“Later. I’ll tell you later,” he hissed, and started running away from her. She paused for a moment, listening to the footsteps approaching, then ran after him, resisting the urge to call his name. But when she emerged from the trees, he was gone.
Chapter Thirty
When Mark walked into Yonda’s office for their regular meeting, Meena was already there. The two women were sharing a tense silence that made him wonder what had passed between them in his absence.
“Morning,” he said, trying to sound as breezy as possible. He’d just come from Rita’s new room in the building’s basement, on a different and even bleaker corridor than that of his own office. There were three small rooms down there, set as far away from the rest of the house as possible. The rooms were bare but clean, or at least they were when the patients kept them that way. Rita, luckily, had used the toilet at the end of her bed and not chosen to smear excrement on the walls, unlike some of the previous occupants. He was sure the smell still lingered, despite the application of pints and pints of bleach.
Rita had refused her breakfast this morning; an orderly had fetched him from his office, entreating him to help. But when he’d taken the tray back in she’d thrown it to the floor and spat on him. He’d had to retreat hurriedly and let Roy work through the hazardous substances procedure with him; swabbing his face, cleaning him with disposable wipes. Masks were recommended for visits to solitary confinement, but they just exacerbated the anger of women like Rita. He’d be fine.
“We were just discussing your latest troublemaker,” said Yonda. She glanced at Meena, who shoved her hands under her legs and blushed.
“And?” he asked, intrigued.
“I was hoping you could enlighten us,” Yonda replied. “Seeing as you’re her counsellor and the esteemed psychiatrist.”
“She’s making progress,” he said, ignoring the veiled insult. Would she be receptive to the idea of Rita going back to the group, after the way she’d spoken at her Celebration?
Failing Celebration was like poison for these women. They were the only patients unlucky enough to pass under Yonda’s radar, and tended to stay there after failing. Which meant the pressure on them to conform was high.
“Really?” Yonda asked. He nodded.
“I thought she would,” said Meena. “I know I only had a few days with her, but I could see potential in her.”
Mark sighed inwardly. Still, having Meena as an ally on this one would be useful.
Yonda turned her stare on Meena. “Is that so?”
Meena nodded. “She reminded me of myself, when I arrived here.”
Mark was glad Meena was facing away from him, and couldn’t see his eyes roll.
Yonda didn’t look convinced. “They’re not all like you, you know.”
Meena blushed. “I know that. I do. But Rita was angry and resistant. Like me. She’s starting to calm down. Like me. I think we should give her some time, then she’ll come round.”
Yonda stood up, pushing her chair back. “Tell me Meena, how many times did you undergo Celebration?”
“Er, once.”
“And you passed first time. With flying colours. No?”
“Yes.”
“And how many Celebrations has Rita had?”
Meena’s voice lowered. “One.”
“Did she pass?”
Mark stepped forward. He’d been thinking about his conversation with Jennifer, his promise to bring Bel and Rita back to the group. He had to nip this exchange in the bud.
“I think Meena has a point,” he said.
Yonda leaned on her desk, shaking her head. She put a hand out to stroke the porcelain dog next to her. Meena’s eyes were on it, and her face was flushed.
“How’s that?” Yonda said, looking at Mark. He sensed Meena relaxing; the spotlight had moved on.
“She’s been in solitary for three days now. And her behaviour is improving.” He paused. “She’s eating, and she hasn’t attacked anyone since her first day.”
“Hasn’t attacked anyone,” repeated Yonda. “Is that how low we’re setting the bar these days?”
“Give her a chance,” he said. “Failing Celebration isn’t a pleasant experience. It can hit some women hard.”
Yonda tapped at her lower lip with a fingertip. Her nails were a glossy pink that matched her lipstick.
“I’m not denying that,” she said. “But attacking her counsellor like that isn’t acceptable. I want to get her out of here.”
Mark stiffened. “No.”
Meena’s head shot up. He’d been too hasty.
