The More You Ignore Me Read online

  Gina caught the humorous edge in his voice and said, ‘It’ll come in useful for knocking you out.’ And that statement had no humour in it.

  Keith wished the Wildgoose family could be a bit more help but the last time he’d called upon them to try and persuade Gina to go into hospital voluntarily, Gina’s mum had screamed down the phone, ‘Over my dead body, you useless lump,’ and hung up. Not a bad exchange, Keith had thought and took refuge in some mother-in-law jokes he’d heard on telly.

  Keith’s parents were equally unhelpful. Their dislike of Gina had moved up the scale from ‘Give her the benefit, Norman’ to ‘Can’t abide the woman.’

  It was hard to even get them to come to the house and look after Alice. They didn’t like the countryside because it had a funny smell and all the people they met looked like sex offenders. Added to that, Jennifer didn’t have any suitable shoes and refused to wear her beige suede K-Skips anywhere near mud, of which there was copious gloopy amounts down Keith and Gina’s lane.

  So Keith was a lone sailor in this sea of madness, apart from a few lifebelts thrown at him by Marie Henty and Doug in the shop. Doug was an ex-psychiatric nurse from Chester who had realised that he was so inured to people’s pain after ten years on a general psychiatric ward that he was surplus to requirements in the field of solace. Ironically, though, he was the last person who should have left nursing because he possessed a cheery disposition, true empathy and an endless supply of fags.

  It was Saturday morning and Keith, exhausted from grafting all week and lying awake all night smoking some very big joints, trying to work out a way to talk Gina into some treatment, lay in bed snoring gently, protected from the day ahead by a thin sliver of sleep. Alice had woken and, as she normally did at the weekend, ran downstairs in her pyjamas to see how Smelly was and give him some food.

  Her heart somersaulted in her little chest when she saw that Smelly’s cage was open and her beloved guinea pig was nowhere to be seen. She hoped that her mum or dad was up and had put Smelly’s garden run out for him to sniff and nibble at some fresh grass. She went out on to the dewy lawn in her bare feet and looked, panicked, around the small garden.

  A strange moaning noise from the top of the house distracted her and she turned to see her mother sitting naked on top of the roof, holding aloft the aforementioned Smelly and crooning a song with which Alice was unfamiliar.

  ‘Mum,’ she called. ‘Why are you on the roof with no clothes on?’

  This perfectly reasonable question was greeted with a string of random words which Alice didn’t understand and she thought she’d better call her father. Sucking her thumb, as she did when the world presented an insurmountable problem, she climbed the stairs to her parents’ bedroom and gently shook her dad. He opened his eyes.

  ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ he said, his voice thick with sleep. ‘Everything OK?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Alice, because at this point no one had fallen or died. ‘But Smelly and Mum are on the roof and Mum’s got no clothes on.’

  Keith, still half in his dreaming state, laughed.

  ‘Alice,’ he said, ‘what a daft thing to say Come on, let’s get you and Mum some breakfast.’

  ‘But how are we going to get Mum and Smelly down for breakfast?’

  Keith sat up in bed. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he said.

  ‘I think he’s too busy to get Mum and Smelly down,’ said Alice.

  Keith threw the bedcovers back and ran downstairs and out into the garden, the last few blissful seconds of half sleep tearing away from his brain and catapulting him into the familiar waking nightmare of his wife’s deteriorating mental state.

  Sure enough, there was Gina, on the roof holding the guinea pig — minus her clothes.

  ‘Go away,’ she screamed at him. ‘I don’t want you, I want little Teddy Fairfax.’

  The possibility of luring the local news programme’s best-loved weather forecaster down to their scruffy cottage seemed unlikely and Keith found himself shifting into the most banal of communications to try and resolve this farcical scenario.

  ‘Come down for breakfast and we’ll talk about it, love. ‘He tried to say this as if his wife wasn’t sitting naked on the roof clutching the family pet.

  ‘Mum, I want Smelly!’ shouted Alice and began to cry, realising that even for her unpredictable mother this was most unusual.

  ‘Smelly’s my present for Teddy,’ she called back, ‘to show him I truly love him.’

