Free as a Bird in a Healing Garden

By Patricia Matthew

A single mother - A misdiagnosis - A psychiatric ward - Children in care - A lonely psychiatrist. Fate brought them together, for, had her condition not been misdiagnosed, lonely psychiatrist Luciano McKinnon would never have met Kate and fallen in love with her, when she was admitted to the hospital psychiatric unit where he worked as a consultant. He would not have become involved with her dysfunctional family and there would be no story, a story encompassing the plight of London's homeless, the delights of Paris and a beautiful Mediterranean island.' Free as a Bird in a Healing Garden' is a heart-wrenching and memorable story about domestic upheaval, love, loss and family secretes. which will grip you from the opening page. It was awarded an Honourable Mention in the LUCKY CINDA Book Contest 2014 for outstanding achievement in fiction (Spiritual/ Romance category). Get the tissues ready for this Romance with a twist. Thr sequel to this story 'An Absence of Birdsong' can be viewed further down this page.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patricia Matthew
• Release date: Oct 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301263486

Patricia Matthew

I was born and educated in Kent, U.K. and later went on to train to teach Biology under the London Institute. I married and had two children and now live in Southport, a beautiful, Victorian, seaside town in the north of England. I began writing creatively relatively late in life while studying for an English degree as a mature student. As well as writing I am an avid reader of many genres .I also like to paint using acrylics, tend my garden and walk Tilly my Jack Russell.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Summer 1999

It was the same dream. She was encircled by animals. They came closer and closer, their eyes glistening in the moonlight and she could see that each had two heads. The dogs were in charge and with both heads writhing, beckoned her to follow them. They took her along a damp and deserted alleyway where cobwebs brushed against her face. She screamed as a rat scuttled across her feet. At the end of the alleyway they reached an imposing but decrepit house. The door, which badly needed a new coat of paint was studded and there was an iron door knocker. She knew they wanted her to go in. She clasped the door knocker, then screamed as it turned into a hand, a hand with nails like talons. The iron hand clutched hers tightly. She pulled her hand away, stifling sobs and whimpering softly. One of the dogs nudged the door which creaked as it opened. She was met by a stale, unhealthy smell. Encouraged by the dogs, she made her way inside. By a shaft of moonlight through a window she could see a staircase. She went with the animals up the stairs, which seemed to be never ending until they finally reached the attic. In it there was a single piece of furniture. A chest of drawers made from solid oak. Filled with curiosity, although she had dreamed this dream many times, she opened the top drawer. In it was a baby, covered with blood and wrapped in a snow-white shawl. She had no idea if it was alive or dead. She opened the window, picked up the baby and carefully threw it out of the window and watched it fall…….

Kate woke up with a start, sweating profusely. She was curled up on the sofa and could hear Lucy crying upstairs. Glancing at her watch, she saw with alarm that it was almost two o’clock. Lucy needed changing. She was surprised they had not come. They had said they would be back in two days. Kate could not remember which day it was. She looked at the calendar on the wall but it did not tell her anything. Then she looked at the newspaper which had been delivered. It said Wednesday. So, she tore a small piece of paper off the writing pad, picked up a pen and wrote

Today is Wednesday

Yesterday was Tuesday

Tomorrow will be Thursday

She carefully folded the small piece of paper and stuffed it inside her bra for safe keeping. Then, she remembered that she needed to go and buy something for tea.

After changing Lucy, she bundled her in into the ancient Fiesta and drove to Jayne’s house.

Could you please look after Lucy for me for about half an hour? she asked her friend. I need to do some shopping and I’m not feeling too great. My brain’s fuddled.

No problem, I’d love to have her. You be as long as you like, Jayne replied.

After driving to the supermarket, Kate parked the car and looked round to make sure they were not following her. She then walked speedily to the entrance.

As she entered she saw the blood. It was everywhere. There were pools on the floor and the walls and shelves were daubed with it. Kate thought it was strange because nobody seemed to be bothered about it. They were just getting on with shopping. But one thing was certain. They were all whispering to each other about her and staring at her. She did her best to ignore them and made for the fruit and vegetables section. She picked up a Cos lettuce. It felt real enough and was nice and cool. A trolley stacked high with sliced loaves clanged as it was pushed past and made her jump.

She could not remember what she had planned to buy for tea so she put the lettuce down and stood stock still while she tried to think. Looking up, she saw that the security guard was staring at her now. What was the matter with everyone, she thought. Have I done something wrong? He was a very young security guard, callow-faced but trying desperately hard to look older than he was. She walked away from him, selected a cheese and onion quiche and put this into her basket, together with three strawberry yoghurts and two litres of milk but all the time she knew he was following her. She could hear his footsteps and heavy breathing. He caught up with her and took hold of her arm. She turned.

Are you alright, Madam? he asked. You seem somewhat disturbed. What’s wrong?

