‘Well, initially she heard voices arguing in her head, completely independent of herself. She was the referee, if you like, the peacemaker. The voices always wanted her to side with one of them. She also suffered with delusional perception. There is a record, before my time, that when a fellow patient pushed the water jug towards her during lunch-time it meant the nursing staff were trying to kill her and she could only protect herself by urinating in the middle of the dining room.
‘Not long after I came here, Patty developed a phobia of windows, fearing that if the window was open her thoughts were being sucked out of her mind.’
‘Has she suffered any violent episodes?’
Helen nodded sadly. It was clear that this woman was extremely fond of Patricia Stone. How very unprofessional to develop such feelings for a patient, Alex mused.
‘Unfortunately, yes. She is not violent by nature but there are times when it is difficult to control her.’
‘Can you tell me about those incidents?’
Helen reached for the file so she could offer detail.
‘In ‘92, she attacked a fellow patient, claiming that the elderly woman was flashing thoughts into her mind and she had to make it stop. In June of 1997, she attacked another patient, claiming that he was projecting feelings into her. A few months later she insisted this same patient was reading her thoughts aloud. Six years ago, she attacked a visitor, claiming that he had gained mental control of her and had made her scratch her knee until it bled. And most recently she floored a young nurse for projecting impulses into her mind.’
Alex was intrigued. Patty Stone had almost covered the entire scope of Schneider’s first-rank symptoms. Any one of which would indicate schizophrenia.
Helen closed the file. ‘Please don’t misunderstand. These episodes are few and far between. Otherwise she is a model patient; co-operative and reasonably pleasant. Such an episode prompts us to re-evaluate her medication. Initially she was on chlorpromazine but now she’s on clozapine.’
Clozapine was often given to schizophrenic patients who had been difficult to treat. The drug produced fewer side effects.
‘Is there any link in her behaviour or episodes with visits from her family?’
‘Patty hasn’t had a visitor in all these years.’
Alex feigned surprise. ‘Oh, I thought her daughter …’
‘Sadly not. She calls each month and has done since she turned eighteen, but she never visits.’
‘That must be hard for Patty.’
Helen opened her hands. ‘It’s not our place to interfere in family dynamics. We simply do the best for the patients in our care.’
‘Is there any hope for Patty’s release at any stage?’
Helen was thoughtful. ‘That’s a difficult question, Doctor Thorne. There are times when Patty is very stable and it is not difficult to imagine her leading a life outside this facility, but her periodic outbursts of violence render that possibility unlikely. Bear in mind she has been institutionalised for more than a quarter of a century. There is a safety, a familiarity to her life here. We are not a fast-food type of facility. Our aim is not a quick turnaround. We give care to patients that need it and we accept that for some that may be a very long time, and in some cases for the rest of their lives.’
Alex nodded earnestly, thinking that if this woman was not responsible for writing the PR brochure, she should be.
‘It’s expensive care, though. I mean, this facility is unlike many I’ve visited.’
‘We have a mixture of private patients who fund their stay here; others are funded by the social care system.’
Of course they were, Alex thought, especially patients failed by that care system who had gone on to cause neglect and death.
‘Thank you, Helen. You’ve been very helpful. It’s clear that you are an integral part of the quality of care offered here.’
Helen looked suitably flattered. ‘I understand that you would like to meet Patty?’
That had been easier than she’d thought. ‘If at all possible.’
‘I told Doctor Price that I wouldn’t force her to meet with you. As I said, she has received no visitors and if she feels uncomfortable or doesn’t want to meet you then that will be the end of it.’
Alex nodded her grateful acquiescence. Beneath all that blubber the woman had a backbone.
‘And I will stay with you at all times. Is that understood?’
Alex nodded, liking this woman less and less.
Helen stood and indicated that Alex should follow. Once again she was back in the corridor with the pan pipes. Eerily, there was no other sound. Helen carried no keys and each door was opened by an access code, keyed in quickly through habit.
Helen came to a halt outside a heavy oak door. ‘I’d rather you didn’t enter the general population area. Our patients understand routine. They know when visitors are due and I don’t want them unsettled.’
Alex was guided into a vast room, seemingly untouched by the facility or its inmates.
‘Please take a seat. I’ll go and speak with Patty.’
Alex thanked her but didn’t sit immediately. She wandered the room lined on two walls with books that stretched from floor to ceiling. The third wall was filled with art that she recognised as Gainsborough, van Dyck and Sir Peter Lely.
Alex chose a seat carefully. She faced the window so that Patty would hopefully sit opposite her and not be distracted by any outside interest. Despite Helen’s words, Alex felt confident that Patty would meet with her. Her journey had already been worth her time. The fact that Kim had never visited her mother yet continued to call every month fascinated her.
Alex was unsure what further insight she might gain, but she was eager to meet the woman that had produced Kim and had been instrumental in forming every complex personality trait the detective possessed. Meeting Kim’s family cemented their relationship even further. Alex guessed that none of the people in Kim’s life had ever met her only living relative, and so this would be their bond alone.
The door opened and Alex hid her surprise at Patty Stone’s appearance. The woman was slight but not frail. Her hair was completely grey and cut short. She wore loose jeans and a floral jumper. Her feet were encased in light blue slip-on pumps. She’d been taken from a cottage garden, minus the sunhat and flower basket.
Alex smiled as the woman approached, noting the stiffness and slowness in her movements.
‘Hello, Patty. How are you today?’
Patty allowed her hand to be taken. It was warm but limp. On the face of it, this delicate middle-aged lady looked older than her fifty-eight years and hardly capable of violent outbursts, but Alex knew that looks could be deceiving.
She sat and fixed Alex with an unnerving gaze. Alex looked into the unnaturally dark irises that Patty had gifted her daughter. Suddenly, without blinking or moving any other muscle, Patty slapped her own thigh.
Alex ignored the movement. ‘So, Patty, is it okay if we talk for a little while?’
Patty appeared to be listening, but not to her. After six or seven seconds, Patty nodded.
‘I’d like to talk about your daughter, Kimberly, if possible.’
‘You know Kimmy?’ No hesitation but a slap of the thigh.
Alex glanced sideways to where Helen sat reading a magazine. Far enough away not to intrude, but close enough to listen to everything that was being said. And to measure Patty’s reaction. Alex had to make sure she phrased her questions carefully.
Alex nodded and met the woman’s stare, shocked by the intensity she saw there, just for a second, before it was blinked back into docility.
‘I met Kim recently. I believe you haven’t seen her for some time.’
Patty looked up to her left, frowning.
‘My apologies, Patty. You haven’t seen Kimmy for some time?’
A single tear ran down her cheek as her hands started moving, as though knitting.
‘Kimmy safe?’