by Will Self
‘Yes. And it’s … “u-h’-u-h’” well … I don’t want anything to upset that.’
‘Like what “huu”?’
‘You know.’
‘Sarah. ’ Belinda dug her fingers a little deeper into the young female’s fur to emphasise the seriousness of what she was about to inpart. ‘Were you taking drugs last night “huu”? Is that what you’re worried about “huu”?’
Belinda didn’t get a countersign to this question, because the door swung open and Paul entered the cubicle carrying a clipboard with a form attached, a ballpoint pen grasped in his foot. ‘I’ve managed to get a secure room for Simon on Gough,’ he signed. ‘We need to pant-hoot his GP and his next of kine, can you help “huu”?’
‘I … “hoo” … I’m just his consort. ’ Sarah was flustered, embarrassed even.
‘This is not the time for evasiveness, young female – you’d better delineate what you know. ’ The proximity to the hospital, and his superiors, gave a more doctorly feel to Paul’s signing, and Sarah, sensing this, sat upright and began gesticulating with greater insistence as well, her fingers forming the signs carefully.
‘His ex-alpha mate is denoted Jean Dykes. ’ Paul wrote this down on the clipboard. ‘She lives in Oxfordshire, a place called the Brown House on the Otmoor Estate near Thame. I … I don’t have the number –’
‘We can get that. And his GP “huu”?’
‘Bohm, Anthony Bohm. He works at the health centre in Thame. He … he …’
‘Yes “huu”?’
‘He treated Simon for “hooo” well, for depression in the past.’
‘Is Simon on medication at the moment “huu”?’ ‘Not that I know of, but he’s been on antidepressants before.’
‘I see. And what happened last night “huu”?’
‘Nothing unusual …’ She tailed off, her fingers fell into her lap. Paul looked at her sexual swelling with hooded eyes. He was a chunky, well-set chimp with an appealing liver-spotted muzzle who got as many females as he wanted, and he knew that despite her obvious distress this young female still found him attractive. Possibly it was the trauma of seeing her consort transformed from a composed chimp into a raving creature.
‘Sarah “gru-nnn”. ’ Paul’s fingers were precisely angled to convey the maximum of caring, admixed with resolution. ‘If we’re going to help Simon we need to know what has happened to him, and in particular if this is some kind of drug-induced psychosis. We’re not in the business of ruining chimps’ lives here – we want to help. You know that everything you sign to me will remain strictly confidential.’
‘ “Hoo” all right, we did do some drugs last night –’
‘Which drugs “huu” cocaine?’
‘Yes.’
‘And alcohol “huu”?’
‘Of course – and some doves.’
‘Ecstasy “huu”?’
‘That’s right –’
She broke off, a porter had entered the room.
‘Is this the one for Gough, guv “huu”?’ he signed to Paul.
‘Yes, that’s right, are you going to take him over “huu”?’
‘Well, we were. ’ He pointed to his co-worker, who was lingering outside. ‘But admin showed us he was OK to go in a chair – and that’s all we’ve brought with – but he looks like a “euch-euch” stretcher job to me, in which case he’ll have to wait a while.’
‘For heaven’s sake, chimp “euch-euch”!’ Paul was rattled; this was just the sort of apathetic, slipshod approach he avoided by working with the crash team. ‘You can prop him up in the chair or something. “Waaa”, if necessary you can carry him over –’
‘– I wouldn’t point that up, guv, you know we’re not really meant to carry the patients –’ He didn’t finish signing, because Paul leapt straight at him and delivered a combination of raking blows, open-handed, across the porter’s muzzle. Blood poured from a gash above his eyebrow ridge.
“Eeeeek!” screamed the porter, backing away and clutching his wounded muzzle. He gestured frantically, ‘Sorry, guv “u-h’-u-h”’ sorry “u-h’-u-h”’ I didn’t mean to bother you. I know you’re a good shrink, a powerful shrink, I revere your ischial scrag – I’m sorry …’ He turned his back on Paul and presented very low.
‘That’s all right, porterkins,’ Paul signed, while smoothing the ruffled fur on the proffered rump. ‘I acknowledge your respect, I adore your obsequiousness, now just get him over there.’
