Feeling winded, Janet stares at Nora, struggling to keep her composure. There but for the grace of God . . .
‘Are you all right?’ Ellen’s voice registers somewhere far away.
Janet nods her lie, but thankfully Ellen seems satisfied and her eyes return to Nora.
‘She’s not a bit of bother – just institutionalised now. Doesn’t talk much but I always have the feeling that there’s more going on in there than we might think.’
They move on, though Janet’s thoughts linger with Nora. ‘And this is Joyce,’ Ellen says. ‘She’s been mute for the last twenty-five years. Before then she was a “defiant young woman”, according to her notes. Nobody seems to know what happened to her, but I suspect too much ECT.’
As they come to the end of the ward, Janet looks back. Her eyes drift back to where Nora sits still and silent, her head slightly bowed, her eyes staring ahead. Is it really too late? ‘Ellen, could I start with Nora Jennings?’
‘Absolutely. When?’
‘Now.’
As Janet prepares to meet Nora Jennings, she knows this isn’t going to be a walk in the park. From personal experience, she also knows that even a single hour-long psychiatric consultation can affect every aspect of someone’s life, and that one mistake on the part of the doctor can be disastrous. She sits on her own in the small consulting room on Rowan, takes a deep breath and reminds herself of the aim of her work with Nora: to help her become the best she can be, regardless of the damage wrought by over forty years of incarceration. No pressure, then . . .
A timid knock on the open door interrupts Janet’s thoughts. A stooped, elderly-looking woman with short, greying hair and wrinkled, sallow skin stands in the doorway, her head jutting forward a little, her eyes fixed on the floor. Her mouth follows the sagging contours of cheeks that eventually droop into jowls. She is dressed in a plaid skirt, woollen jumper, flat-heeled shoes and, of course, the incongruous white ankle socks. Janet stands and proffers her hand, her heart flooding with compassion. ‘Miss Jennings, please come in.’
With short, nervous steps, Nora moves to the chair and lowers herself onto its edge, perching there for a moment before shuffling back little by little until she seems settled. She clasps her hands in her lap with a handkerchief crushed between them, and is finally still.
‘I’m happy for you to call me Janet and I know that most people here call you Nora, so I wonder what you’d prefer that I call you?’ Nora sits with her head bowed and makes neither movement nor sound. Janet breathes in sharply, hoping that asking Nora to make a choice wasn’t her first blunder. Best just to continue. ‘I’d like to have a chat with you, and see how you are, and if there’s anything I can do for you. Is that OK?’
Nora’s gnarled fingers begin to fidget with the handkerchief like a child with a security blanket. Janet presses on. ‘I know you’ve lived here for a very long time, and you must have seen lots of people like me over the years. It’s probably a bit of a pain to have yet someone else coming to talk with you.’ She waits. ‘If there’s anything at all you’d like to ask me or tell me, it’s fine, but don’t worry if you’ve nothing to say today. We can just sit here a while and if anything occurs to you, you can ask me and if not, that’s also fine because I’ll be back again in a few days.’
The ticking of the clock is deafening in the silence. Janet decides to try a different tack. ‘I always think it must be hard when someone new comes, and I want you to take your time and be comfortable. There’s no hurry. I’m happy just to sit here with you, but if you want to go now, that’s OK too.’
After a few minutes, Nora slowly lifts herself off the chair and walks to the door. At the threshold, she hesitates a moment, and Janet wonders whether she thinks the permission to leave might be repealed. Janet remains silent and Nora finally shuffles out into the corridor.
Janet sits for some minutes mulling over her first impressions. A clear case of institutionalisation if ever she’s seen one. It breaks her heart. Ellen’s words that there’s little that can be done for any of them now echo inside her head. But Janet is always up for a challenge.