“I mean, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said. “I can work with her, rehabilitate her. Now that she understands the reality of what she’s faced with – what she’s done – I think she’ll turn.”
Meena was still looking at him, her eyes dark. She smiled at him. He flinched.
“OK, so you say that failing Celebration can hit them hard,” Yonda said. “What about your other one? Jennifer Sinclair. Has she attacked you? Has she lost her marbles?”
“I don’t think that’s an appropriate way to—”
She raised a hand. “They’re prisoners, Mark. They are not the patients in your old hospital. Answer my question, please.”
He swallowed. “Jennifer is doing well. She understands her situation.” He pictured her standing among those trees. Did she?
Yonda raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you know that?”
“One-to-ones, of course.”
“Nothing more?”
He stiffened. Had it been her, behind them in the garden? “No.”
She sniffed. “You’ve got form, Mark. Don’t push it.”
He glared at her. “That’s hardly relevant here.”
She raised an eyebrow. From the corner of his eye he could see Meena leaning forward in her chair, fascinated. “I know you’re lonely, Mark, but these women are your patients. I stuck my neck out for you, made sure you kept your job. Don’t blow it.”
He nodded. “Of course not. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” But he’d all but stopped breathing.
“So,” she said, rounding the desk to sit behind it again. She stroked its surface, muttering under her breath. “I believe Rita needs to stay where she is for a while. Then we’ll assess her.”
“If I can— I don’t agree,” said Meena. Mark’s eyes shot to her.
Yonda gave Meena a warning frown. “You haven’t been dealing with her for a few weeks now. You don’t know.”
Meena slumped back in her chair. Mark stepped towards the desk, putting his hands on it. “Rita is fine,” he said. “She can be allowed back to her group.”
“She’s not,” said Yonda, “ and you know it.”
He said nothing, but met her stare. She shook her head and turned her laptop around to face him.
“Watch this,” she said. She tapped a key and a video of Rita in her new room burst into life. She was hurling herself at an orderly whose back was to the camera, screaming at him. The orderly grabbed her wrist and pushed her to the bed, where she started kicking his shins, lashing out like a cornered panther. Her hands were gripped in his, her head a wild mass of hair and black, screaming mouth. Then the orderly’s hand went to her arm and she fell back, sedated.
Yonda pressed another key and the video stopped. Meena sheeshed in a long breath.
“When was this?” Mark asked.
“Last night.”
He closed his eyes. He hadn’t spoken to the night staff this morning, and hadn’t looked at their log for the night. He’d been too busy getting cleaned up after Rita had spat at him.
“It’s an anomaly. She’s fine with me.”
“Really? You want me to play another video?”
He shook his head. He hated that she could spy on him from her eyrie here on the ground floor. But he hated even more the fact that she felt it necessary, that she didn’t trust him.
“Right,” said Yonda. “I’m going to ignore the fact that you’r
e lying to me. I’m sure you have your reasons. But don’t do it again. Bel can go back to the group, but not Rita. Rita stays where she is. If she hasn’t improved in three more days – really hasn’t improved – then we assess her.”
He shrugged. Meena’s fingertips brushed his hand; sympathy, or pity? He shuddered.
Chapter Thirty-One
Jennifer could hear the other women taking their places in the circle of chairs behind her. She’d arrived early this morning, eager to see Rita and Bel again. She’d told Maryam about Mark’s promise to bring them back to the group, but not the others.
She stood at the long windows, watching the garden outside. If only she could go out there again, relieve the itch to be under the vast sky. She’d always thought of herself as an indoors person, shuffling from one office to another, sitting in cars and on trains. But this enforced imprisonment made her feel like a caged animal.
She turned to the group, suddenly decisive.
“Let’s move the chairs over here,” she said.
They ignored her. Sally was staring at her fingernails, legs twisted in front of her chair. Maryam held her arms at her sides; they twitched every few seconds with the urge to dart up to her hair. And Paula was relaxed in her chair, leaning back with her legs splayed in front of her. Her eyes were closed.
