The Tightrope

by Hiba Basit

  Unexpectedly, Annette’s pager starts to beep.

  ‘I have to go into work,’ she mumbles, walking past him towards the bathroom. At the same time, David’s pager goes off. She turns.

  ‘Me too,’ he laughs, holding his pager in the air.

  ‘Who’d look after the baby, then?’ she says, her tone more accusatory than she intended. She shuts the door behind her before he has a chance to reply.

  Chapter Eleven

  Annette enters St Anne’s and makes a beeline for Jordan’s office, her mind still back in the room with David. She enters, feeling flustered, her face hot and moist with fret. Her dark curls bounce on her shoulders as she takes a seat and crosses her legs.

  ‘I’d completely forgotten about our meeting until you paged me,’ she offers by way of an explanation.

  ‘Don’t worry. I won’t hold it against you,’ Jordan says, smiling in affirmation.

  ‘It won’t happen again. Shall we start?’ she asks, eager to be done with this already. She can’t help it. For all the joys of her job, debriefing definitely isn’t one of them. As she watches Jordan observing her through his glasses and her discomfort at being scrutinised increases, she realises she won’t be changing her perspective any time soon.

  ‘Annette. How are you doing?’

  The question takes her back nearly a decade. She can’t help smiling as she remembers the first time she met Jordan. As he sat opposite her in her office, she commenced the interview by asking him questions about the position he’d applied for. He answered with careful consideration, taking his time and never smiling at her. She appreciated this. His solemnity provided her with a sense of grounding, it made her feel he’d take his job seriously and always have the best interest at heart for St Anne’s. She’d always believed that the people who walk around smiling were the ones you have to be weary of.

  She remembers how he eyed her up as soon as he walked in, as if he was in a position to judge. His qualifications, nonetheless, were excellent, and in a short space of time, she understood that she’d be losing out if she didn’t take him on at St Anne’s. ‘Mr Stamp, you’ve given me no choice,’ she’d said and waited for his reaction, only to receive none. ‘I’d like to give you the job.’ She remembers his smile then. He got up and shook her hand. Grabbing his briefcase, he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. She remembers the brisk feeling of his lips and then the unexpected pull of her into his arms. She awkwardly rested in his arms with her own arms locked and raised behind his back. She stood still, utterly shocked and in disbelief.

  ‘I know it’s taken a long time for you to get to where you are,’ he’d said. ‘So, before I start working with you, I want to let you know I’m here as your companion, as well as your supervisor.’ He let her go and smiled. ‘Annette, thank you very much for this opportunity, if you’d still like to give it to me?’ he asked earnestly. She’d stood with her mouth open, flummoxed. Then, she’d nodded, feeling relieved and guarded all at once.

  She looks around his office now, which boasts of eight years of solid companionship with her.

  ‘Very well,’ she replies. ‘And yourself?’ Jordan nods in reply, turning his attention to the pile of papers on his desk.

  ‘Let’s see how many cases you’re working on.’

  ‘Thirty-five,’ she says, saving him the trouble of looking it up.

  He lifts his glasses up and looks at her. ‘Some may say thirty-five is too many. Especially when you’ve recently returned to work.’

  She refuses to comment but coughs to make some noise on her part.

  ‘Let’s start with Jacob then. He’s one of your outpatient cases. How are you doing with him?’

  ‘Jacob’s making progress. His rage, however, is on another level. He’s selectively mute about what’s bothering him, and I can see it’s eating him up inside. If he doesn’t open up about it, it will naturally be on his mind.’

  ‘How are you encouraging him to talk about his feelings?’

  ‘Mostly I’ve been using verbal reinforcement. I’ve used a lot of open questions and reflective responses. Some cognitive reframing.’ Jordan nods. ‘Most of all, I’ve given Jacob a lot of space. He’s not ready to talk right now.’

  ‘Those are good techniques you’re using. How about your reports, Annette? I know you’ve been inundated with paperwork since the GO cases were enlisted here.’

  ‘They’re fine. I’m managing,’ she replies, knowing full well that Jordan will ask more if she doesn’t expand on her answers. ‘I’m slowly working on them.’

