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‘Er, no, thanks, Izzy, I don’t feel very well today. I’ll have to give it a miss,’ said Melanie into her mobile.
‘You could just come for a drink, see how you feel?’
‘No, really, I’m still in bed, my throat is really sore, and I don’t want to pass anything on to you all.’
‘OK, well, text me later. Let me know how you are and if you need anything, just let me know. I can easily pop around.’
‘I will, thanks. Enjoy the party.’
‘Bye, take care,’ said Izzy as she ended the call.
Melanie lived in a third floor flat, part of a house conversion on the Old Dover Road, to the south of the city centre. The owner had never lived in it himself but had bought it as an investment to rent out. It was only about a fifteen-minute walk from where she worked at the NatWest Bank, on the High Street. Melanie tossed her phone on to the sofa. Physically she was fine, but she was in no state for socialising. Since being contacted by Jessica from her old school, she’d been in a fragile mental state, and after the session with her counsellor, she’d actually felt worse than before. Despite trying to practise some of her breathing and relaxation techniques, images from the past were starting to consume her every waking hour. In order to get some sleep, she’d drunk far too much the previous night and had collapsed on the sofa in a drunken stupor, unable to make it to bed. For a few hours she must have slept but then on waking had felt dreadful and had spent a good part of the early hours vomiting and feeling faint.
Instead of going out and trying to distract herself, she’d spent the morning creating an account to access the school’s alumni network, browsing articles and trying to recognise as many ex-pupils as possible. It had now become an obsession, and she was living in the past decade. Images of her abusers were never absent, and their voices rang through her head as if they were in the same room. She had no idea how she would be able to compartmentalise them and return to her present day existence.
She put her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes. The tears rolled down her cheeks, some dripping on to her linen shirt, some running down her neck and soaking the collar. The walls of her flat appeared to be closing in on her. A heavy weight was pressing down on her head, crushing it and preventing her brain cells from functioning. Even her vision was distorted. Edges of objects looked curved instead of straight. Her whole world was being altered and contorted as if stretched by some unknown force and it pained her body in an indescribable way.
Melanie had been in this familiar dark place before, playing host to the feelings which had now returned. Previous experience had demonstrated that she had to release them before they totally destroyed her from within. Once they had grown to such proportions, they refused to listen to reason. Now she could feel the tentacles encompassing her, a familiar sensation which presaged a loss of consciousness. A miasma of foetid odour surrounded her, totally imaginary but no less disquieting.
Slowly she shuffled her leaden limbs to the kitchen. Opening the cutlery drawer, she surveyed the contents which glinted at her invitingly. The half moon chopping tool for herbs looked like a smiling face. Were the knives trembling with anticipation or was she the one who was moving? Slowly her hand reached into the drawer and selected one from a pair recently purchased in a promotion. The ergonomically designed handles being the deciding factor which made them comfortable to hold and perfectly balanced for chopping and paring but today another purpose awaited them.
Now was the moment. There was no turning back. She turned through ninety degrees to face the welcoming sink, which beckoned her coquettishly. Taking the knife in her right hand, she opened her left arm in supplication, ready to receive the gift. The previously healed scars danced before her eyes as if to urge her to add another to the collection. Very carefully she drew the knife across the skin. A gasp escaped from her mouth as the epidermis was severed and blood spouted from the cut. Droplets at first and then the whole length became a vibrant red colour. Melanie waited. Her arm stung and ached, but this was necessary as it allowed her to focus on the pain. Her body had been opened allowing her anxiety to collect in that left arm. Slowly the blood dripped into the sink. Each drop took away a fraction of her agony. Tears flowed simultaneously, diluting the vibrant colour. Melanie waited with her eyes closed tightly. She counted to a hundred then peered at the result. The whole of the base of the sink was now covered in blood, and it had started to travel towards the drain. Adrenalin which had coursed through her veins was beginning to subside, and she felt spent but calmer. The question was, how long would the feeling last before she was summoned by her inner demons to repeat the act of devotion at the altar of self-harm?
**
‘Here we are,’ said Gina as she pulled on to the driveway of her mother’s bungalow.
‘We got here quickly,’ said Will.
‘Yes, well that’s because it’s Sunday. Sometimes it can take ages to get out of the city. The ring road is solid at rush hour.’
‘I can smell the sea air,’ he replied.
‘I never know whether that’s really true,’ replied Gina. ‘Although you can smell the seaweed at times when it builds up on the beach, and that’s horrible.’
Will stood and surveyed the front garden and the row of bungalows as Gina opened the front door with her key, simultaneously calling to her mother.
‘Oh, hello,’ replied Gwen as she appeared from the lounge. ‘What are you doing at this time of night?’
