by H K Thompson
She looked up again and smiled at Evelyn. There was a look of intense relief on her face. Evelyn said:
“I agree with you, that sometimes things work themselves out in the most unexpected way. We don’t always know how or why, we just follow our instincts. Burying Rachel in the cellar was true and prescient of you for all the reasons we’ve talked about. Somewhere you knew what you were doing.”
There was little more to be said.
Chapter 23
The session with Evelyn was a revelation, but the outer world soon broke into Tess’s subsequent introspection. The struggle between her need to think about what the session had brought up and the demands of the police and of Wellbridge House began the following morning when a message reached her via Mark that Mona wanted to see her in the office. She was informed that an appointment had been made for her to meet Inspector McKenzie in the boardroom on Monday in order to give a formal statement about her visit to see her brother. A time of ten o’clock had been confirmed and would she please attend on time. Tess confirmed she would be there.
She set out for the potting shed in the hope that her Friday morning stint would give her the time to herself that she craved, only to find that Ted was intent on turning the compost heaps and needed her help. That meant that she had to forgo any time alone in order to do the task, which would mean talking to Ted and concentrating on the job in hand. When the turning was done Tess headed for the potting shed again but was waylaid by Mona who requested her assistance in the office. There was a pile of collating to be done for an upcoming open day. The day was a fundraiser for the unit and the collating was the information that would be handed out to the visitors. She could hardly say no, and she usually enjoyed the gossip and the chit-chat that reconnected her with the outside world. Not so today, she thought. She agreed, reluctantly, and spent the afternoon caught between her preoccupation and the continuous chatter that constantly broke her train of thought. By late teatime she felt tense, frustrated and thoroughly thwarted. She felt as if her nerves were frayed and the muscles in her neck taut and brittle. The work done, she fled the office and walked quickly to her room, anxious not to be waylaid again and diverted unwillingly to another job.
She washed her hands clean of the ink from the collating, sluiced her face with cold water and lay down on the bed. She sank gratefully into the duvet that covered the mattress and, raising her head on her hands clasped behind her head, she looked out of the window at the dark sky and the vague shadow of a tree no more than ten feet from her window. She could see the branches moving slowly in the breeze. Her room was dark and she lay gazing at the tree and the window and the outlines and shadows of the familiar furniture in her room and let her mind drift back to the last session with Evelyn. Unbelievably, it was only just over a day ago, and yet the distractions and diversions made it seem like a week, a month or longer.
She had come back, she believed, from killing Stephen and she had walked down the cellar steps and dug Rachel out from her dry and musty resting place and taken her to a police station and presented her to the officer at the desk. She had been whisked up into the workings of the system and finally deposited at the unit to unpick the threads of her life which included killing Stephen and exhuming Rachel. Now she thought it ironic that the passivity that had led to her ending up in a dangerous situation at the behest of her mother had turned out to be a turning point.
*
On Monday morning Inspector McKenzie arrived to take a formal statement from Tess. The Inspector had arrived and was sitting in the boardroom in good time. When Tess knocked at the door Ann McKenzie opened it to her and offered her a chair at the large, polished conference table, facing the window and looking out over the garden. The table was a large expanse of finely grained wood and a statement pad had been placed on the table in front of Tess’s chair, together with a black biro and a glass of water. As Tess sat at the table with the writing paraphernalia in front of her she was reminded of school exams, sitting at a desk in a long row of desks, wrestling with the questions on a paper, writing her answers. She recalled the atmosphere of the exam room and how it made her anxious and tense. She felt that same anxiety and shivered.
“I hope you’re not too nervous, Tess?” said the Inspector, noticing her shiver.
“No, I’m fine,” Tess replied. “What am I to do? What should I write about?”
“Nothing scary. We just want your full account of what happened on your visit to your brother’s cottage in Pembrokeshire. Please be as factual as you can, give dates and times as accurately as possible. We’re trying to build up a picture and you are our only witness, except for the postman who found your brother’s body. Depending on what you say, we may well want to ask further questions of you at a later date, for clarification or further possible information. That’s all there is to it.”
“OK,” Tess replied. Still in exam mode Tess asked: “How much time do I have?”
“As long as it takes. I’ll be here in the room with you. Take your time. If you have any questions, ask.”
Tess nodded and picked up the biro. She began to write. An hour later the statement was written, Tess had left the office and Inspector McKenzie had picked up the sheets of paper and departed.
*
Back at the station, and having scanned her long list of new emails for anything urgent, she began to read the statement. Tess had made a good job of it. She’d followed the brief and been factual and relatively objective. When she came to the page and the section covering the beating of Stephen Dawson it became clear to her that, even in the dim and dismal surroundings of Dawson’s kitchen, there had been enough light for Tess to see the faces of the three killers. She was both elated and alarmed by this dawning fact. In all probability Tess had seen enough of their faces to be able to identify them. That was the cause of her elation but what came with it was the fact that Tess was both a key witness and potentially in danger. She had no idea whether Tess realised this or not.