‘I’ll feetle this,’ gestured the other porter to his wounded workmate. He bounded into the room, grabbed the collar of Simon’s gown with one of his large, horny feet, and pulled the paralysed form of the artist upright. He then let it slump across his shoulders. The two porters left the room, Simon lolling on the second porter’s back like a broken doll.
‘There you go, my lad “chup-chupp”. There you go. ’ How can there be meaning in that touch? Yet Simon senses meaning – in the touch: ‘Easy does it. Soon have you tucked up in nest. “H’hooo” watch it – don’t want another drubbing from that shrink – now do we? Watch it!’
His eyes open on a brief, upside-down snapshot of a fountain peeing into the sky. He thinks: I know this place. Turns his head to see cars in ranks, Volvos, Vauxhalls, Fords. Cars – reassuring as their manufacturers’ names. Groggily he turns again to see what – or who – is conveying him. Apes. Monkeys. Like a fucking P. G. Tips advert. Monkeys in shorty white coats. Parodies of humanity. Caricatures. He cannot cry out. It’s a sleeping paralysis. He loses consciousness again.
* * *
‘ “H’huuu”? What do you think?’ Paul consulted his colleague.
‘ “Euch-euch” well, that’s what it looks like,’ Belinda countersigned.
‘ “Hooo” I imagine so too …’
‘What were you signing?’ Sarah looked up from her lap; she had been staring at her swelling as if it would provide some answer to her predicament and hadn’t seen the exchange.
‘Well. ’ Paul got bipedal and moved towards the door. ‘I was really just confirming my own provisional diagnosis –’
‘Which is “huu”?’
‘I think your consort has had a drug-induced psychotic breakdown. All the symptoms are there, the irrationality, the paranoia, the lashing-out. The only puzzling thing is his lack of strength. Quite the opposite is usually the case with this kind of thing. But this is only a provisional diagnosis, we’ll have to consult my colleagues and Dykes’s GP – this chimp Bohm – before we can be certain. ’ Paul made as if to leave, but Sarah came forward submissively and began to groom him a little. It was the first grooming she had done since the crash team arrived at her flat and Paul took it in good part.
‘Doctor,’ she inparted, ‘he will “chup-chupp” be all right, won’t he “huu”? I – I feel very guilty. You see, I don’t think he would have taken those drugs without me.’
Paul looked at her seriously. ‘Did you give him the drugs, Sarah “huu”?’
‘N-no.’
‘ “H’hooo” well, I find it hard to see why you feel so guilty then. But anyway, no, you shouldn’t worry too much, the prognosis for this kind of thing is on the whole fairly good. He just needs to dry out for a couple of days. We’ll look after him. You go home, try and get some comforting grooming, give us a pant-hoot later today. ’ And with this reassurance, the crash team’s duty psychiatrist gave a valedictory drum on the doorjamb and quit the cubicle.
But Paul’s optimistic signs turned out to be severely misplaced. He and the senior registrar on Gough Ward, Dr Jane Bowen, had no difficulty in getting Simon Dykes settled in the secure room – the chimp didn’t pull out of his catatonic state at all. And they had no problem with Dykes’s group either. His ex-alpha mate seemed to have been expecting this to happen. When Jane Bowen placed the pant-hoot to her, Jean Dykes appeared on the screen clutching an ornate rosary in one hand, the beads of alternate gold and amber. The whole while the two females gesticulated she fingered this devotional device, so th
at her signs were admixed with the prayerful fumble. She was wearing a thick, black, velvet dress with a ruffled collar, and the combination of this old-fashioned costume and the female’s staring, intent eyes unsettled the psychiatrist.
There was that – and in keeping with her religiosity and her old-fashioned mores, Mrs Dykes continued to receive the attentions of two males while she was on the phone. So that the squeals and pants of mating further embellished her formal tempo.
‘ “H’huuu” Mrs Dykes?’
‘ “HooH’Grnn” yes, may I “huu” help you?’
‘It’s concerning your ex-alpha Simon –’
‘Oh, Simon, Holy Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee “h-h-h-h-hooo” …’
‘Mrs Dykes I’m afraid I have some bad news for –’
‘Blessed are thee amongst females “h-h-h-h-hooo”, and blessed are the fruits of thy swelling … Has he had some sort of “h’huu” episode?’
