by Luana Lewis
‘Here’s another question,’ she said. ‘Is Blue the first patient you’ve slept with?’ She didn’t bother to keep her voice down.
He glanced towards the closed door, impatient. ‘Stella – there’s a disturbed, distressed young woman in there who needs my attention. Can we do this later?’
She stood up straighter. ‘Has it always been adolescent girls that turned you on, Max?’
He blinked. Nothing more. There was no other response to what she’d said.
‘Have there been other girls? Were they all patients? Was it always in your office?’
He began to turn away from her. He was going back in, to Blue.
‘Wait.’ She grabbed at his jacket. ‘I can’t quite decide. Did you marry me to keep me quiet, to safeguard your precious clinic, or was it because our marriage made you look normal? Or both?’ She kept talking, kept hanging on to his lapels. ‘Maybe you married me because it was your insurance policy. As long as we stay married, there’s very little chance I would do something to damage your clinic. Like reporting Simpson. Or confessing that the report we submitted to the court was less than comprehensive.’
Where the hell was Peter? She wasn’t strong enough to stop Max from going back into that room. He tried to pull away. She held on tighter. Her voice was unexpectedly loud, unexpectedly clear. ‘Did you move me out to Hilltop because you wanted me isolated from my friends? You never tried to help me – you saw that I was becoming more and more avoidant, my life more and more restricted. Why did you keep prescribing those pills?’
An elderly doctor passed them by, cap on his head and stethoscope around his neck, and gave them a concerned look. Max smiled back at him, casual and in control.
‘So your mental problems are my fault?’ he said.
At least he was engaging with her.
‘No—’
‘I can’t do this any more, Stella. Your jealousy, your paranoia – it’s a cancer that is destroying us. You can’t blame me for your addictions or your phobias or your restricted life.’
He shook his head; he looked genuinely distressed.
The corridor reeked of antiseptic and of decay. Stella clung to his jacket as though her life depended on it but her palms were wet and her hands were weak and it was hard to keep hold. Sweat dripped behind her knees.
‘I moved you out to Hilltop because I thought your best chance at recovery was to get you away from London, and away from anything that reminded you of the attack. You refused to see a psychiatrist and so I was completely responsible for you. I did my best. Maybe I made the wrong decision, moving away from London.’
She had not known how easy it was for him to lie.
‘But for once, Stella, this is not about you. Let me get that girl the help she needs. Can you just pull yourself together and think about someone else for a change.’
She couldn’t hold on to him any longer. She let go and wiped her soaking palms against her jeans. The corridor was sweltering. She struggled out of her long woollen coat and dropped it at her feet. Her legs felt as though they might buckle. She swayed back, propping herself up against the wall.
He stepped forward, reaching for the door handle.
‘I know that Blue was telling the truth,’ she said. ‘I know you abused her. I have proof.’
Max hesitated. He looked just a tad less certain of himself.
Stella pushed his hand away from the door. He put up no resistance. She moved in closer. She reached up and put her arms around his neck, so that her mouth brushed his ear.
‘She filmed you, with her phone,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve watched it. The two of you, in your office.’
She clung on to him, looked over his shoulder, at the empty corridor. She willed herself to stay upright. She willed Peter to appear; or even the nurse. She couldn’t let him go, she couldn’t let him back into that room. If he was desperate enough, she didn’t know what he might do.
She didn’t know him at all.
He tried to wrestle her hands away from his neck, but she clung on tighter, leaning into him, collapsing against him. Sweat dripped into her eyes, her vision was blurred. She was breathing too fast, but she couldn’t slow herself down.
She closed her eyes. ‘The film is grainy because there wasn’t much light, but I can see it’s you – the two of you, in your office. You’re sitting in your chair, Max. Your lovely big, comfy armchair in your consulting room.’
She pushed herself right up close to him. He was very still now.
