Michael
I meet Lizzy on the step. She’s trying to juggle a casserole dish and knock at the same time.
‘Oh, good timing, Michael. I can’t get a reply from Jessica and she’s got my key.’
Grimly, I get out my own set. The last thing I feel like tonight is a merry dinner party with my ex who shopped me to the press and my current girlfriend with her chipper attitude, but Lizzy is difficult to divert once she decides on something. Personally, all I want to do is drown my sorrows. I’m going to throw them both out, after telling Jessica what the fuck she’s done. The Principal told me my contract will be terminated for inappropriate behaviour with a student. Congratulations, Jessica, you got your revenge and I am completely destroyed. I won’t even be able to get a job in an FE college now.
Aware that I’m a little too angry, I open the door to let Lizzy through to the kitchen. Giving myself a moment to regain control, I pause to take off my shoes.
‘Jessica?’ Lizzy calls. ‘Michael, come quickly!’
I find the conservatory half of the kitchen in a shambles. The best white tablecloth, my grandmother’s Irish linen, has been dragged onto the floor and under the table. Plates, glasses and cutlery are smashed but the worst damage is done by the lake of red wine.
‘Damn it, Lizzy! These tiles are limestone – porous – I’ll never get that stain out.’
‘Shut up about the tiles, Michael. It’s Jessica. She’s under there.’ Lizzy is kneeling now and reaching towards what I now see is a white bundle of person. ‘Jessica, it’s us – Michael and me. Are you OK?’
Jessica’s reply is a whimper.
Lizzy turns to look up at me. ‘Have you ever seen her like this before?’
‘Only once, the day I checked her into the clinic at Willowbank.’ I fear Jessica has finally cracked but it’s bloody awkward that she’s chosen to do so on my turf. I’m bound to get the blame somehow. ‘Shall I call an ambulance?’
‘Let’s find out if she’s hurt first.’ Lizzy pats Jessica’s ankle. ‘Are you injured, honey?’ I hear the voice that she must use for tumbles in the playground. ‘Can you come out of there so we can check?’ She gently pulls the tablecloth away from Jessica’s face. ‘I only left you here on your own for half an hour. What happened?’
Jessica looks so pale and exhausted. The clock is reset to February, when I picked her up from the headteacher’s office at Eastfields. ‘I saw something in the garden,’ she whispers. She’s shaking violently.
Lizzy glances at me so I do what is expected and look outside the back door. It reminds me of how my father used to check the wardrobe and under my bed when I was five and haunted by the idea of monsters.
‘Nope, nothing there.’ I almost say that she must have been imagining it but bite back the words. I can see that it was real to her, just as a boy’s night-time fears were to me.
‘What did you see, Jessica?’ asks Lizzy softly.
‘The Scream. Ghost face against the window.’
Lizzy looks to me for explanation.
‘That’s one of Jessica’s nightmares. She must’ve dropped off to sleep and confused a dream with reality,’ I suggest.
‘No, he was there – really there.’
‘Where?’
‘Middle window.’
I take a closer look at the pane. There does seem to be some kind of smudge on the glass, I’ll give her that, but what caused it is impossible to say. Could’ve been me getting my balance to put on wellingtons, or when Lizzy knocked on the window yesterday to be let in. Had her imagination taken the smudge and transformed it into her bogeyman? ‘He’s definitely gone if he was there,’ I say, remembering that the one thing I wanted from my father was certainty to drive off the monsters. ‘You’re safe.’
‘Oh God, why is this happening to me?’ Jessica puts her head on Lizzy’s shoulder and sobs.
I have to get her out of here. I’m the last person in a fit state to help her. ‘I’ll phone Charles.’ It’s a sign of how broken she is that Jessica doesn’t protest. I make the call from my study, explaining the situation.
‘It’s probably been too much for her – finding the body, our argument, the accusations,’ I say.
Charles is, as ever, a pillar of strength for me, reacting without fuss. ‘I’ll come and collect her. We’ll keep her in Willowbank for a day or two on complete rest, see how she is in the morning. Will she come willingly or will I need to persuade her?’
I suspect right now Jessica is as malleable as Plasticine. An ugly part of me is glad she is suffering as much as I am at the moment. ‘I think she just wants to feel safe.’
‘We can do that but I can only legally remove her from the premises if she agrees. She dismissed me as her clinician, remember?’
‘Thanks, Charles.’
‘No need to thank me, Michael. We’ve been friends long enough now for you to know that. You’d do the same for me if the position was reversed.’
