‘They ain’t nice. They ain’t.’
Dr Berry grabbed hold of Bronwin’s arm and shook her hard, his face red with anger. ‘I’m warning you, Bronwin.’
Bronwin didn’t say anything. She didn’t even know why she was here and all she wanted to do was to go home. She curled up tighter in her sadness as she listened to Dr Berry continue to rant. ‘And you know what’s happened now, don’t you?’
Bronwin shook her head.
‘Now everybody thinks you’re a liar. The police, the courts, even your mum does. That’s why they were found not guilty.’
Hearing the psychiatrist mention her mother, Bronwin sat up, her face scrunched up in a mixture of hurt and anger.
‘No she don’t! She never said that!’
‘Bronwin, I don’t tell lies because I know it’s wrong.’
Rubbing away a tear with the back of her sleeve, Bronwin yelled, ‘You’re a big fat liar.’
Dr Berry slapped Bronwin hard across her face, causing an angry welt to appear on her cheek. Taking his glasses off to wipe them with the corner of his starched white doctor’s coat, Dr Berry didn’t bother to look at Bronwin as he spoke.
‘That’s why she hasn’t been to see you, Bronwin, because she doesn’t like liars. She told me she didn’t want you to come home. No one is ever going to believe a word you say. No one trusts you, Bronwin, which means no one’s ever going to believe you when you tell them what happened in the woods.’
At the word woods, Bronwin covered her ears.
‘It’s no good doing that, Bronwin. The only way to change this is by telling the truth and stopping these silly lies.’
‘But I keep telling you, it ain’t a lie. I want to go home. I want to see me mum and me sister.’
‘Bronwin, I’ve told you this before. Your sister is dead.’ Bronwin immediately began to scream. Her wail was fearful and high pitched; an adult’s cry within a child’s body. The scream resonated through her and began to take possession of her body as it started to shake, convulsing her into a fit. Dr Berry pressed a button and a moment later a white-gowned nurse entered the room.
‘Give her fifty millilitres, nurse.’
The nurse picked up a full syringe from the silver drugs trolley nestling in the corner of the room, then quickly and expertly administrated the powerful drug into Bronwin’s leg. Almost immediately, Bronwin’s eyes began to roll back. Her shoulders began to slump and her mouth gently opened to one side as she lay on the bed in the tiny whitewashed room.
After a couple of minutes, Bronwin’s eyes slowly regained focus and she sat staring ahead at nothing but the blank wall.
Today was her seventh birthday.
In the next room, Bronwin’s mother sat nervously pulling down the grey nylon skirt she’d bought from Roman Road Market the day before. She’d wanted to look presentable and it was only now she was realising that the skirt might be too short. Perhaps she should’ve got the other one, the longer one, but it’d been a fiver more and she’d needed the fiver for the electricity key. Taking off her jacket, she placed it over her knees.
She was nervous. Her hands were sweating and she could feel a prickly heat rash beginning to develop on her chest. She knew what these people were like. Knew how they judged; Christ, she’d been dealing with them since she was a kid herself, and now they had their hands on her daughter.
Week after week she’d called up to see Bronwin, but they’d told her she couldn’t. She’d even turned up a few times, hoping someone would show a bit of compassion, but she’d been turned away, not even being allowed to step foot into the children’s facility. All she’d been told was that social services and the doctors thought it was best for Bronwin to be taken into temporary care. That wasn’t going to stop her though; she was going to get her daughter back and bring her home where she belonged. Today was the first time she was able to see the doctor in charge and, as her nan used to say, she was shitting bricks.
Gazing around the room made her feel even more nervous. There were paintings of men in gilded frames on the wall, looking superior and mocking. It surprised her to see the doctor’s office void of any medical books, but instead filled with trinkets and thank you cards. She jumped as the glass door opened.
‘Hello, I’m Dr Berry, we’ve spoken many times on the phone. Thank you for coming.’
Refusing to take the outstretched hand, Bronwin’s mum thought the doctor looked like he should’ve retired years ago. His white hair and stooped shoulders made her feel as if she was paying a visit to her granddad rather than a child shrink.
‘I’ve been trying to come for a while now, but then you’d already know that, wouldn’t you? What I want to know is when can I take Bronwin home?’
‘Well, that might be a problem. Bronwin doesn’t want to come home. She’s a very troubled little girl.’
Bronwin’s mother flinched. ‘I don’t want to hear about bleedin’ problems mate. I just want to take her home where she belongs. She’s my daughter, not yours, and I don’t believe she don’t want to come home. I want to see her.’
Dr Berry went round to the other side of his desk. He pulled out his chair slowly, staring moodily over his rimless glasses. ‘How do you feel about your other daughter’s death? Kathleen, wasn’t it?’
‘I ain’t here to talk about me other daughter. In fact, I ain’t here to answer any questions at all. Just give me Bronwin so we can get out of here.’
As was his habit and his arrogance, the doctor ignored the interjection and continued to talk. ‘Do you feel responsible for your daughter’s death?’
Bronwin’s mother stared ahead, painful, angry tears about to fall. She didn’t know if it was her imagination or not but she was sure she could see a tiny smirk on Dr Berry’s face as he asked about Kathleen.
She was pleased to hear her voice was steady as she made a concerted effort to stay calm. Her words punctuated the air. ‘I’m not responsible for her death. It wasn’t me who killed her.’
‘But you were the one who let your daughters out. Surely you must hold some sort of guilt?’
Bronwin’s mother blinked away the tears as she felt them burning. She bent forward, holding her stomach, and whispered almost inaudibly as her gaze found the window. ‘Of course I do. Of course I do.’
‘Then let us help you. You do want some help, don’t you?’
Bronwin’s mum nodded, trance-like.
‘I still don’t really know why she’s here.’
Dr Berry’s expression was patronising. ‘I think you do, but if you need reminding again, why, I’ll tell you. Myself and social services thought it was for the best, especially in the light of your past history with children’s services. It’s our job to make sure children are safe from harm. You know Bronwin is still very confused with what happened and who was there that night in the woods. Like I said before, she’s a very troubled little girl. She insists on telling these lies.’
‘Bronwin ain’t a liar. That’s one thing she’s never done is lie. If she’s telling you something then it must be true.’
‘That’s as maybe, but she’s a child and all children lie.’
‘She don’t.’
Dr