The Gamal (43 page)

I was working away up the new houses them days but I got the bus up to her every Saturday. Saturdays was the best cos it was the only time I wasn’t thinking about her and wondering about the pain she was in but on Saturdays I got to see. She was in there for nearly a year. Well over six months anyhow. It was only in the last month or two really that she started being able to talk to me. I brought her up a walkman CD player one time and some CDs in the first few months but she never used it. I asked her about it and she couldn’t even remember getting it but she didn’t have it any more. I wanted to hold her. Even just her hand if not a hug. But she was in no condition to say if she wanted to be held or not. If she fell she wouldn’t even raise her hands to protect herself. She’d just go head first into the ground. There was no pain the ground could offer her I suppose. She was beyond the limit now. When you think about it she was useless, as humans go. Madness makes you useless which is a mean thing about the way we’re made. Her mind had taken away all her value to the world. But I knew the value of her. I knew.

More of Sinéad’s Psychiatrist’s Evidence

—And at this point she didn’t even know he was dead. Is that correct?

—Yes.

—Did she ask you if James was going to visit her?

—Yes. I think . . . yes, after a few days she asked me where James was. As in, why he hadn’t come to see her. Of course I was aware he had taken his own life and all of the staff knew that she wasn’t to be told this because of the danger of her self-harming. I told her that James couldn’t see her and she didn’t ask about him again until her friend Charlie came to visit. We were advised by her family that she may speak to him. She asked where James was and she cried but said little else. By now she was on anti-depressant medication as well as a sedative agent just to help relax her mind.

—At what point did you decide to tell her James was dead?

—She was with us just under two weeks when we told her.

—Why did you tell her then?

—Well, there were several reasons but certainly the most pressing and urgent reason was that we feared she would somehow find out that he was dead from a member of staff or another patient. Even though her contact with the public was extremely minimal we couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t find out. Now as to why we felt she was well enough to hear the news . . . well. Her condition had stabilised. She was still severely depressed but she was more predictable. I consulted by teleconference four of the top psychiatric consultants in the country and one in London and one in San Francisco and it was deemed best to tell her sooner rather than later. We knew that it was only after she knew the truth that her own healing process could begin in earnest. Anything else was a stalling device at best. And at worst . . . well, we felt it could be damaging to her, not to tell her the truth at this stage.

—Who told her?

—I did.

—Not easy, I’d say.

—No.

—Can I ask how you told her?

The other lawyer pipes up then.

—Your Lordship, is this really necessary?

—Your Lordship, I really think it is. I want the jury to get a full picture as to the state of Sinéad Halloran’s health at this time.

—Very well.

—Your Lordship I’m aware that this must be most distressing for Miss Halloran’s family and friends, but I’m sorry, I really do feel it is in the best interests of the court.

—If anybody, family or otherwise wishes to leave, please feel free. You may continue questioning Mr Mooney.

—Thank you, Your Lordship, and thank you, Mr Mooney, I appreciate this is not easy for you either.

—It’s fine.

—Now. Yes . . . how did you tell her about James?

—I simply told her that James was dead. That the morning she jumped in the river somebody misinformed James that she had drowned. That he believed this and he hanged himself.

—What was her reaction?

—The shock symptoms that she had recovered from after her suicide attempt returned. She also started vomiting. Well, mostly retching. She was sedated then and within a few days her physiological shock symptoms were completely gone but she had gone into a state of psychological stupor.

—Could you explain what stupor is, please?

—Certainly. Basically it is a state of immobility and mutism. People in a stupor are generally completely lifeless and unresponsive. Eye movements are about all you’ll notice. Generally in psychiatry we speak about it in terms of retardation of speech and movement. But when there is no speech and no voluntary movement we use the term stupor.

—I see. And how long was she in this stupor?

—Well, she started to show the initial signs of improvement after about five months.

—Five months? She was in a stupor for five months?

—Yes.

—Seems an inordinate amount of time, is it not?

—No. Not at all. Even if Sinéad wasn’t severely depressed she would have been very withdrawn. That is normal when grieving for somebody close and would be quite common for young women to be withdrawn in this way after someone close to them has died tragically. Now Sinéad was also deeply depressed; suicidal in fact. And on top of the normal feelings of guilt and regret that go along with grief, Sinéad had much more severe feelings of guilt and regret because her suicide attempt led directly to the death of the person she loved the most. So yes, the five months in stupor would be quite normal. Sinéad’s troubled mind needed time to readjust to the harsh realities of her new world and her consciousness would need to focus solely on that. On coming to terms with it all and assimilating the awful facts. Literally, her brain needed to prioritise, and small talk and even things like dressing herself were of little importance. Stupor enables the brain to focus only on dealing with the urgent psychiatric issues which have befallen the patient. We provided a safe secure environment where Sinéad didn’t need to focus on anything, where her mind was free to concentrate on remapping her new more difficult world whereby she could negotiate a life for herself in the future. She needed the time.

—What is post-traumatic stress disorder, Mr Mooney?

—Post-traumatic stress disorder is a syndrome that follows exposure to an incident or incidents which cause massive stress to the patient. It’s seen quite commonly in war veterans but also in accident victims or rape victims.

—And in your opinion was Sinéad suffering from this disorder at this time?

—In the hospital, is it?

—Yes. For those five months in which she was in a state of stupor. Was she suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder?