Chapter Three
Nora stands at the window. The pale sky tiptoes into morning and, as the low cloud lifts, it reveals a turquoise heaven. Trees step out of the mist and, behind them, layer after layer of hillside emerges, each a hazy echo of the one before, each calling the eye to follow as they extend out into the distance. Nora likes to imagine foxes slinking home after their night of prowling and birds coaxing each other into song, even if she can’t see these things herself. And beyond those gates? Oh, how she used to long to see the outside world. But now . . . well, it’s easier not to even think of all that. She’s safer in her solitude, behind the mask her face has become in order to protect what’s left of her from a cruel world.
A twinge of pain in her lower back breaks into her thoughts, and she realises she has been at the window for too long – her old body can no longer take standing for more than a few minutes at a time. She sits down on her bed, placing her hands together in her lap, and surveys the room. Though she has little space to call her own, with her bed, her chair and her locker, she’s fairly content. Her three roommates keep themselves to themselves. She has some books, and a picture of a field with cows lying on the grass chewing their cud. She bought it in Oxfam and likes to sit and look at it. There’s no violence now and, as long as she does what’s bidden, she lives in a fairly companionable silence with the rest of the world. She is now the closest she’s been to contentment since she was a young girl and doesn’t want anything to change that. But now there’s this new doctor.
Before she can probe her own feelings about this new development, Sister Ellen appears and props herself on Nora’s bed. ‘How are you this morning?’ she asks.
Nora peers up at her suspiciously. ‘Fine,’ she mutters.
‘How are you feeling about seeing Dr Janet? Did you like her?’
Nora puts her head down, refusing to meet Ellen’s eyes. But finally, the pressure to respond overwhelms her. ‘She was OK.’
Ellen takes her hand. ‘I think she’ll be good for you, Nora.’
Nora remembers the trepidation she felt yesterday when she was told Dr Humphreys wanted to see her, and the fear that threatened to overwhelm her when Janet tried to talk about her past. How was that good for me? ‘Why do I have to see her?’
‘Well, she’s just starting to work over here as well as on the acute ward, and she wants to get to know everyone.’
‘Why?’
‘Maybe she can help. Give her a chance, Nora.’
‘What for?’ Nora knows she’s acting like a petulant child, but she doesn’t care.
‘Remember, I told you, you can’t stay here for ever.’
‘Why not?’
‘Hillinghurst and lots of other hospitals like this will be closed. We already talked about that, remember?’
Nora blinks rapidly and starts to wring her hands.
‘Now don’t get upset, Nora. We’re just talking. No need to get upset.’
But Nora’s eyes are blinking faster and faster and her mouth starts to make chewing movements of its own accord.
‘Nora, it’s all right,’ soothes Ellen. ‘Nothing bad is going to happen. Calm down. Come on – count your breathing. One . . . slowly . . . One . . . yes, that’s better. Two . . . Three . . . There you go . . . That’s better. It’s all right.’
Nora stops blinking and her hands are finally still, though she keeps them firmly clasped.
Ellen looks at her, the picture of motherly care. ‘Nora, you know that when Joe was discharged, you could have gone too, but then you got so upset that you couldn’t go after all. But soon you won’t have a choice. Hillinghurst will close and you’ll have to go somewhere else. We can’t stop that happening.’ Ellen pauses and watches Nora closely, and after a few moments she presses on. ‘I think that Dr Humphreys can help prepare you if you let her. She’s working with Audrey and all of us. And you can either
work with the team and have some say in the matter, or else choices will be made for you.’
Nora’s face clouds with confusion and her chest contracts like it does whenever she feels trapped in a small space. Breathing is somehow twice as difficult as it was a few moments ago.
‘You have to decide whether you want to be part of the decision-making or not. I know you’re not used to having much choice, but now you do.’
‘OK. I want to stay here,’ Nora whispers, her voice so quiet that Ellen has to lean in to hear her.
‘I know, Nora, but soon you won’t be able to,’ Ellen says patiently. ‘I’m sure that in that head of yours you’ve got lots of thoughts about it.’
Nora does have thoughts. She remembers when patients started to get an allowance or get paid for what they did. They were taken to the Oxfam shop and told that they could buy things. Nora could hardly believe it. She saw a china cup and saucer and allowed herself to be excited for the first time in years, but then the aide chose her a blouse and a skirt and took the money out of her hand to pay for them. You see, they offer you choices, but in the end, somebody chooses for you.
