From a Safe Distance (21 page)

When I'd had a morning shift with Sandra in charge, afternoon overtime on Forest put things back into perspective. Brendan knew what Sandra was like, and JD cheered me up in his innocent way. Ironically, I was given more responsibility when I came back to my original house than in my promoted state elsewhere. I wished I'd never left
Forest, because where I was now, it was assumed I was incompetent. Just as being trusted makes you confident, being regarded as a nobody makes you start to believe you are.

If ever I had a small success, it would be ignored or belittled by Sandra and her cronies. I would interrupt conversations about me when I went into the office, resulting in the muffled laughter typical of bullies. The fact that I had rescued the old ladies from the fire more or less single-handedly was never mentioned. What's more, I knew not to mention it, as I could predict the response: she would say that I was “just doing my job”. Having to be so careful and guarded was a real strain. Sandra had me in a mental arm-lock.

Then one day, a month after the fire, Catherine was brought back to Grove House.

When he'd read this, Max wrote:

“Had she been in a position to influence those around her, many of the things that happened to Vee might have been avoided. For example, she would have known and been able to assert her rights against Sandra. But Sandra bullied her, wore her down over the months and destroyed her resistance, so that Vee just went along with whatever was happening, her feeling of powerlessness part of the nightmare she was living through. Vee was not in control of her situation, and she knew it. I am now, at last, beginning to see what I might be able to do for her.”

At the beginning of December, a new lady arrived to take up residence in Grove. Suitcases, boxes, a duvet and a teddy were carried in by members of her family. I looked out to see a large estate car, its hatch high in the air, and went to help.

‘That's all now, thanks,' said one young man, out of breath. I didn't need to direct him along the corridor, as the shouts of, “Where d'you want this, Auntie?” and comments such as, “Phew, I could murder a cup of tea” left no doubt as to the location of Nancy's room.

I was told Catherine was still in a pretty bad way and needed a lot of care. If she had died, Sandra would have made sure I was out of a job, for certain. But even though Catherine had survived, there was no let-up in Sandra's daily campaign. She was pushing as hard as she could to provoke or break me. But the nastier she got, the more I resisted. Avoiding her as much as possible was the best method, so I spent longer with the residents. I wondered what more she could do.

I hadn't seen Catherine since her return, so I went along for a chat. She was lying on her bed, with dressings and bandages everywhere. Her face had patches of raw skin.

‘How are you feeling, Catherine?'

‘Oh, I'm alright Vee. Just me leg's a bit sore, see?' She lifted the corner of the dressing on her thigh.

I winced. ‘That does look a bit sore, yes. What about the other burns?'

‘Doc said I'll be scarred. It was a near go, dear. I ‘haled a lot of smoke, too. Still coughing a bit, but … '

‘It's amazing how you managed to escape in one piece, though! How
did
you do it?'

‘Woke up; must've dozed off in there with a fag on – to find smoke, flames an' me cloves on fire. Rolled around a bit, like you see 'em on telly. Shouldn't've lay on that ol' bat's bed – p'raps that Doris wanted me to join her, silly old –' She tried to laugh, but ended up coughing. After the spluttering crescendo and climax, she groaned and patted her chest. ‘Gi' me some oxygen, there's a dear.' She took a few breaths from the mask. ‘So then I crawled out the room. Must've passed out. Next thing I knew I was in hospital an' it was
agony
, dear. Hope you never get burnt.' She lay back on the pillow and closed her eyes for a moment.

‘Have you met the new lady, Nancy?'

‘Can't really talk to ‘er, can you? Seen ‘er once, when she first got ‘ere an' she wandered into my room.' She opened her eyes again. ‘Course, at the moment I ‘as to rely pretty much on what I ‘ears, but I think she's a bit funny in the ‘ead, if you ask me. That Sandra's done the right thing, lockin' ‘er away when she's on duty.'

I smiled and let it go, but warning lights were flashing and I filed away the alarm I felt at this piece of information. ‘Well, you had us all worried. And they cancelled the firework display this year. It didn't seem right somehow, what with poor June.'

Catherine went into another paroxysm.

‘Anything I can get you, Cath?'

‘Oooh, darlin', a cuppa would be lovely, but you'll ‘ave to ‘old it for me!'

A week later, Helen called a meeting at handover, when the residents had finished their lunch. Sandra sat in the corner of the office in her green coat, straight-faced and ready to leave. I had overheard an argument between the two managers the day before; it was always going to be likely with two women who were so different. I think it had something to do with Nancy, but I couldn't be sure. Sandra had shouted out something about her being “a nutter who
deserves it”, but then the door was slammed shut, so I didn't hear the rest properly. Today, we were all squeezed into the office, waiting for what Helen had to say.

‘I have some important news for you. Some of you might already know that Bill, the manager of Birch House, passed away the night before last. Our thoughts are with Rosemary.'

‘He woz sittin' at ‘is desk, wozan ‘e?' said Nat, fiddling with a thumb ring.

‘I don't know the exact details,' Helen went on, turning towards Nat, ‘but what I have to say is that Birch needs a new Manager for a short while. They have appointed me to stand in.'

I realised before she went any further that she might be taking some of us with her.

‘So,' She looked round at the expectant faces. ‘Nat: I think you need a change of scene, so you're coming with me.' Nat didn't seem impressed. ‘Also Liz. Sue and Sally will be coming here from Birch. I think it's a good thing to have a shuffle round sometimes, yes? You get to know different managers' styles. I'll speak to the night staff this evening.' She smiled. I knew exactly what she was doing. I looked at my shoes, fighting off tears.

