if it’s the truth. We’re checking that there isn’t any other cause for this other than temporary delirium. And we don’t want to shock him further. We’re introducing him to the idea it was just a dream reasonably gradually.’
‘So we just ask him the questions and let him fill in the blanks?’ Lucy says, usefully summarising while I struggle to keep up.
‘None of that was true then? The break-in? The blood?’ I ask.
Dr Hutchins creases his brow and shrugs. ‘Nope. As far as we can tell. We obviously had to take the story seriously, and involved the police to double-check, but it seems it is just a bad nightmare his brain thinks is true. They’re clarifying a couple of facts just to make sure it’s not a question of it having happened elsewhere, but we’re pretty certain it didn’t. Not when we know he was found at the allotment and the house was fine, and as far as we know Nancy doesn’t exist. At least, not in this lifetime.’
‘Astounding,’ I say, not quite able to get my head around it.
‘How so?’ Dr Hutchins asks.
‘That he could be so convinced it’s true. To the point his mind has broken his heart. That’s a case study in itself.’ Clive’s heart has become weak, not because of the shock of an event in his life, but because of the shock of an event his mind has created. This is a first for the study, and for me.
‘The human body never fails to surprise,’ the doctor points out before he makes his apologies and returns to his other duties.
Lucy dashes to the toilet. My jaw remains slack while I wait for my friend to finish in the loo. She’s taking forever. She turned a funny shade of white over the course of the interview and made murmurs about not feeling like having any lunch. Not feeling up to eating is most unlike Lucy.
George, the staff nurse, comes over. ‘Clive would like to speak to you before you go.’
I stare at his floppy fringe for a moment too long as I try to process everything that is happening. ‘Is that allowed? I mean, with what Dr Hutchins has told us.’
‘As long as you let him do the talking. Don’t make suggestions of what may or may not have happened, and they don’t want anyone to mention that Nancy doesn’t exist beyond what has been said today. We’re hoping that he’ll come to that realisation himself as he gets better. He doesn’t need any more shocks.’
‘Why does he want to see me?’
‘He wants to see if you’re okay.’
‘Oh.’ I should say no, especially after how our first encounter affected me, but there is something pulling me towards this man. Sympathy, probably. ‘I don’t have more research questions for him at the moment.’
‘He’d like to talk to you anyway. Have a cuppa with him by his bedside. He probably wants some company after the interview ordeal. I would sit with him, but I need to get on after the time away from the ward. Let me go get you both a hot drink.’
George heads off before ‘no’ has the chance to be an option.
I took my pulse when we left the meeting, but I take it a second time now to make sure it’s calmer. I check it at the carotid as some kind of sign of respect to Nancy, like a salute, even though she doesn’t exist. For a moment, when listening to Clive’s story, she was real. The panic of what happened was palpable and I understand why his heart would have given out if it was his belief that such a scene was true. My heart rate is down by over eight beats per minute. I head to see Clive before my adrenaline deserts me completely.
‘Hi, I’m Keisha.’ I place a plastic visitor chair by his patient chair.
‘I know who you are. I have been paying attention.’
‘I’m sorry for interrupting.’
‘You don’t need to be apologising. I’d much rather hear one from the police. What a thing to suggest… They reckon they haven’t found a body.’
I take a deeper breath than is my intention. ‘They haven’t told me anything,’ I say, lamely.
‘I don’t have a home now.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I can’t go back. I can never go back. I’ve no idea what I’ll do when they want to kick me out of here.’
Being lost for words is a forte of mine, but never more so than in this moment. I can’t point out that he’s