  By this point Smelly had set up a fearful squeaking and was wriggling dangerously in Gina’s hands.

  ‘Come on, love,’ said Keith. ‘Poor old Smelly’s scared. Let him come down and we’ll clean him up a bit and feed him. We couldn’t give him as a present to anyone in that state.’ Keith realised with some surprise that he was as concerned for Smelly’s safety as Gina’s.

  Gina turned Smelly to examine him as if he was a piece of old rag.

  ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Here you go,’ and she rolled Smelly from the top of the roof down towards Keith.

  Alice squealed with delight. Not realising the consequences of Smelly hitting the ground at some considerable speed, this was the funniest thing she’d seen for ages, her rotating pet heading earthwards, a bit like when she rolled down the top meadow in summer, gathering speed until, hysterical with laughter, she landed in a heap at the bottom.

  ‘Fuck!’ Keith braced himself for the most important catch of his life.

  Smelly dropped off the bottom of the roof and landed in Keith’s large and capable hands. Alice clapped with joy and gently relieved Keith of the luckiest guinea pig in Herefordshire.

  ‘Take Smelly inside,’ said Keith, ‘and I’ll talk to Mum.’

  Alice, only too happy not to be caught up in the naked-mum-on-the-roof-drama any more, disappeared inside the cottage while Keith came at the problem from another direction.

  ‘Gina, come down and I’ll drive you to Hereford to see Teddy,’ he called.

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ she shouted back, clinging to some vestige of sanity. ‘You’re just saying that to make me come down.’

  Never had Keith felt such a strong desire to walk away from a crisis. I could take Alice, he thought, and we could spend a lovely day at the seaside, have fish and chips and just walk along the waves until she gets bored. We could drive to Aberystwyth, find a little B and B and then come back the next day and see if she’s still up there.

  But poor Keith wasn’t made of that kind of stuff. Irritating, demanding, out of control as she was, the lovely, wild Gina was still under there somewhere and he just wanted her to be better and to be the weird and wonderful woman he had married. He knew at this point that there was no getting away from treating her against her will. She must go into hospital and suffer the indignity of forced injections and twenty-four-hour surveillance by the motley crew of people who staffed what the locals called ‘the bin’. But how best to do it? He knew the police would take one look, laugh inwardly and drag her screaming from her perch with all the empathy of a group of teenage boys given sole responsibility for a younger brother. Would Marie Henty be a better bet? Or what about Doug from the shop? He might help and at least he had some experience of this sort of thing. Keith ran into the house and dialled the number. Doug picked up after one ring.

  ‘Doug, I’m sorry,’ these days Keith seemed to preface every conversation with these words, ‘but I’ve got a problem at the cottage. Gina’s on the roof, starkers, and won’t come down.’

  ‘Righto,’ said Doug, as matter-of-fact as if Keith had asked for his newspapers to be cancelled for the weekend. ‘Give us five minutes.’

  The ability of time to stretch itself never ceased to amaze Keith. He heard the chug of Doug’s ancient Escort in the lane after what seemed to be forty minutes and yet when he glanced at his watch, Keith saw that it had only taken six minutes. Doug parked his car in the lane and walked up to the cottage. His red, quizzical face appeared round the hedge first — he seemed to be checking this was
n’t some sort of joke before he dragged the rest of his body after it.

  ‘Blimey, Keith,’ said Doug, ‘see what you mean. We’ll need to get her down and take her to hospital, get her sectioned and then everything will be fine. Just give me a brief picture of how long this has all been going on and what it involves.’

  ‘Well, she’s been deteriorating for weeks,’ said Keith, ‘but this very mad behaviour’s only been going on for a few days. She’s obsessed with this weather forecaster on telly and has been to his house, not really sleeping very well, talking a bit of rubbish, you know.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Doug, for he did. ‘What we gonna do then? Shall I get a ladder up and talk her down?’

  ‘Do you think you can?’ said Keith, more grateful than he could say to this big, bumbling giant of a man for taking the responsibility off his shoulders.

  ‘Dunno,’ said Doug, ‘but I’ll give it a try.’

  Keith produced a rusty ladder from the shed and Doug laid it up against the house.

