“Oh.” Was Polly planning to infiltrate every area of Annie’s life?
“Your mother was...” He sighed. “Well, she was a bit agitated. Thought we were keeping her in prison. Look, why don’t you come with me. I want you to meet a colleague of mine.”
Annie followed him down the corridor, which was painted the color of baby puke. She noticed people nod to him as they passed—orderlies, porters, cleaners. “Afternoon, Dr. Fraser. Hi, Max.” And he nodded back, not breaking his stride. They’d reached a door now, and he swiped his pass over it.
“Mum’s locked in?”
“For now. Annie, we thought she might hurt someone.”
Her mother was in the bed, wearing just a hospital gown, shivering as if she was freezing cold, looking around the room with hunted eyes. Annie started to rush forward, then stopped, horrified. “She’s chained up!”
“Och, Annie, it’s just a standard restraint. I know it looks bad, but trust me, it’s keeping her safe.” Her mum’s wrist, thin as a child’s, was encased in a foam band attached to the bed. Worse, Annie could see from the way her mother’s eyes skipped over her that once again she did not recognize her daughter, her only child. That, in this moment, Annie meant as much to her as the padded hospital bed and the yellow sharps bin and the beeping monitor she was hooked up to.
The door opened again and in came a tall man in a spotless white coat. “Who is this?” he said crossly. Annie couldn’t place the accent. “Mrs. Clarke should be kept in isolation, I said.”
“That’s why she’s bloody terrified.” Annie felt angry tears in her eyes. “Please. Did you have to tie her up, like an animal?”
The man—she could now see he was frighteningly handsome, with smooth olive skin, slicked-back black hair and the kind of cheekbones models would kill for—raised an eyebrow. “Dr. Fraser? What’s going on here?”
Dr. Fraser rubbed a hand over his tired face, making his bushy eyebrows stick up. “This is Mrs. Clarke’s daughter, Sami. I thought you could explain some of the treatment options to her. Why don’t we go into your office?”
Annie protested. “I can’t leave my mum like this!”
“Dr. Fraser is right. Your presence is upsetting her. Please.” The other doctor ushered them into a small side room. Annie caught a glimpse of her mother’s terrified, confused eyes as the door shut behind them. She doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t know me.
“Sit down, please.” Dr. Handsome motioned to a plastic chair and Annie sat, broken by anger and sadness. “Miss Clarke...”
“It’s Ms. Hebden.” Why would he assume she wasn’t married? Did she just have that look about her?
He frowned at the interruption. “Your mother is very ill. She had what we call a dissociative episode and threw a chair at one of the nursing staff. Luckily no one was hurt, but we can’t take that risk again.”
Stunned, Annie looked to Dr. Fraser for confirmation. He shrugged uncomfortably: it was true. “But...she’s tiny.”
“People can be very strong when in the grip of dementia. I’d like to take your mother onto my service. I’m the new consultant geriatrician here, Dr. Quarani. We need to talk about options.”
Annie nodded dully. “Is there anything you can do?” She was staring hard at his desk, trying not to cry. On it was a framed photo of a beautiful woman with red lipstick and a headscarf, two young children hanging off her. A perfect family.
“There’s a clinical trial. A new drug. It’s been quite effective for certain forms of dementia.”
Annie looked up. “It might help?”
“We believe it can slow the progress of the disease in early onset cases like your mother’s, calm the patients down somewhat. It works by regenerating some of the neurons in the brain. You understand we can’t reverse the damage that’s already been done?”
Annie knew the disease had already done its work, twisting and tangling her mum’s brain synapses, mixing up her memories like a drawer dumped out on the floor. “But you could maybe stop it going further?”
“Slow it, perhaps. But Ms. Hebden, there are side effects, as with all medications. It’s experimental. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“You can think about it if you want, Annie,” said Dr. Fraser.
Dr. Quarani frowned again. “Mrs. Clarke should start the protocol as soon as possible. I want to move her to the geriatrics ward today. I’d like to keep her in for observation during the trial, so I can monitor the progress of the treatment.”
Geriatrics. Annie’s mum wasn’t even sixty yet, and she was being lumped in with old people, the ones with no time and no hope. “If I say no, what will happen?”
“She’ll have to vacate the bed in a few days and be released to your care. I would suggest you think about a care home.”
And how much would that cost? Would she be able to find somewhere decent? Annie nodded dully. “I think—I think it sounds like a good idea. The trial. If you’re sure.”
Suddenly, he smiled, and Annie blinked. He was dazzling. “Thank you, Ms. Hebden. I’ll find you an information pack. Please.” He held open the door again and, rather stunned, Annie went through it. Her mother was lying there, small and quiet, only her eyes moving.
“Don’t mind Sami,” said Dr. Fraser, closing the door behind them. “He’s a good man, even if his bedside manner is a bit...brusque. Just not used to the way British patients want your arm and your leg as well as everything else.”
“Is it a good idea?”
“It’s the only chance. Doesn’t mean it’ll work. But...she’s not going to get better like this.” They both turned to the woman on the bed, who stared at them as if she might be able to work out what was going on, if only she concentrated hard enough.
“You two...”
Annie waited.
“Are you my lawyers? Because I didn’t do it, I’m sure. Whatever it was.”
“No, Mum,” Annie said wearily. “You aren’t in prison. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But I think I did.” She heaved in a big panicky breath that turned into a sob. “I just don’t know what it was. Can you call Andrew, please? Call him to come and get me?”
“Mum...” Annie stopped herself. Not this again. “I’ll call him. I promise.”
“We can give her a shot,” Dr. Fraser said gently. “Let her sleep for now, and you can have a think about what Sami said. If you have any questions, just ask me, okay? I’m a neurologist really, but there’s a lot of crossover with Geriatrics, unfortunately.”
“Thanks.” Annie wanted to go to her mother, hug her or something, but she knew her skin would feel like ice, the pulse fluttering underneath it like a frightened bird. And it would be terrifying for her, to be hugged by a total stranger. “I better get back to work. I’m already in trouble.”
“They’ll understand, surely?”
“I wouldn’t bet on it. Thank you, Dr. Fraser.”
“Please, call me Max. Dr. Max, if you want.”
“Okay. Thank you.”