by Alec Birri
‘Interesting.’ The doctor was nothing if not consistent. ‘Who won the World Cup?’
Dan grimaced. ‘I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Where are those recordings you promised me?’
‘Very interesting. On their way. Tell me first how you broke your arm.’
Dan went through the events as if it were a live commentary.
‘Tell me about the aircraft crash.’
Dan shook his head. The doctor pulled up a chair, reached for his notepad and sat down.
‘Tell me about your brother, Brian.’
‘Doc, it’s seven o’clock in the morning. Can’t we do this after breakfast?’
An orderly walked in with a tray which told Dan he would once again be eating and answering questions at the same. He lifted the lids from the plates – cornflakes and a plate of bacon and eggs. The sight of two converging ova made him uneasy for some reason.
‘I don’t know; what do you want me to tell you?’ Dan screwed up his nose as a prod of one of the eggs revealed it to be burnt with only the yolk salvageable.
‘As you’ve probably noticed, Dan, we try to avoid asking leading questions for fear of putting ideas into the minds of patients who, out of either desperation or convenience, turn them into perceived memories. It’s important all retrieved thoughts are genuinely your own.’
Dan cut away the burnt bit and placed it to one side. ‘Well, just like all brothers, I suppose. Sometimes we get on. Sometimes we don’t.’ He cut off a piece of bacon and popped it into his mouth. ‘More the latter than the former.’
‘And why do you think that is?’
Dan pondered as he chewed. ‘Well, although I’m younger, I’ve achieved more professionally. Maybe he lives in my shadow.’
‘Anything else?’
‘We’re just different. Different sense of humour, different standards, different friends, different dress sense – you name it.’
‘And how would you feel if he suddenly died?’
Dan put down the knife and fork. ‘Steady on, Doc. That’s a bit heavy. Devastated, of course – he is flesh and blood after all.’ He sniffed at the conjoined yolks before deciding to leave them.
Adams made his customary notes. ‘Tell me about the hallucination you had last night.’
A piece of meat had become wedged between Dan’s teeth. He probed it with his tongue. ‘How do you know about that?’
‘The duty log.’
Dan switched his attention to the bowl of cornflakes. ‘It was Brian, of course.’
‘How does Brian, your hallucination, compare to Brian, your brother?’
‘Not a lot of difference really – just as vulgar, just as annoying.’ He picked up a spoon. ‘More helpful, I suppose.’
‘In what way?’
‘Well, I know his manifestation is just me trying to work things out in my own head, but I have to admit he is strangely cathartic.’ Dan paused before qualifying: ‘In an annoying way.’
‘How did he help you last night?’
‘It must have been something I already knew, but he went rambling on about how the brain is a complicated filing system, which in my case had taken a knock, so all the cabinets and their contents are now strewn across the floor – right down to the individual letters apparently. He said he was there to help pick them all back up again. Nonsense, I know.’
Adams stopped writing and looked up. ‘Well, it’s certainly a bit simplistic to say the brain is an orderly filing system – probably more accurate to describe it as a disorderly filing system where individual letters are permanently strewn across the floor. For some reason, the brain is happy with this arrangement and to a certain extent can even cope if the disorder’s caused by some kind of trauma. The real problem comes when the floor has holes in it and the letters become lost. We’re pretty certain they can’t be recovered.’ He went back to his notes. ‘So, you don’t fear your hallucination?’
‘Isn’t that a leading question?’ Dan said, smugly.
Adams didn’t look up. ‘I said we try to avoid asking leading questions – not forbid them.’
The doctor appeared to have an answer for everything.
‘No, not at all.’
‘So how would you feel if you never saw it again?’
Dan didn’t answer straight away. ‘Do you know, I think I would actually miss him? How strange is that?’ He put his spoon into the cornflakes. ‘Hey! They’ve forgotten the milk.’
‘Did the hallucination of Brian help you to remember anything from the crash?’