  ‘How many have you completed?’

  She flushes. ‘Well, I can’t remember the exact number.’ Jordan lifts an eyebrow. ‘OK, I’m just a tad behind, but I’ve dedicated Friday afternoon to them, so they should be done before this weekend.’

  He takes a deep breath, which seems to last for several minutes. ‘You have Friday afternoon off, don’t you?’

  Shit, she thinks. This is why she’s always hated these sessions; she has to account for her unbalanced work ethic. She’d much rather someone stares at her as she eats.

  ‘Why will you be the doing reports then?’ he asks intriguingly.

  Annette begins to feel irritated, as she often does when he tries to disrupt her schedule. ‘Jordan, I have no other time to complete them. Friday is the only day, for now, that I have free.’ She gets up and pours two glasses of water. ‘I bet something will come up on that day as well.’ She hands him a drink.

  ‘Thank you. I don’t want you filing reports on Friday. In fact, I don’t want you to be at this hospital when you’re meant to be away from work. You should spend some time with your family.’ He looks at her steely. ‘I’ll be dropping by your office on Friday, and I don’t want to see you here. Understood?’

  ‘I’ll get them done and go straight home. I’ve no other choice.’

  ‘Annette.’ His voice is stern. She is about to argue but swiftly bites her tongue.

  ‘Fine,’ she says, shaking her head to show her disapproval. ‘I’ll do them another time then.’ He contemplates the sincerity of her response but finally nods.

  ‘How are the GO cases?’

  ‘Difficult,’ she answers earnestly. ‘Progress is being made with one of the cases, some progress with the other.’ Jordan finally takes his glasses off. He rocks back and forth in his chair and then grinds to a halt.

  ‘How is Alex doing? I saw her in the corridor, back in a wheelchair. Tell me, how did this happen?’

  Annette chews the inside of her cheek, suddenly feeling nervous about having to talk to him about the incident with Alex.

  ‘She smashed a glass and cut her legs with it.’

  ‘Why did this happen?’ he asks, and then follows it with a different question. ‘What did you make of her actions?’

  ‘Her actions, oh dear...’ Annette fails to finish her sentence.

  ‘Do you think she’s attention-seeking?’

  ‘Quite the opposite, Jordan. I think she wants the world to leave her alone! Her actions, they looked impulsive but I don’t think they were.’

  ‘Really! Breaking a glass sounds pretty impulsive to me. In the report you submitted on her, you stated that the change in her routine has caused her silence and her separation from Andrei has exacerbated her condition, temporarily.’ Jordan meets her gaze. ‘What kind of effect do you think Andrei’s absence is having on Alex?’

  ‘A very bad one. Him not being around her might be inhibiting her progress in being able to talk to us about what’s happened. She sees us as the enemy!’

  ‘Hmm, and this is making it difficult for you to gain her trust.’

  ‘Exactly. I can’t help her if she doesn’t trust me.’

  ‘Do you think she remembers him? Do you think she wants him back?’

  Annette waits a moment before she answers, trying to think of how to approach this.

  ‘I think she does. He’s the only person she’s known all her life. He was a bad man but I have no doubt Alex d
oesn’t think so. It seems probable, similar to other children who’ve been severely abused, that she still blames herself or thinks she deserved to be treated the way she was.’ She deliberately cuts herself short, remembering her first session with her.

  ‘What is it?’ Jordan asks. She bites down on her lip, considering whether to voice her thoughts out loud.

  ‘It’s my speculation, which came about when she started repeating his name over and over again.’

  ‘Andrei’s name? In therapy?’

  ‘Yes. She fell asleep in our session. It wasn’t so much that she was saying his name as the way she was saying it.’ The look on Jordan’s face tells her he isn’t following. ‘She was saying his name with underlying sexual connotations. Andrei’s really messed with her mind. He’s manipulated her since birth and she was already vulnerable. Jordan, I think Alex has a strong attachment to him. I think she believes that she’s in love with Andrei.’

  Jordan opens his mouth but no words come out.

