22 A BRIGHT FUTURE
22
A brIGHT FUTURE
We’re standing on the roof of my house.
I can see the city lights in the distance, stretching out for miles. This city is so big. This world so enormous. All those people, so many of them, living their lives. People I will never know.
‘Eli,’ Nisha whispers. ‘What the hell are you doing? Stargazing?’ She has her arms outstretched as she balances on the tiles, the wind threatening to topple her. ‘What now?’
‘In there,’ I say, pointing to the skylight in the slanted roof, still slightly open where I forgot to close it earlier. ‘But land quietly. My parents’ room is directly beneath it.’
‘Are you kidding me?’
I shrug. There is no other way in. I ran through all the options on the night bus on our way here. We stashed our bags in in the rhododendron bushes, then scaled the drainpipe. Nisha wasn’t too happy about that bit of the plan (the drainpipe), but she was very good at it. Better than me. I lack upper-body strength. She clearly does not.
I didn’t tell her about the fact the attic is above my parents’ room. Thought I’d save that bit till now. I check the time on my phone. 05:38. Christ. They’ll actually be up quite soon.
‘Eli.’
‘Sorry.’
I crouch down and open the glass panel until the gap is wide enough to fit through.
Nisha gives me a look. Who first?
I nod. You .
She rolls her eyes, but I know part of her is enjoying this, the excitement, the danger. So am I. The consequences could be bad – disastrous, in fact – but I can feel the thrill burning in the pit of my stomach.
I watch as she perches on the edge of the skylight, dangling her legs into it. She then lowers herself into the darkness beneath, her movements confident and exact. I hold my breath, waiting to hear the thud as she lands, but there’s nothing. Good, that ’ s good . I have the impression that she’s done this kind of thing before. By that, I mean accessed a locked house that is not her own.
I ’ ve done bad things .
‘Eli, I’m in.’
I follow her, lowering my body and feeling with my feet until they meet the soft carpet. The glow of the inky-blue sky above makes a perfect square on the floor. I reach for my phone and turn on the torch to find Nisha.
I nod. OK?
She nods. OK .
I tiptoe towards the lamp and click it on. The attic is exactly as I left it.
Nisha widens her eyes, taking it in. Who has an attic like this? Rich people , her face says. That ’ s who .
I point to the boxes tucked in the eaves. In there .
She frowns.
But quiet .
Together we creep towards them, painstakingly slowly, one foot in front of the other across the thick carpet.
‘That one,’ I whisper.
MEDICAL DOCUMENTATION
E.G.P.
Nisha stares at the box for a moment. I can feel questions lingering in the air, heavy and important. From this moment, things could be very, very bad. Is it better not to know? Should we just go back? Leave this attic – this night – in the past? Pretend it never happened?
If we look inside, what will change? But I already know the answer: everything.
The past changes everything.
I feel Nisha’s hand on my arm. Come on .
I lift the box and place it at our feet. We kneel in front of it carefully. I open the cardboard flaps and look down.
Loose pages, hundreds of them, covered in typed words in the same font. All laid out in neat boxes with dates, the blue NHS logo in the top-right corner, next to two words: SYCAMORE WARD.
I remember the doctor with the crisp white shirt.
Do you know where you are? You are currently in a seclusion room at Sycamore Adolescent Psychiatric Unit .
We begin to lift them, one by one. As we do, I realise that they’re printouts of nursing notes. My nursing notes.
‘So, it did happen…’ Nisha says quietly.
It’s here. Proof. It was real.
My throat constricts as I run my eyes over the words. There are so many pages, each covered in examinations and opinions of me. My Mental State , my Engagement with Others , my Food and Fluid Intake , my Compliance with Medication .
Jan 8 th – EP admitted on Section 2 due to manic episode induced by ADHD medication …
Jan 10 th – EP still exhibits signs of elation …
Jan 11 th – EP ’ s behaviour remains challenging …
Jan 13 th – EP lacks insight into why he needs to be at Sycamore …
Jan 14 th – Pressured speech, excessive talking, thought disordered …
Thought disordered . That sounds about right.
I root through the box, down to the bottom, pulling out more.
Feb 13 th – EP gaining insight …
Feb 18 th – EP becoming far more settled on the ward …
Feb 20 th – New medication having good effect on Eli …
Feb 27 th – EP needs a few more weeks to improve …
All the way down to the last one.
March 4 th
And then, no more. March 4th. Exactly four days before my memory returned.
‘The dates are pretty much the exact dates I can’t remember,’ I murmur. ‘Nearly the whole gap of two months, I was here. In this hospital.’
Except those four days.
I look at the single note on the page headed March 4th.
EP was taken out of our care by his parents and handed over to a private provider .
