Yeovil Literary Prize
2008

Final Judging - Novel Category
Title: Losing It
Reference: 10/EC01657/C001247/Z011
Decision:

  
  
Comments:

 

      

LOSING IT

Genre: Psychological drama. Novella

Length: 50,485 words. 

Audience: Readers of psychology/criminology narratives. 
Synopsis
River Dreams gives an authentic voice to a woman alienated by her madness and by the crimes she has committed. Referencing Plaths The Bell Jar and the stories of Jean Rhys, the book allows us to enter her internal world, and we are drawn ever more closely into a conflict between sanity and madness, life or death. As the action moves from the secure hospital where she is confined, to the deserted Belgian caravan site where she killed her children, her internal world changes as she connects with her past, and wounds open that the well-meaning psychologist canҒt heal. The staff can only be with her while the story unravels, providing the only real love she has ever known. This is a story about redemption and compassion in a dangerous, uncaring and insane world.

This first person narrative tells the story of JANE imprisoned in a secure mental hospital for killing her children, and her history and treatment. Jane finds solace in meditation, in a quiet roomђ where she is able to contemplate her past life. Already unstable, attempted therapy opens old wounds and she absconds while on compassionate leave to her sister MICHELLES funeral, and returns to the scene of the murders, a caravan site by a river in Belgium, where she realises finally what she has done and connects with her past life. Her psychiatrist, DR BRUCE, abusive ex-partner FEDO, children, JULIETTE and CHRISTOPHE, fellow patients and charge nurses all feature in the work

Brought back to the hospital, she longs to die rather than face the emotional consequences of her actions and a lifetime of imprisonment. Eventually she succeeds in ending her life. This drama has hope at its core despite the ending, as the nursing staff, ELSIE, TREVOR and KEN give Jane the security and care she has never known. It also addresses the issues of madness and sanity, when being sane is to feel the impact of oneҒs acts of madness, so that a retreat into madness or death is the only escape. 

The starting point for this work was in meetings with staff from Ashworth and Calderstones Special Hospitals, and in my interest in personality disordered offenders from a professional standpoint. However, this is a work of fiction, which moves between the worlds of sanity and madness, time and place. 

LOSING IT

ONE
	Trevor unlocks the door and lets me into the room.  He keeps the keys.
	My room, my special room. I look round, remembering it.	
Around me in this space are my own comfortable things; a cushion, a throw-over, a large beanbag, and the little pink light that glows like the inside of a shell, lighting one corner softly. Here is where I come to meditate, in this rosy light, on this floor, with this beanbag to prop up my spine. The rug is thick and comforting. 
	I remove my shoes and sit in the posture, spine erect, hands lightly open resting on my thighs. There is a slight scent of potpourri, mainly lavender, which they tell me is calming. They encouraged me to take up meditation, thinking that it might help soothe my troubled soul. As its unlikely theyҒll ever let me leave here, I mostly go along with what they want. 
	When I come in here, I sign in with Howard, so they know where I am.  Ive been coming into this room for almost two years now and they only had to come and get me out once, just after I started. Things were bad then; as soon as I was left alone anywhere I felt anger overtaking me. I ripped open the bean-bag, (they said I was frenzied, whatever that means), and stuffed the polystyrene beans into my mouth. I nearly choked myself, which was what I intended of course. Now there are lots of things I could kill myself with, but I donҒt want to now. Im not sure if they still watch me while IҒm in here; I know they used to, through the camera in the corner.
You have to do something pretty bad to be in here. Take Thomas, he looks meek and mild enough, but when that new staff member came who didnt know him too well and let him go to the toilet on his own, Thomas poked his own eye out and then started screaming. 
	Such screaming!  Everyone came running and luckily one of the nurses knew what to do and ThomasҒ eye was put back, but it doesnt look quite right.
	These things happen here. I know.  IҒve done things too. At the time I felt disgusted, but excited too, and thats how it is still.
	Robbie says that I am making good progress. Well, I donҒt know; what does it matter? Im here for life anyway. I talk to the others sometimes, but I wonҒt talk about what happened, why Im in here; itҒs not important, not to me anyway. It was all a long time ago, and I wasnt responsible. Diminished responsibility they said, which is another way of saying I was mad, crackers, loony; a homicidal maniac in fact. I keep myself to myself, and as long as the bit on the outside looks okay they donҒt question me much. 

	 	Be still, be calm, meditate.

	I look at myself in the mirror sometimes (plastic, shatter proof) and I dont recognise the person I see there. Long dark hair, which theyҒve allowed me to grow, thin face, big eyes with dark circles under them, sallow skin. Thats me. IҒve been away from the outside world for eighteen years and the woman I see in the mirror isnt me. The real me is somewhere else, wearing an up-to-date tracksuit and trainers and with a ponytail. She is twenty-two and free, while the woman I see in the mirror is forty something, and looks anything but free. In my dreams I see myself as I was then, doing what I did then. IҒm not telling what that was. They know, its all written down somewhere in a file, all the court reports or whatever.

	Breathe deeply. Relax. Let all the outside stuff disappear. Here there is real freedom. Let me be silent, let me concentrate.
	
	The voices, impulses, whatever you call them, are quiet. The medication has quietened them, as they said it would. I centre myself, breathe deeply and relax.  I lose myself in my own private kingdom.

Sometimes I live in the country
And sometimes I live in the town
And sometimes I take a great notion
To jump in the river and drown.

The water laps around my body, drawing it this way, tugging it that way. My hair streams out in the currents, my legs and arms are weightless, floating, adrift in the blood-warm  sea, buoyant in the liquid quicksilver night. 
	Phosphorescence glimmers in the water, stirred up by the motion of my body, in translucent droplets, pale, pale green, like liquid fire. My fingers extend into the enfolding darkness of the ocean, gentle breaths of foam curl and slide, the tides surge on below me. 	Take me with you, absorb me, assimilate me, draw me to you. I want to be joined, to belong, to be one, One. 
	Meditate.  Float. Relax.

TWO
	The ward staff in their regulation uniforms are always on watch. Robbie and Trevor, the two charge nurses, write up their notes in the log-book. Trevor glances frequently at the black and white monitor in the corner, which shows a small grey figure sitting cross-legged in a small grey room. The figure is unmoving, looks insignificant on the small screen, but they watch her carefully, all the same. Robbie, dark, thin and a worrier, wonders if heҒll be late again for his little daughters birthday party. His wife will be angry with him if heҒs late and the way things are going, his marriage could be in trouble. He wants to do his best to make things right, but this job doesnt make it easier. 

	ғJanes been a long time in the quiet room. Everything all right Trevor?Ҕ
	Yeah - IӒve got a clear view. Shes just sitting there. Seems fine.Ҕ
	Give her another ten minutes max, then hoick her out, Trev, okay?Ӕ
	No problem. Ken can watch the screen if you want to go off home, while I get her.Ӕ
	Good idea. Thanks. I did say IӒd be back for Mollys birthday tea if possible. See you tomorrow then.Ҕ Robbies shoulders sag with the efforts of the day. He undoes the safety lock and heads for the fresh air, handing in his keys as he passes security.
	ғBye. Ken, can you take over for a bit while I get Jane back?
Ken, who has been outside the office watching two male patients finish a game of chess,positions himself so that he can watch chess players and monitor.
	ԓNo problem. Hows she doing?Ҕ
	Hard to tell. She seems so normal, but itӒs anyones guess what goes on inside that head. Remember DaphneҒs doll?
	ԓCertainly do. You get used to most things in this job, but sometimes things still get to you. Yeah, I remember that incident very well. Poor old Daphne.
	 ԓYou okay while I go and get her?
	 ԓSure.  Trevor walks with his usual bouncy stride towards the quiet room.   
	Lino on the floors, recessed lights, calming pastel decor, no curtains, safety bars on windows; Trevor passes through these areas as usual wishing he were somewhere else.
	Tables and chairs bolted to the floor in the dining area, armchairs which have been picked to death on their arms; itԒs not a good working environment, but for some people its home. Trevor hopes he wonҒt be around there much longer, he has plans to move on. Unlike the residents, he has somewhere else to go.

THREE 
Is my time up already? It doesnt seem like IҒve been in here more than a minute. Go away Trev, let me sit here a while longer.  Cant argue, theyҒll only put me in the holding room and I havent the energy this afternoon to cope with all that. Smile at Trevor sweetly and get up slowly, so as not to startle him.  TrevorҒs all right, as good as anyone else working here. None of them really understand. I hope weve got something decent for supper and not the usual muck weҒve been having lately, just because the food bill has to be cut. I think the cook has left and theyre making do with a temporary chef, who doesnҒt know what we like.
	Some of the tranx leave your mouth sore and dry, so its no good eating scratchy or rough food, and you may crave meat, nice red juicy steak, but youҒll never get it here, unless its mince. No wonder IҒm anaemic. Stodge and starch is what youll get and the way some of them eat would make you sick if the food didnҒt. 
	 "Im coming, Trevor, IҒm coming."