‘A breakdown, my name is Dr Bowen, I’m –’
‘Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners “h-h-h-h-hoooeeek” …!’ The mating came to a squeaky finish. ‘Well, it doesn’t surprise me, he has turned away from the path of righteousness … Now, and at the hour of our death –’
‘Mrs Dykes, I’m the senior registrar on the acute ward at Charing Cross Hospital in London. We’d like to keep Simon here on a seventy-two-hour section – we need your consent as next of kine.’
‘Of course, of course … Our Alpha, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name …’ Her signing faltered a little, and then for the first time since they had begun to gesticulate the female’s hands rested in her lap.
‘I must sign,’ Jane Bowen jumped in, ‘did you expect this “huu”? Has Simon a history of these episodes “huu”?’
‘Thy kingdom come, thy will be … He has been a sore trial, both to me and to his infants, Henry and Magnus, yes, that is true. A miserable sinner, full of the bile of his own turpitude. As to his mental health, well, you would have to consult Anthony on that –’
‘Is that Dr Bohm at the Thame Health Centre “huu”?’
‘The same, Anthony has been a great support to us all, a great distal support –’ She broke off, a young male of about nine had come into the picture, crawling over the back of the male who had just mated his mother. The young male’s resemblance to Simon Dykes was strong, the same protuberant eyes, the same bouffant brown hair.
‘Can’t you see I’m gesticulating, Magnus, really –’ She broke off and gave the young male a clip round his ear. He disappeared yowling. ‘I’m sorry. You must appreciate, with a short-reigning alpha …’
‘Of course, of course. I’m going to pant-hoot Dr Bohm as soon as I finish with you. All I need to know is that you’ll be able to go into the health centre later today and put your signature on the papers I’m going to fax through.’
‘That will be no problem, Dr Bowen. Now if you’ll forgive me …’ The big male with the red sideburns was seeing to her rear end once more. ‘Glory be to the Father, to the Son and to the Holy “h-h-hoooo” –’
Jane Bowen broke the connection and knuckle-walked back on to Gough Ward from her office, gently shaking her head and musing. Perhaps there was more to the Dykeses’ fissioning than the artist’s consort was delineating.
Peering through the judas, Bowen saw that Simon Dykes was as they had left him, sitting on the nest in an odd manner, his feet dangling over the side rather than drawn up, his upper body peculiarly erect. Jane Bowen decided to risk an attack from him, although she was a small female – under eighty pounds. ‘ “Huuu” Simon?’
He didn’t turn towards her, but his fingers moved, fumbling faulty signs. ‘Geddaway, beast, foul demon, geddaway … So I’m mad, so what, geddaway …’
She took this as a good portent; perhaps he was pulling out of the flamboyant stage of the breakdown. She moved a little further into the room. ‘Simon,’ she inparted very softly on his shoulder, ‘do you think you cou –’ He whirled round at her touch, screamed and began clawing at her muzzle. But despite his size she easily fended him off, and was even able to grab his hands. ‘ “Wraaf”! Simon, I’m a doctor, I’m trying to help you!’
‘ “Aaaieee! Aaaiee! Aaaiee”! Get away! Get away! Don’t touch me, you fucking ape! Get away!’
Jane Bowen retreated to the door of the secure room. Simon Dykes collapsed to the floor as soon as she released him. He sprayed, but ineffectually – mostly over his own legs – and now he slumped in the pureed excrement keening and whimpering. Jane Bowen gently closed the door, secured it, and went to find a nurse. ‘Keep a close watch on him,’ she signed. ‘He isn’t dangerous, but he may try and damage himself. Get me twenty mils of Valium, I’ll give it to him intravenously. That should calm him. Then you try and clean him up a bit – but don’t groom him, I have a hunch that his psychosis is linked to touch. ’ She adjusted her gown, which had ridden down over her ischial scrag. ‘I’m going to pant-hoot his GP and see if I can find out anything more about our tortured genius.’
‘ “H’huu” Dr Bohm?’
‘ “H’hoooo” can I help you?’ The features, like the signing, were rotund, the fingers plumply plopping the signs in the very centre of the screen. The male’s great bum of a jaw was fringed with a white ruff of beard.
‘My name’s Dr Jane Bowen, I’m the senior psychiatric registrar at Charing Cross Hospital.’
‘How can I help you “huu”?’
