‘OK, I said “practically”.’ I feel a spike of anger. ‘You don’t have to be so negative.’
‘Audrey, I just need you to be realistic.’
‘I am!’
‘Remember the graph of your progress that I drew? The jagged line?’
‘Yes, well, that graph is old news,’ I say. ‘This is my graph.’
I stand up, march to the whiteboard and draw a straight line, zooming up to the stars. ‘This is me. No more down. Only up.’
Dr Sarah sighs. ‘Audrey, I’d love that to be true. But the overwhelming majority of patients recovering from an episode such as yours will encounter setbacks. And that’s fine. It’s normal.’
‘Well, I’ve had all my setbacks.’ I look at her stonily. ‘I’ve done setbacks, OK? I’m just not having any more. It’s not happening.’
‘I know you’re frustrated, Audrey—’
‘I’m thinking positive. What’s wrong with that?’
‘Nothing. Just don’t overdo it. Don’t put pressure on yourself. The danger is that you give yourself a real setback.’
‘I’m fine,’ I say resolutely.
‘Yes, you are.’ She nods. ‘But you’re also fragile. Imagine a mended china plate which hasn’t quite set.’
‘I’m a plate?’ I say sardonically, but Dr Sarah doesn’t rise to it.
‘I had a patient a few years ago, very similar to you, Audrey, who was at the same stage of her recovery. She decided to go to Disneyland Paris, against my advice.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Disneyland! Of all places!’
Even the idea of Disneyland makes me wince – not that I’ll admit that to Dr Sarah.
‘What happened?’ I can’t resist asking.
‘It was far too much for her. She had to come home from the trip early. Then she felt she’d failed. Her mood sank to the lowest it had been, and it didn’t do her progress any good.’
‘Well, I won’t go to Disneyland.’ I fold my arms. ‘So.’
‘Good. I know you’re sensible.’ As Dr Sarah surveys me, her mouth twitches. ‘You’ve got your spirit back, at any rate. And life is good?’
‘Life is good.’
‘And Linus is still . . .’ She pauses delicately.
‘Linus.’ I nod. ‘He’s still Linus. He says hi, by the way.’
‘Oh!’ Dr Sarah seems taken aback. ‘Well, say hi back.’
‘And he says, “Good job.”’
There’s silence and a little smile creeps round Dr Sarah’s face. ‘Well,’ she says. ‘You can say that back to him too. I’d like to meet this Linus.’
‘Yeah, well, don’t get your hopes up,’ I say with a deadpan shrug. ‘He’s mine.’
MY SERENE AND LOVING FAMILY – FILM TRANSCRIPT
INT. 5 ROSEWOOD CLOSE. DAY
LONG SHOT: Linus and FELIX are sitting in the garden. They have a chessboard between them and appear to be playing chess.
The camera pans closer and their voices become audible. Felix moves a piece and looks triumphantly at Linus.
FELIX
Chess.
Linus moves a piece.
LINUS
Chess.
Felix moves a piece.
FELIX
Chess.
Linus moves a piece.
LINUS
Chess.
He looks at Felix seriously.
LINUS
This is a good game you invented, Felix.
Felix beams at him.
FELIX
I know.
LINUS
What do you call it again?
FELIX
Squares.
Linus is struggling to keep a straight face.
LINUS
That’s right. Squares. So why don’t we say ‘Squares’ when we move the pieces?
Felix looks at him pityingly, as though he’s a little dim.
FELIX
Because we say ‘Chess’.
Linus looks at the camera.
LINUS
That tells me.
Mum comes into the garden.
MUM
Linus! You’re here! Marvellous. Now, you speak German, don’t you?
LINUS
(warily)
A bit.
MUM
Great! Well, you can come and help me decipher my new dishwasher instructions. The whole leaflet’s in German. I mean, German. I ask you.
LINUS
Oh. OK.
As he gets up, Felix grabs onto his leg.
FELIX
Lin-us! Play Squares!
At this moment FRANK comes into the garden and brandishes a gaming magazine at Linus.
FRANK
Linus, you have to see this.
AUDREY (VOICE-OVER)
What is this family LIKE? Stop trying to kidnap my boyfriend, everyone. OK?
Dr Sarah has said I need to increase my interactions with strangers. It’s not enough just to go to a restaurant and hide behind a menu and let other people order for me. (How did she guess?) I need to talk confidently to unfamiliar people. This is my homework. So Linus and I are sitting in Starbucks and he’s choosing someone random for me to go and talk to.
We did all kinds of role-play in hospital, which was supposed to achieve the same aim. But role-play is role-play. You feel so stupid. OMG, it was embarrassing, pretending to have a ‘confrontation’ with some skinny boy who you knew would practically go into a panic attack if you even looked at him. And all the counsellors having to feed us lines when we dried up, and saying, ‘Look at your body language, Audrey.’
Anyway. So role-play totally sucks, but this is kind of fun. Because I’m going to do one and then Linus is going to do one. It’s like dares.
‘OK, that guy.’ Linus points to a man on his own at a corner table, tapping away at a laptop. He’s in his twenties with a goatee and a grey T-shirt and one of those cool leather man-bags that Frank despises. ‘Go up to that guy and ask him if he has Wi-Fi.’
I feel a bubble of panic, which I try to swallow down. The man looks absorbed in his work. He doesn’t look like he wants to be interrupted.
‘He looks really busy,’ I prevaricate. ‘What about someone else? What about that old lady?’ There’s a sweet-looking grey-haired woman sitting at the next table, who has already smiled in our direction.
‘Too easy.’ Linus is adamant. ‘You won’t need to say a word, she’ll just jabber at you. Go up to that guy and ask about the Wi-Fi. I’ll wait here.’
Everything in my body is telling me not to go, but Linus is sitting there looking at me, so I force my leg muscles to operate. Somehow I’m walking across the coffee shop and now I’m standing right in front of the man, but he hasn’t looked at me. He’s just tapping and frowning.
‘Um, hi?’ I manage.
Tap-tap-tap-frown.
‘Hi?’ I try again.
Tap-tap-tap-frown.
He hasn’t even looked up.
I so want to back away. But Linus is watching. I have to see this through.
‘Excuse me?’ My voice bursts out so loudly I almost jump in fright, and finally the man lifts his head. ‘I was wondering if you have Wi-Fi?’
‘What?’ He scowls.
‘Wi-Fi? Do you have Wi-Fi here?’
‘Jesus. I’m trying to work.’
‘Right. Sorry. I was just wondering—’
‘About the Wi-Fi. Are you blind? Can you read, at all?’ He points to a notice in the corner of the coffee shop, which is all about the Starbucks Wi-Fi code. Then he focuses on my dark glasses. ‘Are you blind? Or just subnormal?’
‘I’m not blind,’ I say, my voice trembling. ‘I was just asking. Sorry to bother you.’
‘Fucking moron,’ he mutters as he starts tapping again.
Tears are welling in my eyes and as I back away, my legs are wobbly. But my chin is high. I’m determined I’m not going to dissolve. As I get back to the table, I force a kind of rictus grin onto my face.
‘I did it!’
‘What did he say?’ demands Linus.
‘He called me a fucking moron. And blind and subnormal. Apart from that, you know, he was really charming.’