(2013) Looks Could Kill

LOOKS COULD KILL

David Ellis

ISBN:978-1-300-94077-7

Copyright © 2013 David Ellis

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored, in any form or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

PublishNation, London

www.publishnation.co.uk

I glanced at a buzzing bee,

a dull grey pebble fell

to the ground.

I glanced at a singing bird,

a handful of dusty gravel

spattered down.

From 'Medusa' by Carol Ann Duffy

Introduction

The idea of this novel was conceived whilst on holiday in Italy.

I saw this unusual sign above a doorway and found out what it meant.

    
'Il
Malocchio'
(the evil eye)

The novel has a medical theme and it deals with issues relating to life and death.

The people and places are fictional but the clinical situations are commonplace.

David Ellis

London

Vicar found dead in home

Police investigate 'suspicious' death of Rev John Stoddard, whose body reportedly had lain undiscovered for more than a week in record hot temperatures.

John Quinn

The Surrey Guardian, Tuesday 18 June 1963

Police have launched an investigation into what was described as the "suspicious" death of a vicar who was found inside his vicarage on Tuesday morning.

He was named as the Rev John Stoddard, whose partially decomposed body was discovered by workmen who turned up at the building on Tilford Road, Hindhead, in Surrey.

The vicar is understood to have moved to the area from a parish in Witham, Essex, during the previous summer.

Detective Chief Insp Michael Crisp, of Surrey police, told the Guardian: "A full search and examination of the property will take place, and we're determined to find the cause of the death. Unfortunately, the weather has been extremely hot recently and the body is badly decomposed.”

He added that the investigation was at an early stage and that a pathologist and a forensic scientist were assessing the scene.

Local people in the village, about 17 miles south of Guildford, expressed shock. Mrs Veronica Bennett, 49, housewife and churchwarden, said: “He seemed so well when he baptised my grand-daughter Emma two weeks ago; I really can’t believe that he’s passed away.”

The vicar worked nearby at St Alban’s church on Wood Road.

July 1963

Emma’s mother, Mary, was very upset by the vicar’s death and thought that she had somehow hastened his demise. She became more preoccupied with religion and spent all her waking hours studying The Book of Revelation. She took to her bed and stopped eating. Emma’s milk supply dried up. For a short time, Emma’s father, George, tried to get around the problem by switching to bottle feeds and a succession of volunteers to look after Mary and Emma when he was at work. It didn’t work. Mary lost more and more weight.  It all reached a crunch point one evening.

“George, come up here!”

George bounded up the stairs. “What is it, darling?”

“Take this thing away, she’s evil,” Mary screamed, pointing at Emma, now deposited four feet away from her at the end of the bed.

“What do you mean, darling? How can our daughter be evil?”

“I tell you she is. I can see it’s in her eyes. It’s the way she looks at me. She’s trying to suck my life away. That’s why I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying, darling, you’re just depressed,” said George, trying to be patient.

“Get out, get out and get her away from me!” she screamed. Mary started scratching herself and pulling at her hair.

George scooped Emma up and ran downstairs. He went to the phone and dialled 999.

“Ambulance service, please. It’s Dr Jones at 34 Church Lane, Hindhead. My wife’s five months post-partum and she’s become violent. I’m scared for the baby…”

George ran up the stairs again and discovered Mary trying to suffocate herself with a pillow. He tried to wrestle it away from her whilst holding on to Emma. Just then, there was the sound of the ambulance’s siren and a blue light was flashing through the windows. He ran back downstairs to open the door.

The ambulance crew were accompanied by male and female police officers. He gave them a brief account of what had been happening and they all went upstairs.  Mary’s attempts at harming herself hadn’t abated and she was now trying to hang herself with the flex from the bedside light. The female police officer said: “Look, Dr Jones, I think it’s best if you go downstairs with your baby, we’ll deal with this.”

The long and the short of the evening’s excitement was that Mary was taken in the ambulance to the nearest hospital and she was detained under the Mental Health Act for her and the baby’s safety.

Not surprisingly, George was very upset by these unfortunate post-natal developments. It’s bad enough having a relative admitted compulsorily to a psychiatric ward, but even worse when it’s your wife in a small village with wagging tongues. Indeed, with all the ambulances and police cars with their flashing lights and sirens – not to mention Mary’s screams, which apparently were heard as far away as Mr Smith’s fields – there’d been a lot for the village folk to wag about.

***

Mary was initially assessed in Accident & Emergency by a junior psychiatrist whilst the police officers were still in attendance. She was continuing to behave in a highly irrational way, screaming about the Whore of Babylon and her daughter being evil, and they’d had to prevent her from strangling herself with whatever was to hand.