‘It’s concerning one of your patients, Simon Dykes –’
‘Simon “huu”? What’s up “huu”? I do hope nothing’s wrong –’
‘I’m afraid there is – he appears to have had some kind of breakdown, possibly a drug-related psychosis. We’ll need his notes, of course, and I’m faxing through the forms for a seventy-two-hour section –’
‘Is that really necessary “huu”? Is he violent “huu”?’
‘ “Hooo’Grnnn” well, not exactly violent, although he has launched several unprovoked attacks –’
‘Damn it, female “euch-euch”! If the chimp’s not a threat to anyone why are you holding him “huu”? This isn’t just anybody, you realise, Dykes is an eminent artist –’
‘I do appreciate that, Dr Bohm; believe me, if we didn’t feel that he was a potential danger to himself we wouldn’t dream of holding him. But put it this way – his collapse has been flamboyant, to sign the least. Show me, has he much history of mental disturbance “huu”?’
‘ “Euch-euch” well … “Euch-euch” well, I suppose you’ll get it from the notes anyway. Yes, he has. A lot of depression, been hospitalised for it twice, most recently a year or so ago. And before that a couple of years previously. Group fissioned – as you probably know if you’ve pant-hooted his ex-alpha –’
‘I have.’
“‘Hooo” poor female – as it happens I’ve been able to provide some direct “gru-nn” support for her – in a distal capacity of course. Well, since the second hospitalisation he’s been on an SSRI –’
‘He’s on Prozac?’
‘That’s what I signed – yes, he’s been getting a repeat prescription. I haven’t seen him for over six months now – as far as I was aware he was much improved. Working again. I believe he’s been mixed up in a rather unsuitable consortship, but that’s hardly a matter for his doctor – or his ex-alpha’s distal male either.’
‘Has he a history of drug abuse, Dr Bohm “huu”?’
‘What do you mean – drug abuse “huu”? If you mean does he take drugs, I’d sign the answer is probably yes – creative types and all that – but it’s nothing we’ve ever gesticulated. Are you sure drugs are involved “huu”?’
‘It looks that way at the moment, but we haven’t been able to get anything concrete out of Dykes himself; he’s in a fully fledged delusional state, some impairments of motor coordination, striking loss of vigour. Keeps signing things like
to catatonia.’
There was no motion on the screen for a while save for Bohm’s fingers teasing at his ruff of beard and bum of chin. Then he signed, ‘Well, it does sound serious, very serious. Do you think I’d better come down and take a look at him “huu”? He’s been my patient for many years, more in the way of an ally. And now, of course, we’re co-group members – of a sort.’
‘That may be an idea, Dr Bohm, I’ll keep you posted. Possibly a familiar muzzle or grooming attitude could pull him out of it.’
‘ “Hooo” I suppose so. I’m sorry I was so abrupt before, but you know how it is …’ he flourished vaguely, as if this senseless hand movement somehow conveyed a panoply of doubts about psychiatry and its status within the healing professions.
‘Please, don’t worry, I acknowledge the suzerainty of your dedication to general practice, I acknowledge your equal ranking with mine and the refulgence of your anal scrag.’
‘Quite so, quite so. Well, give me another pant-hoot as soon as there are any developments – or no developments, in which case I’ll come. In the meantime, if you need to sign to anyone who’s really close to him, I suggest you try George Levinson – his dealer – he has a gallery in Cork Street. He’s been more of a support to Simon over the years than anyone, and in all confidence, the situation with his ex is not good –’
‘I kind of gathered that.’
‘Quite so, quite so. Well, I’ll wait to see from you then “HoooGraa”. ’ And without further postamble Bohm broke the connection.
For some time afterwards the provincial GP sat at his desk, staring sightlessly at the posters of teddy bears and lap ponies the health centre receptionist had stuck up on the walls of his consulting room. Eventually he summoned himself, and with fluttering hands signed to himself, ‘Hierarchy, that’s what it comes down to; every time, hierarchy, bloody hierarchy. ’ He pressed a button on the intervid and asked for his next patient to be sent in.
But later that day, in a hiatus between genteel hypochondriacs, Anthony Bohm found himself wondering whether Simon’s breakdown weren’t in some way connected with that drug trial, and that pushy, exhibitionistic chimp, Busner.
