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“Um,” Ed stumbled. “I’m not sure…”
“Oh good lord, Ed,” I gasped, “Not in my usual style! They’d be fully clothed, I promise – I do have some morals, despite the rumours.”
“Blimey, I wasn’t even thinking about that side of it, love. It’s just that, well, um, how do I put this? I don’t think a retired plod’s in the right income bracket for one of your pieces.”
I gave a hiss of frustration. “Ed, I’m a dolt. I meant as a gift. And before you say anything else, I need to do this. I haven’t worked since I left Albermarle, Finn thinks it’s all his bloody fault, and if I’m totally honest if I don’t find a way back in soon, I’ll be in the Clinica with him.”
There were long seconds of silence, followed by Ed’s rumbling bass chuckle. “You’re a hard woman to say no to, aren’t you, Ms Bresson?”
“I certainly aim to be.”
“Then thank you. That’s a bloody generous offer. I’d better get a couple of pictures emailed over to you right now, eh?”
Chapter Six
Finn
Once the chemical cosh otherwise known as midazolam began to drain out of my system, the hard work really began.
Sorting out my new medication came first: Luis explained that finding the right antipsychotic, then the right dose, would underpin everything else we did to get me fixed. As long as it agreed with me, two milligrams of risperidone – with its list of side effects that read like the clinical version of War and Peace – would gradually rise to eight, whilst my temazepam dose would continue to fall, this time under Doctor Cavendish’s watchful gaze.
I’d also be given a decent anti-inflammatory for the knee that Coyle O’Halloran had nearly destroyed with his steel-capped boot, a range of vitamins for my knackered and depleted junkie’s body, and something impressive called a proton pump inhibitor that would stop me chucking the whole lot up again, or burning a hole through my stomach wall.
I’d never taken so many drugs in my life – which was really saying something – but at least I had plenty of experience at chucking substances down my neck. The far harder part was always going to be talking about it all.
*****
Lilith perched cross-legged on my bed, calm and quiet and endlessly patient, and waited for me to speak. She’d been there for fifteen minutes already, and I was still searching for the right place to start. There was nothing else for it; I was going to have to dive in and see what the hell came out of my mouth.
“Okay,” I finally managed. “So, something came up in the session with my counsellor this morning.” My counsellor. Never in a million years would I have seen myself saying those words, but I’d sat for a full hour with an eternally patient, calm young woman called Amina and actually begun to talk through a quarter of a century’s worth of shit.
Granted, given a choice, I’d have rather sat for a full hour and removed my fingernails with a pair of rusty pliers, but when I’d mentioned this to Luis he’d let me know that particular technique wasn’t one of the accepted treatments at the Clinica and cheerfully handed me a leaflet on the benefits of counselling.
“And was everything alright?” Lilith asked, in that tone that suggested that she already knew everything wasn’t, so I should just crack on and tell her about it already.
“Ah, yeah. Bit weird at first, but I think she was going’ gentle with me. First time and all that.”
“But?”
I found something remarkably interesting in the pattern on my duvet cover before I continued. “She asked me if I knew what had scared me so much that night when… well, the night I went mental. Apart from those fucking ghosts in the street, of course. And I knew what it would be, but I realised you didn’t know, and I’ve told you so much other stuff but not this. I couldn’t tell Amina something that I hadn’t shared with you first. It would feel wrong, you know?”
Lilith gave a slow nod. “I think I do, yes. But don’t ever feel that you have any obligation to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
“No. It’s not like that, I promise. It’s just that it’s fucking awful, Lili. Now it’s this close to the surface I need to let it go, but…” I moved my gaze to the ceiling. “I can’t imagine anyone stickin’ around once I’m through. There. I said it.”
“Oh for God’s sake, Finn, what the hell do I have to do to convince you that I’m not about to fly away? Just come here, would you?” For an exceedingly tiny person she could wrap all of me in her arms like no one’s business, and instead of a spoken reply she just held me until I acknowledged that she probably wasn’t planning on going anywhere.
Once she was happy that I was sufficiently convinced, Lilith released me. “You know, Nat told me that you were yelling something, outside the church. About not being allowed in? Being damned? Is that what this is about? It distressed you like nothing else I’ve seen.”
I should maybe have been relieved that Lilith already had her usual ‘in’ to what I was about to say, but in truth I was horrified that I couldn’t remember a single thing about it myself.
“Yeah.” I covered my face with my hands. “That. Oh fuck. I thought I’d buried it better than that.”
“Well let’s just say it disinterred itself rather spectacularly that night. So if there’s a better way of dealing with it than this -” Lilith reached out and gently touched the dressing on my forehead, “then I’d be more than happy to be part of it.”
“You’re sure?”
Lilith raised the Eyebrow of Early Warning. “Really? You’re still asking me that?”