  ‘One of the reasons I think she re-mutilated her legs was to regain what he’d done to her, a sort of act to remember what she shared with him.’ As soon as the words are out, she realises how ridiculous they sound.

  ‘Do you think she’s suffering from Stockholm syndrome?’ he asks.

  ‘Definitely. It’s just, there’s something else about her I can’t quite put my finger on. Like I said, her actions seem impulsive, but I don’t believe they are.’

  ‘I’m not following,’ Jordan says.

  ‘I don’t think I am too. My mind is trying to tell me something that my brain hasn’t caught up to yet. All I know right now is that there’s something very controlled about her, even when she’s acting out, her behaviour seems calculated.’

  ‘Hmm, I sense a bit of deviousness.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe that’s all it is!’

  ‘Poor girl. That glass shouldn’t have been there!’

  ‘I know.’ Unthinkable images stop her from saying anything more. She runs her hand over her eyes, trying to focus on what they’re talking about. ‘It seems credible that Andrei was the frontrunner of the show. The Alex show! He never laid a hand on any of the others. But the goddamn bastard isn’t letting anything on himself. It would definitely help to know Alex’s behaviour at the orphanage, such as what she did, what she liked to eat, who her friends were. These things matter!’

  ‘Mathias Cantimere,’ Jordan says. ‘I know he and Alex shared a room.’

  She narrows her eyes at him, as if she’s finding it difficult to read. ‘Are you sure?’

  He nods.

  ‘You know Mathias is one of my cases?’

  ‘That’s why I’m telling you.’

  Suddenly, a thought strikes her. ‘Of course! I saw them together in the playroom the other day. I did think how weird it was that out of the children here, Alex decided to make friends with another child from Green Orphanage. It never crossed my mind that they already were friends.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ve told you now, so you can do something. I think the main aim is to get Alex talking. You’ve already managed this, and that is very impressive considering it’s only been a few weeks. But I think you’re right, it’s not about treatment right now, it’s simply about talking to her to let her know she matters. Right, is there anything else you need to talk about?’

  She shakes her head, still thinking about Alex and her friendship with Mathias. What she didn't want to do was use Mathias to help Alex. For all she knew, it might be damaging for the boy and there was no way she was going to risk the wellbeing of one patient over another. Both Mathias and Alex had separate care plans; it might be better if their recovery stayed separate too.

  ‘Great, well, keep up the brilliant work and take some time out to relax,’ he says. ‘Tell David to give me a call too. We should meet for drinks again. You should come!’ Annette smiles as he nods knowingly and flaps his hands at her. ‘Yes, yes, it was only a suggestion. I know you’re very busy this week, every week!’ She laughs and gets up to leave. He kisses her cheeks and, reminiscing, she thinks how far they’ve come from the first, brisk, awkward peck.

  ***

  As I get out of bed, the pain shoots into my legs. The floor feels cool beneath my feet, and as I open the door and search for Nurse Mary, my legs start to feel weaker with the cold. I go back into my room to get my blanket and dangle it in front of my legs, so that no one will see what I’ve done. It’s too dark to see anything, so I run my fingers along the wall as I walk. The wet patch on my pyjamas sticks to my legs.

  My steps echo lightly behind me as I swing a door open and turn into a darkened hallway.

  Suddenly, a bout of dizziness makes me pause. I lean against the wall, unable to walk any further. My legs catch my eye. I reluctantly look down at the hideous things, two ghastly sticks of torn skin and blood seeping out from beneath the scabs and scars. I look away. I don’t want to think about how I did this to myself. If I keep moving, I can kill my thoughts. I try and take a step forward but as soon as my foot touches the surface, it wobbles and I nearly topple flat on my face. I sink down and wrap my arms around my knees. The smell of urine increases, but I rest my face on top of my knees and close my eyes. Sometimes, there is nothing to do except to do nothing.