*
Tess had gone to the dining room after she had finished her witness statement. She was mulling over the account that she’d just given, considering whether she had been accurate enough, had got the sequence of events right, had stated correct times and dates. She thought that some of the things she had written down could be confirmed by Geoff, Carol and Sian at the hotel. All in all she felt quite happy with what she’d written. She was waiting for other residents to come for lunch at 12.30pm and, after she had been waiting ten minutes, Judith appeared and waved and smiled and joined her at the table.
“How’d it go?” she tentatively asked.
“It went well,” Tess replied. “I could remember all the important things, the factual things. I was even able to give a bit of a description of the men who beat Stephen.” She had confided in Judith soon after she had given her account of what had happened to Evelyn.
There was a pause and Judith said slowly: “I didn’t realise you’d seen their faces.” She paused again. “Tess, you do realise that those men will know that you probably saw them. And as soon as the police read your statement they’ll know you can probably identify them. You do realise that?”
Tess sat, thunderstruck, the hair on her neck and arms bristling, her body suddenly slumped. She said:
“I hadn’t but I do now. Oh God,” she said. “The Inspector will be back. Oh God. They’re going to ask me to identify them.”
Tess got up from the table as the dining room was filling up. She left the room, heading for her own place of safety. She ate no lunch that Monday.
*
Ann McKenzie telephoned Evelyn Doyle as soon as the implications of Tess’s statement became clear to her. She told Evelyn what had happened. She then telephoned Dyfed-Powys Police and informed Alun Davies of the major development in the Stephen Dawson murder inquiry that had occurred. He was excited and intent on coming up to Wellbridge House without further delay. The possibility of Tess Dawson identifying the killers of Stephen Dawson was compelling to h
im and he told Ann McKenzie that he would put together a collection of photographs of possible suspects and email them over to her. Later that day she set the ball rolling for a further interview with Tess which would include the laptop identity parade. She phoned Evelyn to warn her of what was going to happen. Things were moving very fast.
*
That Monday afternoon it took Tess some time to get over the shock of what Judith had pointed out. Somewhere she couldn’t quite believe what she’d done. The thought of any more contact with the police frightened her and the realisation that she would be called upon to identify her brother’s killers and, eventually, even appear in court to testify against them, appalled her. She knew that she was not ready for that. It wasn’t until after tea that she thought again about her session with Evelyn in the quiet, security and comfort of her room. Thinking of Rachel and the way Evelyn had understood the meaning of her life and death was sinking in and it meant everything to her. She was moving towards a resolution about her child. And she hadn’t killed Stephen and the anxiety that had been growing about Stephen’s killers was ebbing away. She fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
Chapter 24
Tess knew when she awoke that the relaxation went very deep. She felt clearer and lighter. As she made her way down to supper she was met by Mark on the back staircase. As he approached he looked annoyed and Tess realised with a gasp that she should have been at an occupational therapy class that afternoon and that she’d missed it. Before he could speak she apologised and promised it would not happen again. As she walked through the hallway she realised that her work with Evelyn over the past few weeks had become all-absorbing and that her duties and activities at the unit were suffering. She made a mental note to remedy this state of affairs, lecturing herself that life was not only about her therapy but there was also her life at the unit, the activities and workshops thatshe had to attend, and her one or two friendships with other residents. These, too, were important, she told herself. They needed her attention. It was just that, at the moment, things felt as if they were resolving. She knew that she was deeply preoccupied. She promised herself that she would spend time with Judith and Louise and perhaps even spend more time in the common room watching TV. Perhaps, she thought. Soon.
*
Tess climbed the front stairs to the therapy room and, dead on time, opened the door and entered. She found Evelyn in her chair. All was well with the world. She took up her usual position, looking down at the light grey/blue circle, focusing her attention and concentration on what she had come to say. She began.
“I want to talk about Rachel again. I want to talk about how she died. I’ve never spoken about it to anyone but now I understand more about what her life meant to me I feel I can talk about her death. There’s nothing mysterious about how she died, not now. You see, I was always afraid that I’d caused it and I believed it for a long time, in fact, until very recently. Now that’s changed. Don’t ask me how, it just has.
It happened one morning. She’d been quiet in the night after I’d fed her sometime in the early hours. I woke up with a start at about 8am. I wondered if it had been Rachel who woke me but I couldn’t remember hearing her. I got out of bed and crossed the room to her cot. She was lying perfectly still. I touched her arm and I knew then that she’d gone.” She paused. “What can I say, Evelyn? That I was beside myself? That I was shocked, shattered, devastated? All those things and much, much more that I still can’t put into words.
For a long time I blamed myself. I felt guilty, so guilty. Worse than guilt, if there can be anything worse. I’ve lived with that until now. I think I always will. I’ve said to myself later that there had been nothing I could have done but it doesn’t really help. Although the message is slowly and painfully getting through a little.
