The Boy Who Lived With Ghosts: A Memoir (39 page)

Read The Boy Who Lived With Ghosts: A Memoir Online

Authors: John Mitchell

Tags: #Parenting & Relationships, #Family Relationships, #Child Abuse, #Dysfunctional Relationships

BOOK: The Boy Who Lived With Ghosts: A Memoir
13.99Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Constable Ferguson said it was really wrong that the magistrate sent her to Holloway. For one thing, all Mum needed to do was take her back and enforce a curfew, and they would have let Margueretta off with a suspended sentence. And when Mum refused to do that because enforcing a curfew on a cat is nigh on impossible, they had no alternative but to stick her in Holloway because all the young offenders facilities were full. She had her own cell. But she could only take one bath a week, so she is lucky she didn’t have to stay in there for a month.

They locked her up again in the asylum when she was released. There’s no way Mum is letting her back home, not after the disgrace of prison.

Joan read about Margueretta’s conviction in the
Evening News
, and that was it. They left in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. At least she’s had her ECT to help her with her nervous breakdown.

Now Dr. Browning thinks he knows what is wrong with Margueretta. He said it’s all now down to drug treatments. If you are just depressed, then Valium is really good because it makes the sun shine, and you feel good about life. And if you are suicidal or manic, then lithium is good because it stops you wanting to kill yourself. But none of this has worked on Margueretta because she still wants to kill herself. So in a way, the treatments have helped to reveal the diagnosis.

“We have come to a fundamental diagnostic conclusion,” said Dr. Browning.

“Which is?” said Mum.

“All along we’ve thought she was suffering from depression, probably manic-depression. But we now believe that your daughter has a significant personality disorder.”

“Disorder?”

“Look. Just listen. You need to listen carefully to this. We believe that she has something that is rare in a girl of her age. We believe that she is schizophrenic.”

“Split personality?”

“No. That’s a common but entirely incorrect view. It’s quite clear now that Margueretta cannot distinguish between real and imagined events. She is having profound and detailed hallucinations. We have observed her in the ward, and she continues conversations with people who are not there.”

“That’s nothing new.”

“It’s a very rare condition. Childhood-onset schizophrenia is highly unusual.”

“But she’s not a child! She’s almost eighteen!”

“It started when she was younger. We don’t know what causes it. But it is probable that it is part genetic and part environmental.”

“Genetic? There’s no madness on my side of the family. I can’t speak for her father, though.”

“I don’t think you should call it ‘madness.’ It’s a mental illness. And it’s probably only partly genetic. Her upbringing could have been a significant factor.”

“Her upbringing? What do you mean?”

“Well, in girls, particularly sensitive girls…”

“Oh, she’s sensitive alright!”

“As I was saying. In some girls a severe trauma could start things moving in the wrong direction.”

“I’m the one who has had the severe trauma. You should try living with her.”

“She lost her father, didn’t she?”

“Lost her father? We didn’t
lose
him. He abandoned us!”

“And how old was she when that happened?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“How old was she?”

“She was ten. Or maybe eleven. But that was years ago.”

“Well, we can be sure that her father abandoned her. That must have been highly traumatic. She’s been very sick for a long time. I am convinced this is childhood-onset schizophrenia. More specifically, she is almost certainly a paranoid schizophrenic.”

“Paranoid?”

“The people and things she imagines, the things she hallucinates, are plotting to harm her. That’s what she thinks. She thinks people are trying to harm her. Or kill her.”

“Well, she has nearly been the death of me!”

“I’ve put her on a new drug. It has worked wonders with thousands of patients who have psychosis from profound personality disorders. It’s called chlorpromazine. You should see a significant difference in her behavior. Trust me on this. Let her back home. One last time, Mrs. Mitchell.”

“No. Never.”

“Think about it.”

“Never.”

“And one more thing, Mrs. Mitchell. I would like you to organize something we call an ‘intervention.’ The chlorpromazine will help to eliminate the psychosis, but it won’t help with the addiction.”

“What addiction?”

“Margueretta is an alcoholic. And she shouldn’t drink when she is taking chlorpromazine, or she will become very drowsy. But more importantly, she has liver damage from the aspirin overdose. She mustn’t drink again. Ever. So I want you to organize a family event and invite all of her loved ones to come along. Don’t tell her about it. It should be a surprise. I’ll explain more later, but you should all prepare a statement for her. Say how much you love her, need her, and want her to change her behaviors. Write it down if you like. It can be very effective at stopping addictive behaviors.”