‘All right,’ she says, astonished herself that this word popped out of her mouth.
‘Does that mean you’ll see the new doctor? And try to talk to her?’
Nora nods, though she doesn’t lift her eyes. Ellen reaches across and squeezes her hand. ‘Good girl. Now come on, it’s time for breakfast,’ she says. With a final pat of Nora’s hand, she gets up and leaves, but Nora stays where she is. She looks around at the other beds with their green blankets and white pillowcases. Each bed has a little shelf beside it for the few collected possessions – a photograph or picture, a little clock, a fairy sitting on a branch, a china mouse. Her own shelf has a little snow globe she bought at Oxfam with ‘Blackpool’ written on the base. She’s never been to Blackpool, but that doesn’t matter, she still loves the snow globe. She also loves her small figurine of a little girl tying her ballet shoes. The little china cup and saucer are also there – she finally did buy them – but the saucer got broken and the occupational therapist glued it together again for her. Her most treasured possession, her music box with its own ballerina, is packed away with her letters in case it should get broken.
This is her home and she doesn’t want to have to leave it. But she knows she’ll have to do as she’s told in the end. And, she tells herself, if it all gets too scary, she already has things prepared for a final escape. Just in case.
Chapter Four
Janet shakes the rain off her coat and hangs it in the corner. Her hair is wet and her shoes are soaked. She shivers, but there’s no time to worry about that now. She sits at her desk and opens her diary with cold fingers. She dials the ward and Dale answers. ‘Any problems?’ she asks, simultaneously leafing through her diary.
‘No, all fine. Are you coming down?’
‘Yep. Be there in a couple of minutes. I just have to phone Celia Fulton’s GP. Sounds like Celia’s off her meds and driving her neighbours mad. We might need a bed for her.’
‘That’ll be fun. OK – see you in a minute.’
Janet hangs up and then dials the number she was searching for in her diary. Celia’s GP says that her neighbour is at the end of her tether, Celia having been hammering on the adjoining wall for days, apparently trying to create an escape route through the neighbour’s flat for when hers is invaded by the people she believes are coming to kill her. She needs admission urgently. Janet puts down the phone and it immediately rings again. She picks up, sighing.
‘Dr Humphreys,’ she says, her eyes on the stack of mail on her desk. Then they flash with irritation. ‘I asked you never to call me at work . . . No, I can’t . . . I’ve already told you. I can’t do it. I’m sorry . . . You’re right. It’s my fault, but I just can’t. I want to try to make my marriage work. So please just leave me alone.’ She replaces the phone feeling shaken. It rings again, almost immediately, and she grabs it instinctively.
‘We need you. David Casey,’ Dale says, the urgency in his voice unmistakable.
‘I’m coming.’
But before she can get out of the door, the phone rings again, and she stifles a scream of frustration. ‘Yes,’ she almost shouts down the phone.
There’s hesitation on the other end of the line. ‘Sorry, you sound very busy,’ Ellen says apologetically.
Janet sighs and forces herself to calm down. It’s not Ellen’s fault that her day got off to such a painful start. ‘I am. But what can I do for you?’
‘Just wanted to remind you about Nora, but if you’re busy . . .’
Janet looks at her watch. Bugger. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can, but there’s an emergency this end. Has something happened?’
‘Not really, it can wait.’
‘OK, I’ll be there ASAP.’ She slams down the phone and hurries out of her office. As she runs down the stairs, she recaps David Casey’s case in her head. A seventeen year old who became mute for several weeks following an episode of bullying at his boarding school that involved him being stripped naked, having his scrotum smeared with a chest rub and then being locked out of the dormitory overnight. As she arrives on the ward, it is immediately apparent that this morning his muteness has morphed into furious screaming. Though it’s important that he hurts neither himself nor anyone else, Janet is delighted that he’s finally letting it all out, and arms herself with a pillow that he can hit without causing any harm. Here goes. She takes a deep breath and enters his room.
