Catch Me When I Fall (19 page)

all ridiculous, thinking we're pulling the wool over people's eyes when all the time we know. Everyone's involved in the same mad charade. I remember charades when I was a child. Film (wind your fist round and round to imitate the reel on a loop). Four words (four fingers held up). First word, two syllables, it's Christmassy -oh, God, Christmas is coming -where was I? Yes, Christmassy, and in a carol it goes with 'ivy'. Right, Holly. Second word, one syllable. You've got it at once, haven't you? Krauss. Holly Krauss. Holly Krauss is crap. Yes, yes, yes.
I walked over the bridge. There were wisps of mist left hanging over the river. It must have been cold because I breathed out plumes of air. I could feel the bridge move beneath me. I swear it was swaying like one of those flimsy suspension bridges with half the wooden slats missing in adventure movies. I kept nearly tripping. And it looked very long, stretching out above the great drop. How would it be possible to get to the other side? I'd done it before. If I'd done it before, did it mean I could do it again? I'd done everything before, lied and laughed and got through the fucking, fucking days, so did that mean I could do it now? Is that what life was? Is that all it was?
The end of the bridge was getting nearer. I glanced around and thought I saw a familiar figure, but the wind was making my eyes water so badly that I couldn't make out anything clearly. Cars sliced past me. People walked in wide circles round me, avoiding me like the plague. Very wise. My shoes slid on the tipping, icy surface. I put one hand on the barrier and it felt sticky with cold. If I left it there, maybe my fingers would glue to the metal and I'd have to pull off the delicate skin at the tips to get free. Left, right, left, right. What was that rhyme my father used to chant? 'Left, left, you had a good home and you left. Right, right, it serves you jolly well right.'
"It serves you right,' I said aloud.
I stepped off the end of the bridge and turned right and down

the hill, the wind in my face, stumbling. A strange little noise was jerked out of my throat, then another. "Are you all right, love?'
I stared into the face of a woman with spiky brown hair and a pointy chin, looking at me. I could see a dot of condensation on her lip, and a chipped tooth. Nice face. Brown eyes, brows slightly raised.
"Are you all right?' she repeated.
'Why do you want to know?" I said.
'You seem in difficulty. I just wondered if I could do anything to help."
"Yeah, right.' I started to laugh. 'Who can I call?' she persisted. "You've no idea.'
Her gloved hand was under my elbow. Someone was making a strange noise, a berserk whining moan. There were people in a circle and all I could see were faces staring down at me. I was sitting on the pavement. That must be cold, I thought. I didn't seem to be wearing tights and there was blood on my knee. It must look very odd. Maybe they'll think I've just slipped and fallen.
I've slipped and fallen,' I said. 'Slipped and fallen over. Got to get up."
'Look at the way she's dressed,' said a voice. "She's drunk.' dust disorderly,' I said. "What's she saying?' "Disorderly!' I said louder.
"She's shouting something now. She's on something. Call for help.'
It was true that somebody was shouting. Matters were definitely getting out of control. It was like at a party where there's a fight going on in another room and you hear glasses breaking, but by the time you go out to have a look, it's all over. You just see the aftermath: chairs pushed over, people getting up, shouts.

It seemed to be all aftermath. I noticed out of the comer of my eye that there had been a scuffle. A couple of figures were sprawled on the ground, making strange noises. I felt a burning sensation on my knees and palms. I examined my hands and saw pink grazes speckled with dots of gravel. Some people were gathering round, as if there had been a car crash. Others were walking quickly past. There was evidently an emergency but as I looked around I couldn't see it. It always seemed to have moved just out of my line of sight. 'It's behind you," a voice said to me quietly, so nobody could hear. I tried to catch it by looking around quickly but it was too quick for me. I started to ask people what was going on but nobody was able to explain it to me coherently. Some teenage girls simply laughed at me when I asked, so I went for them to teach them a lesson but they were too quick for me, three little matadors with me as the bull.
A car pulled up and a policeman and a policewoman got out. I asked them if we'd met last night. My memory was fuzzy. I expected them to start arresting people and conducting inter views, but the policewoman approached me and looked deep into my eyes. I felt as if my face was a window and she was looking through it at something far away. The two of them took me by each arm. I tried to pull away from them but my arms wouldn't come free. I was pushed into the back of the police car as I attempted to explain that there must be a mistake. They had the wrong person. They didn't seem to hear, so I had to shout and scream at them and still they paid no attention. The policewoman sat firmly beside me and the car drove away.
"I'm late for work,' I said. "I'll direct you. Unless you're taking me home. That's just up the road. You'll need to do a U-turn.' The car did not make a U-turn. 'Are we going to the police station? I'm sorry, I've got nothing to add to my statements.'
But they didn't drive me to the police station, or to work, or home.

