Chapter Twenty-Seven

‘Dr Eris,’ Genevieve called out. She might have been out to dinner with the asylum’s only woman doctor, and blabbed about Miss Girling’s true identity, but that did not mean she could call her by her first name.

‘Yes, Genevieve?’ Dr Eris walked over to the main reception desk. She had a bounce in her step. She felt happy. And she had reason to be. Now that she had removed Helen as a contender for John’s affections, she felt as though the path was clear. John, she was sure, was going to propose soon.

‘Is everything all right?’ Dr Eris asked Genevieve. She seemed anxious.

‘Yes, yes, I’ve just been asked to tell you that the director would like a word.’

‘What? Now?’ Dr Eris asked, surprised. Any meetings with the head of the asylum were usually booked days, if not weeks, in advance.

‘Yes,’ Genevieve said. ‘It seems it’s a matter of urgency.’

Dr Eris looked at the elderly receptionist and wondered why she seemed so worried. She sensed she was holding something back.

‘I’ll head there now,’ Dr Eris said. ‘Feel free to ring through and tell him I’m en route.’

Walking along the many corridors to reach the director’s office, which was situated towards the rear of the asylum, Dr Eris wondered why the urgency. She was doing well, her patients were doing well, very well, in fact. She started to feel more relaxed, having convinced herself that there was nothing for which she could be reprimanded. When she had started at the asylum over a year and a half ago, she had known she would have to work harder and prove herself more because of her gender. And she had done. Some of the patients had come on so well under her care that they had been discharged. Which was always welcome news as it meant it freed up beds.

Reaching the director’s polished wooden door complete with nameplate, she took a deep breath and knocked.

‘Come in!’

Dr Eris hesitated. The voice sounded unfamiliar. The director had a slightly high-pitched voice, which she had thought might be to do with some kind of hormone imbalance. This voice was low and sounded old.

Opening the door, she was proved right. The man sitting in the director’s leather swivel chair was an old man. Dr Eris guessed him to be in his seventies – late seventies. She felt his hard, dark eyes lock on her the moment she stepped into the room.

‘Oh,’ Dr Eris said, not shielding her surprise. ‘I thought I was to meet the director.’

‘Come in! Come in!’ Mr Havelock beckoned her. ‘Don’t fret yourself. You’ve come to the right room.’

Dr Eris immediately felt herself bristle. His words and tone were those of an adult talking to a child.

‘Take a pew, my dear.’ Mr Havelock waved a hand at the chair in front of the desk.

Dr Eris noticed it was not the usual chair, but a smaller, hard-backed wooden chair usually found in the corridor outside for those waiting to go in.

Dr Eris remained standing.

‘I came here expecting to have a meeting with the director, so please don’t think I’m rude if I ask who you are?’

Mr Havelock laughed and took out a cigar from his top pocket.

‘I’m Charles Havelock.’ He waited for her attitude to change. For the grovelling to begin.

Dr Eris worked hard to keep her face impassive. Of course, she’d thought his face was familiar. She should have recognised him. She’d seen his photograph in the Sunderland Echo enough times.

‘Good to make your acquaintance, Mr Havelock.’ Dr Eris stuck out her hand.

Mr Havelock eyed this upstart of a woman in front of him. He couldn’t wait to take her down a peg or two. He kept her waiting, making a point of lighting his cigar before finally giving her his hand to shake. He did not stand up to do so.

‘Good to make your acquaintance, Miss Eris.’

‘Doctor Eris.’

Mr Havelock smiled. He’d succeeded in rattling her cage.

‘Apologies, my dear. It still seems so strange to call a woman “Doctor”.’

‘Times are changing,’ Dr Eris said. ‘Thank goodness. Now, without wanting to seem rude, I have a busy afternoon ahead of me. How can I be of help?’

Mr Havelock gave her a hard stare, rested his cigar in the ashtray and put his elbows on the desktop. His hands were pressed together as though in prayer. It annoyed him that he was having to look up at this woman. ‘Please, sit down. This might take some time.’

Dr Eris looked down at the low, hard wooden chair. Like hell she would.

‘I’m comfortable standing, Mr Havelock. Now, if you wouldn’t mind explaining why it is you wanted to meet with me? And why it is that you felt the need to get me here under false pretences?’

‘Oh, always the psychologist, eh?’

Another put-down. Dr Eris’s silence showed her ire.

‘I’m sure you are aware that one of your patients, Miss Henrietta Girling, is distantly related to the Havelock family?’ Mr Havelock asked.

‘I believe she is your daughter’s great-aunt,’ Dr Eris lied.

