Tuesday's Gone

Forty-one

The Kerseys’ house was in Highgate, near the top of the hill. It was large and old, with gabled windows, uneven stone floors and low ceilings. From the kitchen where she sat, Frieda could see London spread out beneath her. An ancient spaniel lay curled near the fire. It twitched in its sleep and occasionally gave piteous murmurs. Frieda wondered what dogs had nightmares about.

‘Mervyn was going to be here as well, but at the last moment something came up. Well, actually, he just couldn’t face it.’ She grimaced at Frieda. ‘He’s taken this so hard. He feels it was his fault.’

‘What, exactly?’

‘Everything that happened with Beth. That’s being a parent for you, of course. Do you have children?’

‘No.’

‘You blame yourselves, of course you do. Anyway, it’s just me.’

‘Just you is fine. Thank you for seeing me. I work with Detective Chief Inspector Karlsson. I’m a doctor, not a detective.’

‘What kind of doctor?’

‘I’m trained as a psychiatrist but I work as a therapist.’

Frieda was used to the expressions that crossed people’s faces when she said this, but Lorna Kersey’s suggested something different – a flicker of anticipation, watchfulness.

‘Did your detective want you to talk to me because Beth was disturbed?’

‘Would you say your daughter was disturbed?’ Frieda asked. ‘Rather than simply unhappy and confused?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve never known. I ask myself all the time. Was it because of her childhood? Were we bad parents? Did she need medical help or did she need understanding and kindness? I don’t know. I don’t know what the word means to people like you.’

‘Your daughter received treatment. Is that right?’

Lorna Kersey waved a hand in the air. ‘We were desperate. Counselling, therapy, drugs, you name it.’ She pinched the top of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, sharply, and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘I hate to think of her out there, alone,’ she said. ‘I can’t begin to tell you how much I hate it. The thought of what she’ll do.’

‘Do you mean to herself?’

‘Well, yes. That too.’

‘To other people?’

‘I don’t know! I haven’t seen her for so long. I never thought she could manage on her own. I can’t imagine what she’s doing or how she is.’

‘What kind of drugs was she on?’

‘Why does that matter?’

‘What were they for? Were they anti-depressants?’

‘I can’t remember their name.’

‘But were they because she was depressed, or were they for something else?’

Lorna Kersey laid her hands flat on the table in front of her and stared at them. Then she looked up at Frieda. Her eyes seemed sore behind her round glasses. ‘She had these episodes,’ she said. ‘I’m an expert now. I’ve read the books, I’ve talked to experts. You’re not meant to say, “She’s a schizophrenic.” You say, “She had schizophrenic episodes.” That’s meant to make us feel better. Either way, they were terrifying.’

‘I know,’ said Frieda.

‘No,’ said Lorna Kersey. ‘If you don’t have a child, you can’t know.’

‘We’d like to try and help you find her.’

‘You think she may have killed him?’ whispered Beth’s mother. ‘You think my Beth may have murdered him?’

‘I’m not a detective.’

‘So what happens next?’

‘We need to find her for you.’