They Thought I Was Dead: Sandy’s Story

80 Autumn 2011

Dr Ramsden stared back at me and had the good grace to smile. Then he shook his head vigorously. ‘Sandy, I see people all day long. Not many people come to see me because they are happy or in a good place. The mere fact that you want to bring your son to me shows me just how on-the-mend you are.’

I didn’t reply for a while. He was totally missing the point. But was that deliberate, because he was only interested in Bruno, or was he playing some kind of psychological game with me?

I shrugged. ‘I have been in a very bad place,’ I said. ‘I don’t know how much Dr Borg told you about me?’

‘Very little beyond his opinion that your son might be on the sociopathy spectrum.’

‘Yes, I’m not sure I agree with that, but let’s see what you think. Am I right that there’s not a lot of difference between a sociopath and a psychopath?’

‘Some people think there is, others say it’s semantics.’

‘And what do you think?’

‘Both are people who have little empathy and little conscience about their actions. In my opinion, the key difference is that sociopaths are impulsive, psychopaths are manipulative.’

‘That’s what worries me about Bruno. I can’t see it in him myself, but I don’t like what others say about him and I feel he’s getting tarred with this brush that he could be on a sociopathic or psychopathic spectrum for just being a bit of an individual. He’s not like all the other children, but he’s had a very different start to his life.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Let’s hope you are worrying unnecessarily. But first, tell me about you. What did Dr Borg omit to tell me that I need to know?’

‘We could start with my being a heroin addict for the past three years. I’m currently cold turkey, taking Espranor.’

He made some notes, solemnly, without reacting, and the fact that he seemed so non-judgemental — on the surface at least — made me really warm to him.

‘Is Espranor working for you?’

‘I’m not sure. I was on dihydrocodeine before and I felt better with that.’

‘I’m sure Dr Borg has a good reason for changing your meds.’

‘He explained it to me, but I didn’t really understand — how Espranor would help me get off my heroin dependency quicker. It’s making me feel lousy, and I’m always anxious.’

‘Give it time,’ he said. ‘If you don’t start to feel better, ask him to change the dosage, perhaps.’

I nodded. ‘Another thing he probably didn’t tell you is that I have anger management issues. One of the courses I’ve put my name down for at the schloss is for that.’

‘OK. Do you want to tell me more about that?’

I shook my head. ‘I want to focus on Bruno. I feel I have it under control. I’ve been a lot better ever since I became pregnant. Maybe my hormones changed, or something.’

He smiled. ‘Maybe. So, Bruno.’ He said nothing for a few moments, then he said, ‘If you want me to treat him, I will need to see him three times a week for at least the next six months and quite possibly a lot longer.’

It took me a moment to absorb this. ‘Three times a week?’

‘I’m afraid there are no quick fixes with children or adults. Psychotherapy is most effective with regular, intense sessions.’

‘How much — what — what would the cost be?’

‘In English money, one hundred and twenty pounds a consultation.’

I tried not to look too shocked. At the same time I was doing the maths. Three hundred and sixty pounds a week. On top of that the train or airfare here. I’d be looking at a grand a week, and probably a fair bit more.

Unless we moved here, and... I had no idea what property rental prices were here — but perhaps a lot cheaper than a 250-mile commute three times a week?

I did a quick mental calculation, although arithmetic had never been my strong point. I had around £30,000 in cash still hidden at the bottom of my handbag. If I had to pay Dr Ramsden, plus rent on top of that and all other living expenses, I’d be burning through my reserves at an uncomfortable rate, unless I could get a job. But then I’d need to pay for Bruno to be in kindergarten as well as someone to look after him.

Hans-Jürgen Waldinger had been really sweet to me in these past two weeks. He’d not permitted Bruno to attend any more classes because he was so disruptive, but he had arranged a rota of tutors to keep him occupied. All of them had reported how astonished they were at his intellect — at least two to three years advanced for his age.

I’d tried to keep myself occupied by attending the daily courses assigned to me as a first-year student. But this whole mind-spirit stuff just wasn’t my thing. Trying to get my head around some of the concepts the airy-fairy tutors spouted at us felt, at times, like trying to grab smoke.

I had dinner with Hans-Jürgen most evenings. Our bond of friendship had definitely deepened, but so had the divide between us. The more time I spent with him, the more I realized what different journeys we were on. He genuinely believed it was possible — and passionately wanted — to make the world a better place.

All I wanted was to stop feeling so utterly shit. To sleep through an entire night without being woken by nightmares. To wake one morning without a feeling of dread in every cell of my body and pore of my skin, and the sense that a cement mixer was churning in the pit of my stomach.

For a short while, I’d thought the Jersey Evening Post had lost interest in the story and it had gone away. Then I’d read a front-page splash from a few days ago.

To make it worse, they’d used my name. Sandra Jones.

Perhaps I was being paranoid. Roel Albazi was in prison in England and going to be there for a long time. He was hardly likely to be getting the Jersey newspaper delivered to his cell every day.

But all the same, I needed a Plan B. Hans-Jürgen made it clear that while he was always here for me as a friend I could rely on, Bruno was a problem, and until he was capable of socializing with other children, he was not welcome here.

I had a good look around for child psychologists in Munich, but I couldn’t find any who were a match for Dr Ramsden in Frankfurt — and nor, crucially, any who were sufficiently fluent in English. Bruno and I both needed to learn German if we were to stay in this country, but that would take time. Moving to Frankfurt seemed the only real option, to try to get Bruno sorted. Maybe Dr Ramsden could work enough magic on him in six months for us to be able to return to the sanctuary — of a kind — of the schloss.

If I was sensible, I could stretch my funds for some while by staying in a cheap hotel or rental flat. Tutor myself and Bruno in German and perhaps in six months, if Dr Ramsden had improved him, get him into a nursery school and maybe I could then get a job.

Another option I considered was to track down some of my relatives. How would that play out?

Hi, I’m Sandy, I’m a recovering drug addict and my son, Bruno, is a borderline psychopath. Thought you might be pleased to see us!

The tutor in the last class I had attended at the schloss had banged on and on about karma. All of us, he said, by virtue of us just being here in the schloss, had good karma. Out there, beyond the schloss walls, there was more good karma awaiting us. Every act of good karma earned a karmic reward.

I thought he was talking bollocks.

What had I ever done to deserve karma?

The answer was provided by a conspicuous absence of karma in the months that followed.