Look Behind You (18 page)

But then I think about all the mentally unstable people he must see in his line of work. People who are delusional, who hear voices, who are paranoid and imagine things that aren’t really happening. He must think I’m just like them.

He ignores my outburst and says in a calm voice, ‘If I thought you were suicidal, I wouldn’t have agreed to release you from hospital. On the contrary, I think you have a strong will for survival, which is the same thing I told Summers. Liam is convinced that you took the sleeping tablets in an attempt to overdose, which was thwarted when you had the reaction to it, and that’s why he’s so concerned about you.’

‘Yes, he can be very convincing when he wants to be,’ I mumble.

‘I disagree with that theory, though. I simply think you took them to help you sleep. After everything you’ve told me, I believe you were very unhappy with your life and possibly became depressed again, which led to you not sleeping like the last time. But until you regain your memory, none of us knows for certain what led to you being found on that road at the edge of the woods. We can all make suppositions or look for things that seem suspicious, but the most plausible answer is that you willingly took some sleeping tablets, which set off another hallucinogenic and paranoid psychosis. Some people are just very sensitive to medication.’

‘But what if you’re wrong? What if Liam is trying to get rid of me?’ My voice cracks then. I was so sure Liam was involved, but I don’t know now. Can’t be sure of anything. I don’t know what’s real and what my mind has distorted to fit what I
think
is real. Maybe I’m reading too much into all those things. They could all be just innocent little coincidences that have stacked up. Dr Drew has made them all sound as if they make perfect, rational sense. And he should know. He’s the psychiatrist, after all. An expert of the human mind. I almost believe his reasoning myself.

Almost.

He pauses for a moment. ‘Then, my dear, I think you should get out of the house and go somewhere safe.’

‘I will. As soon as I know for sure. I can’t prove anything yet, and that’s the problem. I need to find out more first, because what if it
was
someone else? Someone I don’t know about?’

‘Wait a second, let me make sure I’m hearing this correctly. You’ve just tried to convince me Liam is trying to harm you, and yet now you suddenly think someone
other
than Liam is trying to harm you?’ He pauses for a beat. ‘Be careful, won’t you, my dear? I don’t want to see you back in the hospital again.’ I can’t tell if that’s a warning or genuine concern on his part. ‘If you need anything, just call me, OK? Day or night, it doesn’t matter.’

‘Thank you. I may just have to do that.’

We hang up, and I check the battery level on the mobile phone. It’s still not charged enough to use. Damn.

I have too much nervous energy to sit here and wait. It really will make me go crazy. Every cell is buzzing, every muscle taut with tension. I grab my bag and let myself out of the house.

20

When I arrive at Downham College, a distant memory is trying to niggle into my brain, but it hovers just on the edge of my periphery, as if I’m looking through a dirty mirror smudged with years’ of grease and grime. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to focus. It’s something to do with one of my students, but I don’t know what. I massage my forehead, hoping I can relax the thought back in somehow, but it’s stuck behind an invisible brick wall.

I wander past the crowds of students milling around eating their lunch on the grass, taking advantage of the warm weather. The noise of their laughter and chatter penetrates my head, making it pound.

‘Mrs Benson?’ one of them calls as I pass a group throwing a rugby ball to each other.

I stop and turn around. Chris Barnes, one of my keener students, jogs towards me. Sweat plasters his messy hair to his forehead, his face flushed from exertion. He’s dressed in baggy jeans and a blue T-shirt with some kind of logo on the front. He’s a member of the college rugby team, stocky, and a lot taller than I am, so I have to look up at him as he stands in front of me, slightly out of breath.

‘Hi, Chris, how are you?’ I attempt a smile.

‘I wasn’t sure if that was you or not. You look different.’ He wipes the sweaty hair off his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘Yeah, I’m good, thanks. Sorry to hear you haven’t been well. I’ve missed your classes.’

I wonder exactly what Theresa has told my students about why I’ve been off sick. ‘Well, I hope you’re as well-behaved for your stand-in tutor as you are for me.’

He blushes. ‘Of course. But it’s not the same without you. When are you coming back?’