It’s the blood, there’s so much blood. Why isn’t anyone doing anything about it? It’s everywhere, she replied, panic stricken. I’m so tired. If I go back home they’ll be waiting for me. I’ve got to keep them guessing.

You’re imagining things. There’s no blood, he replied, not quite knowing how to deal with the situation. The mind plays funny tricks sometimes. Who’ll be waiting for you?

I’ve got to give them the slip, she sobbed. I can’t sleep because of the dreams.

Now you mustn’t get upset. How about going through the checkout and then we can arrange for a taxi to take you home.

No thanks. My car’s in the car park.

She rushed to the nearest checkout point. A blood-smeared barrier said NO EXIT. I’m trapped, she thought. I’m never going to get out of here. She could see the security guard waiting for her at the other side of the barrier. Her mouth was dry and she had difficulty swallowing. She took her shopping out of the basket and placed it on the conveyor belt. Peep-peep said the checkout machine as each item passed over it.

By the time she was about to pay the cashier, her hands were trembling. She dropped her open purse on the floor in front of the kind-faced man waiting patiently behind her. He helped her pick up some coins.

Thank you, she whispered. I’m so clumsy.

*

When she reached Jayne’s house, Lucy was happily playing with Jayne’s children, Will and Millie.

Thanks for looking after her, said Kate.

No sweat. It’s nice having a baby around sometimes, now my two are at school. Is everything okay, Kate? You look dreadful.

"You’ve reminded me that I’m late in picking up Jake. The poor lad will think

I’ve forgotten him, she said, grasping Lucy’s hand tightly. Bye, Jayne. See you tomorrow."

Lucy, sensing Kate’s agitated mood, struggled as she was fastened into her seat belt and pushed her mother away.

No go home! she said, emphatically.

Oh, Lucy, please don’t be naughty. We’re late as it is, she coaxed, near to tears. She drove faster than she should have and when she reached the school gates found Jake staring forlornly at his scuffed shoes.

Where’ve you been? he demanded. I’ve been waiting ages, Mum.

Oh, Jake. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I had to go shopping and then pick up Lucy from Jayne’s house. The traffic was hectic.

He frowned as he climbed into the car.

Are you alright, Mum?

*

They came for her that evening while she was preparing the meal. Jake opened the door and they walked through to the kitchen.

Just get your coat and make sure you bring your handbag . We’ll arrange about your clothes later, said Mrs Robinson, holding on to Kate’s upper arm with a vice-like grip. Lucy was in her high chair. Jake stood and looked at them. Kate struggled but Mrs Robinson’s grip tightened even more.

Don’t make a scene, she whispered. Think of the children.

Out of the corner of her eye Kate could see that Jake was crying.

I’ve lost my Daddy and now I’m losing my Mummy as well, he sobbed.

Everything’s going to be okay, said Kate to her son. I love you, Jake. I love both of you more than you can ever imagine. But, I’ve got to go with this lady, just for a little while. I’m sorry.

Mrs Robinson ushered her into the waiting car. The other social worker remained with the children.

Where are you taking me? asked Kate. Am I going to prison? Have I done something wrong? I’ve been so tired lately.

No, it’s nothing like that. You’ve done nothing wrong. We just feel that you’re not well enough to look after the children at the moment. You’re very depressed and need a good rest. You’ve been under great strain recently. You must stop worrying and concentrate on getting better for the sake of the children.

What will happen to them?

We’ve made arrangements for them to stay together with foster parents until you’re well again. They’re good people with children of their own. They’ll be well looked after.

I’ve tried hard to cope for the past few weeks but everything seems to have been closing in. I’m so tired.

We’ll be getting in touch with your parents. Hopefully, they’ll be travelling up from Sussex within the next few days. Once they’re here, they’ll be able to see the children regularly.

Thank goodness Jake and Lucy are going to be together, whispered Kate as the car drove away.

*

When she came to later that evening, Kate was lying in bed, facing a locker. On it was the name, Mary O’Brien. They’ve got everything mixed up, she thought. They think I’m someone else. It’s all a mistake. I shouldn’t be here. I must tell them who I really am.

But, it was impossible to raise her head, let alone call out. There was a hell of a din. Someone was either clanging cymbals or hitting dustbin lids together. At the centre of the ward was a long table. On it were lying what looked like enormous spears. Someone will probably kill me during the night, she thought, as she drifted into oblivion.

*

Through a psychedelic haze a voice was shouting, Wakey-wakey. Rise and shine, ladies. Show a leg.

Kate had difficulty opening her eyes. Her head felt as if a tiny man with a pickaxe had wormed his way inside and was hacking away.

Oh, my God! What’s happening? she exclaimed.

Wake up, Kate, said a calm, soothing voice. Slip on your dressing gown and come and see Doctor McKinnon.

