not stiff enough to whip up waves but fanning the air landwards. The sea? Eighty miles away? His sea was over 10,000 miles. A little far for a scent to travel. Maybe it was on his clothes.
But, quite apart from the fresh, briny air Simon emanated, this was a treat, being able to share a confidence with a colleague, someone of equal status and similar outlook but with such a different background. The saying is sickness and health are the same the world over. It is how we view them and then treat them which is different. And that was what was interesting her at the moment: how to treat this deluded woman who was causing such mayhem. At that moment, apart from her professional role, she still felt some sympathy towards her patient, seeing her as victim of a mischievous Puck, that shrewd and knavish sprite, the love affair as ridiculous as Titania’s obsession with Bottom. But at the back of her mind she had to wonder whether this entire drama could be a calculated way of paying people back for perceived slights. Her boss? Her husband? Charles. She smothered a smile. The window cleaner for leaving smears on the panes? She bent back over the notes, trying to find the clues and wondering whether Laura had tracked along the same path.
The question for me is how pathological were Heather’s convictions? There is no doubt in my mind that Heather truly believes that her ex-boss, Mr Cartwright, is truly, madly, deeply in love with her; in other words, she is suffering from erotomania. I’m quite happy to write to the solicitor and explain that Heather is suffering from a mental illness.
Her documentation was careful but unmistakable. At the bottom of the letter was the Greek triangle Δ. Then D for Diagnosis where she had written her conclusion: An apparent case of erotomania, otherwise known as de Clerambault’s syndrome. With an added note: Further complicated by the death of the infant, Eliza.
A brief note written a month later stated that the GP had informed her that Heather was taking no further action in her claim for unfair dismissal and that Cartwright had subsequently dropped his counterclaim.
A few weeks after that, Laura had written again to Dr Barker, advising that if Heather became pregnant again and displayed similar symptoms it would be a good idea to refer her early in the pregnancy. And, just to be certain, to check any subsequent child’s DNA against that of her husband.
During one of the consultations, Laura had also interviewed Geoff Krimble, who claimed that his wife had been ‘strange’ since they’d married halfway through the pregnancy.
‘Load of old nonsense,’ he’d insisted. He didn’t believe ‘for a minute’ that his wife and Mr Cartwright had had ‘any sort of affair. It’s all in her mind, Doctor’.
‘And as for Eliza?’
‘I never knew who her dad was. She weren’t mine but Heather always said she were Cartwright’s. And that weren’t true either. She has her fancies, Doctor.’
And Laura had agreed with him, making the dry comment that Geoff Krimble was a bluntly spoken Potteries native who ‘told it as it were’.
Claire could picture her smile as she quoted the words verbatim, adding sic. to the side.
She had followed Heather up on four separate occasions and come to the conclusion that this was an odd presentation of erotomania and puerperal psychosis, complicated by the death of the child.
After one of the consultations, she had written: There were peculiar gaps in her stories which she was unable to fill. How had Timothy Cartwright reacted to Eliza?
She said he loved her but couldn’t give me time, place or circumstances for when he had seen her.
Just like now, Claire thought. Short on detail. It being impossible to shake Heather’s conviction and so treat it, Laura had referred her for some psychotherapy and cognitive behavioural therapy (which she had failed to turn up for), given her a mild anti-psychotic and finally discharged her.
‘So she didn’t really get anywhere with her,’ Claire commented.
‘No. Maybe …’
‘Yeah?’
‘Well, just a thought. A suggestion. Sometimes … you know … ladies who aren’t particularly attractive sort of make things up?’
She had to smile. He’d been so polite, so tentative and so careful in making this simple suggestion. ‘Yes, but it doesn’t go this far.’ Claire tapped the notes. ‘The question is,’ she said, ‘why she has these delusions of men being in love with her and having affairs when she has a husband who appears so loyal?’
‘Maybe she didn’t think he was much of a catch?’ His eyes had a mischievous gleam behind the thick glasses.