‘She walks towards you. She kneels down in front of you, between your legs. She opens your trousers. I could hear you moan. I could hear what you called her. You called her Baby Blue. And then you pulled her on to your lap—’
She breathed him in one last time. Then she unwrapped her arms from around his neck.
‘I watched you have sex with a minor. It’s statutory rape. You’re going to be hauled before the General Medical Council. And then I hope to God you’re going to prison.’
She let go. She slumped down to the rubbery floor. She felt faint, and sick.
When Max grabbed her arm, digging his fingers into the soft flesh just above her elbow, she didn’t resist. He pulled her to her feet, forcing her away from the triage room, further down the corridor. Someone must walk past soon. Peter would find her. It didn’t matter, whatever Max might do to her, at least Blue was safe from him.
‘Where is her phone?’ He gripped her arm harder. He was hurting her. Her clothes were damp and cold, clinging to her skin. She wasn’t frightened, she was heartbroken.
He looked down at his fingers, pressing hard into her arm. He loosened his grip, leaving behind angry red marks.
‘You abused her. You committed a crime.’
She saw him crumple and grow more stooped and less vital. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Don’t do this. I’m so sorry.’
She had been fantasizing about him for so long, fantasizing about a man who did not exist.
‘Now you’re sorry,’ she said. ‘Now that I have proof. But before I mentioned the video, you told me I was crazy. You weren’t sorry at all. You’re sorry you got caught, Max. That’s all. You lie like other people breathe.’
He stood with one hand pressed against the wall alongside her head and the other gripping her arm, holding her upright. He had composed himself, and he spoke urgently.
‘Blue’s problems were there a long time before she ever met me. Her personality problems are the reason she worked so hard to seduce me. I promise you I’ll see she has everything she needs. I’ll pay for a private school, one with a treatment programme tailored to her difficulties.’
Part of her still loved him. She didn’t allow herself to look into his eyes.
‘If I go to jail it won’t make Blue happy and it won’t make her better. All I’m asking is that you think about this for a few days – even a few hours – before you make a decision. I want you to know that she was the one that wanted it. I did not hurt her or groom her or force myself on her.’
How warped his mind. He must think his wife a fool.
‘You’re her doctor. A psychiatrist. You of all people know how vulnerable she is. You know why she behaves the way she does.’
‘Stella, she instigated it. She pursued me until I gave in. You’ve seen what she looks like – in a few months she’ll be sixteen, but she looks twenty. Of course I acted stupidly. But things with you have been so – fraught for so long. I was frustrated. I tried to be patient, but it’s hard – living with someone who’s so dependent, who has an addiction disorder.’
‘So it’s my fault you fucked a teenager?’ If she’d had the strength, if her hands weren’t shaking, she would have punched him, right in the mouth.
‘All I’m asking is that you think before you rush into this kind of knee-jerk reaction because you want revenge. If you report me, Blue gains nothing. She’s safe now. All you have to do is tell social services that she witnessed Simpson abusing her mother. They will stop all contact with him. She’l
l probably be put in a long-term foster placement, and Simpson won’t be able to find her. Don’t do this because you’re angry at me. Blue doesn’t need the trauma of testifying in a rape trial. We can work this through ourselves.’
He was right up close, and all she felt was disgust.
‘You’re a monster, Max. You took advantage of a sick child. You could have done more damage to her than anyone. You knew what her father was like and you’ve added another layer of trauma, on top of what that twisted psychopath has already done to her. You’re an adult, she’s a vulnerable child. That’s all. And you can’t manipulate me any more.’
She was furious with herself. She was a psychologist, she should have seen the signs. She should have suspected. She should never have put up with the crumbs he threw her way.
‘Please,’ he said. He reached for her hand, held it, tenderly. ‘Don’t do something impulsive that we’ll both regret. Think about it. If I’m struck off, if I go to prison, what good does it do, Blue? Or you? The medical centre will go under and I’ll lose everything, financially. We’ll lose Hilltop. We’ll lose each other.’