I return to the kitchen. Jessica is bundled up in a blanket on the sofa. I have a disconcerting flashback to how Emma looked, sitting in that exact spot. Even at the end she was never as fragile as Jessica.
‘Jessica, Charles is coming.’
Her eyes go to mine. She looks helpless – shattered. I shouldn’t be irritated but I am.
‘I know you don’t trust him completely but he really does have your best interests at heart. If you can’t take my word for it, just think that his professional reputation is at stake. He’ll treat you as he would any patient. He thinks you need to rest. At Willowbank.’
She rubs her face with a hand. ‘I can’t go back to Drew’s alone – he’s there too.’
‘Who are you talking about?’
‘The Scream face.’
‘Right, OK.’ I exchange a glance with Lizzy. ‘It sounds like Willowbank is a good option then.’
‘I don’t want to be locked in – not again.’
‘You won’t be – I promise. Just bedrest.’
‘One night only – just tonight.’
‘That’s right: just a night.’ Tomorrow it would be Charles’ job to persuade her for a longer stay if she needs it. To be honest, I need her to bounce back quickly as she is doing a far better job of clearing up the confusion around those girls than the police. ‘And don’t worry about the bill. I’ll cover it.’
She closes her eyes and rests her forehead on her knees. ‘Thanks. Tell Drew for me?’
Lizzy eases Jessica’s phone out of her hand. ‘Is he on this?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll send him a text, giving him my number. It might be easier for him to call me than Michael.’
‘He hates Michael’s guts. Thinks he’s a prick.’
I’m a little relieved by the insults. Sounds like Jessica is getting her feet back under her. ‘The sentiment is reciprocated,’ I say.
‘That’s what I told him.’
Jessica doesn’t speak much after that. She barely registers Charles’ arrival and follows him, docile as a lamb, out to his car. I listen in on what little conversation she does hold with him. I can’t escort them all the way to the vehicle in case the press are watching but I remain just inside so I can see that they get away without intrusive questioning. ‘Sex Pest’s girlfriend in emotional collapse’ is not a story I want on the next twenty-four-hour news cycle.
‘Is he really there – the screaming ghost?’ she asks. ‘He feels so real – I can’t tell the difference.’
‘I don’t know what you saw, Jessica, but I do know that ghosts aren’t real. I’m wondering if we need to adjust your medication.’ Charles opens the door for her. ‘You might be reacting badly to the Ritalin. It can have side effects in some patients, including hallucinations.’
‘So I’m not going mad? It’s the pills?’
‘That’s my hunch. Your mind is dwelling on those stories in the news about murder – of course all the horrors in your past will surface – it’s a natural reaction. But let’s get you to Willowbank and do a complete assessment.’
They get in the back and the car pulls away. I wonder how much all this will end up costing me. Bloody ironic that I’m footing the bill for the woman who just lost me my income. But at least she’s gone.
I return to the kitchen and find that Lizzy has made a start on cleaning up the mess. She’s staring at the wine stain, hands on hips. Despite her attempts to mop it up, there’s a distinct pink tinge to the slabs.
‘Any ideas what we can do about this?’ she asks.
‘Leave it. I’ll ask a flooring expert when I can be bothered.’
‘There’s supper if you can manage it.’
We both look at the casserole, neither of us making a move.
‘I’ve never seen her like that,’ Lizzy admits. ‘It shocked me.’
‘Jessica does a fairly good job of hiding how fragile she is most of the time. People never believe me when I try and tell them.’ Kicking myself mentally into action, I open a cupboard and take out two plates. ‘Let’s eat. No point letting it go to waste.’
‘OK. You serve. I’ve just had a text back from Jessica’s Drew. He wants to know where she is.’
‘It’s best Jessica has a quiet night. Tell him she’s receiving care and you’ll send him the address when you get it in the morning.’
‘But she’s at Willowbank, isn’t she?’
‘Yes – and do you know the address?’
‘No, but you do.’
‘And I’ll tell you in the morning. That way, you don’t even have to lie.’
Lizzy doesn’t look too happy but sends the text. ‘I’ll have to put it on do not disturb or he’s going to be ringing me next.’
‘Do so – and then we’ll eat.’
‘You haven’t told me what the principal said to you.’
‘How much bad news can you stomach in one evening?’
‘I see. Let’s get out another bottle of wine and soften the blow.’
Feeling more grateful to her than I have in a long while, I put the plates on the table as she uncorks a second red.
‘To Jessica’s recovery and your vindication,’ she suggests, holding her glass to mine.
‘I’ll drink to that.’