‘Look at this,’ I say, my voice barely a whisper. Nisha leans over my shoulder.
‘You were taken out of the hospital and placed somewhere new?’ she says, matching my volume. She takes it out of my hand, squinting at it. ‘And you have no memory of that place either?’
‘No.’
‘What did your parents tell you?’
My parents. I look over at the hatch and listen for a moment. Nothing. Both of them fast asleep, directly beneath us.
‘They said the crash caused post traumatic amnesia and that I was in Royal Sussex County Hospital recovering for two months, unconscious for most of it, in a coma.’
‘But … why lie?’ She pauses. ‘Are they ashamed that you were there?’ I don’t know. A shiver runs down my spine. ‘Is there any mention of Jack?’
Jack. I scan over the papers, looking in the boxes titled Engagement with Others .
– EP can be abrasive
– EP can be very talkative and persistent
– EP is kind when you get to know him but struggles with boundaries
– Not many of the patients warm to EP, which he has a hard time with, as he can come across as overbearing
And then I see something.
Two letters – JQ – dotted throughout the pages.
I remember what the nurse said to the boy, outside the seclusion room. Come with me, Mr Quinn .
JQ. Jack Quinn .
– EP has become close to patient JQ
– EP and JQ remain friendly, boundaries healthy, seem to be encouraging one another . Staff to continue to monitor . Nil concerns currently .
– EP ’ s demeanour is calm and relaxed around JQ in particular, often smiling and in general good spirits when together
– EP and JQ went on escorted leave together today to the local supermarket accompanied by staff, both in bright spirits, engaging well
– EP and JQ spend most evenings together playing card games in the de-escalation room
– Nursing team suspect EP and JQ are developing a relationship that is more than platonic … Monitor .
‘What does it say?’
‘Hmm?’ I move the page to the back so she can’t see. ‘Yeah, he’s in here.’
‘And?’
‘I’m not sure yet…’ I say. ‘It doesn’t make much sense.’
‘Is JQ him?’
‘Yeah… I think so. Jack Quinn.’
‘Look.’
– Since the escorted leave to the beach, EP and JQ to be kept separate at EP parents ’ request . To be monitored at all times, boundaries asserted and no contact between the two .
– Parents are worried about JQ ’ s influence on EP .
Escorted leave to the beach? What beach?
‘So, you and Jack were in this hospital in Brighton together the whole time,’ Nisha says.
‘Apparently.’
‘Why were your parents trying to keep you apart?’ She looks at me, eyes wide. ‘Just before you were moved out of the hospital?’
I really don’t know. ‘What was he like, Nisha?’ I say. ‘When you knew him?’
‘He…’ She chews her lip. ‘He was … quiet. Lots of stuff had happened to him. His parents gave up on him and his little sister when he was young. His sister died. I remember him being really cut up about it.’
‘And you don’t know anything about him now? Where he is?’
‘No. I haven’t heard about him since I moved on a few years ago.’
Something slips from the pages in my hand. A piece of card just like the one Lucas had in his wallet.
My heart jumps. A ringing sounds in my ears.
‘Shit, Nisha. Look at this.’
TEAR Solutions Private Healthcare Scan QR Code
Keep hidden from patient
She reaches into her pocket for her phone. ‘Well, I guess we’re about to find out what TEAR stands for.’ She opens the camera and goes to scan the QR code.
‘Wait,’ I say. Wait for what?
‘It’s OK,’ Nisha whispers. Is it? Is it really? I’m trembling. Stop it . ‘Eli, it’s OK. I’m going to help you,’ she says gently. ‘Whatever this is … I want to help you.’
And I believe her. My eyes are stinging. ‘Thank you,’ I say.
She scans the code and a webpage appears with a single white box, a triangle in the middle of it.
TEAR Solutions Press to play.
I can’t feel my hands. I’m overwhelmed. Filled with complete and utter dread .
That’s the correct phrase. My insides are trembling now. All of me is.
‘Turn the volume down,’ I whisper shakily. ‘They might hear us.’
Nisha reaches into her pocket and takes out her purple earbuds, handing me one of them. She then places her phone on the carpet, screen up.
We lean over it on our knees. She hovers her finger over the triangle. ‘Ready?’
I glance back at the hatch. Still shut. Of course it’s still shut.
I have the sudden urge to go down the steps. To knock on my parents’ door. To ask them what the hell is going on and then to be given a rational explanation.
To be given clarity. To be given a hug.
To be told something awful must be going on, but they can help me. That’s what I want. But now I know that’s not what would happen.
‘Eli…’ Nisha takes my hand in hers.
Then she presses the triangle with her finger and the video begins to play.