An Impossible Dilemma: A Psychological Thriller Novel, page 18
"Okay." I didn't like the idea of extra tests and heightened interest in Emily's results, but what could I say? There was no reason to suspect they'd be able to discover what we'd done. Plus the extra attention could turn up some kind of cure, and that would be wonderful.
"I've made a few enquiries about the behavioural issues and on the whole, there is nothing to report. Except, that is, in the early trials and the children that received the Proteum transplants."
My stomach lurched. "Really?"
"Yes, but that wasn't stealing or anger so I guess it’s irrelevant."
"What was it then?"
One of the parents commented on a complete personality change. Her son went from an introverted boy to the class clown overnight. They weren't bothered—they actually liked the transformation."
“Were there any others?”
“One other, and she was the complete opposite. She withdrew into herself and sadly committed suicide two weeks later.”
"Oh wow. That's terrible."
"Maybe it's just coincidence that these two children had been the ones that completed the trials, but they were the only ones to show any character changes at all. I am inclined to say at this stage, that the behaviour is probably connected to the condition."
He wasn't suspicious, thank goodness. But then again, why would he be? The idea that we'd performed our own transplants was too far-fetched to comprehend. It felt unreal even to me.
"I’ve arranged an appointment with the psychiatrist next week, on the twenty-fifth of September. I'll send confirmation in the mail. It's at ten o'clock, at the hospital."
"Thanks, Doctor."
"You're welcome. I look forward to seeing you in six weeks or so. Don't forget the diaries, will you?"
"I won't." I replaced the receiver and sighed heavily. So we had caused Emily's behaviour. She wasn't to blame. At least Emily could live with these symptoms, unlike the poor girl who'd got the suicidal tendencies.
***
Doctor Christine Forbes had a laid-back demeanor. Probably in her thirties, her flawless peaches and cream skin made her look much younger. She wore a brown gypsy-style skirt, a frilly white blouse and beige waistcoat, dressed up with lots of bangles and a brown bead necklace. Her loosely tied, sandy hair was held with a clip at the nape of her neck. A few stray curls framed her face.
I liked her immediately.
"Come in, you must be Emily," she said to me and winked.
"No I'm Emily. She's Mummy." Emily laughed.
"Oh hi, Emily. I'm sorry. I'm such a silly billy.
That was all she needed to do to hook my daughter. They were the best of friends before we entered her office and sat down.
"How old are you, Emily?"
"Six."
"Six. Wow! You're the same age as my daughter, Megan. I bet you like Raggedy-Ann."
"Yes." Emily's eyes lit up. "Does Megan like it?"
"Yes, it's her favourite."
"Does she like the Power Puff girls?"
"She certainly does, and My Little Pony. Excuse me for a second, Emily. I need to talk to your mummy. Is that okay?"
She nodded, smiling.
"I'd like to spend a couple of hours alone with Emily, if you don't mind? Do you have any shopping you need to do?"
"I'm sure I can find something."
"Great, see you back here at say … Twelve-thirty? Then we'll have a chat."
I wandered around the local shopping centre, enjoying the time to myself. After a while, I stopped for a coffee, a posh coffee as Steph called them. I sat people watching while I drank.
I never tired of this pastime, although I hadn't done nearly enough of it lately. Jonathan and I would try to guess what people did for a living. If they were married, divorced, had children. We used to end up in hysterics as Jonathan always went too far, inventing way-out scenarios and back stories with such detail. I often thought he was wasted as a farmer, as he’d have made a fantastic fiction writer.
Sitting at the table beside me, a middle-aged couple studied a tablet computer.
They both had dark brown hair, his was greying slightly at the temples which made him appear distinguished, and hers was straight and curled under at the chin. They wore the exact same shade of blue, her in a pinafore dress and he a shirt and trousers. I doubted they had children–too much time on their hands to colour coordinate their wardrobes to be parents.
I imagined their house would be organised and immaculate, lawns trimmed and edged to perfection, hanging baskets spilling over with an abundance of blooms. No pets. Pets would be too much of an inconvenience to a couple like them.
I couldn’t see what was on the screen but I imagined they were booking an all-expenses paid Mediterranean cruise.
Two Asian females sat in an alcove across the room. I guessed they were mother and daughter as their hair was the same shade of black, and had been styled the same. Although the older woman’s colour wasn’t as vibrant, she was still a very attractive lady. She wore a thick, white cotton shirt and grey slacks.
The young girl wore a pale pink top in crinkly material with a hair bow to match and a white skirt. I couldn’t see her face as she sat at too much of an angle.
Their conversation seemed intense, with the older of the two doing most of the talking while the younger nodded her head. Even though I couldn’t hear what they were saying, I could tell they spoke in a foreign language.
She was probably in trouble for bunking off school, or mixing with the wrong crowd. I guessed the mother had brought the daughter out to discuss the problem, rather than let her father know what she’d been up to. Hence the reason for her mother chewing her ear off.
They finished their drinks and stood up. My stomach flipped and a pang of hurt gripped at my core as I noticed the huge pregnant belly of the girl as she turned to face me. I stood and hurried from the café and back into the mall, blinking back a sudden flood of tears.