‘Hang on, Doc. I just need to ask for some milk.’
Dan pressed the buzzer. He then pretended to forget what had been asked.
‘Sorry, what was the question?’
It was repeated but there was no way Dan was going to reveal what he’d worked out – not yet, anyway. He needed to question some of the patients first, and had a feeling Adams wouldn’t like that.
‘No, nothing I’m afraid. As I say, it was all just nonsense.’
The doctor closed his notepad and stood up. ‘Do you have any questions for me?’
Dan thought for a second. ‘I take it I can socialise with the other patients?’
Adams appeared cynical. ‘I thought you didn’t care for the company of strangers?’
‘Well, I can’t just stay in here all day – I’ll go mad.’
They both looked at each other as if that particular Rubicon had already been crossed.
‘Normal social intercourse is an important part of your recovery, so you not only can, but must.’ Adams turned to leave. ‘Just remember to be careful with what you say – no leading or personal questions. They’ll only tell you exactly what you want to hear and vice versa.’
For a moment Dan thought the doctor was on to him. He did have a point, though.
Adams paused at the door. ‘Have you decided to resume your medication?’
Dan didn’t answer.
‘Did you take the pill I left you?’
Dan turned to the window. ‘Yes, I did. Maybe that’s why I remembered who you were this morning.’
Adams walked back, put a hand into Dan’s breast pocket and took out the red pill. ‘Still suffering from paranoia or did amnesia make you forget?’ He removed some fluff before replacing it. ‘Of course, an attempt at deception could be a sign of psychological progress. Original thought needs some work, though.’
It was official. Dan couldn’t stand the man.
Tracy passed him on his way out. She had her usual trolley, only this time there was a bowl with some towels and toiletries next to it. Dan became nervous.
‘Good morning!’ She was her usual bright and cheery self. ‘Who’s ready for a bed bath then?’
Dan gulped. She moved the trolley closer to his bed and removed the breakfast tray and stand. Dan forgot about the milk for his cornflakes and made a conscious effort to look out of the window.
‘Looks like rain,’ he said.
Tracy stopped what she was doing and looked out of the window too, moving into his line of sight as she did so. ‘I think you might be right.’
Dan’s nervousness disappeared. That’s strange, he thought.
She faced him. ‘Right, are we going to behave ourselves or am I going to have to get Mike to give you a bath instead?’
Dan recalled Brian’s homophobic diatribe. ‘No! I mean, that’s okay. I’ll be good.’
He thought he must have sounded like a small boy again. Tracy smiled and began pulling the curtain around his bed to screen it off. The differences he was sensing became more pronounced. Dan didn’t know whether it was the smell of the soap or the steam rising from the bowl, but he became relaxed – secure, even.
Tracy pulled the curtain across the window so he could no longer mak
e use of it as a distraction. It didn’t bother him. Dan found himself taking more of an interest in Tracy’s preparations than in her. Really strange, he thought. He looked at her breasts as they did their usual dance, to prove something had changed in him. Nothing about Dan’s person danced in response. Now, that’s just bizarre, he thought again.
‘Dan, behave yourself. Women always know where a man’s eyes are looking.’
He put his hands up in defence. ‘Honestly, Tracy, I don’t think of you like that any more – believe me.’
She poured some soap into the bowl. ‘Really? Some women might be offended by that.’
Dan blustered. ‘Oh no! It’s not like that. What I mean to say is, I still think you’ve a very attrac—’
She interrupted him. ‘It’s okay, Dan, you’re no different to any other man. You soon get bored and want to move on.’ She winked.
‘Tracy, seriously. Something’s changing in me.’ He stared straight ahead. ‘And I’m not sure if I like it or not.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Tracy?’
‘Yes, my fickle admirer?’
‘They don’t, er, put anything in the food, do they?’ Dan glanced across at the breakfast tray.
