I wake up with the most terrible headache I’ve ever had. It’s as if someone has beaten me about the head with a cosh. The room is bright, too bright, and when I look about I realize it’s entirely tiled in white and there is a sickening smell of carbolic in the air. I’m not at home.
I am blinded by the light and, as panic grips me, I long to escape back into the dark. Then a thought hits me. A terrifying thought. This must be the Grange. I try to move and find I am bound to the bed, not too tightly but tight enough that I can’t get out. Why has he had me brought here? He promised he would never send me without my permission. I begin to shout Douglas’s name, until I am screaming, but he does not appear. Instead a young woman dressed in blue, who I think must be a warden, walks in and tells me if I’m not quiet I will disturb the other patients.
She walks out again, and I begin to shake with fear. Why have they brought me to the Grange? My head still aches, and my thoughts are spinning so fast I can’t catch hold of them. I try to remember but nothing comes clear. My brain is a fog. Where was I yesterday? What was I doing? I screw my eyes shut in the effort of remembering and try to force the images to return. Then I hear a voice, an actual voice, asking me a question. I open my eyes to see that the young woman has returned and I wince at the smell of body odour as she looms over me.
‘I asked if you could hear me,’ she says, prim, full of self-importance, and clearly looking down her nose at me.
When she tells me I’m in the Cheltenham General Hospital and Dispensary, not the Grange, there’s something I can’t put my finger on and I don’t believe her.
‘Why am I tied to the bed if I’m not at the Grange?’ My voice comes out as a husky rasping sound and my throat feels raw.
‘It’s for your own safety,’ she says, and leaning over me again, whispers, ‘We had to pump your stomach.’
‘I don’t understand. I want to go home. Why can’t I go home?’ Tears fill my eyes and I can’t prevent them from falling and dampening the sheet.
She purses her lips. ‘You have caused everyone a great deal of trouble, but I imagine you probably will go home.’
‘Have I …?
‘What?’
‘Damaged myself?’
She shakes her head. ‘The doctor is speaking to your husband now and they will make the decision.’
‘Decision?’
‘Whether you are safe to return or not.’
‘Why wouldn’t I be safe?’
‘Mrs Hatton. It’s not for me to say. Now you must rest. Do you need the bedpan?’
I shake my head even though I do.
Once she has gone I try to remember and then I have the most constricting feeling in my chest. I gasp, close my eyes and cover my face with my hands. The Veronal pills. And me stuffing them in my mouth as if they were sweets. So many of them. So many.
My eyes fly open when I hear a tapping on the door and then a doctor walks in followed by Douglas. I am overcome with relief and hold out my arms to my husband, but he stands a few feet away and that confuses me. I look at Douglas and see dark exhausted bruises beneath his eyes.
I turn my gaze to the doctor. ‘Can I talk to my husband alone?’
He nods. ‘For a moment or two.’
As I lie still and silent, I am surprised when Douglas takes my hand and begins to talk rapidly and in not much more than a whisper. ‘We haven’t got long,’ he says. ‘You must tell them it was an accident. You had forgotten how many you had taken. Diana, it is a crime to commit suicide, and anyone who attempts it can be prosecuted and imprisoned. Luckily the doctor has listened to me and understands you were not exactly yourself yesterday, that you had a bad headache and had not slept much. I told him you became confused. Do you understand? You must insist it was an accident.’
Once we are back at home, Douglas accompanies me up to my room where fresh daffodils have been placed in a vase beside the window. I instantly feel myself relax, though I notice they have taken my mirror away. Do they think I am going to stare myself to death?
‘Thank you for organizing the flowers,’ I say, still shaken, and focusing on slow and steady. Slow and steady. Slow and steady.
He nods, and his face is soft. ‘Mrs Wilkes will bring up a tray soon.’
‘I can’t remember,’ I say. ‘What happened?’
He sighs deeply and bows his head for a moment.
‘I know you told the psychiatrist you had been out to the park but we all know it isn’t the truth. You used to spend time in the garden but increasingly you remain up here.’
I bite my lip.
‘I thought if you were to be strong enough to undertake the move to Minster Lovell we ought to try to acclimatize you to the outside world a little.’
‘Oh God,’ I say as the memory returns and I squeeze my eyes tightly shut. Sweat gathers on my brow and at the back of my neck. Sticky, damp. The sensation of being crushed beneath this merciless thing robs me entirely of rational thought. I feel hot and terribly dizzy. My chest tightens and it hurts so much I feel I can’t get any air, that I am choking, that I will die. I reach out to Douglas in panic and begin to shake uncontrollably. The panic rises and rises. Overwhelming me. I can no longer hear Douglas although I know he is speaking. His mouth moves as I stare at him. It moves and moves until I want to wail. Then everything blurs.
Douglas holds me, whispers in my ear soothingly, and I hear him now. ‘It’s all right, Diana, you’re at home. It’s all right.’
I open my eyes. I really am in my room.
‘You’re just remembering how you felt yesterday. You are safe. I’m so sorry for what happened.’
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘Ah, but it was, and I blame myself. I should have realized how it would affect you. But, you see, you were fine at first when we were in the garden. And then we went out into the park, almost as far as the pond, but that’s when it all went wrong. It was too much too soon. I encouraged you to go further than you were able.’
‘And when we came home?’
‘Even though it was still the afternoon you went straight to bed. I blame myself for that too. You should have had someone with you.’
The memory returns. Douglas had left me. I was happy to be alone and as I lay in bed staring at the four walls I felt as if I’d become the keeper of the past and it was time to let it go. All the emotion, the regret, the lost hopes and the dreams. Everything. When I closed my eyes, I saw the faces of those who had gone before me and then, when the past melted away, an extraordinary calm came over me. I’d been told what to do. It was time to allow myself to fall through the hole in my life and leave the pain behind. And so I decided to take the pills. I was smiling, happy. I’d finally made a choice.
‘Mrs Wilkes was worried,’ Douglas was saying. ‘She couldn’t rouse you when she brought up your supper.’
‘I thought it would be best for everyone. I’m so sorry for the trouble, Douglas.’
He pats my hand. ‘I have sent Simone a telegram asking her to come and stay with you until you are well enough to move to the village. I’ve already exchanged on the cottage, so it will be ready, all furnished and waiting for you.’
I focus on his eyes. ‘I’m still going there?’
‘I think it’s for the best, don’t you?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I say and my mind wanders.
‘I won’t force you, but the alternative is to employ a nurse to look after you day and night here, and you’ve already said you don’t want that. I am terribly worried about how all this is going to affect Annabelle.’
I drag my attention back to him. ‘Do you know when Simone will come?’
‘No, but I emphasized the urgency.’
I hope he’ll let me stay until I feel stronger. I don’t say it, but I know he’s read my mind when he speaks.
‘Don’t worry. There’s no rush.’
I look at him with blurry eyes. ‘It was as if a voice told me I had to do it.’
His brow furrows although I am not sure if it is with concern or anger.
‘Precisely why you cannot be left alone and why I cannot be sure some “voice” will not tell you to hurt Annabelle. What might tomorrow bring if you don’t go?’
I avert my gaze. It’s a serious question and the truth of it bites into me, but I wish I had not mentioned the voice. Had I really felt so lost I couldn’t envisage any way back? So lacking in hope, so broken by the past? Or had it been the voice taking its chance? I have yet to accept the voice might be me.