Kate looked at the middle-aged nurse who was gently easing her out of bed. It was the same nurse who had been on reception when she was brought in.

I like your face, she said. It’s a clever, mobile face. I’m crazy, aren’t I?

Nurse Ritchie smiled as she took her arm.

Chapter 2

The nurse took Kate into a small room to meet Luciano McKinnon, the psychiatrist who had been on call the previous evening when she had been admitted. Kate looked at him. She thought he looked very strange. His face was large like a moon. His mouth was not smiling but looked as if it should be. This is how he appeared to Kate but in reality he was uncommonly handsome in a rugged sort of way. It is amazing how drugs can distort ones perception. He had inherited his Italian mother’s dark, smouldering eyes and had the kind of face which started off handsome and gained character as it aged. He also gave Kate the impression that he was tired. That makes two of us, she thought. What’s your excuse? Overwork or is something not quite right in your life too?

Good morning, Mrs Hazelton, he said. Please sit down. He pointed to a large, upholstered chair, all the while continuing to write at great speed. He gave a sigh, put down his pen and surveyed Kate with interest. She wondered why he was staring at her.

How are you this morning? he asked. From all accounts you were very lively when you were brought in yesterday evening.

I can’t remember much about yesterday, except having to empty the contents of my handbag. After that, everything’s a big blur and now I’ve the most excruciating headache.

That’s to be expected. You had to be heavily sedated. Apparently it took four people to hold you down at one point. He smiled. Now, I’d like to know if anything unusual has happened recently. Have you by any chance had an accident? The nurses say you talked incessantly about blood and a disturbing dream.

Well, about a week ago, I was walking around the house barefoot and decided that I wanted to move the sofa. That was when the accident happened. The nail on my big toe, the right one, had grown rather long. Anyway, somehow or other it got caught underneath the sofa and was almost completely ripped off. There was a lot of blood. I had to leave the children with a friend and I drove myself to the hospital where they removed the nail completely." Kate noticed that he was writing furiously so she went on with her story.

They bandaged me up but the blood seeped through. It was such a mess. Not long after that I began to have this recurrent dream, well nightmare really. It got so bad I tried to keep busy during the night so that I wouldn’t fall asleep, she continued, blowing her nose. That meant that by the time I’d taken Jake, my son to school next morning and put the baby down for a nap, I’d collapse on the sofa.

Tell me about the dream.

Kate told him about the deserted house, the animals and the baby which she threw out of the window. He continued to write on his notepad, then looked intently at her and smiled.

I think that’s enough for today, Mrs Hazelton, he said. Go and rest now.

*

The night following her first day in hospital, Kate was awakened by banging and shouting. She glanced at the wall clock. It was just after two o’clock.

What on earth is going on? she said to the woman in the bed next to her, who was also awake and sitting up.

She was brought in about half an hour ago. I’m amazed that you didn’t wake sooner. They’ve put her in the padded cell. Won’t stop trying to hurt herself. High as kite she is. You wait, she’ll start singing ‘Ave Maria’ again soon.

Kate, although very tired, waited patiently. A short time later, a strong, contralto voice gave an amazing rendition of the said song.

Do you think she’s a professional? asked Kate. That’s some voice.

Dunno but she is good isn’t she?

They heard the padded cell door open. There was shouting and then everything went quiet.

They must have given her something, said Kate, before settling down under the covers again. See you in the morning.

*

The ‘singer‘ introduced herself to Kate after breakfast the following morning.

Hi, I’m Cassie, short for Cassandra, she said.

Kate looked at her and smiled. The only way she could describe the woman who was standing in front of her would be to say that compared to herself and the rest of the patients she appeared to be in the wrong place. The woman reminded her of a beautiful butterfly which had somehow found itself amongst a group of somewhat dowdy moths. Cassie was wearing a most unusual robe. Wavy swirls of pink, mauve, black, white and maroon, seemed to be competing for attention and the fact that she was in hospital did not seem to deter her for she was wearing an excessive amount of eye makeup. Kate also noticed that she had long, glossy, black hair.

Hello, I’m Kate, she replied, and if you don’t mind me saying so, you have the kind of hair I wish I’d been blessed with. How do you keep it so glossy? What’s the secret? Mine’s so dry these days.

Cassie grinned. There’s no secret and don’t eat your heart out. It’s a wig, she replied, tearing it off to display a punk-like crop of spiky, blonde hair underneath. I always wear it when I’m depressed, which is most of the time these days.

Kate suppressed a smile. Cassie put the wig back on and glanced at Kate’s left hand.

You’re married, I see. At least you’re wearing a wedding ring but that doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re still together. Or does it? Do you have a husband who visits you?