FOUR
	Four to a table they sit, wrinkling their noses at the smell of cabbage and mashed potato. The male patients are served first, family style, by Ken.
	Ken, why does Thomas always get the first helping?Ӕ
	I donӒt know, Jane. It seems to be important to him. Does it matter?
	ԓIt doesnt matter, itҒs just that it always happens. Why cant someone else get the first helping?Ҕ  He tries to change the subject.
	Did you do your meditation today, Jane? HowӒs it coming along?
	ԓThomas is a madman. Jane glances at Thomas, to gauge the effect.
	ԓNow come on Jane, dont wind him up. I asked you how you got on today.Ҕ
	I got on very well until I sat down with Thomas the madman.Ӕ
	Jane, stop now. Or youӒll miss your supper. KenԒs face is set. He stands no nonsense.
	ItӒs so scrumptious, too, isnt it?  YouҒd have to be mad to miss supper, dont you think Thomas?Ҕ
	Jane!Ӕ
	IӒm going.  Trevor comes over.
	ԓIll write it up in the book, Ken.Ҕ
	Thanks, Trevor.Ӕ Ken turns away, studiously ignoring Jane. Its like this every day, sometimes worse; all the aggression that these people feel is locked up here with them. It has to leak out somewhere.
	Jane scowls and leaves the table.

FIVE

	Today I concentrated, really concentrated, and I could feel a layer of me being removed, like the skin of an onion. It was very strange. I started to meditate, to focus, and Thomas came into my mind, always having to be fed before anyone else. I saw my father sitting there instead of Thomas, demanding his tea. He was about ThomasҒs age, and we all gave into him because we couldnt face a fight with him about it. It was easier to let him have his way. We had no choice; at least thatҒs what I believed at the time. I know differently now. 
	Nothings changed, but as I say, a tiny little layer has been removed and I am a bit raw where I was reminded of our father. I am travelling inwards, slowly, on a journey to freedom.
	 Maybe.

SIX
Ken and Elsie, who has special responsibility for Jane, chat during their break. Elsie is not sure whatҒs bothering her, but she airs her thoughts anyway. She speaks carefully, her lined mouth puckering to meet the warm sweet coffee.
	Jane seems strange today. I canӒt quite put my finger on it, but theres something not quite right.Ҕ
	When is she due for review?Ӕ
	Next week. The doc thinks her medicationӒs all right; I asked him. Personally, Im not sure how you tell, unless she blows, of course.Ҕ
	IӒll mention it again at staff meeting. Ken usually chairs these meetings, heԒs happy with this role. Elsie knows the psychiatrists would rather listen to Ken and Trevor. Shes tired of fighting this system and lets them get on with it now.
	ғWould you? See if anyone else has noticed anything odd about her?  Thanks.
	ԓShe seems to be spending a lot of time in the relaxation room at present. Is that a bad thing, do you think? Does she need more time with other patients? Ken puts his coffee down and stretches, yawning widely. He is looking forward to the end of the shift. 
	ԓWho knows?  But Ill keep the diary more detailed if you like, just to be on the safe side.Ҕ 
	Elsie knows Jane better than anyone, but she doesnt know everything.

SEVEN
I used to see Mr. Stone on a Tuesday, but heҒs seeing someone else now. Its a pity, but they felt I couldnҒt be trusted with art materials then. I sharpened the metal ring holding the bristles in my paintbrush and cut a nice big circular chunk out of my arm. Just like that! It didnt hurt at all. Mr. Stone was very worried about me, he said, afterwards.  Too late,  as usual.  A pity.   I used to enjoy those sessions. 
	Trev stinks of fags. I could kill for a ciggie, but weҒre not allowed them, are we? We might set the place alight or something. Time for the evening drug round.
	Jane, how are you sleeping at present? Do you want a tab?Ӕ
	No thanks Ken.Ӕ Janes eyes are heavy and dark ringed, but for her itҒs normal. 
	OK. As long as youӒre sure. He goes to see Thomas and Henry at the other end of the ward.
	Jane sits on her chair, in her tiny room, and thinks, staring into space.

EIGHT
Sleep. Yeah, itԒs hard to get a good peaceful nights sleep. I sleep, but I wake up feeling tired. ItҒs slightly better than all those years before when I was afraid to drop off, in case you-know-what happened. If there was a row going on, someone getting beaten up, youd hear it and wake up, but with you-know-what he was always sneaky and dead quiet. Ha, thatҒs funny, dead quiet. He is now anyway. Pity he didnt go sooner, he would have spared us a lot of bother. The trouble is, when someoneҒs dead you havent got them there to be angry with. You still feel angry as hell, but what good does it do you?   
	Time to go and wash. Elsie will watch me; sheҒs a tough old bird but she and I have got to know one another well over these years. I think shes a lezzie, but she doesnҒt bother me.
	Hi ElsieӔ.
	Hello Jane. Time to wash. Is it hair shampoo night?Ӕ
	Yes, itӒs that new one they bought, the other one makes my head itch
	ԓAnd we cant have that can we?Ҕ  She rummages in the drawer, pulls out the shampoo and locks it again. Is this the one you want to use?Ӕ
	ThatӒs it. I think Ive got everything.Ҕ
	The water pours around my head from the shower. I refused to have a bath because of feeling scared. They might push my head under the water. Memories of terrible things in that locked room, with the water filling the bath and me with no clothes on come back when I go in a bathroom. I had a little voice then, we all did. The showers okay; I can manage the shower.
	Elsie waits quietly, and hands me the towel when I finish. She rubs my hair dry like IҒve seen mothers do with their children. Big pink soft towels, not like hospital stuff. I insisted and they bought them for me, just me, to use.  I put my bathrobe on and look at myself in the mirror.
	I had a mother once who looked at me. I knew her face, I smiled when she smiled, cried when she cried, cried when she got angry. It seems somewhere I have a memory of this, but I cant find it. Meditate. Maybe it will come.
	Elsie is like a mum to me. She dries my hair, inspects my nails, treats me with respect. Grandma Elsie. Suddenly I give her a kiss on the cheek. She jumps back, surprised.
	ғJane!  What was that for?
	ԓSorry Elsie. I was just thinking.
	ԓThinking what?
	ԓYoure sort of, like, a bit like my mum, sort of being there and drying my hair and everything.Ҕ
	So IӒm a bit like your mum, am I?  Im probably not far off her age either. IҒve never heard you mention your mum before.
	ԓI dont much. She died. I didnҒt really know her for many years. 
	ԓThats sad. ItҒs hard not to have a mum around.
	ԓIs your mum still alive?
	ԓShe died last year. Do you remember I was off for a while in March? She was a very old lady and she died suddenly. She had a good life, but we were sad to see her go. So you and I are orphans then Jane?
	ԓYes, were orphans.Ҕ
Thats strange. Elsie and I are orphans. Orphans. I never thought about that before.

NINE
Meditating. Becoming calm and centred. Breathing slowly and deeply. In and out, in and out, slowly. No gentle sea today.
	Images swirl in my mind. I see a chaotic whirl of colours, swirling round. In the middle is my star. The galaxy wheels and turns, purples and blues, indigo and sepia streams trailing around my star. 
	Concentrate. Focus on the star. ItҒs too far away, all this whirling madness gets in the way. I cant think, canҒt focus. The room has gone cold. Has Trev turned off the heating by accident?  I have been cold before, many many times, hiding at night. There was no heating in that house. My bed was wet and so cold. Michelle was a baby then, a tiny little baby. I had to look after her in the night when she woke. We snuggled together for warmth. Where is she now? Still with that revolting husband, I bet. I wouldnt speak to her once I found out about him and his tricks. She still wouldnҒt throw him out.
Here comes Trev.
	Jane, IӒve come to fetch you. The heating boilers up the spout and itҒll be cold while they fix it, so I thought Id better come and get you. You can go into the visitorҒs room with the others if youre cold, thereҒs heating in there.
	ԓIts okay, Trev, IҒll go to bed.
	ԓElsie hasnt come on shift yet, Jane, so youҒll have to wait a while.     Jane?
	I can hear you.Ӕ
	I thought you were going to have a tantrum.Ӕ
	Well IӒm not.
	Trev worries about me. His mild blond face is lightly creased, his blue eyes searching me for signs. HeԒs seen me do things. He knows what Im capable of.
	At night the bad things come out, dark wicked shadows with knives that laugh. But I go to bed anyway.
TEN
A figure creeps along the corridor, it has no face, but it is evil. Wickedness walking, holding a knife. Dark angular shape, walls will not hold you back, doors will not keep you from me.
	The babies! The babies! Where are they? I must protect them; cover them with my body.  Now, now, now.  Oh my God, where are they? Please, please, where are they?
Lights.
	ғJane?  Whats the problem?  YouҒre waking the other residents.
	ԓI thought...I thought...its the same dream again. Can I have the light on for a bit?Ҕ
	Do you want something to help you sleep? I can get you something.Ӕ
	It keeps trying to kill them.  Horrible.  Horrible.Ӕ
	Kill who, Jane? Wipe your eyes now.Ӕ
           The babies. It keeps trying to kill the babies.Ӕ
	You were having a bad dream, Jane. ItӒs over now.  Go back to sleep.

	They wonԒt talk about the babies. Oh they know about them all right, but theyre afraid of upsetting me.  Poor, poor, babies.  It might come back if I go back to sleep. Sit up and keep vigil in the dark. Meditate. The pin I found on the floor is in my hand. 
	The rivers run under the earth, searching for a way out. They come to the surface, bubbling clear and pure, wanting release. Let the water out. It flows, blood red, crimson flowers exploding.  My own poppy fields.  Calm, numb, chilled out; let me float away, float away. 

	ғJane!  Oh my goodness. Andy, get down here quick. Its Jane. SheҒs cut her wrists. No. Ill dial the doc. Hurry.Ҕ
	Oh dear. Not much pulse. When did you last look in?Ӕ
	Two fifteen. She was having a bad dream, but she seemed to settle again.Ӕ
	Keep the pressure on the wound. SheӒll need a transfusion I think. Wheres the doc?Ҕ
	Coming.  Right. Let me look at her. What a mess.  Can you hold her arms while I put these on? Then we can get her on the stretcher.  Okay.  Andy, can you warn them weӒll need some blood?  Right, young lady, lets get you sorted out.Ҕ

Suddenly its all sorted out. Everyone knows what to do, itҒs what theyve been trained for.
	White on the white sheets, my arm is still. Dirty yellow white, bluish veins likeҠsour milk pulse again just below the skin. I am floating again, on my bed boat, into unknown lands, sliding over the oceans, my eyes are closed. I do not want to come back; there is no pain where I am, no remorse, no hunger, fear or thirst, only the timeless ocean surging, spinning me, rocking me, slowly on its crest.  Let me go, let me go.

	Hello Jane. Feeling better?Ӕ
	Go away, Trev.Ӕ
	ThatӒs no way to talk when Ive come all the way from the ward to see you.Ҕ
	Sorry, Trev.Ӕ
	So you should be, giving us a fright like that.Ӕ He doesnt look offended.
	ғI couldnt help it. I donҒt want to be here. Id rather be dead, donҒt you see?
	But he doesnԒt see. None of them do. The psychiatrist came to see me this morning. His eyes twinkled kindly, but I cant talk to him. Am I mad? I donҒt know. What is madness anyway?  
	I feel sad, not mad, and theres no treatment for that. He wants me to talk to someone, but what good would it do?   It wonҒt get me out of here. 
	Elsie came to see me tonight before she went home. She held my hand for a minute, but she didnt say much. Elsie and I are orphans. She understands.

ELEVEN
	ғJane! Someone to see you.  Come to the lounge when youre ready.Ҕ
	Okay.Ӕ
	I wonder who it is.  No one has come to visit me for a long time. I go through a list of possible visitors  - Father Dominic, Aunt Olive, a new social worker, some health official on a fact-finding mission, a research student from the Psychology Department. I dont want to see anyone. IҒm too weak. It was only three days ago that I had a blood transfusion and Im still wobbly.  I look in the mirror as I go out Җ hair neat, eyes dark ringed, skin sallow.  Its much as you would expect.

	ғHello Jane. Thank you for agreeing to meet me.    Huh! I wasnԒt even asked. But since Im here IҒll play the game.
	ThatӒs okay.  Robbie keeps an eye on me from the corner. I have to watch my manners. We sit down.  I look at him, up and down. He seems a bit unnerved by my scrutiny, but he sits there, waiting for me to be ready.
	ԓJane, Dr. Shah asked me to pop in and see you. My names Bruce Townsend.
IҒm taking over from John Dooley as Registrar. I go blank. IԒve never heard of John Dooley. Usually the registrars dont come near us, they stay safely where they belong with the ordinary madmen out there, dispensing medicines and asking their stupid questions. This one seems to have escaped.
	ғHow do you do, Dr. Townsend.  Nice manners. This surprises him.
	ԓ I wonder if it would be okay for us to meet from time to time Jane? Im trying out some new ideas and I need someone like yourself to help me. All it will be is talking, and you donҒt have to say anything if you dont want. IҒd like to meet you four or five times and ask you some questions, and ask you to think about some things. What do you think?
	I keep silent. It makes him uncomfortable, but IԒm not here to make life easier for him.
	When do you want to start?Ӕ
	Tomorrow? How would three-thirty be?Ӕ
	Robbie?Ӕ He nods.
	So its settled then. Bruce. Funny name. HeҒs not even Australian, or Scottish.
The day drifts on. I have no nightmares.

TWELVE
Meditate. Theyve let me come back in here today, but theyҒve told me theyre watching in case I do something silly. Something silly!  If only I could. They always find out and whisk me away to safety. But I donҒt want to go. Can you will yourself to die?  What if I stopped breathing?  No, I tried that once and as soon as you pass out you start breathing again, automatically.  The face of Bruce comes into my head. Im due to see him again tomorrow.
	It was strange being in a room with him on my own; he was very careful about how far away from me he sat, I could tell the others had warned him about not upsetting me.
ItҒs cold outside today and the sky is pale pale blue.

Brightness falls from the air,
Queens have died young and fair.
Dust hath closed Helens eye 
I am sick, I must die,
Lord have mercy upon us.     
   
	If only I could die. The words keep haunting me, the words from the old poetry books I had in school. Brightness falls from the air - it could fall today, like silver dust, like moon beams in the day, like frost flowers on a frozen pool. Brightness. But I wonҒt be there to see it. I am in here, and I fret, I yearn, I long, to be free.  Queen Jane, dead on arrival, brightness fell on her and she died. Man cannot stand too much brightness falling from the air.
	The poster on the wall seems different today, the colours look wrong and the angles seem so sharp, like prisms, the focus is too intense. Its the new tablets I expect. It all looks far away and distorted, like crazy paving. Ha! I am getting angry. TheyҒre watching me. I pull the shirt Im wearing over my head, so they canҒt look. Theres no privacy at all.
	ғJane! ItԒs Trev. Im not surprised, I knew theyҒd come and get me.  Jane - pull your shirt back down. Come back into the main ward now.Ӕ
I remain silent. I do not move. I stop breathing.
	Jane! Come on - donӒt try to do anything silly
Oh no, mustnԒt try anything silly, must we? Not silly like strangling babies, or setting fire to the house. Not silly like some of the others, not silly like cutting my arms.
 Or my throat.

THIRTEEN
Thirteen - ah yes, thirteen. Do I need the bad luck of thirteen? What else can happen? 
Trev has left the hospital. Went for another job and got it - didnt want to say goodbye.
	Bastard. Bastard. Bastard. 
	I hug my blanket, stay in bed; donҒt want to come out. Robbie comes to see me.
	I know, Jane, itӒs tough. Youd got used to Trevor. WeҒll all miss him here, but these things happen. Im still here, soҒs Ken and Elsie. Its okay.Ҕ Robbie smiles at me, but Im not fooled. ItҒs not okay. And Elsie will retire before long and then Ill have no one.
	I donҒt want to talk to Dr Bruce, I dont want to talk to anyone. I talk nonsense, as a way of escaping his questions.  Tweedle tweedle deedle deedle I go, rumpty umpty empty teddy,  and he sits and watches me silently, his large brown eyes registering concern. Then he speaks.
	ғTeddy is empty? Your teddy?  Startled, I nod.
	ԓPeedle poodle windle bondle makepiece. Marble. Shit. I run out of words.
	ԓEmpty teddy, babbytears, pagga points, blubba eyes, he replies in kind.  I am startled by his joining in what I had thought was rubbish. He goes on ԓYou feel like shit because Trevs got another job. You feel empty and sad, but you canҒt cry?
Where did that come from? How did he guess?  
	My hands come up to my face and rake across my eyes. I canԒt cry. The tranx have made me dead, killed the tears. Gently he touches my hands.
	DonӒt hurt your face, Jane, he says, smiling.
A very little voice comes out of me. A little girlԒs voice, one I havent heard before, not for many years. 
	ғJanes crying.Ҕ   He repeats this.
	JaneӒs crying. Janes very sad. Poor little Jane.Ҕ
He opens a bag and brings out some things. One of them is a little girl doll. He puts the doll on the table, wrapped in a blanket.
	Poor baby doll, youӒre crying and we dont know how to make it better.Ҕ
	My little girl voice tells him.
	ItӒs never going to be better. Dollys dead.Ҕ  He is silent, thinking. He got too close too soon. I snatch the doll away from him and hold it by its legs while I swing it viciously, beating its head against the table top. He does not try to stop me. Outside the door, Robbie, who is waiting, looks concerned. Dr. Bruce catches his eye and warns him off with a little gesture of his hand.
	This is a baby who has been badly hurt,Ӕ he says, so badly hurt she may even be dead.Ӕ He is silent. I feel, for the first time, tears forming at the backs of my eyes. I blink hard to hold them in. Our time together is up. Robbie opens the door. Dr. Bruce doesnt say anything; he looks serious and thoughtful. But I shall meet him again on Thursday. 

FOURTEEN                                                                                                                                In the review meeting, the staff arrive at different times and fetch cups of coffee from the machine that dispenses hot, dark liquid into plastic cups too hot to hold. Bruce decides against having a drink, heҒs keyed up enough as it is without the buzz of extra caffeine.  
	When he put himself forward for this project he had some ideas about how he wanted to work with these patients. Even personality-disordered people must have feelings somewhere inside them, he believed. If only one could tap into that; bring them alive, one might get somewhere. He mused over his last session with Jane as he waited for Robbie and Ken to finish organising their cover for the meeting. His use of nonsense babble in response to Jane was something hed read about in Erikson, but when it emerged spontaneously in the session he had wondered afterwards what impact it might have had. What would the staff make of it?
	The others came in and sat down.  Ken glanced at them, shrewdly assessing their views. Robbie was staring uneasily at his fingers; Elsie was hunched in her chair, staying out of the way. Howard, on duty outside had already made his feelings known. Andy, out of touch with events, looked round with interest. There was tension in the air. He didnҒt know where it was coming from. He didnt have long to wait.
	ғThank you for coming to this meeting, Bruce
	ԓI just hope I can help. Did you read my memo about the project? I thought it might explain things a bit. He glanced round hopefully. The others looked awkwardly at their fingers.  Ken decided not to beat about the bush.
	ԓBruce... I dont know how to say this, but weҒre not altogether happy about this project of yours. He coughed. There was a silence.  Bruce looked around at the other staff members. They avoided his eyes. 
	ԓOh. I see. Can you tell me what it is youre worried about?Ҕ
	Jane has been stable here for a long time now. We understand her moods, her ups and downs, and Elsie and Robbie have a good relationship with her. Now that TrevorӒs left, Jane seems upset, and we feel she might try cutting herself again.   She made an attempt not so long ago to hurt herself - just before you arrived, actually, and weve got concerns about her care and general welfare. Dr. Shah has changed her medication recently, because there were indications she was becoming psychotic again. All in all, we feel itҒs the wrong time to be offering her this kind of therapy.  If Im honest, I have some worries about what exactly youҒre doing with her.
	There was a silence, broken by noises from outside the nursesԒ room; someone was protesting about the food, loudly and plaintively. Bruce thought hard.
	Before I met Jane, we went over all the background details very carefully, and she fitted exactly the criteria for the study. She comes willingly to our meetings, doesnӒt she? They nodded, reluctantly.  ԓOf course that might be because it breaks the week up a bit and gives her something to think about.    Too late he realised what heԒd said.  
	I think thatӒs the point, Bruce. She broods. We dont know what sheҒs brooding about, she wont speak to us properly, but this gives her one more thing to worry over. That means caring for her becomes more difficult, you must see that.Ҕ
	I do, but is it reason enough to stop her coming?  Of course I recognise the difficulty for you, but treatment of any sort can alter the status quo, make life more difficult for a while. No reason not to try it, though.Ӕ
	The staff members looked sceptical. Ken broke the silence.
	Can you tell us something about your approach? If youӒre asking us to support you in this, you must let us know what youre doing, I would have thought.Ҕ
	Sure, IӒve no secrets. I am fairly much a beginner at this, and I have to admit that with all honesty. Initially I just aim to step into her world for a moment, to get alongside her so to speak, to help her trust me. She nearly cried the other day - thats a breakthrough as far as I can see.Ҕ  The staff looked unsure that this was an advance.
	Why is that a breakthrough?Ӕ asked Robbie.
	Has she cried before?Ӕ
	SheӒs quite secure here; she gets on quite well with staff. Shes had no need to cry.Ҕ
	But she wants to die, doesnӒt she?  She thinks about death a lot?
	ԓYes, but when youve done the kind of things sheҒs done, you know youre not going to get out. WhatҒs the point crying over it? Id rather be dead than have to spend the rest of my life in here with the likes of some of them. JaneҒs normal in comparison. Robbie leans forward to emphasise his words.
	ԓI dont seem to be getting through. Can we agree to disagree? I would like to carry on seeing her, now that weҒve started. Its early days, after all. IҒve only seen her twice.
	ԓHow about if we review the situation in two months? By then we should know more clearly if its going to help her, and if we can deal with the problems it causes.Ҕ
	They fixed some dates in their diaries. Ken went away to check out the credentials of Dr. Bruce Townsend, knowing that he would have to tackle the consultant psychiatrist Dr. Shah if Dr. Townsend wouldnt go quietly. HeҒd bide his time.
	Bruce, disconcerted and uneasy, took himself off into the car-park to have a smoke. Hed need to think about this. Dr. Shah was old fashioned in his views about patient care; he would need to put his side first before Robbie or Ken could interfere.
	In the hospital staff canteen he met Joseph, who was having a hard time with a group of anorexic girls on Ward 12.
	ғHows life, Joe?Ҕ
	Pretty shitty, since you ask. How about you?Ӕ
	Just come back from a meeting with the staff in the Special Unit. They made me feel like I was some quack without the first idea about anything. Give up working in Mental Health now, seemed to be the message. I mean, if you donӒt try a new approach, how can you ever learn what might work? Bunch of tossers.
	ԓI thought you said you had great respect for the way they did a difficult job and handled the patients.
	ԓI do, in a way, but theyre so conservative. I tried to explain what I was doing, but they just stared at me blankly, like I was some kind of patient talking gibberish at them. Very disheartening.Ҕ
	Well, IӒve just had a horrendous morning with Ward 12. Three of them have made some kind of pact. Were going to have to intervene if they donҒt start eating something soon. I dont know how to handle them, teenaged girls always scared the shit out of me even in school, and these are really scary - but theyҒre so weak... Joseph threw up his hands to emphasise his incomprehension.  ԓSee you afterwards for a kick around?

	Bruce slept fitfully. He knew something had happened with Jane, a door had opened a little way. He felt disturbed and angry. Something had happened to her, something made her talk in that little girl voice and wallop that doll. Should he go on, looking, hoping, allowing her to lead him into her world? Could he bear to stand next to her in her world and witness what she had been through?  Horror rose from the foot of his bed and rushed at him suddenly; so that he sucked in air sharply, realisation coming to him. SheԒs in here because she murdered her children. She murdered a doll baby right in front of me - but the doll baby was her.  
	He got up and paced about the room, made himself a drink of hot milk and found a trashy novel to read until he fell asleep, determined not to be invaded by his own fears of inadequacy and Janes unstable inner world.

FIFTEEN
Where the brightness stops the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper, as the poet says.  And after the brightness, the dark, the space dark, the timeless interstellar spaces, infinity. I will be where I will be, cradled in the moonҒs arms, asleep again, back before time began.
	Tonight I see the moon through the windows. The lunatic surveys la lune, la lune est morte, comme tout le monde. Moi, je suis morte aussi. Silent and dead we view each other, the moon and I.
	I cannot speak to them. They are concerned for me, I know that, but I have retreated, taken myself away from them all. I am locked up in three ways, in here, in my mind, and in my secret self.  Dr. Bruce cannot reach me here, though he still keeps trying.
And I feel no anger, and I feel no pain. Maybe I am dead, really dead. I am dead but walking. How can this be?
	Its all grey now, all the faces, all the places, all the traces of faces. No colours, no warmth. I exist as a wraith, a shadow, a ghost.
	ғJane!  ItԒs Elsie, good old Elsie. She calls me, but I cannot respond. Jane!  YouӒre not speaking? Whats wrong?Ҕ  She holds out her hand towards me. I see it but I dont take it. Elsie is grey and dead, and far away from me. ғJane?  Come on, look lively.  Its shampoo night tonight.Ҕ  I shuffle along in front of Elsie to the shower, get out only when she tells me, keep still while she dries my hair. But I am dead.  She doesnt persist.
	Why am I living? Who for? For Dr. Bruce?  I saw him yesterday, but I couldnҒt speak to him. I took the doll and held it. Then I wrapped it up and put in it a box. Its eyes wouldnt shut, so I put sticky tape over its face. I put the box with the doll away in the corner, under a chair. It has gone.  Dr. Bruce watched me closely and asked me questions.
	Is the doll baby dead? Is this a coffin box? How old are you now?  I became angry with his questions and wanted to hit him, but he said he could see I was angry and didnҒt want to talk.
	He asked at the end what did I want to happen to the doll? I said in my little voice
	Gone,Ӕ and pushed the air with my hand.
	You want me to take it?Ӕ he asked. I nodded. So its gone. What will we do next?
He has a bag with things in it. Perhaps IҒll do a drawing, a drawing of a tiny person, lost in a chaotic universe.

SIXTEEN
	Bruce looked at his watch. Time to go and meet Jane. How should he be with her? She puzzled him. He fetched the doll and his bag, with a few other things he thought she might use, and walked thoughtfully along the corridor to the ward. He thought, as Ken unlocked the doors and studied his security pass, about what it must be like to be locked up like this. Did these people never leave? Could they never be trusted to enter the world again, and if they could not, how would anyone know that they were well, if they never had an opportunity to test themselves out in the real world again? Bruce was aware of the events that had led most of the patients to be locked up, but he had switched off a part of his mind about them. As far as he was concerned they happened in the past and he did not wish to concern himself about them now.
	The staff thought him inept and arrogant, though undoubtedly well meaning.
Janes file was open in the staff duty room, where Elsie was looking through it with a puzzled frown on her face. Bruce glanced at her as he passed, and Elsie looked up and registered his passage along the corridor.
	ґStupid prat, she thought to herself. ґThinks he can change things when everyone knows patients like these are here for life and Ive never known any respond to treatment enough to be considered a hundred percent safe. Letting them hope that one day they could leave is pretty bloody stupid and just lets them down and leads to further work for us. But these medics never look further than the ends of their noses. Research, huh?  IҒll research him if he comes in here after.
	Bruce went in search of Jane, finding her once more in the meditation room.

SEVENTEEN
IҒm lost again, trying to find a balance, a mode of being that is quiet and allows the voices to stop; that lets me get some rest. I sit in the posture, in the half lotus position with my palms uppermost, fingers gently curled. I imagine things falling into these hands, feathers, wisps of leaves, gauzy fabrics, snowflakes. Its quietening, soothing. I have retreated a long way inside now. The pink light in the room protects me, and I feel held, secure. I know Ken or Marie, the new nurse who replaced Trevor, are watching me, but thatҒs good, thats good. They care; they wouldnҒt let anything happen to me. 
	The invasion happened without warning. Dr. Bruce looked into the room and called my name. My head began to fizz, anger and panic were at war with one another. 
	DO NOT DISTURB DO NOT DISTURB DO NOT DISTURB!Ӕ	
	My voice from nowhere screams at him, the words creating a barrier between him and me.
	Come and help me, someone. Leave me alone.Ӕ
	 Ken is there too now. He saw what happened.  He re-assures me, tells me Dr. Bruce can come another time, but my ears are full of sealing wax, stopped up with anger. I arch my body forward and smash my forehead on the ground, again, again, again.  Ken is there instantly. Someone is screaming. Is it me?  Ken is holding me, and other staff have appeared to help him. They hold me as only they can, with firmness and containment and I let them, I let them.  No Dr. Bruce today.

EIGHTEEN
Dr. Bruce is appalled at what has happened. 
	My God! She doesnt look capable of such strength! The side of my face feels bruised where she let fly as they carried her back to restraining room. What a fucking nightmare.  I thought she was okay with me;  we had a good rapport. I only called her name for GodҒs sake. They cant accuse me of having provoked her. IҒd better speak to Ken.  That old dyke Elsies in there. 
	ғKen, can I have a word?   He holds the duty room door open for Bruce. Elsie looks up.  ԓIs she all right?  Ken looks grave. He doesnԒt like Bruce and he knows it.
	SheӒll be all right in a while. She doesnt like being disturbed when sheҒs in that room. Its the only place where she seems to get some respite.Ҕ
	I didnӒt realise. Im sorry.Ҕ
	Well I did warn you about her. SheӒs fine if you handle her right, but she hasnt been sleeping lately and when sheҒs agitated she needs careful handling. Shell be OK.Ҕ Ken is going to be difficult to deal with. He turns his back on Bruce.
	Ken, IӒd like to try again.
	ԓWhat, now?
	ԓNo - maybe tomorrow morning. Can you ask her? About ten oclock?Ҕ He turns round.
	Doctor - I donӒt agree with what youre doing with Jane. You and I know sheҒll never leave here. Our job is to maintain her as peacefully as we can, so that she doesnt harm herself or others. Anything that gets in the way of that is not to be welcomed.Ҕ
	But supposing, Ken, that we could work with someone like Jane to restore them to normal function, so they could live semi independently, for example..?Ӕ     Elsie joins in.
	The world out there made Jane the way she is. Any of us would be crazy if we had been through what she has. Here she has sanctuary at least.Ӕ
	Thank you Elsie. YouӒre entitled to your opinion of course.
	ԓMaybe you should read her file.
	ԓIt that it there? Thanks. Bruce takes the file, with mock humility.
A life, made of the notes that others write, letters you will never read, comments and judgements you will never know about, prescriptions you will never decipher. He holds it for a moment, recognising it for what it is.

NINETEEN	
Dr. Bruce flicks through the file, his mind not really on it. Phrases rise from the page and lodge in his mind.
Referred to Child Guidance 1966
ԑMr Pryors imprisonment is having a damaging effect on the family. Mrs Pryor claims to find Jane and her sister hard to control.Ғ
An underweight little girl, with some bruising to buttocks and a skin rash, caused mother says by her incessant bed wetting. Mother claims the bruising follows a fall on the stairs.
Health Visitor to visit again soonђ.      How old was she then?  1966... she was only eight.
He flicks through again.
1979.   Psychiatrists report.    Miss Pryor has apparently recently returned from Belgium, where she went to live with her common law partner, Mr Ducasse, by whom she has two children, Juliette and Christophe. I gather she left the children behind in Belgium with their father. Miss Pryor complains of having irrational impulses, associated with some suicidal ideation. I gather her relationship with the childrenҒs father was not a happy one and I put it to her that she may be suffering from an understandable reaction to leaving him and her children behind, as well as her mothers illness...
Bruce has a realisation:  the babies are real. But are they her or her children? Or both?

TWENTY
IҒm back in the room again, the meditation room with the pink light and the cushions. Theyre watching me again. They must, of course they must, I understand that. Elsie is watching over me.   I close my eyes and sit in the posture breathing quietly and deeply. No Dr. Bruce today, I will not be disturbed. I am slipping back, slipping away, moving backwards into time. Henry gave me a tab of acid, I know what it is, but he told me it would make my mind better. Henry is cunning; the nurses donҒt know the half of it. He has stuff sent to him in teeny microdots under the stamps on his letters. Its on my tongue, and my mouth has gone numb. I breathe quietly. Let me be here, let me rest.

TWENTY-ONE
We went to Belgium on a motorbike, Fedo and me, when I was only sixteen. How long ago it seems now. I had never been out of England before. From Ostend we travelled South to the Ardennes, me three months pregnant and only just fitting onto the pillion.
I was sick at every petrol station and cafe we stopped at, and Fedo hit me when I cried and wanted to go home. ґHome to where? he asked. ґYou wanted to get away from them. You chose to come with me. Didnt you?Ғ
	He was right. I left behind a house so dirty and broken down that I was ashamed to let Fedo see it. My mother was drunk again on the morning I left. She was always drunk; she stank of it; the cheap vodka she got from the merchant seaman who called to see her when his ship docked. The stains on her purple dressing gown made me recoil from her embraces, and her breath was sweet, like rum and peardrops. She used to feel sorry for herself at times and would want to embrace me, but she disgusted me.
	So we travelled on, with my few clothes in the pannier and very little money, until we came to the river where the site was.  We rode through the entrance gates at ten oclock in the evening and the site manager greeted Fedo loudly. 
Finally we stopped and I got off the bike, my legs sore and tired, burning my ankle on the exhaust as the bike tipped over. I remember the caravan well, going in there that first time. FedoҒs things were there, but a mouse had been into the cupboards and the caravan smelled of musty leaves and paper, and mouse dirt. There was a Belgium porn magazine lying on the floor, the pages damp and yellowed, showing a girl bending over with her fanny open. I didnt want to look at it, but I couldnҒt look away. Fedo lit the gas and put a kettle of water on to boil. There was no electricity until the morning.  The foam mattress we slept on was dirty and the cover torn, but I put up with it. Fedo didnt notice.  He had sex with me as usual, roughly and quickly, not caring if anyone saw us through the caravan windows, which were dusty and had no curtains. I knew heҒd sleep then and I would be safe. I lay beside him thinking about everything. I didnt want to think about the baby. I had told Fedo, but he ignored me, saying it was my business. I think Juliette was his baby, but I can never be sure.
	How young I was! How little I knew about life.
	FedoҒs rough stubbly chin poked out of the blankets in the dull morning light. His dark glossy hair stuck out at angles where he had slept on it. Asleep, I could almost like him; he looked so vulnerable and yet I knew the minute he opened his eyes I would once more be under his spell, in thrall to his tattoos and his cruel, strong, muscular arms.  I hated him for what I knew he would do, for the times when he had hit me, for treating me like his possession, worse than his dog. Sometimes any attention is better than no attention at all, and god knows I had been used to that. The child within me stirred, feebly, and I was cold, so I slid off the bed space and tried to find a match to light the gas.  There were woodlice in the damp cupboards under the draining boards and dried up teabags blocking the dirty brown sink. It would be my home for the next four years.
	Fedo sent me out into the town that night, to find some trade, though I protested that I needed a day to recover. He did a deal with the man on the gate, Hubert, to get me customers, and in the car parks further along the river I took clients, seven or eight a night, and the van began to feel quite cosy with the money Fedo let me spend on it. He used the bike to do errands for Hubert during the day, so after Id slept I sometimes had the place to myself. 
	Fedo. He was my protector and the one who hurt me, the one who needed me for sex, but would loan me to others for money, then hit me when I protested.  My skinny belly, well hidden under my jacket, began to swell with the baby, but no-one noticed in the dark until I was almost six months pregnant.  Fedo told me to get rid of it. I told him it was impossible, so he went off to find someone who would do it for me, but he must have been unlucky because he came home in a terrible mood and began to shout and swear at me. I kept out of armҒs length and managed to get out of the door and run to Hubert, and Hubert sorted it out with Fedo, telling him that if the police got involved they would all be losers. When I crept back later that night, Fedo was awake and hit me anyway, punching me in the stomach, in the hope that I would lose the baby.
	You little slut!Ӕ  he screamed.  I told you to get rid of it. I donӒt even believe its mine,  you bitch. IҒm not raising any bastard child of yours.
	ԓBut it is yours I protested, writhing in pain, not fully believing it myself. ԓI cant get rid of it, IҒm too far gone. Ill probably lose it anyway now.Ҕ I sobbed, unable to control the tears.
	He flung me to one side.
	Bitch,Ӕ he repeated, searching my pockets for money.
	I should have left him then. But to go where? He had my money, I had nothing.
Home was worse, if you can believe this.   I massaged my bruised belly and checked that I wasnt bleeding. But Juliette was safe. Then.

TWENTY-TWO
My time in here is up. Elsie is padding along the corridor to fetch me.
	ғJane. Her voice is soft. ԓTime to come back now.
	I sigh and gradually unwrap my arms and legs. I feel strange and my tongue wonԒt work. Elsie doesnt mind. She waits for me to get up, quietly, and patiently.  I find myself crying suddenly, great blobs of tears roll down my face and fall off my chin. Elsie is kind, but she doesnҒt know what to do. She would like to put an arm round me, but isnt sure how IҒll take this. I stagger like a limping horse back to my room. She talks to me all the while, about nothing in particular, just everyday things about the other patients and her little dog, Rascal. Shes shown me photos of Rascal before. I wish I could have a dog.
	ItҒs suppertime, and I sit with Thomas and Henry. Henry gives me one of his smiles. I want to kick his teeth in. He thinks I owe him something. Thomas is eating in a way that disgusts me, chewing his food and rolling it around at the front of his mouth, with his big tongue like a pink slug, all wet and sticky. I shout at them to stop him doing it, but they dont, and they ask me if I would prefer to eat my dinner on another table
	I will not give in to them. I will not.  So I leave the table and go without my supper.  Later Elsie comes and asks me if I want a game of Scrabble.
	ItҒs a strange game, we play, Elsie and I, and the words we make have a strange significance.  Trash. Empty. Daze. Winter. I let Elsie win.

TWENTY-THREE
	The nurses are talking to one another, comparing notes. Robbie makes notes about the incident with Thomas.
	Do you think she provokes Thomas, Elsie?Ӕ
	ItӒs hard to say. She doesnt like his table manners, but then neither do I. He knows what heҒs doing all right. He knows that if he eats in a disgusting way it winds her up, and it doesnt take much to get her going.  Do you know, she was in tears again today when I called her out of the quiet room today. Any ideas what thatҒs about?
	ԓNot a clue. I havent had much to do with her lately. She wonҒt speak to me, as you know. RobbieԒs forehead, usually creased horizontally, creases vertically as he talks to Elsie. He worries about the patients and his handling of them. Ken always appears so confident, Elsie so wise.
	She hardly speaks to me at the moment. She used to say quite a lot. We played scrabble tonight, but she only said four words during the whole game.Ӕ
	What were they?Ӕ Elsie thinks for a moment.
	Trash, empty, daze and winter. Just some of the words on the board.Ӕ
Robbie thinks about the words, says them aloud to himself.
	Pretty much the words that describe some part of her?Ӕ
	They are pretty gloomy words, arenӒt they?
Elsie taps her biro on her teeth, thinking.
	ԓWhat do you think about her continuing to see Dr. Townsend?
	ԓI dont know. Sorry, thatҒs a cop out. I suppose I havent made my mind up yet. I think heҒs coming in tomorrow to discuss it.
	ԓAs long as he gives us proper notice and we dont have to haul her out of the quiet room, like we did before...Ҕ
	Well. I wonӒt be around to sort her out if it goes pear-shaped again.
	ԓOn leave?  Robbie enquires.  Elsie nods. ԓGoing anywhere nice?
	ԓBruges, on one of those cheap three day deals, with a friend, then Im going to spend time sorting out the garden.Ҕ
	Have a good time. Are you knocking off now?Ӕ  Elsie yawns. Shes very tired and just wants to go home and put her feet up for an hour before she starts packing. She nods and trudges down the corridor to say goodnight to Jane.

TWENTY-FOUR
	Elsie comes to see me in my room. IҒm reading Black Beautyђ. Elsie tells me shes going on holiday for a few days and that I must be nice to Claudia, who is coming tomorrow to start working here.  She tells me Dr. Townsend will come and see me tomorrow if I want, and that theyҒll give me plenty of notice. I nod. My tongue is dead. It wont work. I donҒt want to say anything. Elsie tells me shes going to a town in Belgium called Bruges, with her friend, and that she might bring me back some Belgian chocolates. I start, suddenly, when she says Belgium and she notices.
	ғJane, you look startled.
	ԓBelgium. Youre going to Belgium.Ҕ
	Yes?Ӕ  Theres a long pause.  ғWhy?
My tongue is thick in my mouth.
	ԓMy husband was Belgian. We lived there.
	ԓOh? Whereabouts?
	ԓFurther South than Bruges. At  Dinant. We lived there...
I cannot go on. I feel something awful inside me growing and threatening to get loose and kill me. Elsie looks closely at me.
	ԓJane? Whats wrong?Ҕ
I throw myself off the chair and onto the floor. I beat my fists on the floor, bang my head, up down up down while Elsie calls for help. They come quickly and restrain me and Robbie gives me an injection to calm me. Elsie is in tears.  Finally she goes. 

TWENTY-FIVE
	Its the end of the world as we know it, itҒs the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine...
	I have been put on watch and Im in bed, although itҒs early. The other residents are in the T.V. room with Ken.  I dont like that room. The armchairs have holes in the arms where Thomas had tried to pluck the stuffing or whatever it is out of them. He picks away, pick pick pick. Pick pick, you make me sick.  The T.V. is in an alcove in the wall, so no-one can interfere with it. ThereҒs a sign on the door of the room that says: No patient must be left unattended in this room, for any reason.  Philip is not allowed in the room. He thinks the voices come from the TV, and he gets confused by the other voices,  just normal voices, that come from it. He goes mad and smashes things when the voices tell him. The staff have told him that the voices have to stay in the room with the T.V., and he sort of believes them. Hes standing outside my room now, rocking backwards and forwards.   
	Robbie comes on watch.
	ғCome on, Philip, back to your end of the corridor.
	Philip laughs his insane laugh and rocks off down the corridor. He raps his fingers on my window as he passes. I hate Philip.
	ԓAlright Jane?  I nod, tiredly. My head is bruised. My hands are sore.   Robbie wanders away. There is a TV camera outside my room. TheyԒve switched it on. After last time theyre not taking any chances.
TWENTY-SIX
	On castle walls the daylight falls.
	I am half asleep, and daylight is filtering through the window. We will have to get up soon, but I lie here, feeling content for once. ItҒs a strange feeling.  The drug they gave me last night must have been very powerful. Im usually a great deal more agitated than this. Anyone will tell you that.
	I shall go and have breakfast. Porridge and toast, I expect, but I feel hungry today and IҒll eat anything. I used to make porridge for Juliette when she was a baby. I wont think about that.   The past is like a leaky dam. I canҒt stop the water leaking and I cant deal with it when it does. If the dam broke I would drown for sure.  Dr. Bruce does not understand this.    So I live, or exist, in a false reality made up of now, but then rears its head like a tidal wave I have to hold back at all costs.  Sometimes it smashes into me, knocking me to the floor, so that I lose my bearings and myself.  They know this here.
	Suppose I go back to see Dr. Bruce today?  Too much has happened that can never be put right. I donҒt know if I want to go, I dont know if I can bear it.

TWENTY-SEVEN
ґThe psychiatric approach to the study of abnormal personalities has in the main been a clinical one and has not been made easy to follow by the use of the term psychopath. In general psychiatrists have tended to call psychopaths those patients with abnormal personalities but this is not universally so.  The two concepts of psychopathy and personality disorder were most succinctly united by Schneider who defined psychopaths as those abnormal personalities who suffer from their abnormality or cause society to suffer.
...It recognises that someone can have an abnormal personality without being regarded in some way as ill or antisocial i.e. distinguishes between pathologicalђ and non pathologicalђ personalities. This is important because the term psychopathђ has come to be regarded....almost as a term of abuse.
	The striking feature of so many psychopaths is their remarkable degree of immaturity of personality development. They react to the whim of the moment in much the same way as does a small child who has tantrums if his wishes are not gratified immediately. (Lecture notes on Psychiatry, James Willis, Blackwell Scientific Publications  1979)

TWENTY-EIGHT
	Bruce Townsend came in mid morning and spoke to Claudia and Ken about his proposal to continue to work with Jane. They were non-committal. Claudia could not offer an opinion, having only just arrived. The staff are a bit thin on the ground, Bruce thinks, having lost Trevor, and with Elsie being on leave. He might mention this to the ward manager. Then he decides against mentioning it. HeҒs caused enough trouble as it is, and before long hell be a marked man.  Whistle blowers are dealt with viciously in this place, he thinks, and heҒs not about to rock the boat this time.  Mr. Khan, the consultant psychiatrist, was less than enthusiastic about the work Bruce wanted to do. Trouble loomed ahead, and if the staff complained about him making their life more difficult, he would be in serious trouble. But he does want to work with Jane, wants to test out some of his theories about treatment, and she had responded. She had. The staff could say what they liked, but he knew he had cracked her armour, he had got close to the real Jane, the child she had once been.  He went back to her file for another look.

TWENTY-NINE
	When Juliette was born, it was in the hospital. Fedo was away fixing some deal, and a neighbour took me to the hospital. I always felt that Juliette waited until it was safe to come out, and so it was only possible for her to be born when Fedo had left.  He got back while I was still in the hospital and cursed not to find me in the caravan. The neighbour told him where I was, I think. He didnt come to the hospital. The nurses were kind, and concerned about me going back the site with a newborn babe, and they kept me in for eight days. I knew I would suffer for having been away so long when I got back.  I looked at Juliette, so small and wrapped in her hospital blanket, and knew I had to do my best to look after her. But she was already like a doll to me. I could pick her up, put her down, leave her, come back to her, and there was nothing there. Do you understand me? ItҒs important that you understand me.
 	Listen.
 	Pay attention.  
	Juliette was my possession. Her cries did not move me. Her little scrunched up features were those of a pinched doll. I fed her from a bottle, at arms length, and made sure she didnҒt cry and upset Fedo. How did I do this? I had my ways of silencing her, Im not saying what those were.  Perhaps I had post-natal depression. But I couldnҒt have, it wasnt allowed. Fedo would not have tolerated it. So I went through the motions. Fedo acted as though Juliette did not exist. He took no interest in her.
	ґPut that thing down, he would order me when I picked her up in his presence. He went out most nights to visit the prostitutes, I think, but he resented having to. Sex started again between us as soon as the bleeding stopped and I was glad. It kept him away from me at other times and it was the one thing I could offer him that he seemed to want.  I did not realise I was pregnant again until later, five months after Juliette was born.
	When Juliette smiled at me for the first time, hopefully and winningly, at seven weeks, her smile affected me. I wouldnҒt call it love, I dont know what that is, but without realising it I smiled back.  Some days I saw her smiling as a trick, a ploy to get me to do things for her. I hated her then. HadnҒt she had enough of me; she had been inside me for nine months, what more did she want?  She had no right to expect more, did she?  Yet from somewhere there came an ability in me to care for her. I thought of my sister and her dolls and how she would put them to bed, tuck them up and give them drinks, while our mother lay sozzled downstairs and our father shouted and shook her. I used to watch. Michelle was my baby, when I wanted to play dolls.
	After our father went to prison it was different for a while. The shouting stopped but our mother didnt really change. We could sleep in our bed at night knowing that he wouldnҒt come, but in a way, though we hated him, we missed him too. Now our mother had no-one. She hid from us and from the world, though I expect she tried to do her best, and the Social Workers used to call to see us. Michelle and me, we learned to shut up and say nothing. It was Michelle who told about my father, but she was only little, she couldnt help it.   
	When Fedo found out I was pregnant again he told me to get out. I begged and pleaded with him to let me stay. Where else could I go? What else could I do?  I got a neighbour to listen for Juliette when I went out on the game, and as long as I was working Fedo let me stay.  
	Some days in the caravan were peaceful. I washed the bedding and JulietteҒs clothes, swept and tidied and took her along the river in her pushchair. There were huge bloated dead fish in the river, washed up at the edges. The long barges went down the river carrying cement and wood and anthracite and animal feed, to Antwerp and back. I wished I could live on a barge, all cosy in the living quarters and able to move on up or down the river, rocked by the waters lapping motion.  I could almost feel love for Juliette at times like these, watching the river and the barges, holding her in my lap to look.

THIRTY
	Doctor Bruce is here to see me. I have stayed here in my room after breakfast, writing stuff.  They want to know what IҒm writing, always. Theres no privacy here, even for your own thoughts.  I write words, nonsense words, in any order. I know what they mean.
	Doctor Bruce invites me to go into the interview room with him, and Robbie comes with us to wait outside.
	Doctor Bruce is kind today.
	ғHello again, Jane.  Im sorry about the other day when I came to fetch you for our session. I didnҒt mean to interrupt you.
	I am startled. Doctors donԒt usually apologise. I look at him; take in what hes said. He opens his bag, the one with the dolls in it. He takes out the doll I said was dead and puts it on the floor in its box, where I put it the last time we met. 
	ғLast time we met, the doll was dead, he reminds me. I correct him.
	 ԓGone, I say.  He looks at me, repeats
	 ԓGone. Then after a pause ԓIs gone the same as dead?  I donԒt answer. How can I?  Can things not really alive be dead? I snatch the paper and pencils he put out on the table. I draw a tiny scribble shape, almost tearing the paper. Then I make a big circle round and round and round, black, heavy, almost hiding the scribble shape. He tips his head on one side to look. He wants to say something but hes afraid it might be wrong.  Go on Doctor Bruce, try.
	ғJane, can you tell me what that is?  I say nothing. My hand is still going round and round. I canԒt stop. He tries again. ItӒs going round in circles. Something is trapped in the middle I nod. ԓYou?  I rip the paper up, grab the pencil and stab the chair. Robbie moves to the door. I stop.  The pencil is broken. Doctor Bruce means well, but he goes too fast. The session ends.

THIRTY-ONE
	IԒm back in the quiet room. Lunch was quiet because Thomas was at the hospital having a check for something. Henry is okay at meal times; he eats normally. I sit on the cushions; breathe deeply, slowly, allow myself to relax.  Claudia is outside, but shes not staring at me. She seems all right, Claudia, but not the same as Elsie.
	I close my eyes and see the barges once again, going up and down the River Meuse. Warmth, summer sunshine and insects are all around me, and I am on a barge, chugging down the river to Antwerp and the sea. The white gulls that abandoned the sea to live on this inland waterway roost on the bridges, eat the enormous greeny brown spiders that hide in the corners of the railings along the embankments. I hear the sound again of rifle shots as the hunters in the woods go after their prey. In this land, nothing that moves is safe from the hunters. ItҒs a place where meat is king.
	Here on the barge I am safe. Floating, navigating weirs and locks, tying up for the night, the fish and the ducks are all the company I need.  The engine like a heart beating in the depths of the hold.
	Something invades; something is trying to intrude on this dream. A face, faces, in the water. Childrens faces.  
	Come back, come back quickly!  ItҒs no good, you cant have that sort of dream, that sort of experience in the quiet room. ItҒs too close to the edge, too close to the centre, too close, too close.
	I fling my arms wide and come out of the posture. I stand and go to Claudia, who is yawning outside.    Where is my quiet sea, my calmness? I feel bereft. Doctor Bruce has destroyed my fragile peace.
THIRTY-TWO
	Dr. Khan is going to see me today. Poor Dr. Bruce, he started something but he doesnt know how to carry on. ItҒs not his fault; hes impatient for results. He likes his medical view point of diagnose, treat and cure. He doesnҒt understand that beyond a certain point to go back into the past, which is where he takes me, is a self-destructive act. None of us here could live with what weve done, what weҒve had done to us, what we still do and might do again. We keep it out there, curtained off from our lives. I find myself thinking about these things, but in thinking about them I also think about what exists outside the boundary beyond the curtain and things, memories, leak through. This is where the pain is, the madness, the psychotic core. Dr. Khan will treat me like he treats all his patients, briskly and matter of factly; to the point of brusqueness. If I dont answer immediately he will ask Ken and Ken will have to speak for me. This is how it is.
	The doctor who saw me before used to ask ґHow are we today? I answered ґHow many of us are there?  At that point I wasnҒt sure, you see. I couldnt be quite certain that I had done the things they said IҒd done. It was another self, another time another place.   When he asked this again, later, I wondered if he meant that I should know how he was.  Weђ after all, means us hereђ. How could I know how he was, unless he was in some way I didnt understand mixed up with me, an extension of my personality, which he may have been. So I would say: ґThe bit of me that is here in this bit is tired and not sleeping. I dont know about anything else.Ғ   But he wasnt interested in examining the boundaries of my experience, or in examining his own. He was interested in my medication. 
	I saw a letter once, about me, with To Whom it May Concern written on the envelope. Who was there who was concerned ?  Did somebody who was concerned about me write the letter? I shall never know. I shall go to the meditation room, if theyҒll let me.
	Ken?Ӕ
	Yes, Jane.Ӕ
	Can I go to the quiet room for a bit?Ӕ
	Hang on, IӒll get Claudia to go with you.  He puts out a call and Claudia comes from the kitchen, where she has been tidying up with Henry. Not tidying the knives, of course, just the other bits and bobs.
	Henry is not to be trusted, even in the kitchen. He is sly, he takes advantage, but they donԒt know this yet, because hes new. 
	Claudia comes and directs Henry to go into the residentҒs lounge, where Robbie is watching over things. A new staff member has joined us, from an agency, called John. Hes big and fat, with a black beard. I donҒt like him;  dont like the look of him. He smells of sweat and aftershave. I wonҒt let him come near me. Hes sitting next to Robbie, learning the ropes.
	Claudia takes me down to the quiet room. I have to leave the door open, but itҒs okay, I can cope with that.  I sit with my back to her on the soft cushion and cross my legs, sit with my spine straight and my neck relaxed. Its good to feel in my own space again.
THIRTY-THREE
	Water is flowing slowly, sluggishly, along the river; itҒs khaki coloured, thick with algae, like warm soup. The barges go on down to the lock to wait their turn, the taxi boats with day trippers go upstream, towards the upper reaches of the river, where the cliffs rise high out of the water and rocks and tree roots meld together at the waters edge.
	I drift with the mayflies on the warm scummy river water, which is cleaner than the tap water here, smelling as it does of chlorine and chemicals. River water;  - ah, the memories it brings back. The soft fishy fragrance of live river water.  I float, I drift, I glide with the current, slowly, slowly.
	A face appears in the water, a childҒs face; a little childs face. Is it Juliette?  The face watches me, hopefully, smiling.  Suddenly I feel tears on my face, my tears. ItҒs my face Im looking at, my tears that are falling. There is no Juliette, sheҒs gone, gone into the water. Im alone. The world is empty now of her presence; even I do not exist, not really. I am a shadow, a half person, not even the sum of all my parts.
	I ask Claudia to take me back to the ward.

THIRTY-FOUR
	I am sad all day long. The image of a childҒs face hovers in front of me like a ghost. Oh, I know its not really there, in the sense that I canҒt reach out and touch it, but my eyes still see it, my mind perceives it. Have you never lost somebody and then thought youd seen them walking along the street, sitting in the train, entering a shop?  For a moment, your mind re-creates them, but it turns out to be someone like them, something about the shape of the head, the turn of the neck, the smile, reminds you irresistibly of them, and you  stare until they turn and look towards you and you realise, suddenly, it was not the lost one after all, but a cruel trick, a shadow, a phantom created by your own mind, for your own comfort. Was the face I saw JulietteҒs?  I cannot say. It was many years ago that I... but I cannot think the thought, cannot allow that memory to filter through a chink in the armour. That way madness lies. 
	Can I not mourn her, then?  As I mourned secretly for the aborted one, the one I let go of at thirteen? Yes, I killed it, or allowed others to do so. Yes it was murder, in its way, and yes, I mourned that dead one, no bigger than a strawberry, that they scraped from my womb. Killing it makes no difference, you see, it just makes the grieving harder to bear in a way. My strawberry baby exists somewhere, and reproaches me with sad, sad eyes. One day I shall join her. I am slipping down, my thoughts have become unthreaded, a word salad.

	Crazy lost a baby dont donҒt understand me try to understand me suffering, suffering languish linger long for cannot have refused no no too terrible too terrible to bear

THIRTY-FIVE
	What the hellӒs Jane doing?  Go see to her John, will you? Ken stares at the monitor.
	ԓWhat if she wont let me near her? You know what sheҒs like.
	ԓIf she gives you any problems, press the alarm. Dont muck about - sheҒs capable of being violent when shes upset. Just take it slow and calm. YouҒll be fine.
	ԓIm on my way.Ҕ He walks quickly down the corridor, finding Jane like a frightened animal at bay, in the dining area. 
	Jane, whatӒs the matter? Come out from under the table.
	ԓFUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF. FUCK. OFF.
	ԓTake your hands off your ears, Jane, and listen. I know Ken can see us, but he cant hear what IҒm saying...
	ԓFUCK OFF FUCK OFF
	ԓSo Im going to say it - if you donҒt calm down and come out from under the table, quietly, Im going to give you something to really shout about. I promise you wonҒt like it.
	ԓFUCK OFF!  KEN! ELSIE!
	ԓThey cant hear you. Shut up, or youҒll be sorry. Quiet. Thats better.Ҕ
Footsteps come down the corridor.
	WhatӒs the problem, John? I saw you seemed a bit agitated.
	ԓFoul mouthed bitch. The language! I feel like washing her mouth out with soap.
	ԓIts not our business to punish patients, difficult though they may be.Ҕ
	Might teach one or two of them a lesson, though. In the Challenging Behaviours Unit we learned a trick or two about stopping their little games.Ӕ
	But this isnӒt the Challenging Behaviours Unit; these people are here for life. We have to try to help them live out their days in the best way they can. It isnt easy for any of us. If you canҒt hack it, I suggest you tell Robbie and well try to find a replacement. WeҒve got a good reputation here - dont want any scandals.Ҕ
	OK - just saying, thatӒs all.
	ԓJane, come out, please. Do you want to talk?  Ok, you dont have to. Go back to your room for a while until lunch then. Dr. Bruce is coming after dinner.

Ah, Dr. Bruce is coming is he? Fancy that! Doctor Brucie Woosie Townsend of no fixed abode. Well, weҒll show him, wont we girls? WeҒll show him what it means to spend your life being fucked up by other people. FUCKED UP.
	Can I have some dinner now, Ken?Ӕ
	They havenӒt brought it up yet, Jane. Itll be here soon I expect. Coming?Ҕ
I scowl at the new one as I walk past.