She laughed. ‘Maybe. But then Cartwright doesn’t exactly come over as Adonis.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘Yeah, really. Tell me. Have you ever encountered a case like this before?’
‘No. Most Aussie guys would admit to anything if a lady said they’d been having an affair.’
She scrutinized him. ‘You’re joking, right?’
‘Yeah. And to answer your question – no, I haven’t ever treated a case of de Clerambault’s. At least, not to this degree. But then neither have I had patients who’ve lost two babies to cot death.’
‘Well, it happens.’ She leafed through the notes, finding the next referral.
All was quiet for almost two years. And then, during her second pregnancy, slightly earlier than before, in the twenty-fourth week, Heather’s stories had started again, resulting in the second referral.
This time it was Dr Sylas who referred her at 24/40, saying that Heather was claiming that the child she was bearing was not her husband’s. This time, the GP wrote, Heather was convinced the baby was the window cleaner’s. Claire read through Laura’s initial assessment, almost forgetting Simon sitting beside her, also scanning the psychiatrist’s notes.
And again, the GP’s history detailed that both Geoff and the window cleaner were categorically denying that this was true.
But this time, bearing in mind Heather’s previous claims and the tragedy of Eliza Krimble’s death, the professionals were wary and it was decided to keep a much closer eye on Heather both during the pregnancy and during the puerperium. Also to involve the entire team: district midwives, health visitors, social services.
This time, Laura had had the opportunity to speak to Heather during the pregnancy and question her about the child’s parentage. Most of it she already knew so she picked out the salient facts.
She told me that on a Friday morning (apparently he always comes early on a Friday morning, waiting until just after her husband has left for work) he climbs in through the bedroom window and on more than one occasion has had sex with her. She did not use the term rape, or the police might have been involved. She tells me that he has been obsessed with her ever since he first visited her home and spotted her in her underwear. Since then he has been making ‘suggestions’.
On the surface, this would seem a similar case as before.
I have spoken briefly to the window cleaner over the phone. Sam Maddox, thirty-th
ree years old, is engaged to be married. He assures me not only that he has absolutely no designs whatsoever on Mrs Krimble and that the incident of him glimpsing her in her underwear never happened, but also that he has never been inside her house as he only cleans the outside of her windows and she does the insides herself. He also said that he couldn’t climb in through the bedroom window as only the top bit opens. I invited him in to speak with me at my office with his partner if he so wished but he declined.
Underneath, again, was her conclusion: Considering Heather’s previous claim, I am convinced this is another case of romantic delusion. But I still feel that for the sake of clarity and a possible future court case, the child’s DNA should be checked against Heather’s husband. And only if it is not a match to Mr Krimble then Heather’s claim should be checked against the DNA of Mr Maddox, the window cleaner.
Signed with a confident flourish, Laura. And underneath: Laura Hodgkins, MBChB, FRCPsych. Claire sat back. ‘She’s very good at describing the people and the interviews. I almost feel I was there.’ She thought for a moment. ‘I don’t think I would gain anything by interviewing them face-to-face.’
‘No.’ Simon Bracknell was nodding. ‘The notes made easy reading and she’s covered the case well.’
She turned to him. ‘Thank you for bringing them, Simon. They’ve been invaluable. Really helpful.’
Simon cleared his throat. ‘Interesting, eh?’
She nodded. ‘Interesting and incredible,’ she said.
There was a last letter clipped in with the brief note that the baby’s DNA had proved a match to Geoffrey Krimble. And so, like Timothy Cartwright, Sam Maddox had faded into the background.
Freddie’s death had resulted in a further batch of letters, post-mortem report, counselling, the involvement of social services. Laura’s observations were similar to her previous involvement: that Heather appeared detached from the tragedy, Geoff had been stoic and that Heather, ignoring the evidence of the DNA result, continued to claim that Freddie was the son of Maddox. Eventually Laura had again discharged her. Case closed.
The Deceiver Page 20