“I don’t want her back.”

“Think about it. This may be her last chance. For the love of God, give her one last chance. Please.”

105

I
am very excited about this party, once we get the serious bit over and done with. Mum is going to start with “The Planet Suite” because it is an astrological journey rather than an astronomical journey. We can therefore start with an exploration of the star signs that are imbued in all of us. Margueretta is a Capricorn. And through this astrological link, we will be able to talk about Capricorn’s personality traits, and how we would like to change Margueretta’s addictive behavior. And once we get past the addiction intervention part, we will move on to the
Sound of Music
.

Mum has agreed to let Margueretta back just one more time.

“Eech! I’m a Taurus! Do they have a song for a Taurus? I’m a bull. Eech!”

Mollie was the first to arrive because she only lives around the corner, of course, and she is very excited because never gets invited to parties. But she is also depressed and taking Valium to help with the trauma of losing her beloved Folami, which is like suffering the death of a child.

Mum wrote to Nana to invite her and Auntie Dot. I don’t think it was a good idea to use the word “intervention” in the letter for two reasons. Firstly, it is not a very common word and most people would not know what the hell you are talking about. And secondly, Nana’s eyesight is not what it used to be and together with Mum’s shaky handwriting, it should not be a surprise if Nana misread the word.

Also, when Dr. Browning said that we should surprise Margueretta with the intervention, he did not say that we should surprise all of her friends and loved ones as well. We should have explained that we are trying to intervene
in Margueretta’s addictive behavior to stop her being a total alcoholic because it does not mix well with anti-psychotic drugs and liver damage. If we had explained things in detail about breaking the pattern of Margueretta’s addiction, Nana and Dot would not have bought a box of Mackeson, Strongbow Cider, Johnnie Walker Whisky, and Harvey’s Bristol Cream Sherry at the Off-License on the way here.

But I have to agree that the change in Margueretta has been profound now that she is taking the new wonder drug. She seems completely normal now, and she has had several interviews for a job—but she won’t tell us what it is yet. If she gets the job, she will tell us, and we will be amazed.

Mum waited until everyone had a drink before she tapped a spoon on the glass she was holding.

“Och, we’re going to have a wee speech!” Nana said.

“Mother, quiet please,” Mum replied.

“Well, I need another drink if I’m going to have to listen to a speech! Come on, Margueretta, let’s have a wee top up for that glass of yours,” Nana added.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Margueretta replied.

“Mother! She should not be drinking. She’s taking pills, you know,” Mum insisted.

“Och, aren’t we all? I’ve been taking pills for my lumbago for years,” Nana replied.

Squeeelch! Nana farted.

“Oh, for the love of God, Mother! You do not have lumbago. I’m trying to be serious here! And please stop farting like that.”

“Beg pardon.”

“So. We are gathered here for a reason. I have a something here I want to read…”

“Och, no! It’s nae a speech, it’s a blooming sermon. This is why I gave up on the Presbyterian Church. I always said I would nae listen to another sermon. ‘Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here…’”

“Mother, just drink your drink, and let me be. I have had a very stressful few weeks. You may know that I lost my little boy, Akanni...”

“Eech! And my little girl, Folami!”

“Yes. Well, that was the most terrible thing,” Mum agreed, “and I don’t want to live through that feeling again. A mother losing a child is a terrible thing. That’s why we’re here today…I miss my poor wee boy. He’s on a boat out to sea…”

“‘I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and sky, and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.’ Och, you need a drink, lassie,” Nana said, looking at Margueretta’s glass. “Yer glass is empty. Johnny Walker, is it? Dot, get Margueretta a wee refill, lass. And while yer at it, give them wee twins a Mackeson each. Right enough, Emily and John? It’ll put hair on yer chest.”

“As I was saying,” Mum continued.

Squeeelch!

“Beg your pardon! It’s the gas, you know. What do you say, Dot?”

Thluuuump!

“Better out than in!” Dot added.