  ‘What’s going on?’ said Gina, suspicion evident in her voice.

  Keith shouted up, ‘Doug’s coming up to talk to you.’

  ‘Oh, not that ginger fat arse,’ said Gina loudly.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Keith.

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Doug. ‘I’ve heard far worse than that, you know, mate,’ but a little arrow of pain still flew directly towards his heart, a minor injury in the lexicon of the tragedy of the fat bloke, re-lived time and time again at the hands of drunks, teenagers and mad people.

  Doug struggled up the ladder, with Keith at the bottom trying to control every seismic wobble as the ample frame above him neared its destination.

  ‘Hello, Gina.’

  ‘Fuck off, Doug.’

  Aw, Gina, come on, you know you need help.’

  Sounds like the title of a country and western song, thought Keith.

  ‘Come on down, Gina, you look freezing up there,’ Doug persisted.

  ‘Well, actually, if you’d listened to little Teddy Fairfax, you’d know the temperature this morning was going to be sixty degrees Fahrenheit so that’s hardly freezing.’

  ‘You’re doing a Valerie Singleton, though,’ said Doug.

  ‘Pardon?’ said Gina.

  ‘Erect nipples,’ said Doug. ‘Don’t you remember her coming out of the water on Blue Peter with that swimming cossie on? Ooh, I was shocked.’

  Steady on, thought Keith.

  Gina began to laugh and an expression crossed her face for a split second that gave the merest of hints that some insight into her situation was still possible.

  ‘Come on, Gina, for Gawd’s sake,’ said Doug, ‘or this ladder’s gonna break, I’ll get killed and you’ll be responsible.’

  Gina hesitated. ‘You promise you won’t do anything.’

  ‘Like what?’ said Doug.

  ‘Like drag me into that Godforsaken hospital again. I couldn’t stand it.’

  Doug’s honest, open face belied his duplicitous intent. ‘Gina, do I look like someone who would bullshit you?’ Gina began to edge down towards him, looking magnificent in the morning sun, Doug thought, whereas Keith was thinking, Christ, I hope she doesn’t roll like Smelly.

  She didn’t and between them they managed to get her intact to the ground. Rather short-sightedly they had not agreed what to do next, but they both instinctively moved towards her to contain her so they could begin the long journey to hospital and some treatment.

  Gina, realising they were bearing down on her, began to scream as loud as she could, which brought Alice out into the garden from the safety of a cartoon on TV.

  ‘What’s the matter with Mum, Dad?’ she cried above the noise.

  ‘She’s not well, tiddler,’ said Keith, ‘and me and Doug are going to take her to hospital.’

  Gina screamed louder.

  ‘Hold her, Doug,’ shouted Keith. ‘I’ll get some clothes.’ He ran into the house and reappeared with her dressing gown which seemed to be the only article of clothing they had a chance of getting her into.

  ‘Get in the car, love,’ Keith said to Alice. ‘In the front.’ He turned to Doug. ‘I’ll take Gina in the back with me, you drive, and we’ll swap if it all gets too bad.’

  ‘It fucking will get bad, you bastard,’ screamed Gina. ‘How dare you, I have my rights, let go of me, scum.’ She tried to bite Keith who managed a body swerve away from her jaws.

  ‘Can I help?’ said a voice. It was Marie Henty who, having dropped into the village shop and heard that Doug had gone up to the Wilsons’ cottage, had walked up to help.

  ‘Oh Jesus, so you’re in on it as well,’ said Gina through clenched teeth. ‘You fucking witch, keep your hands off my husband.’

  Marie Henty blushed and hoped Keith hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t.

  ‘Just help me get her in the back of the van, will you?’ said Keith. ‘We’re going to the hospital.’

  Keith opened the back doors of the van and he, Gina and Marie all tumbled in together. Doug banged them shut, put a seatbelt round Alice and the van began its epic journey through the lanes, accompanied by much screeched abuse from Gina and some familiar squeaking.

  ‘What’s that?’ Doug asked Alice.

  ‘It’s Smelly,’ said Alice. ‘I didn’t want to leave him on his own.