Max pulled up a chair for her. He helped her to sit down, his hand gentle on her elbow. He picked up her coat and draped it round her shoulders.
He knelt down in front of her and placed his hands over hers.
‘Don’t touch me,’ she said. And even then, it was a hard thing to say. If she wanted, she could make him stay. He was hers. The benzodiazepines were waning. She was afraid. She might so easily allow herself to fall under his influence again.
‘Where is Blue’s phone?’ he asked her.
Over his shoulder, she saw Peter walking towards her. The relief was so strong; her breathing eased, she had air in her lungs and space in her head.
‘I gave the phone to Peter,’ she said.
And finally, as he pulled away, she caught a glimpse of the real Max: heartless and desperate and utterly self-centred. The muscles in his jaw twitched as he ran his hand over his hair. He stood up and turned his back, his hands in his pockets, and walked casually away down the corridor and towards the exit.
Stella used the drinking fountain to splash cold water on to her face. She had to stay composed. She had to return to the small, windowless triage room.
When she walked in, Blue would not look at her.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you before,’ Stella said. ‘I believe you. I believe everything you said. About what happened with Dr Fisher.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Blue said.
Stella did not try to go any closer, did not try to touch her. The girl did not trust her, yet. ‘I want you to know I’m going to make a report to the police and I’m going to tell them everything that you told me. Including the fact that your father has been abusing your mother. They won’t force you to have contact with him any more, I promise. There are things I can do. Things I need to tell the police.’
‘Where’s Dr Fisher?’ Blue asked. Her eyes were fixed on the door.
Stella couldn’t say which of them had been more deluded: herself or Blue. She stepped forward, venturing a little closer. Blue did not protest. She knelt at the side of the girl’s chair, so she was looking directly into her beautiful eyes.
‘Blue, please listen to me. What he did to you was a crime. The sex – it was child abuse. If you want to report it to the police, I’ll help you.’
Blue’s arms were rigid at her sides, her bandaged hands holding on to the seat of her chair. Stella wanted to put her arms around her, but she did not dare. Blue seemed indifferent to what she had said.
‘Blue,’ Stella asked, ‘do you want to report Max to the police? It’s a crime, that he touched you when you were his patient. He belongs in jail.’
Blue shook her head. ‘You’re crazy,’ she said. ‘He’s the only doctor that’s ever really cared about me. He tried to help me. He’s the only one I trust. He would never do anything to hurt me.’
They didn’t need Blue’s evidence; they had proof. Her wishes did not matter.
‘I want you to stop talking to me,’ Blue said.
‘OK. We don’t have to talk.’
Stella did not tell Blue that she had seen the video, that she would hand over the phone in her pocket to Peter, that he would deliver the video to the police. Max was right, it would only cause Blue more pain to know what was coming next.
‘I just wanted you to know how sorry I am that I didn’t believe you before.’
‘I don’t care what you believe,’ Blue said.
‘OK,’ Stella said. She stood up and tried to smile at Blue, to give her some comfort, but the corners of her mouth were trembling and tense.
The nurse looked out of her depth. She seemed relieved when a small, grey-haired woman with a tag around her neck appeared at the door.
‘Hi, Lauren,’ the social worker said. ‘Let’s have a quick chat and then your mum’s waiting to see you.’
The nurse and the social worker stood on either side of Blue.
‘I’d like to make a statement,’ Stella said.
‘Of course,’ the social worker said. ‘I can contact you once we’ve made sure Blue is settled.’
Blue’s arms were still as straight as pokers at her sides, her shoulders up around her ears. She was on her own, with strangers, again. She must be afraid. Stella put her arms around her and gave her a brief, tight hug. Blue let her head rest against Stella’s cheek for just a second. Stella touched her face to the beautiful blonde, lavender-scented hair, before Blue stiffened and pushed her away.
Peter was waiting for her, in the corridor right outside.
‘What the hell took you so long?’ she said.
‘Couldn’t find a parking place.’
She knew he was lying. She understood.