Losing the baby had hit me harder than I thought it would. Somehow, through all the uncertainty, I’d developed a bond with my unborn son, and the grief of losing him hit me in waves when I least expected it. And because nobody, except Steph and Frank, knew about it, I had to behave as normal, even though I was experiencing all the stages of grief—the numbness, the anger and most of all, the guilt. I’d been considering terminating the pregnancy, and although some might say nature lent me a helping hand, made it easier on me, I didn’t think so.
Feeling lost and jittery, I still had over an hour to kill. A hair salon caught my eye. I entered without much thought. It had been ages since I’d had a trim.
The young blond girl gave my hair a thorough washing, followed by a mind-blowing head massage. Then she led me to a seat in front of the mirror.
"How much do you want off?"
A moment of madness overcame me. "All of it."
"I'm sorry?"
"Do something different, surprise me."
"But …" She held my golden brown tresses in her hands and stared at my reflection.
"It's okay. I need a change." I nodded.
She beckoned to a middle-aged woman who stood at the back of the salon mixing some hair colour. The woman walked over to us, eyeing me suspiciously.
"What is it?" she said to the girl."
"Nothing's wrong,” she said. “It’s just that this lady wants me to cut all her hair off, and surprise her. I don't know what to do."
"Are you sure? You have beautiful hair," the older woman said to my reflection.
"Yes, I'm sure. I just want a change. It’s been tied up for years."
She shrugged and nodded to the young girl and went back to the back of the salon.
"How about I cut it to your shoulders first and see what you think?"
"To my chin. I don't want to be able to tie it up."
When I returned to the hospital, I sported a fantastic new hair-do. I loved it. With the bulk removed, my curls had sprung to life and it altered my face completely. But not only that, I felt as though a weight had been lifted.
Emily did a double take when she saw me and began to cry. "Mummy, where's all your hair?"
"I've had it cut, baby. Don't you like it?"
She stopped crying, her eyebrows furrowed and looked at it again.
"I liked it before."
"I think it's beautiful," Christine said.
"Thank you. See what a couple of hours on my own can do? I'm not fit to be let out." I laughed. "Any longer and God knows what I'd have come back looking like."
"Well, we've had a wonderful time haven't we, Emily?"
Emily nodded, still staring at my hair.
"We've played lots of games and Emily's showed me how clever she is with her sums and her writing."
"And I played with a dolly," Emily added.
"If I gave you the dolly and a couple of books, do you think you could sit outside the door for a few minutes? I need to have a chat with your mum."
"Okay."
Emily seemed happily ensconced in her own world when we went back into the room. I took the seat Emily had vacated.
"Well, as I said, we had a wonderful time. You have a very bright little girl there," she said.
"Thanks."
"I've had the reports from Doctor Wilson, so I know what's been happening over the past few months. Losing her father like that in itself is enough to cause untold amounts of damage to a little girl. However, I believe your main concern is the stealing and violent outbursts?"
“Yes, that’s right.”
"She claims she can't help it, and from what she describes, I believe her. I think it's a lot more than being badly behaved, although it's hard to tell in this environment. I would prefer to visit Emily in the classroom and also at home if that’s all right with you?"
"Okay." I nodded.
"But, from what I've seen up to now, I'm fairly certain Emily's problems stem from her illness. We can work with you and her teachers to try to establish ways of living with it, and how you should react when she does behave this way."
"That would be great. It's so difficult to know what to say or do. I don't know if I'm causing more bad behaviour by the way I deal with things. She blamed her imaginary friend for a while, although he doesn’t seem to be around recently."
She smiled. “It’s often easier to say you were made to do something rather than doing it off your own bat.”
I smiled. “I thought that.”
"I discussed her illness with her and she tells me she's better."
"Yes, she says she’s better when she's feels okay, like she does at the moment."
"I asked her why she thinks she's better and she said it was the medicine you gave her when she was in bed."
"Medicine?" My stomach dropped.
She nodded.
"I haven't given her any medicine … Oh yeah I did. Paracetamol, when she had a headache."
"Then that's what she thinks is making her better," she smiled.
My heart raced. I felt as though I had an army of jittering termites running through my veins. Did she believe me? There was no way of telling. Was I just being paranoid again?
"Okay, Mrs Lyons. I'll need you to sign one more form, giving me permission to approach the school."
"No problem."
"I'll be in touch over the next few days to let you know what we arrange."
"Great, thanks." I tried to keep my voice as steady as possible but I could hear the quiver in it. The doctor didn't seem to notice. Emily had never mentioned the medicine I gave her before. I didn’t even know she remembered. My mind raced.
I couldn't get out of that place fast enough.
When I told Frank later, he shrugged it off again.
"Nobody knows anything—it's just your guilty conscience working overtime, lass."
"I hope you're right."
"Of course I'm right. How many mothers give their children medicine when they're sick in bed?"
"I suppose, when you put it like that."
"Think about it, lass. Nobody in their right mind would suspect anything like what you're thinking."