I watched our new resident over the next few days and I had to admit that Catherine was right about her: she was unwell. She would make strange comments at the table, swear and upset the others. Sometimes she burst out laughing for no apparent reason. Then one day she didn't come for meals.

‘Where's Nancy?' I asked Sandra, who was back in total charge of a house again and loving every minute.

‘In her room I expect.'

‘But she hasn't been down for meals. D'you want me to check and see if she's OK?'

‘Oh, stop worrying, will you! Everything's taken care of. And I don't want you going in her room. Do you understand? Earth to Vee! Leave her to me and to people who know what they're doing.'

From then on, Nancy remained in her room, the only one with the en suite bathroom, which Cath had wanted. I assumed food was being taken to her, but I was never allowed to participate in her care. None of the other staff would talk about her: there seemed to be a conspiracy. I wished I could get to the bottom of it, but once again, I knew nobody would believe me if I said anything outside the house, especially as Jack Marshall was so interested in Sandra.

It had now reached the stage where I was doing most of the work while Sandra and her new cronies sat talking and laughing. If I had to go into the office, they would stop as usual, and snigger. I would jump if Sandra called my name, fearing that I had made a mistake which she was going to point out with relish in front of the juniors. I must have deserved this but I couldn't work out why. It was a puzzle which made life even more difficult. At least the white door still seemed to be intact.

The only regular company I had were my flatmates and my neighbours, all of whom worked somewhere on the Centre of course – and Phisto. I didn't have the time, the energy or the transport to go much beyond Whyton on foot to get groceries, returning by taxi. Jim had bought me a bike to get around Squaremile; I didn't see myself ever owning a car again. Holidays were out too, apart from ones accompanying residents, which weren't really holidays at all. I simply didn't have the money: I was trying to pay off a large debt incurred as a result of going high.

It was impossible to find a fellow worker in whom I could confide safely. I had my diary, which was a good way to express emotions, but it couldn't answer back or question my perspective. I suppose I could have called Diane in Lexby, but I didn't want to bother her too often with a series of problems. Besides which she had a young son now and another baby on the way. I had been in touch with one of my own former teachers, Anne Sharp, recently, but getting to see her was difficult. However, I did still have Bella. While she was a nurse and not a friend, she had
been visiting me for some time now and knew all about me. I let her in.

‘Anyone else about today?'

‘No, apart from the girl on nights,' I said in a stage whisper, closing the door which led to the bedrooms.

‘How are things?'

I went to make some coffee. ‘Oh, same as usual.' When I brought the cups in, I sat opposite Bella, who'd had her hair cut short. ‘I like your hair!' I said.

‘Thank you. Now bring me up to speed.'

‘Well, Sandra hasn't changed. I still get the blame for everything. But the talk I was preparing to give when I last saw you went quite well. As you know, I was getting sick of negative attitudes towards people with mental health problems, so I asked Marge in the admin block, who's i/c staff training, if I could give this talk to staff about it. It's the teacher in me trying to get out.'

‘Yes. Go on.'

I told Bella how Marge had let me use one of her rooms and how about fifty or so staff had turned up the previous Wednesday. I'd explained about neuroses and psychoses, bipolar and schizophrenia, etc., but I'd been particularly pleased with my idea for the beginning of the talk; having taught adults as well as children, I knew from experience that
involving
people got their attention. So first, I'd asked them to write down all the words and expressions they could think of which labelled someone who was ill. I got all the usual things: loony, nutcase, screw loose etc. Then I'd asked them to write down similar things which applied to someone with cancer. Surprise, surprise: there were none. Of course I'd then had to ask the big question:
why
is this the case?

‘Sounds great! But were there any senior staff there, anyone who might be able to influence the mindset?'

‘They were mostly juniors, I'm afraid. But I hope it still made them think.'

Bella then stated that she thought I confused Sandra. I didn't understand; she explained that Sandra didn't seem
able to untangle the jealousy she must feel for my level of education from her view of my illness, which she clearly didn't understand. I recalled Bill's attitude. According to Bella, both of these things made her wary of me, which is partly why she was treating me so badly.

‘I kind of half knew that.'

‘Ah, these people!' Bella was fired up by the injustice she must have encountered every day. ‘They think they're immune! Do they think you're
happy
being bipolar, and that you're ill just to annoy them?' She paused to sip her drink, then said: ‘Vee, there's something I should tell you. There might come a time when I can't see you any more.'

I felt a sudden rush of anxiety. She went on: ‘They're on the point of changing the system, to save money, of course. But the details haven't been thrashed out yet, so it could be a while. Don't panic just yet. I just thought I ought to warn you, that's all. Now,' She put down her mug. ‘How do you feel about applying for a new job?'

‘I have thought about it lately.'

‘How about asking Sandra for a reference?'

I stopped myself from ridiculing this suggestion. ‘Oh yes! I see! That way, if she wants to get rid of me, she'll be forced to say something positive!'

‘Exactly. Give it a try. Ask her. You've got nothing to lose.'

I heard on the grapevine that Tim Clark, Health and Safety, was due to retire soon, and that Sandra had been tipped as his successor. I wondered if Sandra knew. It seemed likely. One cold morning when I had been sent to get the post, I caught sight of Tim Clark talking to someone I recognised, outside the admin block. It was Debbie from university. I had to say hello. Tim saw me coming and went indoors.

‘Oh, hi Vee! It's been a long time!'

‘Yes. About twenty years, I'd say!' We laughed. ‘How long have you been working here? I haven't seen you around.'