Jennifer sighed and crossed to her own chair. She looked at the other women and then picked it up, carrying it over to the window.
Sally looked up. “What are you doing?”
“I thought it would be nice to sit near the window. I want to look outside.”
“Why?”
“Beats looking into the middle of the room, I suppose. Come on, join me.”
Maryam frowned at Sally then Jennifer, then stood up and dragged her chair next to Jennifer’s. She gave her a conspiratorial smile then sat down, leaning forwards to look out at the gardens.
“I wish we could go out there,” she said.
“Hmm,” replied Jennifer. “Have you been out at all? Even once?”
Maryam shook her head. “Of course not. We’re not allowed.”
“So who are they? And why are they allowed?” Jennifer pointed to two women walking along the path towards the woods where Mark had taken her.
“No idea,” replied Maryam. “Best not to think about it too much.”
This frustrated Jennifer. “Why not? Surely if we find out how they got out there, we might be able to get out too?”
“I heard that it’s just for inmates who are ill,” said Paula. She placed her chair beyond Maryam.
“So why haven’t we seen Bel out there?”
Paula shrugged. “Dunno. Anyway, shall we move the rest of the chairs?”
Jennifer grinned at her and stood up to fetch the empty chairs. First Rita’s and Bel’s. Then Mark’s. They placed each in the same position it had been in the centre of the room, with the circle identical.
Sally stayed where she was, holding her chair back and watching through lowered eyelashes.
“He’ll only get you to move them back,” she said.
“Maybe, maybe not,” said Jennifer. “Come on over. It’s nicer here. Better light.”
Sally muttered something but then moved her chair. She didn’t place it in the space that had been left for her. Instead, she slid it between Paula and Mark’s empty chair. Maryam frowned at her then shrugged.
“Morning all.” Mark pushed through the door and then paused as he noticed the chairs. Bel was with him, a few steps behind. A gasp ran around the waiting women. Maryam stood up and crossed to Bel, whispering to her. Bel muttered something in response and smiled.
“What’s going on?” asked Mark. “The chairs.”
Jennifer gave him a confident smile. “We thought it would be nice to sit near the window. It’s a beautiful sunny day.”
She was right. The lawns gleamed as brightly as any of Yonda’s outfits and the sky was a brilliant blue. In the silence while Mark gathered his thoughts, Jennifer saw movement in a hedge and spotted a tiny sparrow flying out.
He looked from Jennifer to Bel and then at the rest of the group. They looked back at him, their faces steady.
“Whose idea was this?”
No-one spoke for a moment. Then Jennifer stood up. “Mine.”
He pursed his lips, glaring at her. She held his gaze, beginning to regret this.
He shrugged. “Why not.”
Jennifer let out a relieved breath.
Mark didn’t move. Instead he put a hand on the small of Bel’s back. Bel stiffened but didn’t make a sound. Her eyes looked distant and glazed.
“Everyone congratulate Bel on her recovery,” he said.
They flocked to her, muttering words of welcome and congratulations. Jennifer had never heard Bel speak and had no idea why the older woman had found herself here. She guessed that was about to change.
Jennifer sidled around the group to Mark.
“Where’s Rita?” she whispered.
He kept his eyes on Bel. “Not ready yet.”
“You promised me.”
“She’s still unwell. Give it time.”
Her heart was pounding. Maryam was watching, knowing what they were talking about. Jennifer considered the wisdom of asking after Rita publicly. Then dismissed it.
“You need to bring her back,” she hissed. “We need to see her better.”
He nodded. “I will. Trust me.”
But she couldn’t. As she watched him encourage the other women to sit down, she couldn’t help but notice how strangely he was acting. His face was pale and his hair unkempt, and he had dark shadows under his eyes. He kept giving her sidelong glances as he spoke to the other women, ushered them back into their chairs.