This is only my second day here and in answer to your question, no he doesn’t. He’s no idea I’m here. He left me and the kids a few months ago. He works for some centre in Europe but I haven’t a clue where. She paused, pulled out a chair and sat down. I knew he was playing around the moment he started bringing me flowers. Whenever James felt guilty about anything, he always brought me flowers. Most women get them because their blokes love them.

Men are curious , aren’t they? Cassie replied. Take mine, for instance. Okay, he was married and we were having an affair but he told me that he loved me and that he would leave his wife ’when the time was right’. The time never was right and now that I’m pregnant he doesn’t want to know.

Are you going to keep the baby?

I haven’t really got any option. I tried to get rid of it but everything went dreadfully wrong and then I went crazy and I ended up here. If I do decide to keep it how will I manage? Every time I look at it I’ll be reminded of him. I don’t think I’ll be able to cope. I still love him.

Red roses mean I love you, don’t they? I had red roses in my wedding bouquet. Red roses and white carnations. The bridesmaids wore red velvet, said Kate, sadly. It was a winter wedding you see. Nothing stays the same. Everything changes.

Come on, said Cassie. We’re both getting morbid. Don’t let’s hang around here any more. The clatter from the washing up is doing my head in.

Kate looked round the dining room. We’re obviously in the way here anyway, she replied. I’ll show you where the day room is.

Chapter 3

The pain from Emma Ferguson’s bruised right arm woke her as she turned over towards her husband. A quick glance at him confirmed that Bill would not miss her when she slipped out of bed and left the room. He was lying on his back, his mouth wide open, snoring fitfully .Quietly, she put on her robe and shuffled off to the bathroom, splashed her face with cold water and examined the bruise. Not too bad this time, she muttered to herself, taking note that she would need to wear a long sleeved blouse later that morning.

She made her way downstairs, holding her breath when the sixth stair creaked. She listened and to her relief everything was quiet so she continued down to the kitchen where she made herself a comforting mug of hot chocolate. After swallowing a couple of painkillers, she sat in the rocking chair for a few minutes with her eyes closed, then glanced at the clock. It was almost four. Bathsheba, curled up in her basket in the corner, opened one eye, got up, stretched and walked over to Emma, her tail vibrating. Emma rose from the chair and opened the door, allowing the dog into the garden to sample the early morning air. The scruffy, brown and black pooch, of medium height and uncertain parentage had been rescued by Emma from a nearby sanctuary when eleven weeks old. Bathsheba and five other puppies had been found abandoned in a cardboard box in a supermarket car park. She was now the ripe old age of eight and during those years had turned into a loyal companion and friend to all the family.

Emma followed her into the garden and clutching the mug of hot chocolate, sat down on the bench inside the pergola. Almost immediately she heard the birds begin to sing. She was witnessing the Dawn Chorus. The garden bordered onto a country lane and there was a small wood nearby. After a few minutes there were so many birds singing, it was impossible to identify them. Emma sat and revelled at the incredible sound, thinking that this must be happening all over the world at different times for the chorus moves with the early morning light, like a gigantic wave over the earth.

Bathsheba trundled over and sat at her feet. Emma stroked her from head to tail. The dog looked up and wagged her tail. They sat there companionably until Emma began to feel the cold.

Back in the kitchen, she thought about the day ahead. Things would be busy at the shop. It was Saturday and she had new stock arriving from the Isle of Wight. Knowing that she would be unable to get to sleep again, she settled for doing some much needed ironing, before going up for a bath at around six o’clock.

After a refreshing soak, she dressed, brushed her hair and applied her makeup. Before going downstairs, she knocked on Holly’s door and popped her head in to say she was about to prepare breakfast. Holly’s response was to pull the duvet over her face. Bill was showering in the bathroom, singing tunelessly as always.

Five minutes later he sat down at the table and Emma decided that this was the moment to talk about something which had been bothering her for some time. If she did not act quickly, the newspaper which the paper boy had just delivered, would be propped in front of the jar of marmalade. Bill would then completely ignore her and all she would get from him would be a grunt.

Bill, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something which has been worrying me for some time now. Who on earth is that young lad Holly’s been hanging around with recently?

I don’t know but I’ve seen them together quite a lot in the village. Perhaps we should ask her to introduce him to us.

No, I don’t think that would be a good idea. I don’t want him coming here. He doesn’t look like our sort at all.

He’s probably not that bad though I must admit he does look different. Gothic I think they call it. It’s probably just a phase she’s going through., he replied. She’s not so bad as far as fifteen year olds go. At least she’s not on drugs or anything horrendous like that. Then we really would have to worry. I reckon she’s just experimenting. I’ll have a word with her later.

Although she was a source of constant worry, Bill was fond of his younger daughter, who reminded him of himself at the same age. He had been headstrong too. No doubt she was merely making a statement by seeing this new person. In other words she was a typical teenager.

Umm, the coffee smells good, he said, pouring