Tracy stopped what she was doing. ‘What? Like bromide? Something to suppress your, ahem, natural instincts?’
‘Yes. Something like that.’
She burst out laughing. ‘Dan, that’s the last thing they want to do in this place. God knows, there’s little enough life here as it is.’
Dan tried to dismiss the ridiculousness of his suggestion as easily as Tracy but paranoia wouldn’t let him. She started to undo the buttons on his pyjamas. He put a hand on top of hers.
‘I don’t think I’m ready to see all of myself yet.’
Tracy reverted to a more caring tone. ‘That’s okay,’ she soothed. ‘I’m going to cover you in towels anyway. Put your head back.’
Dan stared up at the ceiling while Tracy finished removing his pyjamas and did as promised. The bath commenced and he became cosseted in the softness of her contact and the occasional waft of feminine perfume. He closed his eyes and found himself wandering back to less stressful times. Dan couldn’t remember, but imagined that this was how it must have been when he was a small boy – Tracy’s cleaning of his body felt caring as well as cleansing. He opened his eyes to look at her and thought he could see his mother. She was smiling at him.
‘Happy, darling?’ he thought he heard her say. He nodded and smiled back.
Dan caught a glimpse of his chest. All the hair from it had burnt away and the way the remaining skin clung to his ribs reminded him of a rotting carcass. It should have turned his stomach, but he was in the care of his mother now, so everything was fine. Dan’s transformation from Tracy’s sexual predator to her compliant patient appeared to be complete.
‘Do you want me to clean your penis or do you want to do it?’
Tracy’s frankness interrupted the dream-like state. Dan gathered his thoughts to work out what that would entail, and decided the requirement for two hands made it impossible for him.
‘You do it please, Tracy.’ He put his head back again while his manhood received the fastest and least caring personal attention, ever. Dan winced throughout. ‘Women really do hate men, don’t they?’ he found himself saying out loud.
‘Best to get it over and done with in my experience,’ Tracy replied, flatly. She reached for a clean pair of pyjamas and helped him to get into them. Her bubbly nature returned. ‘What shall we do today, then?’
‘Have I got you to myself?’ Dan was pleased.
‘Well, not constantly, but I’ll be around until I go off shift.’
Dan was disappointed, but soon perked up at the thought of his mission. ‘This may come as a surprise to you, Tracy, but I think I’d like to talk to some of the other patients today.’
Tracy ceased buttoning and looked at him. ‘Are you feeling okay?’
‘Never better.’
Tracy regarded the remains of the eggs on his breakfast tray. ‘Well, if they are putting something in your food, I can only say I approve.’ She picked up a toothbrush. ‘Do you want to do it? I can put the toothpaste on for you if you like?’
Dan nodded.
‘You can take your medication at the same time.’
Dan shook his head. Tracy reached into her pocket and pulled out a plastic tub with a couple of pale-looking tablets inside. Dan peered at them.
‘What are they?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Just antibiotics for your arm. Of course, if you don’t want it to get better…’
Dan took the tub from her. Tracy poured him a beaker of water and he swallowed the tablets. They were probably safe to take, as unlike the red pill they hadn’t been deliberately singled out. He tapped his left breast pocket before realising it must still be in his other pyjamas. It wasn’t. Tracy was ahead of him and opened her palm to reveal it. Dan smirked before placing the pill into his new pocket and tapping it again. Tracy just shook her head.
Dan brushed his own teeth, and this small demonstration of independence boosted his morale enough to make his own way to the wheelchair this time. Tracy pushed him out into the corridor, where the door opposite was open. He was surprised to see the room empty.
‘What happened to the chap in there?’
Tracy hesitated before answering. ‘He’s gone home – lucky thing.’
‘But he came in with me.’
‘What makes you think that?’
Dan paused this time. ‘Er, well, he had the same injuries as me.’
Tracy seemed puzzled. ‘Just because a patient appears to present with the same symptoms doesn’t mean their treatment and recovery will be the same.’
