The Train, Sarah Bourne [dark books to read .txt] 📗

This, however, was altogether new – a mental hospital and a meeting to talk about how his twenty-three-year-old son had gone mad.

‘Right. Sorry I’m late, but now we’re all here, shall we get started?’ said the Chinese woman, looking around at everyone. ‘I’m Mei-Ling, a social worker and Liam’s case manager,’ she said to Lawrence before turning to the others again. ‘Why don’t we all quickly go round and introduce ourselves.’

Lawrence realised this was for him. He sighed, turned his head. Surely he didn’t really need to know who they all were? He would have preferred to talk directly to the doctor, the man in charge, but when he’d suggested it on the phone they’d invited him along to the case conference instead.

‘It’s how we do things here, as long as Liam doesn’t mind you being there, that is,’ the bumptious woman on the other end had said. Lawrence had bristled at the idea of his son having a say in anything but held his tongue. He’d be there whether Liam wanted him or not.

‘I’m Sue, nurse in charge of the inpatient unit,’ said a comely woman with full lips and clear eyes.

‘I’m Diana, one of the OTs in the day hospital.’

Lawrence looked at the anorexic woman who had just spoken. ‘OT?’

‘Occupational therapist,’ she said, blushing.

‘Faiz Noor, senior registrar,’ said a man of Middle-Eastern appearance with a neatly clipped beard. ‘I’ve been looking after Liam since his admission.’

‘And the consultant psychiatrist, will he be here?’

‘No, Sunita – Dr Sachdeva – is busy. She’s presenting at a conference today.’

Lawrence huffed. How very convenient, he thought.

‘And I’m Liam,’ said Lawrence’s son. He was sitting in a deep chair he’d pulled back slightly out of the circle. Half-hidden behind the door, Lawrence hadn’t noticed him.

‘What are you doing here?’ asked Lawrence.

Liam shrugged. ‘Funny, I could ask you the same question. I’m here because it’s about me, and the staff thought I might like to make a contribution. But you? I don’t know why you bothered.’

The young black girl sitting next to him took Liam’s hand and squeezed it and turned back to the rest of the group.

Lawrence had been looking at his son, thinking he needed a good haircut and a shave, not to mention a kick up the arse and a lesson in manners.

‘I’m Felice, Liam’s girlfriend.’

Lawrence’s narrowed eyes bolted themselves onto her. Girlfriend? He knew of no girlfriend. And a black one into the bargain. He wondered if Deidra knew.

He already felt the meeting slipping away from him. He had come to organise, to order, not to be palmed off with underling doctors and have his son being rude to him in front of all these people. Ungrateful little sod that he was.

‘Well, let’s get started, shall we?’ said Mei-Ling. ‘Thanks for coming, everyone. As you know, Liam’s been an inpatient for three weeks. He was brought here by the police having been found on Kensington High Street shouting obscenities at passers-by and threatening to conjure the devil.’ She turned to Liam, who looked as if he was trying to disappear into the chair. ‘You still have no recall of the events leading to your admission?’

‘No,’ he said so quietly that Mei-Ling repeated his denial for everyone to hear.

‘No. Okay.’

Lawrence hadn’t known the details of his son’s madness before, just that drugs were involved. If he’d been told more, and he probably had by Deidra on several occasions, he had let it skim over him. Now he wanted to slap his son for being so stupid.

‘How’s it been on the ward, Liam?’ asked the woman whose name Lawrence had already forgotten.

‘Fine,’ said Liam.

Lawrence curled his hand into a fist. He hadn’t sent his son to one of the most expensive schools in the country so he could speak in monosyllables. His left foot started jiggling involuntarily.

‘That’s great,’ said the Chinese woman. ‘Do you mind if I ask the others how they think you’ve been doing?’

Isn’t that what we’re fucking here for? thought Lawrence. Jesus Christ, the boy was a psychiatric patient and they were treating him like he was the king of England. Was this where political correctness had got them, a room full of professionals deferring to the lunatic?

Liam shrugged his bony shoulders again.

‘Thank you. So, Sue, how’s Liam been on the ward?’

‘Well,’ said Sue, addressing Liam, ‘you’ve kept yourself to yourself pretty much, haven’t you? But you have been taking your medication, and you’re happy to engage with the staff. How do you feel about your time on the ward?’

‘Okay,’ said Liam.

‘Great. How about in the day hospital?’ The Chinese woman turned to Lawrence to explain. ‘Liam has been attending groups in the day hospital for the past two weeks, ever since his acute symptoms subsided.’ She turned back to the anorexic OT. ‘What groups has he been attending?’

Diana cleared her throat. ‘He’s been in the daily community meeting, a small psychotherapy group, art therapy, assertiveness training and cooking and budgeting.’

Lawrence’s eyebrows hit his hairline. What was this, a holiday camp? A bit of painting, a bleeding hearts group and cooking? Jesus Fucking H Christ.

Dr Noor nodded and turned to Liam. ‘And how are you finding the groups?’

His son had always been facetious so Lawrence expected him to say, ‘I go to the day hospital and there they are,’ but he didn’t. Once again, he just said, ‘Okay.’

Lawrence’s foot jiggled harder.

‘Find it easy to join in?’ asked Dr Noor.

‘I suppose so.’

‘And do you feel able to contribute in the groups?’

‘A bit.’

Lawrence was in danger of losing his shoe, his leg was so busy. He interlocked his fingers round his knee in an attempt to still it, then uncrossed his legs and planted his feet firmly on the floor. He wanted to shout. This was a complete farce. Why were all these people talking to his son as if it mattered what he said or did? The little prick had been taking drugs for God’s sake. He clearly didn’t know how he felt or what he wanted. If they cared