She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out Blue’s phone. She handed it to him. She heard herself sigh. It was over. Her life at Hilltop.
The waiting room had emptied out. Only one large, dishevelled-looking man lay snoring across two chairs. The shift must have changed, there was a new receptionist on duty: a young man with startlingly bright blond hair and tattooed arms. He was staring at his computer screen and ignored them as they walked past his plate-glass window.
The automatic glass doors swished open in front of her. They closed smoothly once again. She had not moved. Peter’s hand rested on the small of her back and she tried to absorb some of his courage.
She wasn’t ready to go back outside.
She hovered at the exit, safe in the temporary calm of the well-lit waiting room. ‘I have nowhere to go,’ she said.
‘You could come to my place,’ Peter said. ‘I have a sofa bed – it’s yours for as long as you need it.’
She shook her head. There was no way she was sleeping in any house with any man unless she was absolutely certain he wanted to be in bed right next to her.
‘I could take you to Hannah’s place,’ he said.
‘Not yet. I haven’t spoken to her since that night. I don’t even know where she’s living.’
Stella pushed her hair back from her face. She needed a shower and a change of clothes. She was very, very tired.
‘I want to go back to Hilltop,’ she said.
Peter nodded, but his lips formed a tight, disapproving line.
‘I need to pack,’ she said. ‘And then I’m leaving. Permanently. I just need another couple of hours of your time – I promise.’
‘Sure.’ She could see relief on his face, and hope.
He took a step towards the doors. They whooshed open. He walked right through. Then he stopped and waited for her. She ran forward. She kissed him several times all over his prickly face.
He cracked a smile. Finally.
Summer
‘Do you want me to come inside with you?’ Hannah said.
Stella shook her head.
‘I’ll wait right here.’ Hannah opened her car door and stretched her legs. From behind her sungl
asses, she gave Stella an encouraging smile.
Stella did not relish leaving the well-worn front seat of her friend’s car, but she did so anyway. She was getting better at it: not over-thinking, forcing herself into motion. She walked straight on, a little unsteady on the gravel in her heels, the sun warm against her shoulders.
She stopped to look at the small white-painted wooden sign. HILLTOP. She peered behind it. The sensor was still in place, poking out of the overgrown grass.
A convertible, the top down, was parked at the top of the drive. The car was shiny on the outside, immaculate on the inside.
Stella carried on walking, one foot in front of the other.
She could see herself reflected in the undulating steel of the front door: her hair tied back from her face, sunglasses, vest, cigarette trousers. She wasn’t displeased.
She rang the doorbell and waited.
Sandra looked just as Stella remembered her, with lively eyes and bright red lipstick. She had a wide, welcoming smile on her face and was evidently delighted to earn sales commission on the house twice within the space of as many years.
Stella was much taller than the estate agent, who was already in stockinged feet. She removed her sunglasses but decided to leave the heels on. They shook hands.
‘Mrs Fisher,’ Sandra said.
‘Please call me Stella.’
Sandra stood back and Stella stepped into her house.
‘So you’ve decided to sell?’ Sandra said. Her words echoed inside the dim, bare entrance hall. Only a couple of bulbs were still working, and the chandelier had lost its power to dazzle.
Stella nodded.
The inside of the house was much cooler than outside, and full of shadows. Stella wished she had worn something warmer.
‘I have the sales contract with me,’ Sandra said. ‘Will Dr Fisher be joining us?’
‘Dr Fisher is tied up at the moment,’ Stella said. ‘I have his proxy.’
She was drawn towards the living room, to the window. The garden was bathed in bright sunlight. The grass was overgrown, a cheerful and vibrant green, and the trees were crowded with leaves. Stella looked back into the living room, at the empty space in front of the hearth. She could see a grey sofa, a waterfall of glistening blonde hair and a sharp, mesmerizing face with big blue eyes. She saw Peter at the window, doing battle with a black plastic bag and a roll of masking tape.
