When Sal saw Billy running past her, she abandoned her tea and her biscuit and the receptionist with the sexy tattoo, and rushed into Dr Patel’s examining room.
‘What happened?’ she said. ‘What did you say to him?’
‘I suggested that we take him into a secure environment to figure out what is wrong with him, and he registered his opposition to the idea,’ said Dr Patel.
‘He ran away,’ said Thandie.
‘You should have let me stay with him!’ said Sal.
‘I don’t think it would have made any difference,’ said Thandie. ‘Nobody likes being sectioned, especially if you think that there’s nothing wrong with you. So. What should we do now?’
‘I think we’d better call the police,’ said Dr Patel.
‘No!’ said Sal.
‘I think he’s in danger of harming himself or someone else,’ said Dr Patel.
‘Bill would never harm someone else,’ said Sal.
‘I agree he’d never hurt anyone,’ said Thandie, ‘but are you sure that he wouldn’t harm himself?’
Sal was filled with terror. ‘I’m going to look for him,’ she said.
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ said Thandie.
‘I’ll find him before the police will. He’s my brother. I know him.’
Dr Patel had picked up the phone, and now waited, the receiver in his hand.
‘I don’t see what harm there is in Sal going to look for him, but I think we should call the police as well,’ Thandie said. ‘He’s completely lost his grip on reality. Anything could happen to him.’
‘Thandie … do you think that maybe he’s telling the truth?’ said Sal. ‘That he really is a clone of Shakespeare? I never thought about it before, but he does look like him, and he is very good at writing plays.’
‘I know it’s less scary to believe him than it is to accept that he’s unwell,’ said Thandie, ‘but you have to think about what’s likely. OK, he’s a playwright, and he looks like some old paintings that nobody is even certain actually are of Shakespeare – though he does look quite a lot like those paintings …’ Thandie tailed off.
‘That’s what makes it such a convincing delusion for him,’ said Dr Patel.
‘See?’ said Thandie. ‘We need to trust the doctor.’
‘There’s obviously a close sense of identification,’ continued Dr Patel. ‘When I asked him about grandiosity, when he came in earlier, he said that sometimes he thought he might be “Shakespeare-great”. Those were his exact words.’
‘Isn’t what he said to you supposed to be confidential?’ Thandie asked.
‘I don’t know,’ said Dr Patel. ‘I’m not sure exactly what’s covered by the principle of confidentiality, in the case of detention under the Mental Health Act. I mean, he said some far worse things to me that I would definitely not repeat. Especially not to you.’
‘Good to know,’ said Thandie. ‘Why don’t you go ahead and call the police?’
While Dr Patel phoned the police and explained the situation, Sal slipped away. Detention under the Mental Health Act. That did not sound good. She’d been in detention plenty at school, and hadn’t liked it one bit. Sal didn’t know whether Bill was mad or whether he was Shakespeare – and knowing her brother as well as she did, she was increasingly thinking that it was more likely that he was Shakespeare – but she did know that there was no way she was going to let him get detained.