Two psychiatrists attended A&E and completed the necessary paperwork which enabled her to be admitted compulsorily to the local psychiatric hospital. They had some discussion about finding her a bed in a specialist unit for mothers and babies, but it was felt that her mental state was too unstable for that to be practical.

And so Mary came to be on Nightingale ward in Stone House Hospital.  As wards went, it was absolutely standard for the 60s, with large dormitories split up into male and female areas, although there was some latitude in this, particular when patients wandered about at night looking for the opposite sex. But Mary’s self-harming behaviour needed rather more than a bed in a dormitory and she ended up in a seclusion area for her own safety. She also required sedation and was given a rather painful intramuscular injection of chlorpromazine.

The following morning, Mary woke up feeling groggy but calmer. A nurse came into her room to offer her a cup of some orange medicine and she was moved to the main dormitory area of the ward. A young doctor came to ask her questions, and then George visited her in the evening after surgery had finished. Food was offered but she refused to eat it. The following morning, a nurse came to tell her that the consultant’s ward round was about to start.

The ward doctor commenced his presentation: “Mary Jones is a 29-year-old woman married to a local GP. She was admitted yesterday under the Mental Health Act after the police and ambulance service were asked to attend the family home by her husband. She had given birth to a daughter five months previously at home. Breast-feeding was initially adequate and there was reasonable attachment with the baby. In recent weeks she had become preoccupied with religion and blamed herself for the death of the vicar who baptised her daughter. She refused to care for the baby and was not eating. Over a few hours on the night of admission, she developed a delusional belief that the baby was evil and this culminated in her throwing the baby to the end of the bed and trying to suffocate herself.  This behaviour continued in the A&E department and she was therefore assessed under the Mental Health Act. She has no formal prior psychiatric history. Both her parents appear to have rigorously enforced religious beliefs, which may have some bearing on her preoccupation with evil. The diagnosis is manic-depressive reaction and immature personality.” 

“Thank you, Dr Elliott, for that succinct presentation,” said the consultant. “Shall we bring her in?”

Mary was brought into the room and her initial reaction was to try to run out as soon as she saw the stern looking men in their dark suits.

“Do please come in and sit down, Mrs Jones,” said the consultant, smiling in the caring sort of way peculiar to psychiatrists in dark suits.

“I want to leave,” said Mary.

“I’m sure you do, Mrs Jones, but I don’t think now is quite the time,” said the consultant.

“I want to leave; I want to be with my husband.”

“I can quite understand that, but I think you will need to stay in hospital a little longer.”

Mary was silent.

“Now, Mrs Jones, may I ask you about your daughter, Emma?”

“She’s evil! She’s evil! She’s evil!” shouted Mary. She started slapping herself on the face and had to be restrained by a couple of nurses who half-walked, half-dragged her out of the room.

“Very unfortunate, very unfortunate,” said the consultant. “I think a combination of chlorpromazine and amitriptyline is advisable. And I believe that new drug Valium is available in the pharmacy, which might help with the hysteria. I will review her next week.”

Mary returned home after about a month and she seemed different to everyone who knew her. Her weight had increased considerably as a result of the drugs she’d been given in hospital. She was distant with George and even more distant with Emma.  She seemed absent-minded and George wondered whether she’d received ECT.

Mrs Bennett was in her element back in the maternal role.

February 1964

It was Emma’s first birthday, which meant her first ever birthday cake, presents and a party. Up until then, her abiding interest had been watching the British Broadcasting Corporation clock ticking around on their state-of-the-art, black & white, Pye television set.

But technology and Emma were set to move on.

Emma’s parents had invited a variety of parents with their infants, so it was all rather chaotic, with most of them toddling around like dysfunctional remote-controlled toys. Food was sweet and chocolaty and most of it got deposited outside their mouths. Emma’s parents had hired an entertainer and he did funny things with puppets, but he didn’t make Emma laugh as she preferred the more predictable entertainment offered by Mr Pye. 

There was a particular girl there called Doreen and she was just a few months older than Emma. Her toddling was even worse than Emma’s and Emma laughed when she fell over and banged her nose. Emma didn’t like her much, though, because she was always pulling faces. Doreen’s parents weren’t impressed when Emma slapped Doreen’s face and then proceeded to cover it with chocolate cake.

“George,” called Emma’s mother, “did you see what Emma just did?”

“I don’t think anyone couldn’t have noticed it, dear,” he said. “Infants will be infants.”

At that point in the proceedings, Emma decided to drop her nappy on the floor.

“Mary, I think we really have to start thinking about potty training.”

“George, I can’t bear thinking about it.”

At that point, Emma pushed over another child, which started screaming. Its parents rushed over, furious.

“Dr Jones, did you see what Emma just did? It’s just not acceptable,” said the understandably irate mother.