Poppet Read Free Page B

Acute?’
    ‘Yes. I locked those chats in a box up in my head like the doctors told me I was supposed to.’
    ‘We agreed you weren’t going to talk about it again? Do you remember?’
    ‘But, AJ, it’s back. It’s come back. It got Zelda.’
    ‘Don’t you remember what you said, in High Dependency? I remember you saying: “it doesn’t exist. It’s just a made-up thing – like in the movies.” Remember?’
    She nods, but the glisten of fear in her eyes doesn’t go.
    ‘That’s good, Gabriella. And you haven’t been talking to the others about this, have you?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Great – that’s great. You did the right thing. You keep it to yourself – I know you can. I know you can do that. Now we’ve got your care-planning meeting in the morning – I’ll mention this to the consultant – see what he says. And I’m going to put you on level four obs – just for tonight – OK? I’ll look in on you myself. But, Gabriella … ?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘You gotta put that … that thing out of your head, my sweetheart. You really have.’

Safe
    IT’S FUNNY, TO the Monster Mother, how AJ can’t see what’s happening. He can’t even say the words, ‘The. Maude.’ AJ is kind and he’s smart but he hasn’t got the extra eye – he can’t see the real things that are going on in this unit. He doesn’t believe her – that The Maude is out there. Scouting for someone else to hurt.
    AJ can’t see the lengths Monster Mother has gone to, just to be safe. Maybe if he could he’d understand how serious it is. But he can’t see her stripped muscle and tendon. He cannot see the white of her skull or the glinting twin orb eyes without their lids. He is so blind to what is happening. ‘Good night,’ he says. ‘I’ll check on you – I promise.’
    She slides the sheets back up over her. They rasp at her exposed nerves and skinless muscles. She lays her raw skull on the pillow and tries to smile – using just her cheek muscles. ‘AJ?’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Please be careful.’
    ‘I will.’
    He waits for a few moments, as if he’s thinking, then he steps outside and shuts the door. The hospital is silent. She can’t close her eyes, she has no eyelids. But at least she is safe from The Maude. If it comes in it’ll go straight to her skin on the bedpost.
    No one is going to sit on Monster Mother’s chest tonight.

Browns Brasserie, The Triangle
    DI CAFFERY KNOWS everyone in the restaurant is monitoring him for signs he’s going to react to the woman throwing wine on him. He can sense their universal disappointment when he isn’t pulled that easily.
    He takes his time with the hamburger – refusing to be harassed or hurried. Occasionally, as he chews, his eyes go casually to the door – to the backs of the two bouncers – legs planted wide, arms folded, facing the glass doors. Beyond them the woman – now on her feet – staggers around on the pavement, hurling abuse at the doormen.
    Caffery has spent the dullest lunchtime and afternoon at a Criminal Justice Forum: discussing liaison practices between custody suites and mental health unit admissions ward – he’s fed up with talking about stuff he’s not interested in, schmoozing and being nice to people he doesn’t care about. But this woman – her name is Jacqui Kitson – this woman has, at the eleventh hour, kickstarted an ordinary day into something extraordinary.
    Extraordinary. Not pleasant. It’s what he’s been half expecting for a long time.
    She has given up hectoring the door staff and is sitting in the gutter, her head in her hands, crying. By the time Caffery has paid his bill the staff have opened the doors again – allowing in the customers who’ve had to wait outside. They shuffle in edgily, casting cautious glances at the woman – only pausing to stand aside for Caffery to make his way out.
    He puts his wallet in his inside pocket. The bill was forty pounds. Extravagant for a meal alone – but he doesn’t have much to