A Spot of Bother - Mark Haddon [88]
By the time they reached Peterborough Jacob was asleep.
Ray pulled up outside the house and said, “Stay there,” and got out.
She wanted to protest. She wasn’t a child. And it was her father. But she was exhausted, and glad that someone else was making the decisions.
Ray knocked on the door and waited for a long time. There was no answer. He went round the back.
At the end of the street, three kids were taking turns to ride a bike over a little ramp made of a plank and a wooden crate, like she and Juliet used to do when they were nine.
Ray was taking a very long time. She got out of the car and was halfway down the path beside the house when he reappeared.
He held up his hand. “No. Don’t go back there.”
“Why?”
“There’s no one in.”
“How do you know?” she asked.
“I broke in through a window at the back.” He turned her round and marched her toward the car.
“You what?”
“We’ll sort it out later on. I need to ring the hospital.”
“Why can’t I look inside the house?” asked Katie.
Ray took hold of both her shoulders and looked into her face. “Trust me.”
He opened the driver’s door, retrieved his mobile from the glove compartment and dialed.
“George Hall,” said Ray. “That’s right.”
They waited.
“Thank you,” said Ray into the phone.
“Well?” asked Katie.
“He’s at the hospital,” said Ray. “Get in.”
“And what did they say about him?”
“They didn’t.”
“Why not?” asked Katie.
“I didn’t ask.”
“Jesus, Ray.”
“They don’t tell you anything if you’re not family.”
“I’m bloody family,” said Katie.
“I’m sorry,” said Ray. “But please, get into the car.”
She got into the car and Ray pulled away.
“Why wouldn’t you let me see in the house?” asked Katie. “What was in there?”
“There was a lot of blood,” said Ray, very quietly.
68
Shortly after Jean sent Jamie off to find something to eat in the hospital canteen a doctor appeared. He was wearing a dark blue V-neck pullover and no tie, the way doctors did these days.
He said, “Mrs. Hall?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Dr. Parris.”
He shook her hand. He was rather good-looking. There was something of the rugby player about him.
He said, “Could we step outside for a moment?” and he said it so politely that it never occurred to her to be worried. They stepped outside.
“So?” she asked.
He paused. “We’d like to keep your husband in overnight.”
“OK.” It sounded like a very sensible idea.
He said, “We’d like to make a psychiatric assessment.”
She said, “Well, yes, he has been feeling rather down recently.” She was impressed by the hospital’s thoroughness, but puzzled as to how they knew. Perhaps Dr. Barghoutian had put something in George’s medical records. Which was a bit alarming.
Dr. Parris said, “If someone’s harmed themselves we like to know why. Whether they’ve done it before. Whether they’re likely to do it again.”
Jean said, “He broke his elbow a couple of years ago. Usually, he’s very careful about that kind of thing.” She really didn’t understand what Dr. Parris was getting at. She smiled.
Dr. Parris smiled back, but it was not a proper smile. “And he broke his elbow…?”
“Falling off a stepladder.”
“They didn’t tell you about the scissors, did they.”
“What scissors?” she asked.
So he told her about the scissors.
She wanted to tell Dr. Parris that he’d mixed George up with someone else. But he knew about the blood and the bathroom and the eczema. She felt stupid for believing his ridiculous story about the chisel. And frightened for George.
He was losing his mind.
She wanted to ask Dr. Parris what exactly was wrong with George, whether it would get worse, whether it was something permanent. But these were selfish questions and she didn’t want to make a fool of herself for a second time. So she thanked him for talking to her, he went away and she returned to the chair beside George’s bed and waited for Dr. Parris to