But then he began to take sick days, and when he did, the smoking sessions on the terrace went back to the old format. Whenever she managed to get away, Louisa headed straight to the old wing – and back to Robert and 1916, where it was now August. She finished reading Peter Pan to him, and then they read The Water Babies and George MacDonald’s The Golden Key. She offered to read him the newspaper – partly so that she might learn more about all the events in 1916 – but he said the news depressed him, and poetry and children’s books were all he could tolerate.
For Louisa, life in 2017 was increasingly becoming a sort of backdrop, a millstone to be borne around her neck until she could reach the much more vivid and authentic life on the other side of the door on the landing where she felt she truly existed. Dr Campbell had gone off on a brief sabbatical to complete a course, and since then there had been a series of locums, all of whom seemed to share the same aim of getting her out of their consulting room as quickly as possible. No one was in any hurry to let her out. And Louisa made no protest. Because even though Coldbrook Hall psychiatric hospital was a hellish place, being incarcerated there wasn’t nearly as horrendous as the thought of never seeing Robert again.
As the weeks went by, Louisa found she no longer felt quite so intimidated by her fellow patients in 2017. The man who’d tried to abduct her into his room had been moved to another facility, having tried to stab a nurse with a toothbrush sharpened into a shiv. There were a few other patients with whom she wouldn’t particularly want to be left alone, but Kerry had been right: most of the patients were not to be feared. And not only that, but Marisa had taken a shine to Louisa and attempted to repulse anyone who, in her opinion, was bothering her. It was like having her own giant guard dog – and just heightened the feeling that it was in 2017 that things were outlandish and absurd, not 1916.
Then Kerry seemed to vanish off the face of the earth – only to reappear a couple of weeks later. Louisa found her sitting outside the day room, looking grey and puffy faced.
‘Kerry! You’re back. I really missed you.’
‘I missed you too, babe. Or at least I would have missed you if I hadn’t been catatonic.’
‘What happened?’
‘My bloody parents happened, that’s what. God, I hate them so much. I wish they were dead.’
‘I thought you’d cut contact?’
Kerry sighed. ‘I have. I thought the controlling bastards might be off my case at last, but seems I was wrong. I told you they’re the ones who got me sectioned, right? They can’t stand that I’ve got a mental illness and I’m not a success story like my brothers, someone they can boast about to their friends. They want to fix me. They’ve always been convinced there’s some magic pill out there that’s going to sort my head out once and for all.
‘Anyway, they found out about this new antipsychotic drug called Famatin. My father’s a big cheese in drug development, you see. He phoned up whoever was standing in for Dr Campbell and persuaded him to give it to me – probably promised to let him head up a new drug trial or something as a reward. But it made me comatose. I still feel like a warmed-up corpse even though it’s supposedly out of my system. I could give Samir a run for his money.’
She sighed. ‘That Famatin shit is hardcore, Doc. Apparently it messes with your white blood cells. You can die of a really horrible disease if they don’t keep a close eye on you.’
‘Bloody hell, Kerry, they’re treating you like a lab rat. You can’t give someone a drug like that in here, where there’s no continuity of care. That can’t even be ethical.’
‘Pah! They don’t care about that here. And considerations like that wouldn’t even enter my parents’ heads. They’re the psychopaths, not me. They’ve even taken out a restraining order against Ed. That’s my boyfriend. We’ve been together since school. I haven’t seen him in months. They think he’s bad for me, but in fact Ed would do anything for me. They even got him sacked from his job. I refuse to see them now, but they’ve still got power of attorney. And every now and then they like to show me they’re still in charge. Like now.’
Marisa shuffled up and fell into an armchair, greeting them with a grunt.
‘I see you’re still in here then, Doc,’ Kerry said. ‘I expected you’d be busted out of this place by now.’
‘They don’t seem too keen to be rid of me.’
‘You seem different.’
‘I do…? Maybe I’m just getting used to it here.’
‘Well, don’t get used to it, OK?’ Kerry said fiercely. ‘You need to get out of here while you’ve still got the fight in you. Otherwise this place will get its hooks into you and you’ll have a full-time career in the psychiatric system ahead of you. Look, Doc, I know we’re besties now ’n’ all, and I’d miss you, but you need to get your shit together and get out, OK?’
‘Don’t worry, this is the very last place I want to be,’ Louisa said truthfully.
Kerry squinted at her. ‘You look as if you’ve caught the sun. How did you manage that? The sun hasn’t been out for ages.’
‘I… What…?’ Louisa put up a hand to her face. The previous afternoon with Robert the sun had been particularly strong. ‘It must be a trick of the light.’
Kerry cocked her head, unconvinced, then shrugged. ‘Uh, whatever. Most likely my busted-up eyes. Can’t see straight any more with all the crap they pumped into me. So, you seen him again?’
‘Who? Dr Campbell?’
‘No, your mental patient in the old wing. The one who doesn’t actually exist.’
The thread of Louisa’s pulse snagged. ‘I think I must have been dreaming,’ she stammered. ‘This place does strange things to your mind, doesn’t it?’
‘That, my friend, is no word of a lie.’ Kerry lowered her voice conspiratorially. ‘Have you at least been keeping up our pre-dinner drinks tradition?’
‘Of course. And I make sure to drink to your good health every time.’
‘Well, next time drink more, OK? Because it’s not working. My health is shit.’
Louisa laughed. ‘It’s ciggie break soon. Come outside with me. It’ll do you good.’
‘Nah, I don’t feel up to it.’
‘All right, well, at least come and get a coffee. You too, Marisa.’
‘Sure.’
Kerry got up with something of an effort and, with Marisa in tow, they set off for the canteen. On the way, Enema called to Louisa from her stronghold. She pushed out an A4 envelope, then shut the window briskly behind her. Taped to the Perspex was a newly minted notice informing everyone: ‘All therapy sessions have been cancelled for the next three days due to staff shortage.’