Chapter 6
Just one more appointment. One more appointment of being Nurse Harrison before she can collapse into being just Phoebe again. For now, she is parked at the top of a hill, taking a quick break before heading to her last appointment. She knows the roads around here intimately and has her own mental map of the places that make good spots for a quiet moment, just like when she worked on the psychiatry ward and she knew all the nearby supply closets and toilets where she could rush to for five minutes during particularly difficult shifts.
The motorbike is parked in the lay-by and she is perched on the top of a gate that looks down over the valley, the river just visible at the bottom, winding its way across the countryside. It’s a bright afternoon and she closes her eyes for a second, gripping the gate beneath her and feeling the sun warm her face.
Her phone rings in her pocket, breaking the silence. A flash of guilt jabs her as she spots her mum’s name.
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Hi, love, I thought I’d just try you on the off chance you’d finished work.’
‘Just one appointment left,’ she says, running a hand through her long red hair. ‘Sorry I missed your last few calls, it’s been a busy week.’
‘Oh, that’s OK, I know how busy you are. You work so hard.’
‘Too hard!’ comes her dad’s voice in the background.
‘Don’t mind your dad,’ her mum says softly. ‘We both think it’s amazing what you do. You’re so strong, love. We’re both very proud of you.’
They always have been, cheering embarrassingly loudly at her graduation ceremony and helping her out with the cost of extra training even though, looking back, it probably meant they missed out on holidays and nice extras they might have otherwise had. She owes them so much.
‘I know you are. It means a lot. How’s Nan doing?’
‘She’s doing all right. I think she’s missing the old flat, but we all seem to be bumbling along OK together. Shall I go get her? I know she’d love a chat.’
Phoebe glances at her watch. ‘I’d love to, but I’ve got to go to my next appointment. I’ll ring back later, though.’
‘All right, love. You take care, speak soon.’
‘Bye, Phoebs!’ she can hear her dad shouting in the background.
‘Oh, and send our love to Max,’ her mum says as they’re saying their final goodbyes.
Phoebe swallows hard. ‘I will do.’
It’s been a while since Phoebe last saw Tara, her final patient of the day. It always makes her uneasy when there’s been a long gap between visits. So much can change in a short space of time. She wishes she was able to check in more regularly, but there simply isn’t time. Yet another thing that can often make her feel as though, however hard she tries to do her job well, it isn’t enough.
Tara wasn’t doing so great the last time they spoke. The voices had been getting louder and more insistent, so together with the team of doctors, they’d agreed to up the dose of her medication.
When Tara opens the door, it’s a relief to see that she is wearing clothes. There was a spell when she was convinced that her entire wardrobe had been bugged with recording devices.
‘Hello, Tara! It’s nice to see you. Can I come in?’
Normally at this point, Tara would peer her head out the door to suspiciously check that no one was following Phoebe before maybe, or maybe not, letting her in. But this time she simply nods and disappears into the living room, leaving Phoebe to follow her.
From an initial inspection, the living room shows some promising signs that things have improved for Tara. The curtains are open and it makes Phoebe realise she’s never seen Tara’s front room bathed in daylight before. The television is facing into the room, too, instead of turned towards the wall as it was before so that the government couldn’t watch her every move.
After Phoebe’s long and exhausting day, she feels suddenly filled with optimism. These are some of the best bits about her job – those moments when you can see someone turning a corner, their life becoming brighter.
‘Your place is looking great, Tara,’ Phoebe says as she sits down in the armchair, Tara positioning herself on the edge of the sofa. The surfaces look surprisingly clean and there’s even a sweet, fresh scent in the room. Maybe it’s just fresh air, Phoebe thinks as she notices the ajar window. It certainly makes a change from some of the places she’s visited today. She looks around again appreciatively. ‘It seems like you’ve been doing really well since we last saw each other.’
But as Phoebe turns back towards Tara, she notices the expression on her face.
‘And how are you feeling, Tara?’ she asks gently, immediately adjusting her tone.
Tara bites her lip, and despite the cleanliness of the flat, Phoebe notices that her face looks gaunt, her eyes tired.
‘They’ve gone.’
‘Who has gone?’
‘The voices. They’ve gone away.’
‘Well, it sounds like the medication is working then.’
But Tara’s eyes fill with tears.
‘I … I miss them. Now I’m on my own.’
Phoebe takes in the room again, readjusting her thinking. There have never been any photos on display in here, no signs that anyone else has been in the place since Phoebe’s last visit. Yes, Tara has tidied up a bit and her medication is having its intended effect, but what else does she have?
Phoebe needs to get back to the clinic to type up her notes and crack on with some paperwork. She’s behind on her admin and it will take hours to properly catch up. Not to mention everything that’s waiting for her back at home. But all of that can wait.
‘I’m going to make you a cup of tea,’ she says, standing up and placing a hand very gently on Tara’s arm. ‘And then let’s have a good chat.’
It’s late by the time Phoebe’s motorbike pulls back into the village. It didn’t feel right to leave when Tara was feeling so low, so they talked for a long time, Phoebe trying to encourage Tara to draw on some of the CBT methods she has taught her for when things are feeling overwhelming, like challenging and interrogating her negative thoughts and using breathing techniques to help relax her. It did seem by the time she left that Tara was feeling a little brighter. Phoebe had fished a ready meal out of the freezer and chucked it in the oven for her.
‘You take care of yourself, OK? And I’ll see you again soon.’
Not as soon as Phoebe would like. As she left, it struck her that, aside from the medication and support she’s able to offer, what Tara really needs is friends. But she’s not so unusual for being so isolated. Lots of her patients are in the same position, even the most loyal friends and family dropping away over the years when faced with the challenges of what a mental health condition can do to a person. If they even had that support network in the first place.
The van from this morning is still parked up outside the empty shop premises below her flat as Phoebe parks her motorbike on the street. She pauses for a moment to try to see inside the building, but the windows are covered with newspaper and there doesn’t seem to be anyone about. Eager to find out who was making all that noise this morning and who her new neighbours will be, she takes a step closer and presses her face up to the glass. Through a small tear in the paper, she is able to glimpse into the shop beyond.
The place is unrecognisable from Amit’s newsagent. All the old shelves have been cleared and in their place is a long counter. It looks as though there are some new shelves being constructed against the opposite wall, which would explain the banging she’d heard this morning. But it’s still hard to tell exactly what type of business is moving in.
Her shopping bags feel heavy in her hands, so she heads up to the flat, the bottles clinking together as she climbs the stairs.
When she opens the door, she immediately senses the shift in atmosphere just since this morning.
She dumps the bags on the floor and heads straight into the bedroom, opening the wardrobe. Rows of empty coat hangers stare back at her from one half of the rail and a lump that she’s been pushing down all day rises in her throat, her vision growing blurry.
So, he’s really gone then.