7. The Nut House
CHAPTER 7
The Nut House
ALISTAIR
I order a platter of fruit, sandwiches, and a round of coffees, and we all take our seats, ready to listen to Dr. Sandringham explain the way forward.
“Now, I haven’t consulted with Ariana yet,” the psychologist says, “but from what Mr. Ravenscroft tells me, we’re dealing with a highly distressing case of emotional abuse, including severe manipulation.”
“I just don’t believe it,” replies Mother, shaking her head again. “I don’t believe that my daughter would choose to stay away from me. From us.”
Sandringham nods, her expression empathetic. “Of course,” she says gently. “Of course you feel that way. But you must understand that it wasn't truly her choice to stay away. Ariana was manipulated to such a degree that she felt the De Lucas were her family. She was taken at a tender age, a vulnerable time when her core beliefs were being developed. Most likely she was being told again and again that the kidnappers were her family and you were the enemy. Something like this doesn't happen overnight. They would have kept her imprisoned while they spun their manipulations. They would have shown her small kindnesses to make her believe they were benevolent. Over time, they would have reinforced this until Ariana’s brain rewired to accept the lies, and to accept the new normal.”
“They changed her brain?” snorts Christopher. “You can’t mean that literally.”
“The Hebbian Principle,” the psychologist says. “Or, in layman’s terms, neurons that fire together, wire together. This is how pathways in the brain are formed and reinforced through repetition.”
Ivy shifts in her seat. “Can you tell us about a similar case, to help us all understand?”
Sandringham pauses to think. “I know three or so off the top of my head. Steve Stayner,” she begins. “Stayner was seven years old when he was kidnapped in 1972. He was held captive for seven years by Kenneth Parnell. Parnell manipulated him into believing that his parents didn't want him back. Stayner lived under a different name and attended school during this time. He eventually escaped with another abducted boy, but he displayed a complicated mix of loyalty and confusion about his situation during his captivity.”
Mother, hands clasped, lips resting on her thumbs, shudders visibly. Christopher moves closer to her and puts his hand on her back.
“Mary McElroy was kidnapped by four men in Kansas City and held for ransom. During her captivity, she developed sympathy for her captors and even testified in their favor. During their trial she pleaded for their sentences to be reduced and maintained a strange compassionate bond with them even after her release. Natasha Kampusch in Austria was kidnapped at the age of ten and held captive for eight years. Despite—or because of—the severe abuse and isolation she endured, she showed signs of emotional attachment to her captor. After she escaped, she was reported to have lit a candle for him when she learned of his suicide, indicating a complex emotional response to her ordeal.”
“Okay,” snaps Christopher. “Okay. We get it. What do we do about it?”
“I hesitate to use the term ‘deprogram’,” says Sandringham. “But essentially this is what we need to do. Ariana needs to unlearn some deep-seated beliefs. It's a complex and sensitive process that requires a multi-disciplinary approach. The primary goal is to help the victim regain their sense of self, autonomy, and a clear understanding of the situation.”
“How do we do that?” I ask.
“You've already done the most important things. That is, to ensure the patient’s safety and to provide medical attention. The next step is my job: a thorough psychological assessment in which I will evaluate the extent of the psychological impact. This will include an assessment of Ariana’s possible PTSD, depression, anxiety, or other mental health issues. Then we’ll hand over.”
“To who?” asks Mother.
“There’s an excellent recovery clinic in Surrey. I’ll have my office send the details.”
“Is that shrink-speak for a nut house?” asks Christopher.
I shoot him a warning look. Don’t antagonize the one person in the room who can help Ariana.
Sandringham doesn’t flinch. “If you call a state-of-the-art facility with five-star accommodation and one of the best psychiatrists in the United Kingdom a ‘nut house’, then … yes.”
Christopher’s expression changes from mild hostility to having a sparkle in his eye. He’s so predictable. If I could, I’d kick him under the table. Sandringham is not his type. Firstly, she’s our age, easily twenty years older than his regular girlfriends. More importantly, she’s way out of his league with regards to emotional—and regular—intelligence.
“Sounds good, then,” he replies, giving her his most winning smile. Honestly, sometimes I can’t believe we’re related.
“Thank you, doctor.” Mother sighs, looking relieved. “This sounds like an excellent plan of action.”
“Will we be able to visit her?” Father asks.
Everyone’s quiet for a moment. It’s the first time he’s acknowledged Ariana in years.
“Yes,” says Sandringham, nodding. “Visits are actively encouraged as part of the therapeutic interventions.”
“Excellent,” Father replies, slapping his thighs. He helps himself to a ham and cheese croissant, regarding it with glee.
Sandringham looks around at our grateful faces, smiles, and gathers her things before standing up. Ridiculously, I don’t want her to leave. She brings calm to the room; she seems to have the unique ability to quieten the chaos of my family. Perhaps I could bring her on in a larger capacity. Mother has her chef, I have my housekeeper, Christopher had comprehensive staff contingent. Perhaps we could have a family psychologist join the mix. God knows Father needs it, never mind the rest of us.