“Och, right enough, Dot. Can you not turn that mournful music off an’ put something cheerful on? Some party this is with that dreadful sound. ‘The Plant Suite,’ you call it? More like the ‘Painful Suite.’ Fortunate that some of us thought to bring some wee refreshments to get the party going, though…”

“Mother! Be quiet. There’s something Margueretta needs to know…”

“Och, there are things in this world that no one should know. Some people know far too much. Am I right, Dot? Are there some things no one should know, Dot?”

“Yes. The smell of a donkey’s arse,” Dot replied.

“Och, that’s right enough. ‘I’ve seen lots of bonnie lassies travelin’ far and wide, but my heart is centered noo on bonnie Kate McBride.’ Let’s dance, wee Johnnie.”

“You need to sit down now!” Mum protested. “You are not taking this seriously! We are here for a reason…”

Squeeelch!

“And for the love of God, stop farting! I have something to say…”

“It’s just wind,” said Auntie Dot.

“Just wind?” Nana began. “It was
just wind
that blew doon the Tay Bridge, you know! It was twenty-one years before I was born, the Tay Bridge collapsed in a violent storm. That bridge connected ma home town of Dundee to Fife, across the Firth of Tay.”

Squeeelch!

“Och, and there was a train crossing the bridge at the time, traveling from Edinburgh to Dundee it was, sure enough. In the darkest, foulest night. Over seventy poor souls drowned. There were no survivors. Bodies were washed up on the shoreline for days. But some were never found. I have a piece of the communication cord from the train, you know!”

“Look! We are here for a reason. We are here to talk to someone. Everyone has something to say. I have something to say…”

“Och, I’ve something to say, right enough. ‘The boy stood on the burning deck, his feet were full o’ blisters. He thought he had on his mother’s shoes, but no they were his sister’s.’ Now put a record on. And none of that last load of rubbish, mind. Dot, we need to refill all these glasses.”

“For the love of God, will you be quiet, Mother! I’m trying to make a statement here, and you are not making this easy. It’s something for Margueretta.”

“Have you got her a wee gift? You know I was given a pretty doll when I was a wee lassie. It was from ma father for Christmas. It was the happiest Christmas. We had a beautiful hoos. There was a huge Christmas tree. And a roaring log fire in the hearth. I curled up beside the fire wi’ ma wee dolly in my arms. She had on a red dress. A beautiful red dress. I fell asleep by the fireplace. And when I woke up the doll’s face was all pushed in. It was a wax head. The heat of the fire had melted it. She wasn’t pretty any more. Oh, I
cried. I cried and cried for that wee, pretty dolly. Her face was all squished in. All squished in and ugly.”

Nana started to cry for that doll on the sofa in our front room with the black floor.

“And when are we going to see the invention?” asked Auntie Dot.

“Invention? What invention?” replied Mum.

“The invention. You said we were to come here for an invention…”

106

I
don’t think she told them that she has a prison record. But it doesn’t matter because she has had four interviews, and she’s got the job. She’s completely normal now that she’s been taking the new pills for the past two months. Dr. Browning was right. It’s a wonder drug.

It’s a pity that Joan Housecoat moved away in the middle of the night without leaving a forwarding address because now she would be able to see that we are a normal family, and Margueretta is just a normal young woman. And everyone at school is going to be really jealous when I tell them that my sister is going to be a Bunny Girl at the Southsea Playboy Club.

“Listen to this: ‘The Bunnies, in their brightly colored costumes, with rabbit ears and white cottontails, add beauty and glamour to these surroundings…you are with girls who, like yourself, possess excellent character, striking good looks, charm, intelligence, and friendly personalities…’”

Margueretta was reading from her Bunny brochure.

“Did you tell them about your problems?” Mum asked.

“What? You’re always trying to spoil things for me. I took the Bunny Test, and I passed. I am going to learn the Bunny Poses. They said I was perfect Bunny Material.”

“Perfect Bunny Material? Don’t make me laugh. Let’s see how long this lasts. How long was it at the Tampax factory? A month?”

“I didn’t like working shifts. Anyway, I will meet famous people, like Tony Curtis. He’s a ‘devoted Keyholder’ at the New York Playboy Club, you know.”

“Tony Curtis? That’s a good one. Southsea is not New York.”

Other books

Calling All the Shots by Katherine Garbera
The Weimar Triangle by Eric Koch
Powers of Attorney by Louis Auchincloss
Cold Fury by T. M. Goeglein
Dirtbags by Pruitt, Eryk
Terms of Surrender by Sheila Seabrook