An hour later, she backs her way into the nursing station, with David Casey’s file tucked under her arm. Dale jumps up and gives her a broad smile. ‘OK, let’s try to catch up,’ she says. Then glances at her watch. ‘Oh, damn – just give me a minute.’ She snatches the phone and dials hurriedly. ‘Ellen? I’m so sorry. It’s been a bit hairy here. Do you think you could apologise to Nora for me? I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
‘No problem. She’s used to waiting around,’ Ellen says. Janet can tell she’s trying to sound breezy, but she doesn’t miss the hint of disappointment and resignation in Ellen’s tone. She can almost hear it – I should have known she’d be just like the rest – and can’t help but feel stung. An uneasy pause ensues.
‘I try not to keep anyone waiting,’ Janet says finally. ‘But sometimes—’
‘It’s OK. Honestly. Give yourself a break. I just don’t want you to lose her before she’s had the chance to start trusting you.’
‘I don’t want that either.’ Janet carefully replaces the receiver and runs her hand through her hair. ‘Sorry, Dale. Let’s just organise things for David, then maybe we could go through the cardex and get ourselves on the same page?’
She completes requests for investigations for David then sits back, thoughtful. ‘Dale, do you ever think about how patients were managed before we had all the resources and medication we have today?’
‘I do. And it makes my heart ache.’
‘Mine too. But can you imagine how it must have been for people like you and me when there was nothing they could really do? Awful.’ She picks up her pen and taps it on the blotter, feeling glum, but she knows there’s no room for wallowing during the day, and she forces herself to meet Dale’s eyes with a smile. ‘Right, I’m off. I’ll be back later. You know where to find me if David kicks off again.’
Janet cycles the short distance to Rowan, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face, though her mind keeps returning to the phone call of the morning. She knows she has to do something about that. But what?
She parks up her bike and walks slowly to the entrance, composing herself to see Nora. Ellen is waiting for her just inside and greets her with a smile.
‘Sorry again that I’m late,’ Janet says. ‘You wanted to tell me something about Nora?’
‘She’s obviously been thinking and she seems willing to work with you.’ She pauses. ‘She’s had so many disappointments and betrayals, Janet—’
‘I’m not going
to hurt her, Ellen.’
‘I know you wouldn’t mean to . . .’
Janet covers her impatience with a smile. ‘Let’s give it a go, shall we, and I promise I’ll be careful.’ They round a corner and Ellen points to the open door of a consulting room. Janet goes straight in and sits down opposite Nora. ‘I’m so sorry I’m late,’ she says, hoping that they will just be able to move past it. A few minutes later, however, Janet isn’t feeling as optimistic. Silence reigns in the small room and Nora sits hunched in her chair, her eyes on the floor.
When the silence grows to the point that Janet can no longer bear it, she tries again. ‘I’m really sorry to have kept you waiting. I promise I’ll try not to do that again, but I can’t guarantee that I’ll manage to be on time for each session. I don’t want you to think that you’re less important, because you’re not. But sometimes when things happen on the acute ward, I simply can’t get away. I hope you’ll forgive me for that.’
Janet looks at the top of Nora’s head, which is the only bit of her that she seems willing to present today. She pauses. ‘What I’d like us to do is to take a bit of the session every time we see each other to look at what’s going on now, but I’d also like us to look at what happened to you before.’ Nora doesn’t move, and yet Janet has a feeling that she’s listening attentively.
‘I know your life has been really hard, and I feel sad about that. We can’t undo what’s been done, but sometimes with hindsight we can see it differently. That goes for the things people have done to us and the things that we, ourselves, have done too. And, since blame doesn’t really help, and neither does guilt, hopefully, over time, we’ll be able to banish both these things. If we can do that, it allows us to take responsibility for who we are and where we are, and that gives us the power to move forward.’
There’s not a hint of movement from Nora. She could even be asleep, but Janet knows she isn’t. Janet also knows this is a lot for her to take in, but it needs to be said, so she breathes deeply and presses on.
The Girl Behind the Gates Page 17
