Finding Audrey (18 page)

‘Didn’t my mum
tell
you what was wrong? Didn’t she explain?’

‘Well . . .’ Natalie looks still more awkward. ‘My mum thought she was putting a gloss on it. I mean, there have been all these rumours—’

‘Like what? What rumours?’ Natalie is silent, and I put on my most menacing tone. ‘What rumours, Nat?’

‘OK!’ she says hurriedly. ‘Like you tried to commit suicide . . . like you’ve gone blind . . . like you can’t speak any more . . . Oh! Someone said you’d gouged out your own eyes and that’s why you wear dark glasses.’

‘
What?
’ I feel winded from shock. ‘And you
believed
them?’

‘No!’ Natalie looks foolish. ‘Of course I didn’t believe them. But—’

‘I gouged out my own eyes? Like Van Gogh?’

‘That was ears,’ Natalie points out. ‘Only one ear.’

‘I
gouged out my own eyes
?’ I feel a bit hysterical. A weird, painful laughter is bubbling through me. ‘You believed it, didn’t you, Nat? You believed it.’

‘I didn’t!’ Natalie is getting all pink. ‘Of course I didn’t. I’m just telling you!’

‘But you thought I was a bipolar homicidal maniac.’

‘I don’t even know what bipolar means,’ admits Natalie. ‘I mean, it’s just one of those words.’

‘A bipolar, homicidal maniac with gouged-out eyes.’ I feel a fresh wave of hysteria. ‘No wonder your mum’s outside in the car.’

‘Stop it!’ wails Natalie. ‘I didn’t mean any of it!’

Natalie is a total, utter dope and her mum is worse. But I can’t help feeling a wave of affection as I watch her, all miserable and flustered and not knowing what to say. I’ve known Nat since we were six, and even then she was totally wide-eyed and thought my dad really was Father Christmas.

‘I’m fine,’ I say at last, letting Natalie off the hook. ‘It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.’

‘Really?’ Natalie looks at me anxiously. ‘Oh God, Auds, I’m sorry. You
know
I don’t know anything about anything.’ She bites her lip, thinking for a moment. ‘So . . . if you’re not bipolar, what are you?’

The question takes me by surprise. I have to think for a few seconds before I reply.

‘I’m getting better,’ I say at last. ‘That’s what I am.’ I reach for the last piece of the chocolate bar and split it into two. ‘C’mon. Let’s finish this before Frank sees it.’

Dr Sarah loves the bipolar homicidal maniac story.

Well, I say ‘loves’. She actually groans and clutches her hair with both hands and says, ‘Seriously?’ And I can see her writing,
Outreach programme – schools? EDUCATE???
on her notepad.

But I just laugh. I mean, it
is
funny, even if it’s all wrong too. You have to see that.

I laugh a lot more when I see Dr Sarah these days. And I talk a
lot
more. For a long time it seemed like she had more to say than I did. It seemed like she did most of the talking and I did most of the listening. (To be fair, I wasn’t wild about communication of any type when we first met. To be even more fair, at our first session I wouldn’t even come in the room, let alone look at her, let alone speak.) But now things have flipped the other way. I have so much to tell her! About Linus, Natalie, all my trips out, that time I went on the bus and didn’t panic one bit . . .

‘So anyway, I reckon I’m done,’ I say as I finish my last story. ‘I’m cooked.’

‘Cooked?’

‘Cured.’

‘Right.’ Dr Sarah taps her pencil thoughtfully. ‘Which means . . .’

‘You know. I’m fine. Back to normal.’

‘You’re certainly making very good progress. I’m delighted, Audrey. Really delighted.’

‘No, not just “good progress”,’ I say impatiently. ‘I’m back to normal. I mean, you know. Practically.’

‘Mmhhm.’ Dr Sarah always leaves a polite pause before she contradicts me. ‘You haven’t been back to school yet,’ she points out. ‘You’re still wearing dark glasses. You’re still on medication.’

‘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.’

The tears in my eyes are edging down my cheeks by now, and Linus stares at them in alarm.

‘Audrey!’

‘No, I’m fine,’ I say fiercely. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Wanker.’ Linus is glaring balefully at the man in the grey T-shirt. ‘If he doesn’t want to be disturbed, he shouldn’t come and sit in a public place. You realize how much he’s saving on rent? He buys one coffee and sits there for an hour and then he expects the whole world to tiptoe around him. If he wants an office he should pay for an office. Fucker.’

‘Anyway, I did it.’ I speak brightly. ‘Your turn now.’

‘I’m speaking to the same guy.’ Linus gets to his feet. ‘He doesn’t get away with being such a prick.’

‘What are you going to say?’ I ask in panic. A choking dread is filling my chest, and I don’t even know what I’m scared of. I just don’t want Linus to go over there. I want to leave. ‘Sit down,’ I beg him. ‘Let’s stop the game.’

‘The game hasn’t finished.’ Linus winks at me and heads over to the corner table, coffee in hand. ‘Hi!’ he says to the man in a childish voice which is so loud that half the coffee shop looks round. ‘That’s an Apple Mac, isn’t it?’

The man looks up as though in disbelief at being interrupted again. ‘Yes,’ he says curtly.

‘Could you tell me the advantages of an Apple Mac over other brands of computer?’ says Linus. ‘Because I want to buy a computer. Is your one really good? I bet it is.’ He sits down opposite the man. ‘Can I have a go?’

‘Look, I’m busy,’ the man snaps. ‘Could you sit somewhere else?’

‘Are you working here?’

There’s silence as the man continues tapping and Linus leans forward. ‘Are you working?’ he repeats in a foghorn voice.

‘Yes!’ The man glowers at him. ‘I’m working.’

‘My dad works in an office,’ says Linus artlessly. ‘Don’t you have an office? What do you do? Could I be like your shadow? Will you come and give a talk to our school? Oh look, your cup’s empty. Are you going to buy another coffee? Was that a cappuccino? I like flat whites. But why are they called flat whites? Do you know? Can you look it up for me?’

‘Listen.’ The man slams his laptop shut. ‘Kid. I’m working. Could you please find another table?’

‘But this is Starbucks,’ says Linus in tones of surprise. ‘You can sit anywhere. You’re allowed.’ He flags down a female barista who’s collecting empty cups nearby. ‘Excuse me, can I sit anywhere? Is that how Starbucks works?’

‘Of course,’ says the barista, and smiles at him. ‘Anywhere you like.’

‘Did you hear that? Anywhere I like. And I’ve got a cup of coffee, but you haven’t,’ Linus points out to the man. ‘You’ve finished yours. Hey, wait.’ He gives the empty cup to the barista. ‘See?’ he says to the man. ‘You’re all done. You should either buy a cup of coffee or go.’