  It’s Friday. Annette quickly glances at the clock and inhales. It’s past midnight. She ponders over whether to complete the last five files, and after some silent mental arguments, decides that it would be better to get them over and done with. Scanning each file separately, she writes up paragraphs from the case notes she previously typed and edits each paragraph in turn, inserting them into their correct sections. She types up a short summary for each report file and prints and inserts them as well. Signing all the forms at the back, she seals the last of the files with an exaggerated click, lands them flat on the ‘send to board’ pile and exhales.

  Leaping up from her chair, she grabs her keys and phone and locks the office door. She closes the side cupboard she had hidden in earlier this afternoon, when Jordan came to check up on her. She thinks about David waiting for her at the bar. She longs to see him, to stroke his face, to bury her face in his. She wants him to hold her closely, like he does when she’s cutting fruit in the kitchen and he grabs her from behind.

  Oblivious to her surroundings, she suddenly stumbles over someone.

  ‘Who’s there?’ she calls, trying to turn on the torchlight with her phone. As her eyes start to adjust to the darkness, she makes out the sight of a small child. ‘Hey,’ she calls, kneeling down. The child looks up. ‘Hey,’ she echoes, becoming aware of the shoulder-length strands of hair telling her the child is a girl. Stuffing her keys and phone in her pocket, she gently lifts her off the floor and immediately feels something wet against her hands. She touches the sodden pyjamas. ‘It’s OK,’ she says, rubbing her back soothingly until her hand grazes the bandages, unravelling like plaster off the wall. ‘Alex?’

  Her voice comes out harsher than she intended but she can’t quench the fear that’s risen inside her. The girl doesn’t reply. Annette curses the temperamental automatic sensors and lets go of the girl to switch the corridor light on when the girl grabs hold of her and squeezes. Annette bends down. ‘Can you help me out? Can you tell me if it’s you, Alex?’

  Even though she can’t make out much, she manages to see her head move up and down.

  ‘What are you doing here in the middle of the night?’

  The memory of Alex tearing her skin off with the glass makes her pull her closer, along with the sudden terror that if she didn’t run into her, Alex would have been in a worse condition than she’s in now.

  ‘Is Mary getting you some clothes to wear?’ she asks, although she gets the feeling that Mary hasn’t been around all day. Alex rests her head against her chest. It’s the first time she’s shown affection. ‘It’s all right, sweetie. Do you know where Mary is?’

  This time, Alex shakes her head and looks so desperate that Annette immediately feels her breath
start to shudder and catch inside her. If Mary hasn’t been on 1:1 arms-length watch, who’s been looking after Alex today? Annette feels a sickening sensation creep into the pit of her stomach as she thinks of Alex all alone in her room. She looks down at her legs. From what she can make out in the dark, the bandages badly need re-dressing.

  ‘Sweetie, you’re not meant to be walking yet,’ she says. ‘Not until the bandages come off.’ Alex looks away, seeming to stare vacantly at the pictures on the wall. Annette spots a staff nurse on shift and makes a beeline for her. ‘Where’s Mary?’ she asks. Catching her clipped tone, the nurse quickly logs onto the online rota and starts to scan the database.

  ‘Mary’s taken some time off this week. She won’t be back until next Monday.’

  ‘What? Who signed it off?’ The nurse double-clicks the mouse and hesitates.

  ‘It says she’s taken four days off to attend her brother’s wedding. It was signed off by you.’ Annette spins the screen around and then swears under her breath. She rubs her temples with her free hand.

  ‘Who’s covering for her, then? Who’s in charge of Alex today?'

  ‘Let me take a look. She had a nurse up until the PM shift. After handover, oh dear, no one’s been assigned to her!’

  Not for the first time in her life, Annette wants to strike someone.

  ‘Who’s available tonight?’

  ‘All of the nurses have been assigned their patients.’

  ‘What happened to keeping a nurse free?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know. I’ll page for a nurse right away.’

  ‘No. Don’t. But tomorrow, I want more nurses on the night shift!’

  ‘Yes, Dr Coulter!’

  Annette grabs some new bandages from inside the medical cupboard and slams it shut. As Alex lies against her shoulder, Annette feels her heart beating faster by the second, a rhythm unnatural to her after years of learning how to steady it. Alex places her palm flat against her chest. It rises and falls in concert with her breathing.