23

'Do you know where you are?'
'Yes,' I said.
There was a pause. 'Well?" 'Well what?' 'Where are you?'
'You didn't ask that,' I said. 'You asked if I knew where I was.
And I said yes. Because I do.'
Deep breath.
"All right. Could you tell me where you are?"
'Yes, I could. Do you mean you want me to tell you where I
am?'
'Yes, please.'
'Don't you know? You should do. You work here.' 'I want to know if you do.' 'I don't work here.'
I couldn't stop myself laughing. The day had started badly but now it seemed comic. I felt as if a migraine had passed away, leaving me a bit light-headed but thinking more quickly and clearly than anybody else in the room. I looked at the young woman: DR CLEEVELY, her name-tag said, in square capital letters. She had a gleaming white coat and a gleaming white smile.
"You're thinking hard,' I said. "You're trying to come up with a form of question that will get me to say that I'm in the casualty department of a hospital. There, I said it. Unprompted.'
'Do you know why you're here?" she said.
"Oh, no, we're not starting this again, are we? Ever since I was

brought here by a man and a woman in uniform -don't you think there's something about people in uniform? When I first saw them I thought they were a pair of strippergrams. I mean, admittedly, it's unusual for strippergrams to appear when you're walking across Suicide Bridge. Suicide Bridge isn't its real name, of course. It would be a terrible name for a bridge. Nobody would ever want to cross it. Or go under it. It's actually called...' I couldn't remember the name. 'But it is locally known, affectionately known, as Suicide Bridge. And the reason it's called Suicide Bridge is, one, because people keep committing suicide on it. Well, not on it. Off it. And the reason they do is, one, because it is very high off the ground. The ground underneath. And, two, because, allegedly, I haven't checked this, but allegedly it is the only place in London where you can kill yourself by jumping from one postal district, namely N9, and landing in another, namely N something else. What was the question again?'
'Holly '
'That's Miss Holly to you.'
"I'm going to fetch someone who will examine you." "What was it you were doing?' Im just the casualty officer.' "Don't apologize.'
'I won't be a minute.'
'It doesn't matter,' I said. "I've got to get to work anyway." Dr Cleevely disappeared through the curtain that was pulled round the couch but unfortunately she left me with a very large nurse who said that if I tried to get up I would be made fast. I engaged her in conversation to relax her. We had only just started talking about Zimbabwe, where she came from, when Dr Cleevely came back with another doctor, an Asian woman called Dr Mehta. She said hello and told me she was the duty psychiatrist.

'This is the point where I say, "'Psychiatrist? I don't need a psychiatrist. I'm perfectly sane."'
Dr Mehta didn't smile. She was a serious young lady with a clipboard and she began by asking for my name, date of birth and address. 'Do you know why you're here?"
'I can't do this again,' I said. "I'm really too busy. If you must
know, the police brought me.'
'Why?'
'I think they were probably tired of me. I've had some dealings
with them lately. It's a long story.'
'Yes?' said Dr Mehta.
"All right, you asked for it. Someone threatened me and -as a matter of fact, lots of people threatened me recently and the one I'm talking about right now, well, he's probably in this hospital at the moment because I hit him with a mirror that used to belong to my grandmother. Anyway, I'm sure it was this hospital and I was here the other day, I can't remember which day -it's hard to tell days apart, isn't it? -but he only tried to hurt me because of this woman I fired, plus there's this man who's fixated with me. We did actually have sex, but it was nothing. I know, I'm married. I know, I know, but I've talked about it to Charlie, it was awful, but we're working at it. Then there's this other youth who came to the house and pissed all over my floor -but I'm not allowed to talk about that. No one must know.' I stopped. Im listening to myself as I'm talking and I realize that, from your point of view, it sounds crazy. But honestly it's true. Ask the police about the man who attacked me. Not the ones who brought me. They probably don't know about it. Or ask Charlie, my husband. I know I sound paranoid but it's completely true. Just check it up.' I stopped. "No, don't check it, none of it really matters any more. It's not relevant, is it?' I tried to make eye-contact with her but she was scribbling on her clipboard.