Mr Havelock eyed the tall, attractive woman in front of him. He had wondered if she knew who Henrietta really was, but judging by her demeanour, he felt reassured that she was ignorant of the fact that her patient was in actuality his wife.

‘That’s correct. A relative by marriage rather than by blood. Thank God!’ Mr Havelock laughed.

Dr Eris did not.

‘She fell under my care many, many years ago, and every so often I like to hear how she’s doing – from the horse’s mouth.’

‘By “the horse’s mouth”, I’m guessing you mean from the medical practitioner who is looking after your relative? Which, I’m assuming, is why I’m standing here now?’

‘You assume right, my dear.’ Mr Havelock picked up his cigar and relit it. He sucked on it, creating a cloud of smoke. Dr Eris stifled a cough. She hated smoking.

‘She’s doing well, very well.’ Dr Eris looked at Mr Havelock, who was making a show of inspecting the room. ‘It might be better for me to write you up a report,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you would be able to concentrate better if that were the case.’

Mr Havelock’s dark eyes darted back to this insolent woman. Didn’t she realise who he was? What power he wielded?

‘That won’t be necessary,’ he said. ‘All I want to know is what medication you have her on.’

For a brief moment, Dr Eris thought that she might have misread him and that underneath that rude, misogynistic exterior, he was a man who cared about the woman who was his wife.

‘Well, I’m glad you’ve asked,’ Dr Eris said, her tone sincere. ‘Because Miss Girling is now just about weaned off most of the drugs she was on when she came under my care.’ She proceeded to reel off the names of the drugs that Henrietta had been taking for many years. ‘She really is so much more coherent, and her moods, I would say, are pretty stable. Probably as stable as most ordinary people. I can arrange for you to visit her if you want?’

‘Definitely not!’ Mr Havelock snapped.

The viciousness of his tone gave Dr Eris a shock.

‘I’ll just get straight to the point, Dr Eris.’ Mr Havelock stubbed out his cigar. ‘I want Miss Girling put back on the exact same drugs she was taking before you started meddling with her medication. The same ones the doctor – the highly regarded Dr William Friedman – had her on before your arrival.’

Dr Eris didn’t attempt to hide her incredulity. Dr Friedman had left the hospital before his alcoholism and questionable treatments caused any more harm or cases of potential malpractice. She straightened her shoulders and made a point of looking down at Mr Havelock, who was leaning back in his chair and observing her with eyes that felt as though they were undressing her.

‘No offence, Mr Havelock, but that’s my call, as her doctor. Not yours.’

Mr Havelock sat up straight.

‘No, my dear, that’s where you’re wrong. This is my call. And I’m telling you in no uncertain terms that you will put Henrietta back on the drugs she was on before you tipped up here. If you don’t,’ he said, standing up, his hands splayed out on the desktop, ‘then you will find yourself out of a job. And not only that, you will find it nigh on impossible to get a job anywhere else. And don’t underestimate me – as the plaque at the entrance to this hospital proves, I practically built this place. And you should also be aware that I’m on the board of trustees – and have contacts that stretch far beyond the north-east.’

Dr Eris looked at this horrible man and knew he was not one to make idle threats.

‘So, my dear, do we have an agreement?’ He put out his hand.

Dr Eris looked at it.

‘Same drugs. Same dosage,’ he said.

Dr Eris hesitated. Her mind was spinning. It had not been easy getting a job here. Women doctors were few and far between and guaranteed to be way down the list when it came to employment. She looked at this man and knew he was not someone she could go up against. It would be a battle she had no chance of winning.

Tentatively, she put her hand out. It revolted her to have to touch the man, never mind agree with his demands.

They shook hands. As she tried to pull away, he held on to her hand with a surprisingly strong grip for someone so old.

‘I need to hear you say it,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ Dr Eris agreed. ‘Same drugs. Same dose.’

Mr Havelock released his grasp.

‘Good girl! So glad we’ve managed to sort all of that out.’ He smiled, showing small, stained teeth.

Dr Eris turned to go.

‘Oh, and just before you go,’ he said.

Dr Eris turned back.

‘Remember, I will be checking. I have eyes everywhere,’ he said.

Dr Eris walked straight to her secretary’s office and asked her to put back her next consultation until later in the day. She didn’t give a reason. She went into her small office, which had a large window looking out onto the expansive grounds, sat in her leather chair and stared out at the dark abysmal day. If there was ever a case of nature reflecting reality, then this was it. The pewter grey clouds were emptying their wares onto the asylum and the surrounding landscape as far as the eye could see. It was a deluge. The rain was streaming down the window, causing the view of the outside world to become a mere blur.