‘Erm…I’m not exactly sure yet. Soon, though.’

Another student I don’t recognize shouts to Chris, telling him to get back and finish their game.

‘OK…so…I’d better get back.’ He smiles awkwardly. ‘Hope to see you in class soon, then.’ He jogs back off to join his friends, and I head up the front steps and along the corridor towards the offices.

I knock on the open doorway of Gillian’s office, the college secretary. She’s ancient and has been here since it opened in the sixties. She always reminds me of an old-fashioned Victorian schoolmistress, dressed in formal clothing that covers every part of her. Heavy skirts that swish against the floor as she walks and long-sleeved blouses, even in summer. But she’s lovely.

She glances up at me, and it’s as if she doesn’t know me. Then her eyes light up in recognition. ‘Chloe! How are you?’ She stands and gives me a big hug. ‘You’ve cut your hair! It makes you look really different.’

I rest my head on her shoulder and inhale the familiar Lilly of the Valley
—
her signature perfume. I want to stay there all day, comforted in her warm arms. An adult woman hasn’t held me since my mum, and for just a moment, I feel like a little girl again.

All too soon, she releases me. ‘How are you, dear?’ She points to the scabs on my face. ‘They look nasty.’

I touch them absentmindedly. ‘Oh, that, er…’ I hear Gillian talking and realize I’ve tuned out for a moment. ‘Pardon?’

‘I said, are you OK? Do you want to sit down? You look a bit peaky. Shouldn’t you be at home, taking it easy?’ She peers at me as if I’m a brittle piece of glass about to shatter right in front of her eyes.

‘No, I’m OK.’

‘Really?’ She doesn’t look convinced. ‘We didn’t expect you to rush back. I think Theresa was going to wait a while before talking to you.’

‘Talking to me?’

‘Oh.’ She blushes. ‘It’s probably best if you have a chat with her about things. Do you want to go in?’ She tilts her head towards Theresa’s office to her right. ‘She’s just eating her lunch.’

‘Thanks.’ I knock on Theresa’s door.

‘Come in,’ she says in a clipped tone.

I open the door to find Theresa sitting behind her desk swamped with paperwork, a sandwich in one hand, typing with the other. She looks Scandinavian. Tall, slim, blonde hair tied up in a no-nonsense bun, with pale green eyes that seem to stare right through you. She doesn’t have a sense of humour and, to be honest, we’ve never really hit it off that well. She can be abrupt and abrasive most of the time. Theresa is all about budgets and efficiency, and saving money where she can, and she scares me a little.

‘Chloe, how are you?’ Theresa raises her eyebrows. ‘We weren’t expecting you back.’

‘No, I know I’m still signed off sick, but I wanted to say thank you for the flowers.’

‘Flowers?’ She tilts her head with a puzzled expression.

‘You sent some flowers wishing me a speedy recovery, didn’t you?’

‘Ah, yes, of course! Gillian sorted it out. I’m glad you liked them.’ She pops the final piece of her sandwich in her mouth and chews slowly.

‘Did the police come to see you about me?’

She waits a full minute while she finishes chewing then takes a sip of water, avoiding looking at me. ‘Yes. They said you’d been involved in some sort of accident and were suffering from amnesia.’

‘Accident?’

‘That’s what they said.’

‘It was more than an accident. I can’t remember what happened in the last seven weeks. I was…’ I trail off and look out of the window at Chris and his friends running along, playing rugby. I want to run, too. Run and run and never come back. Run somewhere no one knows me. Where no one could find me. Start a new life. Maybe change my name.

‘They also said you’d had another allergic reaction to some sleeping tablets you were prescribed.’ Her voice jerks me away from my daydream. ‘Honestly, if I were you, I’d just avoid taking any drugs altogether. It seems like you’re particularly sensitive to them.’ She leans forward in her chair. ‘Have you ever tried homeopathy? It’s completely natural and works really well.’

I blink twice, trying to take in what she’s saying. ‘No, I’ve never tried it. Look, Theresa, the police didn’t tell you exactly what happened to me, then?’