Yeah, right, Dan scoffed to himself. They made their way down the corridor as before. ‘Where are we going?’
‘If it’s going to rain today, everyone will be in the conservatory. You’ll be able to make lots of new friends there.’ Dan enjoyed the maternal side to Tracy, but didn’t have much time for the patronising one.
They entered the conservatory, where some of the patients were sitting, either reading, writing, or in quiet contemplation. A quick scan confirmed they all had facial injuries of one sort or another – Dan’s passenger conviction was off to a good start. He motioned Tracy to park his chair opposite Gary who grimaced as if a bad smell had just been placed in front of him.
Dan attempted to start the conversation with an uncharacteristic bit of cheer. ‘Good morning, Gary!’
‘Morning, Brigadier.’
Dan bit his lip to stop himself from rising to the bait. Silence followed, during which Tracy switched her attention back and forth between them.
‘Well, as you two boys seem to be hitting it off, I’ll leave you to it.’ She turned on her heels and did just that.
Dan tried again. ‘Lovely day!’
A sporadic tap made Gary look up towards the roof of the conservatory. The raindrops became a continuous drum.
‘Well, I suppose if I were on fire I would find it welcoming.’
Dan dropped the social pretence the moment he heard the word ‘fire’. ‘What do you remember about the crash?’ He frowned and imagined his ear being tweaked by Doctor Adams. ‘No leading questions!’ he could hear him say.
‘Crash?’ Gary asked.
‘Forget that, er, well, don’t forget it, but… um.’ He’d only just started and was already making a hash of it. Dan’s determination to get to the truth was hindering him. He repeated the next question in his head a few times to make sure it sounded right. ‘Tell me how you came by your injuries.’
Gary glanced left and right, as if to make sure nobody else was listening. He leaned forward and beckoned Dan to do the same, which he eagerly did.
‘Mind – your – own �
�� business.’ Gary sat back and picked up a crossword book.
Dan threw the doctor’s rulebook out of the window. ‘Look, Gary. We both know why we’re in here. I just want to know what you know about it – that’s all.’
Gary didn’t take his eyes away from the puzzle. ‘I don’t talk to anybody in this place who doesn’t take their prescribed medication. It’s a waste of time. You may as well talk to a madman.’ He looked up. ‘Any offence taken, gladly given.’ He looked back down again before continuing. ‘Everybody here suffers from one or more serious psychological illnesses, so to refuse help with that is, ironically, mad.’
Dan stayed silent for a few seconds. ‘You practised that little speech, didn’t you?’
Gary put the crossword down and leaned forward again. ‘Take the pill, Dan, and we’ll talk again.’
Dan smiled. ‘You called me Dan.’
Gary didn’t respond. Dan wondered who to approach next when he made eye contact with a woman who waved excitedly for him to join her. He reverted back to type and stuck his nose in the air.
‘It would appear someone wants to talk to me.’
Gary ignored that too.
Tracy was nowhere to be seen, so Dan decided to make his own way over. He went to release the brakes on the wheelchair, but thought walking the six paces would do him some good. Her sex was the real reason, of course – Dan didn’t want her thinking he needed a wheelchair. The fact that every step made him look like a drunk at kicking-out time didn’t seem to worry him, for some reason, although when he saw the burns to her face close up, Dan did wonder why he’d bothered. His conscience ensured he felt guilty at this shallowness.
‘Did I hear you two talking about the crash?’
Dan became interested in her again. ‘Yes! What do you know about it?’ He congratulated himself on asking a question Adams would have been proud of.
‘Well, it was terrible. Bodies everywhere.’
Dan winced at the frankness, but no matter how upsetting, he had to know what happened.
‘People screaming, calling for loved ones, sirens, blue flashing lights – just terrible.’
He interrupted her. ‘Where did we crash?’ Dan reasoned it was safe to start asking leading questions.
