of medical assessment before she can be officially discharged, this process is not in his hands, and whenever he’s asked about it the answer is always vague. A few days, they say.
We’ll have to see. One doctor has told him that she will have to be psychologically evaluated, a prospect that terrifies him, if she’s certified it may be a very long time before anybody can get her out. But even if he could remove her today, where would he take her. She cannot go back to the village. The flights are all full, he has already checked, he cannot send her home early. The best hope is to try to keep her here until the date of her original departure, which is about five days away by now. How she will be able to travel in this condition still remains to be seen.
But the chances of holding out till that flight home are slim. This is Sjef and Paula’s last day, in the morning they will be gone. He and Caroline are worn to spiritual shreds by now and Anna is at her maddest and most powerful. It is the lowest point they’ve reached since she woke up and at this desperate moment another character enters from the wings, a sly and sidelong fellow in uniform who comes picking his way through the bodies on the floor. We look at him in bemusement.
He is very polite. He’s from the casualty police, he tells us, and he’d like to be of assistance. As we must know, this is a matter for criminal investigation, and when Anna is discharged she will probably be detained. It’s a difficult situation but if we speak to him, and at this point he gives us a piece of paper with his name and number on it, he’s sure that we can come to some agreement.
Of all of us, Anna is the only one happy to see him. Oh thank God, she cries, at last, somebody who understands. All I want is to get out of here.
The seedy little man nods in sympathy. I will help you, he says.
Thank you, thank you.
I thank him too, more demurely, and shake his hand. But when he’s slid away again like an insidious drop of oil, the rest of us look at each other despairingly. Oh bloody hell. What will we do now.
Paula speaks up. Remember that doctor who spoke to Sjef, she says, maybe you should contact him. Sjef isn’t here today, he’s at the room packing up their bags, but I shoot off to a payphone and ring him. Luckily he’s kept the name and number of the doctor concerned and I’m able to call him immediately afterwards. He listens to the story and sighs. That’s bad news, he tells me carefully, it’s what I was worried about. Here’s what you need to do, but you can’t ever use my name or say that you spoke to me.
I won’t.
The police must have been tracking her through the hospital, they know she’s going to be discharged soon. That’s when they’ll grab you, so you must get her out before then. Do it now. Go to the doctor in charge of the ward and tell him you want a DAMA. That stands for discharge against medical advice. He’ll argue and tell you it’s impossible, but you must insist. Then take her out before the doctor can call the police and let them know. The doctor will also be getting a cut, so you must be fast.
But where will I take her. I have nowhere to go.
There is a private hospital in Panjim run by a friend of mine. Go and see him. His name is Dr Ajoy.
He gives me the address of the hospital and I take a taxi over there immediately. It’s a small, clean, quiet place, close to the beach, and Dr Ajoy is helpful. Yes, he says, she can be accommodated. He has drugs to calm her down. I should bring her round now.
In a last co-ordinated burst of activity, we engineer the escape. The taxi driver who has been ferrying us all back and forth between the village and the hospital keeps his car at a side-entrance, waiting. Inside I go to the nurse in charge of the ward and ask to see the doctor on duty. He’s not there, she tells me.
Where is he. He’s supposed to be here, isn’t he.
He’s at a meeting.
Well, we’re taking my friend, so I need to see the