—No. Although she suffered certain elements of it, no, she certainly didn’t have post-traumatic stress disorder at this time. She didn’t fulfil the diagnostic criteria. The diagnostic criteria are quite specific for this. It is generally only when one returns or tries to return to everyday life that somebody can be diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. It causes inability to function normally through a variety of ways. Sinéad was suffering from deep depression made much more severe by a traumatic event which caused her mind considerable added stress, but she didn’t have post-traumatic stress disorder, per se.

—I see, thank you. Could you tell the jury when she started to come out of this state of stupor she was in for five months, please? And how she appeared to begin to improve?

When she did finally emerge after everything she was like a woman mortally ashamed of her own self – a scarlet woman.

There was no way of keeping Racey away from her. Sinéad came home for a weekend first to see how she got on. She shouldn’t have been going any place. She got out the Friday and Racey took her to The Snug on the Saturday even though Sinéad was in no condition. She was quiet and withdrawn in herself and Racey had dragged her out with false niceness. Loving the thought of parading herself as the loyal friend and parading Sinéad in her drugged state as the main attraction of the night. Of the month for that matter. Free spirit Sinéad reduced to a drooling pale sleepy-eyed shadow isn’t it? Fucking drinking a glass of orange juice. She raised it gingerly to her lips with a hand all trembly. Her eyes looked around all sheepish and caught a glimpse of a turning fascinated head or two who happened to have a look over at that particular moment. Passers-by at a fucking car crash. She’d look up again a minute later, and someone else would be staring at her. She did that all night.

In came a fella called Liam Durcan with his brother who was home from Boston with a buddy and a cousin. They’d be around on the piss for the week so ’twas important to introduce them. To give them standing in the village while they were home. That they’d be let in isn’t it? That each would be treated like one of our own. Liam was about thirty now. He was a reasonable footballer, but had given up on account of taking over the father’s big farm. He introduced them all by name, and all of us by name back to them. Dinky, me, Racey, Karen, Snoozie and Ciara and then he skipped Sinéad and went on to introduce a few of the old men who were close to us at the bar.

I saw this one Ciara looking down and shaking her head to herself. No one else seemed to notice, even though it was hard not to. I was there for the night, and even when the girls had left, no one mentioned anything. The only other thing that stands out was the way they left, with Racey holding Sinéad’s arm all the way out the bar, and asking her loudly if she was OK. There was no need to do either of course, but Racey was a great friend and a martyr and would do anything for her. Her destruction.

—She was always fucking tapped!

That’s what Liam Durcan said later, and he pissed out of his head.

—Didn’t stop you trying to have your way with her a dozen times though did it?!

—Ha, haa! Doubt ya kid.

—Durkey boy!

—The bould Durkey horse!

And they all laughing mad and slapping their knees.

—Amn’t I the lucky fucker that she was having none of it. And she a raving fucking headcase.

The lads nodded in agreement and drank their pints in silence for a second.

—A standing prick has no conscience!

So that’s what Liam Durcan said. I fucked off home then. Anyhow you don’t want to be hearing any more of their old shite, and I don’t want to be writing about it or remembering it either.

What troubled me wasn’t what those eejits were saying about Sinéad. Pigs grunt. Only the way Sinéad was looking around all night like a scared child scared the living shit out of me. I never seen her like that before. Soon she was let go home for good out of the hospital. I used to visit her and put on music for her and she’d say,

—Thanks Charlie, that’s nice.

You’d say something to her and then a second later she’d realise you said something to her and then she’d look at you wide-eyed and serious and try and concentrate but the world she was trying to come out of was a bit too hard for her to ignore.

Of all the upset I been in the most was probably the time I first ever seen Sinéad myself and she right proper crazed out of her outcast mind insane. The whites of her eyes were glassy-white again. She looked more beautiful and alive than any Greek goddess or Egyptian queen. Vivid or something. She spoke and moved and thought but not in the same seconds, minutes and hours as the rest of us. She was operating on a different clock and it didn’t fit our world. And the distress of it was plain as day once you looked behind the fuckyouallness in her eyes. She was after losing her own grip on the person she was. Scared and scary. She talked too fast and too different and she cursed,

—Jesus Christ Charlie about fucking time for ya I’ve been waiting here for ages I knew you’d be coming cos James came to me in my dream and said you’d be getting the bus home and to warn you walk with me I don’t have all day but I’ve stuff to tell you stuff that will be music to your ears come on will ya I’ve tonnes of shit to do walk faster basically you can stop your grieving cos James isn’t dead at all he is alive very very very much alive. I know isn’t it the best ever?

Her smile was more like one frozen in a photograph than one in real time. Her eyes didn’t stay long on mine once they saw mine looking back at them.

—He got word to me and I can’t tell you how but he told me you’re the only one around that I can trust cos all the others were trying to kill him and me too you’re the only one we can trust James is in America.

—How do you mean he’s not dead? Sure

—Shut the fuck up will ya keep your voice down.

Her voice went quieter now and she covered her mouth with her hand.

—They’ve everywhere bugged everywhere I had to take wires out of my coat and two pairs of shoes and the two remote controls at home so keep your voice down and cover your mouth cos they have lip-readers and obviously you can’t breathe a word of this to a soul so try and continue pretending you’re grieving walk with me will ya.

I was after slowing down at my house but she was having none of it.

—We can’t go into your house your parents are more than likely in on it your mother definitely is and probably your father too and even if he’s not you can be sure they’ve your house bugged as well cos they know you’re the closest to James and myself so let’s just keep walking and keep the heads down here comes Mrs Higgins pretend nothing play it cool we’ll just say hello like normal the backstabbing fucking bitch.