She looked up. 'Tell me what was happening when the polk picked you up.'
'I didn't see much,' I said. "I was on my way to work. The was some kind of brawl. The police got the wrong end of the stick. They should have let things take their course.'
'Was your behaviour unusual?'
'I don't know what that means. What are you writing on your clipboard?'
"I'm taking notes.' 'Have I passed?' 'It's not like that.'
"You're trying to fit me into your little boxes. You're trying t,
assess me, aren't you?'
'Provisionally, yes."
"It won't work now,' I said, 'because I know what youre, doing. You won't be able to work out whether I'm telling the truth or whether I'm saying something I think you'll want to hear or whether I'm saying something that I happen to know, a sane person would say or that I'm just a sane person saying sane things or alternatively whether I'm a sane person saying in sane things because she's nervous and so is trying to imitate a sane person and failing."
'You're wearing your nightclothes," said Dr Mehta.
'Brilliant,' I said. 'You've caught me out. Brilliant. Is this some sort of game?'
'It was just an observation.'
There was a bustle behind the curtain. Someone was trying to get through and failing comically. It made me think of the theatre, curtain down. A face appeared. A familiar face. Charlie's
'Holly,' he said, 'what's going on? Where did you get to? tried to find you. I've been running around all over the place trying to find you. One minute you were sitting on the bed in your nightclothes and the next minute -oh, you're still in yore

nightclothes, aren't you? What's going on? What have you done? There was this call -they said you'd attacked a young '
"It's nothing,' I said. 'I had a stupid accident.' I held up my hands, which had been bandaged by a nurse when I arrived. 'I fell over and scraped my hands and knees. They brought me in here and now they're asking me a whole lot of questions. It doesn't make any sense."
'Is this your husband?" asked Dr Mehta. 'Nice, isn't he? Everyone loves Charlie.' She turned to Charlie. "Can I have a word?"
The two of them moved back behind the curtain, leaving me alone on the stage without an audience, except God. After a few minutes Dr Mehta returned alone. 'Charlie's just outside,' she
said. 'You can see him in a minute.'
"Is he taking me home?'
'I need to ask a few more questions. Tell me about things. How are you sleeping?'
'You're too late,' I said. 'A few weeks ago I was too busy to sleep. I went days and days without it. You know the research that says if you deprive someone of sleep they go mad? It's true. But I'm over that. I've been sleeping and sleeping like ... like a whale? Do whales sleep? Like a beach whale.' I laughed. 'It sounds like a whale on holiday. I mean a beached whale. Like a bear. Bears sleep all winter. Lucky them.'
"How's your general health? Are you fit and well?"
"Don't I look it? The picture of health. I'm probably the healthiest person in the building.'
'What about, well, for example, your sex life?'
'What do you mean "'well, for example"? Are you embarrassed? Go on, admit it. Are you new to this? Do you think
you're competent to assess the state of my sex life?'
'I'm interested in how you see it.'
'Things have not been obviously brilliant. Just to show you

that I'm brazenly unembarrassable and not a violet blushing unseen wherever it is, I did a few weeks ago have sex with somebody I'd never met before while under the influence of something or other and, yes, I am married, and, yes, I am happily married, and do I regret it? Oh, my God, yes -which sounds like a fairly sane response to me." I paused and tried to concentrate. Ive told you all this, haven't I? Or did I tell the other one? The other female doctor? You're all women. Don't you allow men to work here? Not that I'm complaining. I'd find it hard to talk like this to a man. Not that you're being much help. I thought you were a psychiatrist. Couldn't you give me some words of comfort? Because I do need comfort. I know I'm gabbling on, but underneath that, I know I'm sad.' I looked at her. Scribble, scribble, scribble. 'Nothing? Just another black mark, Another F? You know, Doctor, I think I've put enough effort into entertaining you. I'm starting to feel tired. My head aches, and my ankle throbs, and my hands and knees hurt and I just want to go off somewhere and lie down. If you want to write me a prescription for something, that's fine. Otherwise I'll be on my way.'
Scribble, scribble, scribble. She looked up. 'What about food?' she asked.
"No, thanks. I'm not hungry.'
No smile.
'I meant appetite. In general.' "I don't know.' 'Eating heartily?"
"I'm going to maintain a dignified "No comment". No person
shall be compelled to give evidence against herself."
'Are you having problems at work?'
I pulled a face. This was an uncomfortable area. I was going to have to tread carefully here. 'I don't know how much time you've got. They were being completely -which they would admit themselves if they ... well, they will admit it one day