The group had finished congratulating Bel and was drifting back to the chairs. She watched Mark as she took her own; he looked pleased with himself.
Mark sat in the chair next to Sally, giving her an irritated look. He beckoned for Bel to take her habitual place on his other side. She shuffled into place, her eyes lowered.
“So,” he said, pressing his hands together. “This is going to be a good session. It’s so good to see Bel recovered and back with us.”
The group smiled and nodded. Bel looked up and smiled back. She wasn’t rocking, or moaning, or pulling at her skin. But her eyes looked dull, and her skin was blotchy.
“So,” Mark continued. “Bel is ready to do Step One with us today. Aren’t you?”
He turned to Bel, who took a deep breath. Mark raised his hand.
“Not just yet. We’ll let some of the others go first. Ease you in.”
He worked around the group, asking each woman in turn to recite her Step One mantra. When Jennifer’s turn came there was an awkward silence as they waited for her to speak. Maryam nudged her arm as if thinking she’d forgotten, or not noticed that it was her turn. Sally leaned back and smirked at her. Paula nodded at her.
She licked her lips.
“Sorry,” she said.
Mark nodded. “It’s OK. Go on.”
She glowered at him. She’d explored the building the previous night, creeping along corridors in search of any sort of infirmary. But all she’d found was a small room on the first floor with two spartan beds and a bored-looking nurse keeping watch. One of the beds was occupied, but not by Rita.
Where was she?
She shook her head. “No. Let Bel have her turn, please.”
Bel had stiffened and was looking less confident. She glanced at Mark.
Jennifer looked at Bel, hating herself. “Alright,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
She closed her eyes as she took her turn, thinking of Yusuf. Wondering what he would think if he saw her doing this.
At last it was Bel’s turn. “Go on,” urged Mark.
She sniffed. She had her hands in her lap, held very still as if she was concentrating very hard on keeping them there. The skin on her knuckles was flaking. Had it been like that before?
“I’ve been disl
oyal to the British state,” she whispered.
Mark leaned towards her. “A bit louder please.”
She cleared her throat. “I confess that I’ve been disloyal to the British state,” she said.
Mark smiled at her. Jennifer tried not to stare, but what else was there to look at? She glanced at Sally, now opposite her. Sally looked back at her, her face hard. Jennifer turned to Bel.
“What did you do?” asked Mark.
“I supported a terrorist organisation,” Bel said, her voice low again.
Sally grunted and made to stand up. Mark pushed her back into her seat with his eyes.
He turned back to Bel. “Can you go on?” Bel nodded. “Good. This one’s easy,” he told her. “Go on.”
Bel looked up from her hands and faced the group, looking over Jennifer’s head to the empty space behind her. “I accept the support of my counsellor.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I accept the support of my group.”
Mark stood up, his hand on Bel’s shoulder. He looked relieved. “Let’s congratulate Bel,” he said. Reluctantly they all stood up and went to her, clapping. Each woman in turn gave Bel her own congratulations.
Finally they were all back in place.
“Well done, everyone. That’s all for today,” said Mark.
Paula cleared her throat. “I’m at Step Four. I want to rehearse.”
“Not today. Next time.”
“But I need the group’s help. I’ve already accepted it, so I need to use it. Let me work through my steps.”
Mark looked at his watch. “Alright. But make it quick.”
Paula looked around the group and took a deep breath. “I confess that I’ve been disloyal to the British state. I’ve—”
“Straight to Step Four, please,” interrupted Mark. He sounded bored.
“OK. I harmed the people in my family and my workplace. I harmed everyone who I recruited to my organisation. I will make amends by telling as many of them as possible that they need to leave it, like I have.”
Jennifer stared at her, wondering what organisation she referred to. Was this what Samir would have to admit to? She doubted his ability to be as calm as Paula, then wondered if Paula was really speaking her mind, or if she was lying too.
The Division Bell Trilogy Page 44