You can see that my state of mind was so distraught, so awful that I can’t find the words for it. But I was so beside myself, so not thinking straight, that it slowly dawned on me that I could keep her with me. And it was then that I thought of burying her in the cellar, in the old fireplace. No one would ever know. No one came to the cottage. No one would ever find out. There was a draft from the chimney so there would be no smell. I was very practical. So that’s what I did. I kept her with me until that day, when I’d come back from West Wales and everything was different, and I took her out of her grave and started this journey.”
She paused for several minutes.
“I’ve never really grieved for Rachel. I’ve not given her a proper burial. Perhaps both will be possible now.”
Evelyn was still. After a few moments she said:
“I think those are both very good ideas. And in the process of grieving for Rachel you can also grieve for yourself, for the things that have happened to you in your life that are painful and very sad. We must remember what Rachel means to you, the things we talked about when you were last here. In Rachel you saw so much of yourself, intuitively and not conscious at the time, but, nevertheless, taking you on a course of action that was to lead to the denouement that we’re seeing today.”
The session was, to all intents and purposes, complete.
Evelyn left the session knowing what her next step should be. She knew beyond any possible doubt that Tess had not been responsible either for the death of Stephen nor the death of Rachel. She knew she had to report this new information to the Director and the Board, and sooner rather than later. That was her next step. The implications for Tess were far-reaching. They would mean change. What she had to do was make sure that the transition was as smooth as possible. Yes, she felt sure she could achieve that.
Chapter 25
The next Board meeting was scheduled for the following week. Two meetings in fairly quick succession were unusual but not unprecedented. Evelyn knew that she had to present the recent developments in Tess Dawson’s case to the Board as soon as possible and her first step was to make an appointment to see the Director and get the matter on the agenda. She stopped by at the office and saw Mona. Mona gave her an appointment with Peter Archer for the next day, also an unusual occurrence.
She was still feeling the effects of the session and knew that she would need to switch off and focus on her next patient. It was not an easy task. There were too many matters of concern. She felt that her work with Tess was coming to a natural and positive conclusion but she was concerned that there would have to be a sudden ending of the process as soon as Peter Archer grasped the significance of what she was soon to report. The only brake on his haste to remove Tess from Wellbridge House would be the Board. She had to persuade the members that Tess would need some time to absorb what had happened in her sessions, enough for her to be sufficiently integrated to deal with the outside world.
There was no halfway house after the unit, no safe place where a person could find their feet after being in an institution. This was a serious lack in the system and one that could easily lead to relapse. She recognised that there was only so much she could do, that she had a limited remit. She wondered if she were being over-protective, thought she probably was, and that Tess now had resources within her that would have to be tested. Testing might be a frightening part of the process and one that she could not do for her. Timing, however, was everything. What she could do was delay Tess’s departure as much as she could. Just a few weeks would give Tess some time to integrate her changes and consolidate her strength and confidence. She decided that this would be her strategy at the meeting, switched her mind over to her next patient and made her way to the therapy room. She had temporarily forgotten about the matter of Tess being able to recognise the men who had killed her brother.
*
The following day brought her meeting with the Director. She reported to his office promptly and found him seated behind his desk. She knew that this meant the meeting would be formal and official rather than relaxed and friendly. This format meant that Peter Archer could be in a cantankerous and officious mood. Evelyn took her seat to the side of his desk to min
imise the light behind him from the window. She was alerted to her own tendency to become combative in this situation.
“Good afternoon, Evelyn,” he said smiling his smile, reclining and undaunted by the recent encounter in the Board meeting. “What can I do for you? Is this about Ms Dawson?”
The s on Ms was extended and exaggerated in an attempt to provoke Evelyn. Ignoring his hostility she replied:
“Yes, it is. There have been some very important developments in therapy which have a bearing on her being here. I can’t disclose them to you yet because I don’t have Tess’s permission, but I wanted to report to you in outline what’s happened and I want to report them in full to the Board when I have her permission. I know there’s a meeting next week and I would like to attend in order to make a report at that time. I hope to have cleared it with Tess by then.”
Peter Archer made no reply. For him the thought of anyone giving a resident that much power in a situation like this was intolerable. He grated painfully against the ‘therapy model’, as it was called, and felt frustrated and taken for a ride. It took an enormous effort for him to rein back his indignation and resume a civilised conversation.
“Do you really have to ask permission of this resident? I do feel that I have a right to know if there have been significant developments that affect her place here and what they are.”
“I must get her agreement on this. I can’t compromise confidentiality.”
She felt firm and sure of herself. Something, perhaps, in the transformation that had happened to Tess had reinforced her belief in process, time and patience. She met the Director’s eyes in a steady look that left him looking away and standing up in discomfort. He turned his back to her and looked out of the tall window with his hands clasped behind his back, fingers moving nervously. For just a moment Evelyn thought she detected a slight stoop, the tiniest suggestion of a look of giving up or defeat in the posture of his back. He seemed older and more worn, just for an unguarded moment, and Evelyn had the faintest sense that he was beaten, that his hold on power was slipping away. She felt a pang of sympathy then straightened herself in the chair and said:
