Living with Shadows (24 page)

When Kate visited Michael in hospital the next day he was subdued and had very little to say for himself. He didn’t even mention the case conference and Kate asked why he hadn’t turned up.

‘No one sent for me,’ he said, distractedly.

‘Didn’t you say something to anyone?’

‘Are you kidding? It’s not like I wanted to be there.’

‘But you asked me to go especially, for support.’

‘Sorry if I wasted your time.’

Kate was slightly ruffled by his attitude. ‘That’s not what I meant. Because you weren’t there, I wasn’t sure what to say to them.

‘If I thought they wouldn’t call me in I would never had asked you to go. The reason I asked you in the first place was . . . well, you know what I’m like on these things. Anyway, when they didn’t call me I was hoping you could tell them some of the stuff I told you about. I know I would have froze in front of all them people. I was hoping you would have your say then go.’

His explanation left her feeling annoyed. She’d had the chance to tell them about his past but because he had not made it clear she could, the opportunity was lost. ‘You know I wouldn’t tell them anything without your say so, Michael.’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps I could speak to someone today.’

He turned abruptly. ‘No, don’t bother. Maybe next time.’

There seemed little point in pursuing this conversation and to round it off Kate told him a white lie. She told him they were concerned about him when in reality they seemed more concerned about themselves. He remained silent and she struggled to find something else to talk about. When asked if everything was all right, he just nodded and continued to stare at the television. Several times she glanced at the clock and in the end told him she had to leave earlier than usual as she had several jobs to attend to at home, her second lie. As she stood up he thrust a letter at her. She took it from him saying she would see him the following week. The letter explained his odd behaviour.

23
rd
April

Well I will have to start by saying I’m sorry for giving you the wrong impression about me what I meant by saying about opening your mind and letting your mind run wild what I should have said was if you did not like any of that stuff I wrote you just say what you thought about it there is know way I wanted to know your secrets just because I told you mine I choose to tell you mine because it was relevent to what I was telling you and anyway it would have taken that element of surprise away about you if I knew theres no surprise about me what you see is what you get no more no less I don’t really know what putting someone on a pedestal means I don’t see you as god in a skirt all I wanted was to tell someone whats been on my mind maybe you were the unlucky one you come along at the right time for me I had all these things I wanted to tell but never came across the right person until now I never felt embaressed around you I felt I could talk to you better than most people you make people feel at ease around you that stuff I wrote for you I don’t want you thinking I’m the poor little boy who has been so hard done by I’ve suffered nothing compared to other people I don’t have any problems with other cons I know they are wary of me its probably to do with the fact that people find me hard work I know from other cons that I’am the hardest person to get to know because I don’t bother with many people this is the way I like it really Im not to keen having loads of cons calling me there friend I don’t see any con as a friend I might want someone to talk to or just have a laugh but that’s as far as it is with cons with most of these sort of people they seem to think Im weird because I take my own company your not alowed to be different in prison well I know Im different from the rest of these cons sometimes I think Im on another planet from the rest of these people I know this sounds odd anyway Ive read your letter you seem to make everything seem so much easyer to me I enjoyed reading your letter you never offended me in any way I have to give you credit you made a lot of sence as you always do are you sure your not god in a skirt

I have to say it’s a shame about that black top of yours I will try to keep smiling all the best thank you for everything your an Angel

She had felt at the time something wasn’t right when she had last spoken to Ben. Her instinct proved correct when late one Saturday evening Sam rang with some dreadful news. They had been out for a meal and now Jim and Kate were sitting watching television with a cup of coffee. The phone rang and Kate glanced at the clock; she always felt uneasy if anyone called after ten.

It had been weeks since she phoned Ben. She had meant to get back to him sooner, but with work and worrying about Michael she had neglected to do so. She should have listened to her gut feelings then; the disconnected telephone, his slurred speech, his reluctance to have her visit. But what could she have done? What if she had dashed round there and he’d answered the door and all he had told her really had been true, that he did have the ‘flu, and the flat was in the middle of being decorated. Now, it didn’t matter how much she tried to justify her actions, Sam’s voice, urgent and emotional, made her regret she hadn’t gone.

‘Mum, it’s Ben. He said . . . he says he’s taken an overdose.’

Kate felt her body go weak and leaned against the table for support. ‘When? Where is he?’

‘He’s only just rung, didn’t say anything else . . . sounded depressed. I tried ringing him back but his home phone isn’t working and I can’t get him on his mobile.’

‘Have you told anyone, rung for an ambulance?’ Kate could hear the panic in her voice.

‘No, Mum. I told you, he’s only just . . .’

‘I’ll ring for an ambulance. Then I’m going over there.’

‘I’ll pick you up. You can’t drive in that state,’ Sam told her.

Kate didn’t argue. She just wanted to get off the phone and do something, wanted to be there.

‘What’s going on?’ Jim asked.

‘It’s Ben. We think he’s taken an overdose,’ she told him whilst dialling 999. ‘Ambulance, please. Address? God, I can’t remember . . . hang on.’ Jim understood and ran into the hall for the address book. He handed it over and Kate rattled off the address. She put the receiver down and burst into tears.

Jim put his arms around her. ‘It’ll be all right. They’ll be there soon.’ A car horn sounded outside the door. ‘Shall I come with you?’ he asked.

‘No. He might ring here. I’ll call as soon as I know anything.’ Kate hurried into her coat.

She and Sam hardly spoke as they sped down the motorway. Kate half expected her to make some reference to their last conversation about Ben, and was grateful she didn’t. This was no time for remonstrations.

They arrived just after midnight and rang for the night watchman who explained that the ambulance had been and taken Ben to hospital. He also told them that he’d seen Ben walk out of the building, for which they felt a great sense of relief. Jumping back into the car, they carried on to the hospital, a journey of no more than fifteen minutes.

As they approached the doors, a group of youngsters was standing outside the main entrance smoking cigarettes and talking loudly. Kate caught snatches of conversation as she rushed past them, ‘
kicked
and
punched
 . . .
blood
everywhere
 . . .
head
smashed
open
 . . .’ This would probably be a typical weekend for A & E, Kate thought, dealing with fighters, drunks and domestics.

They soon found the waiting room teeming with people standing or sitting around in small groups, couples or by themselves. They were mostly dressed in shabby clothes. Their faces, weary or abuse ridden from drugs, drink or a hard life, grotesquely illuminated in the bright, artificial light that radiated from the fluorescent tubing. Kate felt as though she were in some awful nightmare, thrust into an unfamiliar place in the company of strangers. Then she spotted Ben sitting in a chair next to the wall, his head buried in his hands. She squeezed between the rows of seats, closely followed by Sam, and sat down next to him. He didn’t move. She could think of no words to say to him and looked sorrowfully at the crumpled figure before her. She sat down, put her arm around his shoulders and pulled him towards her. She hadn’t held him like this since he was a little boy. Throughout her upbringing, hugging was censored after a certain age, and even now it was something that did not come naturally to her. She thought of Michael’s letter and how it had been the same with his family. She remembered what he’d said about seeing his friend’s mother kiss him before he left for school and thinking how strange it seemed. She had experienced that same sense of strangeness when seeing her friends and their families knot themselves in a show of affection. The norm in their household when she was growing up was not to show emotion; the affection they held for one another was taken as read.

A shudder suddenly ran through her as though a shadow had fallen upon them. The bright lights seemed dimmer and the room deserted. Darkness spread around them, and such a weight fell upon her shoulders she felt crushed. It was as though there were just the two of them sitting on a vast, empty stage with the lights slowly fading and the audience so quiet they might not even exist. But this was no play; it was really happening. Kate felt drained. It was hard to believe that not so long ago she had sat next to Michael, touched his hand and felt his pain. And now this.

‘Ben, have you seen anybody yet?’ Sam leaned across and touched his arm. He moved away and leaned against the wall turning his ashen face towards them. Kate reached out her hand and stroked his hair.

‘Not yet,’ he murmured and slumped forward again, head in hands.

‘What have you taken?’ Kate asked.

‘Painkillers.’

‘How many?’

‘Can’t remember . . . a lot.’

Sam nudged her with a look that said leave it. ‘I’ll get us some tea, Mum,’ she said, ‘and see if I can find anything out.’

She was soon back carrying drinks but had been unable to discover how long they would have to wait. Kate took one of the small white polystyrene cups from her and held it between both hands.

An hour passed before Ben’s name was called. They were taken a short distance along a corridor and Kate and Sam were asked to wait outside on one of the white plastic seats while Ben was taken in to see the doctor.

At length the doctor appeared looking surprisingly buoyant considering the lateness of the hour. ‘We’ll keep him in for tonight. I’ve arranged for him to see someone,—a psychologist.’ Seeing the look of shock on Kate’s face, he added, ‘Don’t worry, it’s normal with suicide cases.’ The words cut like a knife as she realised that this was her son he was talking about. ‘Is there anyone he can stay with in the meantime?’ he asked.’

‘Yes, he can stay with me. I’m his mother,’ she told him.

‘Fine, then we’ll find him a bed and keep an eye on him during the night.’

Sam and Kate waited until Ben was ready to see them. He’d been given a small room off a nearby corridor. When they walked in he was propped up in bed under a dim light that didn’t quite reach the corners of the room. It was far enough away from the waiting room to be cut off from any commotion made by the comings and goings of weekend casualties.