‘Hello, Mum, what do you mean? It’s morning.’ Gina and Will kissed Gwen.
‘I’m just getting ready for bed,’ replied Gwen. ‘I’ve been waiting all day for you, but when you didn’t appear, I assumed you weren’t coming.’
Even though the carer had been that morning to get Gwen up and washed and dressed, she must have undressed and put her nightdress back on.
‘Come and sit down, Mum. Let me explain.’
‘Oh, alright,’ she sighed, ‘but I’m tired and ready for bed.’
‘Look, it’s half-past ten. See the clock?’
‘Yes, but it’s bedtime. You youngsters, I don’t know, you stay up so late.’
‘It’s not, it’s light outside and the sun is shining. We are going to take you out for lunch.’
‘At this time, goodness me, I don’t want to eat so near to bedtime.’
‘Go and look through the window, look at the sunshine, that means it’s daytime,’ persisted Gina.
Gwen shuffled over to the window and gazed out for a few minutes.
‘That’s Mrs Emery over there. I think her husband’s left her. I’ve not seen him for ages.’
‘He died last year, Mum.’
‘No, he can’t have, he was only young.’
‘Come and sit down again,’ said Gina, realising that the day ahead was going to be very challenging. During the next half hour, a confusing dialogue ensued whilst Gina and Will tried to persuade Gwen that it was mid-morning. Both managed to refrain from raising their voices despite Gwen’s continued rebuttals. Eventually, they managed to break through her delusion and succeeded in getting her dressed again and into the car to take her to a restaurant for lunch. There, she had picked at her food and declared it tasteless and overcooked. Much to their embarrassment, she had shared her opinion in a loud voice to the other patrons. She had then demanded the manager come to their table, whereupon she instructed him in the correct way to cook sea bass, despite having chosen grilled plaice for her meal. Gina explained the confusion and the manager was very understanding even though he had received quite a dressing down.
After that incident, they quickly asked for the bill and declined desserts and coffee, deciding a walk along the seafront was a better prospect. Out in the fresh air, her mother perked up slightly and chatted about places in the town quite lucidly. Once back home, they found themselves on a downward spiral again, and Gwen started to query why her husband wasn’t present.
‘Mum, Dad died years ago. He doesn’t live here.’
‘Died? No, I spoke to him yesterday, and he told me he was away for a few days, he works so hard. But he should be back now.’
‘He died ten years ago. He had a heart attack and was in hospital. I came down from Manchester to stay with you. You must remember?’
‘That was your Uncle Sidney, not my Nicholas. Oh, you are a tease! Isn’t she Will?’
‘Gwen, she’s not teasing, she’s trying to explain. Don’t worry, we all forget from time to time, we just don’t want you to worry that Nicholas isn’t coming home,’ he said tactfully.
‘My name is Gwendolyn, if you please, William,’ she said sternly. Suddenly, she burst into tears. ‘You don’t think he’s having an affair, do you?’
‘Mum, he’s not. He’s dead!’ Gina’s voice was becoming more strident.
‘I bet it’s that Brenda from the bridge club. She’s always fluttering her eyelashes at him. Do you know, I caught her trying to kiss him once! Completely brazen she is. Plastered in makeup and brassy blonde hair.’
Gina opened her mouth to try again to explain to her mother but noticed Will shaking his head. Her mother had disappeared into another world, and it was pointless trying to reason with her. Gwen looked suddenly tired and sat back and closed her eyes. As well as settling into a new job and taking part in the inquiry, Gina would have to find somewhere for her mother as a matter of urgency. Today’s sudden deterioration in mental capacity was shocking, and it would take Gina a while to come to terms with it.
Will indicated with his head that they should speak privately and he collected up the tea things, his wife following him to the kitchen.
‘God, what a nightmare,’ she sighed.
‘Look, speak to her carer and get her an appointment at the doctor. I wonder whether she’s got a bladder infection. That can worsen the confusion considerably. It would explain why she seems so much worse today. I think she might have wet her pad as well, I think there’s a bit of an ammonia smell, that would indicate an infection.’
‘OK, I’ll check her and change her pad. I’ll phone Georgia tonight. Thank goodness she’s looking after her so well. I’m worried about her staying here on her own though.’
‘Why not ask whether Georgia can organise someone to stay tonight? We can pay, it’s not a problem. Then you won’t worry so much.’
‘OK, good idea. I just hope Mum will agree to it.’
‘Don’t tell her now, let Georgia explain. She’s less likely to be obstructive with her. It’s the close relatives who always get the abuse.’
Gina and Will stayed with Gwen until Georgia arrived about 6 p.m. For both of them, it had been an emotionally draining experience, but now there was no doubt that immediate action needed to be taken regarding her mother’s care. She could no longer stay in her own home.