"But Christine's a psychiatrist. She's trained to notice the unspoken answers as well as the ones that leave your mouth."
"Only if they know there's something to look for. She's assessing a six-year-old girl for behavioural issues. All she would have been looking for, as far as her home life is concerned, is some form of abuse. And Emily is the most loved and well cared for little girl—anyone can see that.
"What would I do without you, Frank?"
"You'd manage just fine is what you'd do."
"I don't know. I’d probably walk into the police station and hand myself in." I smiled then sighed.
"It won't come to that, lass. I promise you."
Chapter 27
The next few weeks were uneventful, apart from the odd little scrape at school and several stolen items, but we didn't make a big deal about it. Once questioned, Emily confessed all, so there was no harm done.
Christine Forbes visited the classroom twice, and came to the house afterwards to meet the family. Emily gave her a guided tour of her bedroom and it all went well.
Just as I was beginning to settle down, the phone rang in the clinic. It was Rosemary Jackson.
"Mrs Lyons. You need to collect Emily. She's attacked another little girl so badly she’s been taken to hospital in an ambulance."
"Oh my God! What did she do?"
"She kicked her repeatedly and then smashed a chair on top of her."
"You're joking!"
"Sadly, no." Her tone was flat.
I raced from the clinic, and hurried into the school a few minutes later.
Emily sat outside Mrs Jackson’s office, still very angry. She snarled, “Go away,” at me as I entered.
"What have you done?" I hissed.
"It wasn't my fault." She spat the words at me. The fury in her eyes shocked me.
"Don't tell me, you were forced. You couldn't help it?"
"No I couldn't. Kaylie started it."
"Kaylie? Oh no, not again." Kaylie's mother had been cool towards us since the party and refused to allow her daughter to play with Emily.
"She started it."
"How, Emily? How did she start it?" The anger was evident in my voice.
"She said I’m gonna die."
All the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. I couldn't breathe—couldn't speak. I shook my head from side to side, unable to respond to what she'd said. I knew how cruel some people could be, but why would anybody tell a child that another child was going to die?
"Nonsense!" I finally mumbled as I sat down next to her.
"She said that's why I'm allowed back in school, because I'm gonna die, just like Daddy." Her voice broke as she began to cry.
"Come on—we're going." I grabbed Emily’s hand and headed for the door.
The receptionist stood up and leaned over the counter. "Mrs Lyons, Mrs Jackson wants you to wait here. She's on the phone with Kaylie's mother."
"Tell Mrs Jackson to whistle."
I walked from the school with my daughter and drove home.
At the house, Frank was talking on the phone. "She's here now, hold on." He covered the mouthpiece. "It's Emily's teacher."
"Would you take Emily please, Frank?"
"Course I will. Come on, lass, let’s go into the garden it's a lovely day."
I waited until I heard the back door close before speaking. "Hello," I snapped.
"Mrs Lyons, Why did you leave? I needed to speak to you."
"Because I was worried what I might do to you and your blabber-mouthed staff if I stayed."
"Really—what's that supposed to mean?"
"Did you find out why Emily did what she did?"
"I didn't have a chance. It was quite stressful and Kaylie's mother is distraught."
"I couldn't give a toss about Kaylie's stuck up, toffee-nosed mother to be quite honest with you."
"Mrs Lyons, I really don't …"
"You really don't … what? You don't know how Kaylie's mum found out about Emily's illness? Or you don’t know why Kaylie told Emily the only reason she’s allowed back at school is because she’s dying? Or is it you don't know why someone would dream of telling a six-year-old girl all of these things? Which is it, Mrs Jackson?"
Silence on the other end of the phone.
I continued. "Because I don't know how a respectable head teacher could shoot her mouth off to all and sundry about my daughter’s illness. So you can call Kaylie's distraught mother back and tell her that she caused today's attack, and the way I'm feeling right now, I'd say it was justified. Goodbye, Mrs Jackson."
I hung up.
Chapter 28
I refused to take Emily back to school. I applied to homeschool her and found a group of children living in the Cumbria area who met up in Penrith town once a week, to keep the children socialising.
I received a written apology from Mrs Jackson. I think she was worried I would report her, but I couldn't be bothered. It's not as if I even knew which teacher had blabbed.
However, this grand gesture on my part caused a problem at home with the running of the farm and the clinic. Frank offered to supervise Emily if I set up the work I wanted her to do, and I decided that would have to do for now.
The paperwork had been piling up in the clinic, as well as the ordering and invoices. I always made sure Alex and Steph's wages were paid on time though—I couldn’t afford for them to get fed up with me and take off.
I intended to start looking for a young person to help on the farm in the mornings and the clinic in the afternoon. This would free me up to sort Emily out at home and also get on top of the admin.
However, dreams are free. Living in the country, miles from the nearest village made finding help difficult. I could ask around and maybe even place an ad in the local paper but that would all take time. We'd have to cope whichever way we could for now.
It was best I kept myself busy anyway. Emily's hospital appointment loomed and it had been playing constantly on my mind.