  All went reasonably well until they reached the outskirts of Hereford. Doug and Alice sang along to some hits on the car radio and Keith and Marie Henty lay in the back of Keith’s old van on some oily blankets, listening to the disordered thought processes of Gina as she oscillated between pathetically begging them to let her go and railing against them as if they were handmaidens of the devil. Keith’s warm breath occasionally drifted towards Marie and she found herself inappropriately wishing he would lean across and kiss her. She took in the pained expression on his face and loved him all the more for it, not realising he was desperate for a pee. Gina quietened down and as they approached the first set of traffic lights, a strange moment of calm descended on the little group. It was short-lived, though, as Gina, sensing a loosening of their hold on her, gave the doors one almighty kick and made a bid for freedom, leaving Keith and Marie clutching one arm each of her dressing gown.

  Doug saw Gina’s naked figure fly past the van and with an oath he skidded into the side of the road and leapt out to find Marie and Keith looking nonplussed in the back.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, you two, let’s get after her,’ he roared.

  For a big bloke, Doug was really nippy on his toes. As Marie plunged towards the pavement, the heel on her new court shoes having snapped off, he and Keith sprinted chest to chest after the escaping Gina. Pedestrians stood transfixed as the latter-day horseless Lady Godiva flew past them, wondering if this was indigestion or something more sinister that had been added to their drinks at the local.

  Gina made the mistake of running into a newsagents where the proprietor, one Reg Meston, was having a cup of tea and perusing the sports page.

  As the door was flung open he murmured, ‘What can I get you?’ without even looking up.

  ‘Get me little Teddy Fairfax or I’ll die,’ shrieked a woman’s voice and he looked up to see a wild-eyed, naked woman flailing about near the children’s comics.

  ‘Bloody hell, love, are you all right?’ said Reg but never got an answer as a fat ginger bloke and a small wiry hippy came skidding through the door.

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ said Doug, ‘we’re taking her to hospital.’

  ‘Be my guest,’ said Reg, who didn’t fancy his chances against the desperate Gina.

  Keith and Doug grabbed an arm each and led Gina from the shop. Marie had followed them in the van and she and Alice were parked outside.

  Reg went into the back room to call his wife and switched on the telly just as a strange little man with bleached blond highlights, standing in front of a weather map, said, ‘Good afternoon, I’m Ted Fairfax.’

  ‘Well I never,’ said Reg. ‘Come ‘ere, Pat, you’ll never
guess what I’ve just seen.’

  The van finally pulled up at Hereford’s one and only psychiatric hospital. Marie left Gina pinioned by Doug and Keith in the back and Alice sucking her thumb in the front and went to find the duty doctor. Five minutes later she appeared with a couple of scary-looking male nurses and Gina was euphemistically ‘escorted’ inside and taken to a side room of a ward decorated in the sort of colours that immediately bring on a deep depression.

  They were told to wait.

  Eventually what was effectively a boy dressed up as a doctor appeared and perched on the edge of a chair.

  Having been filled in by Marie Henty, medic to medic, he turned to Gina and said, ‘Hello, I’m Dr Desmond. And what is your name, my dear?’

  ‘Oh,’ I’m the fucking Queen of Sheba,’ said Gina with a snarl.

  Excitedly, he scribbled ‘delusional ideas’ down on his pad.

  ‘And how are you?’ he said.

  ‘How do you think I am, you prick?’ said Gina.

  Dr Desmond reddened. He turned to Keith, Doug and Marie Henty ‘Perhaps it’s best if I spend some time alone with Mrs Wilson,’ he said. ‘If you’d like to wait outside, I’ll catch up with you soon.

  They all left the room and Doug and Marie sat uncomfortably on some institutional chairs while Keith went out to check on Alice. She had fallen asleep on the front seat, thumb in her mouth, and Smelly had produced an incongruously large bowel movement on the driver’s side.

  The decision was made to admit Gina to a ward under a section of the Mental Health Act which meant she could be detained for up to twenty-eight days. Keith was so relieved when Dr Desmond informed him of the decision he almost began to cry. Doug put a huge arm round him.

  At least she’s in the right place,’ he said. ‘Let’s see what some treatment can do.’