Dr Eris sat there for the time she would have spent with her scheduled appointment. Then she stood up and walked out of her office and down two long corridors before reaching the pharmacy. She managed to make a show of normality as she wrote out a prescription for her patient, Miss Henrietta Girling.

The pharmacist widened his eyes on seeing the list of drugs he was being asked to dispense.

Dr Eris pulled her face into an expression she hoped conveyed a sad weariness that someone’s mental health necessitated such a concoction of drugs.

‘Well, I suppose if needs must,’ the pharmacist said.

‘Needs must,’ Dr Eris said.

Two hours later, following a fifty-minute consultation and another spell of sitting in her chair and looking out at the continuing rainfall, Dr Eris got up and walked down another labyrinth of corridors before arriving at Henrietta’s room.

Knocking, she opened the door to see Miriam sitting at the table with her mother – or rather, her ‘great-aunty’. How could the woman keep her own mother in a lunatic asylum when it was unnecessary? Unless, of course, Miriam really did believe her mother to be mad.

‘Ah, Mrs Crawford.’

‘Dr Eris,’ Miriam said.

Dr Eris thought she looked guilty. Looking down at the table, she saw there were two tumblers that appeared to contain water; the giveaway was the slight whiff of gin. If Miriam wanted to get plastered while she was visiting her mother, then so be it, but she hoped that Henrietta wasn’t also drinking.

‘I was just on my way out,’ Miriam said, finishing off her drink and swilling her glass out in the little sink. She looked at her watch. She didn’t want to keep Amelia waiting at the Grand. Glancing down at the small plastic medicine dispenser that her mother’s doctor was holding and which was loaded with pills, she widened her eyes.

‘Dear me, Mother, looks like it’s time for your other cocktail!’

Dr Eris glowered at Miriam.

‘Yes, your great-aunty is starting a new course of treatment.’ She didn’t say any more. She hoped, though, that she would report back to her abomination of a father that his wife’s doctor was doing as she’d been told. Even if she was doing so under duress. She needed this job. Or rather, she did not need to have her career thwarted before it had really got off the ground. And she was under no illusion that Mr Havelock had the power not only to bring her career to a halt, but to end it for good.

For the first time, Dr Eris felt a sliver of sympathy for Helen. Imagine having a mother and grandfather like that.

When Miriam had gone, Dr Eris turned to Henrietta.

‘So, how are you feeling today?’

‘Doctor, I feel quite marvellous,’ Henrietta said.

‘And that’s not because of any gin or alcoholic beverage you might have consumed during your great-niece’s visit?’

‘No, no, my dear,’ Henrietta said.

She then took her glass of vodka mixed with elderflower cordial and poured it down the sink.

‘It’s all pretend. Make-believe, you know?’

Dr Eris was watching Henrietta closely.

‘I’m very good at pretending. I sip the drink just so.’ Henrietta mimed drinking from the now empty glass, pulling a slight grimace as she pretended to swallow. ‘I used to do amateur dramatics when I was young.’

‘Really?’ Dr Eris said, although she was not surprised. Henrietta looked like she belonged on the stage, with her outrageous dress and made-up face.

‘You see,’ Henrietta continued, ‘I don’t like to hurt Miriam’s feelings. She brought me all these lovely presents after her trip to Scotland. They were all so thoughtful. Make-up. Hair dye. And my favourite vodka from Cameron and Sons. It used to be my favourite tipple …’ Henrietta paused. She never liked to refer to her life before her incarceration. ‘Back then.’

‘I see,’ Dr Eris said, putting the little cup of pills on the table.

‘It’s an upside-down world, isn’t it, Doctor?’ Henrietta said, seeing her medication and pouring herself a glass of water. ‘When Miriam comes, I pretend to drink vodka, and when Helen comes, we drink water and pretend it’s vodka. Perhaps I am as mad as a hatter.’

Dr Eris motioned for Henrietta to sit down. She was glad Henrietta was faking it. Having gone back over her notes from when she’d first taken her on as a patient, it had been clear she’d been drinking a lot before she’d been sectioned.

‘That’s very interesting,’ Dr Eris said, handing Henrietta the plastic dispenser. ‘Now, I just need to explain to you about your new medicine – and then I want you to take it. Is that all right?’

‘Of course, Doctor, I trust you,’ Henrietta said.

Dr Eris bit her lip. Taking a deep breath, she listed the various drugs.

Henrietta nodded her apparent understanding.

She then took each pill and swallowed them one by one.