‘They didn’t go into detail, they just wanted to know if you’d been here since you came out of hospital after the problem you had with the antidepressants.’ She says ‘problem’ in an accusing tone, as if somehow it’s my fault I ended up in the psychiatric wing acting like a lunatic.

‘I was abducted and left somewhere underground. I escaped, but I can’t remember what happened. The doctors aren’t sure if the amnesia is from the drugs or some kind of trauma.’

Her face tightens in an expression of forced tolerance. ‘Abducted?’

‘I know it all sounds completely weird and far-fetched, but, yes, that’s what happened. I’m trying to piece together what I did before I was taken, since I can’t remember.’

‘The police didn’t mention abduction at all. Why wouldn’t they tell me that?’ she asks warily.

‘I’m not sure.’ I don’t want to admit to her that the police don’t believe me. ‘Did we have a meeting at all recently, or did I come in and see you?’

‘No.’ She rests her forearms on the desk, as if she’s preparing to interview me. ‘As far as I knew, you were still recuperating from the reaction to the antidepressants. You weren’t due to come back to work yet anyway, but a little while after that lovely detective inspector Summers came to see me, Liam called and told me…’ She glances away briefly before looking at me again. ‘Well, he said your depression was worse than they first thought and you’d tried to commit suicide with some sleeping tablets, but you’d had another reaction to them so you didn’t quite—your attempt wasn’t successful. He said you were now under the care of a psychiatrist, and he hoped you’d be getting back to normal soon.’

‘Commit suicide?’ My mouth flaps open and closed like a fish. ‘Is that what the police told you, too, that I tried to commit suicide?’

She shifts in her chair, looking uncomfortable. ‘They didn’t mention suicide, they just mentioned the reaction you’d had to some sleeping tablets, and that you couldn’t remember what happened. They told me you were found wandering along a road in the middle of the woods and asked if I could shed any light on anything.’

‘Right. And what did you think when you heard that?’ I rub at a tic under my right eye that’s jumping and twitching in my line of vision.

‘That we should of course send some flowers to cheer you up.’ She gives me a beatific smile.

‘You didn’t think it all sounded odd?’ I say, aware my voice is sounding harsh.

‘Not after talking with Liam, no. He explained everything. He’s such a compassionate and caring man. You’re very lucky to have him.’ She smiles. ‘I was going to wait until you felt stronger to talk with you about your position at the college, but now you’re here, it may be a good time.’

‘My position? What do you mean?’ I clasp and unclasp my hands repeatedly, unable to keep them still in my lap.

‘If you’re having difficulties like this, I’m afraid it’s not very healthy for the students. We have a good reputation here, and we’re up for the Standon Award for County Sixth Form College of the Year. We can’t afford to jeopardize our chances by having tutors who are unstable or suffering from mental illness. Imagine the uproar if the parents found out! I discussed this at length with Liam the other day, and we both think it’s in your best interests if you resign. It’s the most sensible course of action all round.’

I clench my fists so tight my fingernails dig into my palms. ‘Why should I resign?’

She reaches a hand across the desk and clasps my wrist. ‘So you can spend more time at home getting well, of course. This is for your benefit, you know. You’ve had a terribly difficult time with the miscarriage and depression. Everyone is thinking of your welfare—the doctors, the police, Liam, me. Once you get better, then we can talk again.’

Best course of action for them, maybe. Not for me. I want to howl at her, scream and shout at the top of my lungs, but that would just prove how unstable and unfit I was. So I bite back the anger igniting inside. ‘Aren’t I entitled to sick leave?’

‘Yes, of course, but I don’t feel that extended sick leave is an option here.’ She pats my hand as if to reassure me it’s all for the best then sits back in her chair. ‘You must see it from my point of view. Our tutors have to set a good example to the students.’

‘I didn’t try to kill myself, Theresa,’ I say with as much conviction as I can. I feel like I’ve become invisible. I’m talking, but no one is actually listening to what I’m saying. ‘Liam is wrong, the police are wrong, and so are you.’ I stand up, unable to contain my anger any longer. If I stay here, I’ll probably say or do something I’ll regret. ‘What if I don’t resign?’ I lift my chin in the air and meet her unsympathetic gaze.