‘But don’t you think that’s why such organisations exist? To help people in times of crisis?’
‘Well yes, of course. But they shouldn’t have to help people who get into difficulties because of their own stupidity. I was drunk and… well, I’m ashamed to admit it, but I must have passed out. I’d just buried my grandmother and I was very upset. When I woke up it was dark and pouring with rain, and I couldn’t find my bearings. I’m a complete moron. But I’m feeling much better now. I really don’t want to waste any more of your time.’
The doctor put up a hand. ‘Just a little longer, OK? I’d like to examine your head, if I may.’ He felt around her scalp and she flinched. ‘Good. The stitches are healing well,’ he said. ‘They’re dissolvable so you don’t need to worry about having them taken out. You’re lucky there was no brain injury. And may I check your right side? Good, yes, that’s all healing nicely too. Your ribs will be sore for a while, as will your head. But you ought to make a full recovery. Now, I’d like to take down some more details, please.’
‘Why?’
He smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry, this is how things are these days. Now, you lived with your grandmother, yes? And you moved in with her when you were – let me see, nine years old. And she had full custody of you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And she died two weeks ago?’
‘Yes, that’s right. How… how do you know all this?’
‘Your GP surgery sent over your medical records.’ He cleared his throat. ‘And you’ve been your grandmother’s sole carer for the last three years, is that correct? What happened to her?’
Louisa sighed. She hated giving other people her personal information; it always meant having to go over her past. ‘Well, if you’ve got my records, you’ll know already,’ she said. ‘My grandmother had a stroke. They wanted to put her in a care home, but I wouldn’t allow it. She would have hated it.’
‘And so, you came back home to care for her yourself. That was an extremely selfless thing to do. What had you been doing in the meantime?’ His even voice, his polite manner – they were beginning to grate.
‘I was at medical school, halfway through my first clinical year. I’m sorry, but how is all this remotely relevant?’
‘I just need to build up a picture. And your parents? What’s the story there?’
Louisa stiffened. ‘There isn’t one. My mother died when I was young. After that I went to live with my grandmother.’
‘I see. And your father?’
An uncomfortable feeling burrowed into her stomach. ‘We’ve been estranged for years. I don’t even know where he is.’
‘What happened to cause your estrangement?’
‘It was all a long time ago. I’d really much rather not talk about it.’
‘All right. I can appreciate that it’s a difficult topic. Now your notes say you’ve suffered from depression in the past – when you were sixteen. Is that correct?’
‘Yes, but… What’s going on? Why on earth do you need to know about all that?’
‘It’s important that I take a full clinical history. What led to you being depressed?’
Her mouth felt dry. ‘I was being bullied at school. I’d just started my A levels and…’ She sighed. ‘Everything just got on top of me. But it was years ago.’
‘I see that it was suggested you might be considered for admission to a specialist adolescent facility for a time.’
‘No. It didn’t come to anything like that. My grandmother paid for me to have private counselling and moved me to a sixth-form college. I was much happier there. Everything worked out fine. Look, this is all ancient history. I’m not interested in a referral for therapy or anything like that, if that’s what you’re building up to.’ She pushed away the bedclothes.
The doctor got to his feet. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t let you leave.’
‘What? Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have a thousand things to see to. I’m very grateful, and once again I apologise for all the trouble I’ve caused.’ She got up.
‘Would you please sit down? I’d really rather not have to call for security.’
‘What? I don’t know what’s going on here, but you can’t keep me against my will.’
The doctor backed towards the door. ‘Nurse!’ he called.
Louisa’s head was pounding. ‘What? What’s going on?’
The nurse came back and stood at the door, sober faced.
‘Miss Casson, you were found halfway down a cliff at a notorious suicide spot, the day of your grandmother’s funeral,’ the doctor said. ‘Your notes show that you have a history of depression. Everything points to the fact that you went to the cliffs to take your own life – and you very nearly succeeded.’
The blood was crashing past her ears. She looked for the first time at the doctor’s name badge. It read: Dr Hugo Berrow, Consultant Psychiatrist. His mouth was moving, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying. He was motioning for her to get back into bed.
‘It’s all right,’ he said after a moment, sitting carefully back down. ‘No one is angry with you or judging you. You’ve been under a tremendous strain, and losing your grandmother was clearly the last straw.’
‘You… you think I tried to kill myself? You couldn’t be more wrong! Like I told you, I was drunk. I went the wrong way. I wasn’t suicidal, just stupid!’
The doctor scanned Louisa’s notes once more. ‘But your GP says she saw you at the house not long after your grandmother died, and you were extremely upset. And given your medical history she was concerned about your wellbeing. She says she prescribed sleeping pills and recommended a course of anti-depressants. And—’
‘But I never asked for pills! And she’s not even my usual doctor, she’s a locum. She doesn’t know me. And… of course I was upset – my grandmother had just died. She’s been both a mother and father to me. But that doesn’t mean I was planning to kill myself! I didn’t even take the prescription for the sleeping pills to the chemist. You can check at the cottage. It’s still there, in the dustbin!’
‘We have to be on the safe side, Louisa,’ the psychiatrist said evenly. ‘I wouldn’t be doing my job otherwise. We simply want to do our best to help you through a difficult time.’
The ever-present antiseptic hospital smell had somehow now found its way into her mouth, and lay over her tongue, acrid and dry. ‘I don’t need help! For Christ’s sake, if I’d wanted to top myself, I could have just got the sleeping pills and swallowed the lot, couldn’t I? I wouldn’t have needed to launch myself off Beachy Head!’ She took a deep breath. ‘Look, you can’t make me stay here. I can leave, even against medical advice.’