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‘Can’t you examine the security tapes?’

‘This is a clinic, Kate, not the White House,’ he said with some asperity, ‘Our security isn’t
that
hi-tec.  The cameras don’t
record,
they just transmit to a telly at the nurse’s station, and to the control room.  They’re there for sake of the patients, for the staff to keep an eye on them, not for security purposes.’

‘I see.  Was there much damage?’

Trevor shrugged, ‘Mostly just to the paint work, luckily.  We’ve moved all the patients that were on Two to other floors anyway, for the moment.  Three of them were hurt, trying to escape
through
the fire, but they only needed first aid, I’m very glad to say.’

‘What was Grainne doing when the fire brigade arrived?’

‘Lying in bed, either in a faint or one of her fugue states.  Which was probably just as well, actually, because she was safer in her room.  All the rooms have fire doors, you know, and even the walls are made of special fire-retardant material that won’t let fire through for hours.  We don’t skimp on
anything
here at Deacon House, and certainly not on safety.  Though it looks like our security will have to be beefed up.’  He sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly, ‘This isn’t a prison and we don’t like the patients to feel they’re locked up and under scrutiny, but we’ll have to do
something
.  Certainly we can’t risk anything like this happening again.’

‘The petrol seems to indicate that
it wasn’t a patient,’ said Kate slowly, ‘So it had to be either a member of staff or a stranger.  Could an outsider get in to start it?’

Trevor pursed his lips, ‘Pretty easily, I should think.  Only the wall at the front of the building is really high.  We have five acres of grounds here, and most of it is only surrounded by a six-foot fence.  Anyone could have climbed over it and walked in the front door
, which is shut at night but not locked.’

Kate looked at him incredulously, ‘Is there
no
security?’

His lips tightened and he said defensively, ‘We’ve never needed much.
  There’s a security guard in the control room day and night, which is basically a cubby-hole just behind the reception desk.  No one could get in unseen while he’s there.  He watches the cameras to make sure nothing is going on, and every two hours he walks around the outside of the building, checking that the doors and windows are locked.  Which in future will have to include the front door.’

Kate thought for a minute; her entire hospital experience had been in a public asylum in England, where many of the patients had been dangerous and security had been intense.  She far preferred
working in Deacon House, but there was no doubt the security there needed an overhaul.  A thought struck her and she said, ‘Are his patrols conducted at set, regular times?’

He nodded, ‘At twelve, two, four and so on.  I see where you’re going.  H
is patrols take thirty minutes or so, so anyone who knows the routine could simply walk in at five past twelve, or two, or whatever, and
know
that they won’t be seen or stopped.  We’ll certainly have to review that.’

‘Not just someone who knew the routine, though,’ argued Kate, ‘I
suppose anyone could have been lurking in the grounds outside the front door until they saw the porter leave the reception desk.  Why was the front door unlocked?’

‘We close it but we never lock it,’ he said in surprise, ‘For a start quite a few of the staff live here, including me, and some of us keep late hours.  And then the
re are the cleaners and the night staff changing shifts and what have you, so we keep it open all the time.’  He shrugged, ‘At least, we did until now.  I guess we’ll have to change that too.’

‘Which you don’t want to do?’ guessed Kate
, ‘So how many staff are here at night?’

‘Apart from the security guard
?  Uh, two orderlies and a nurse.  But they mostly hang around in the staffroom until they’re needed.  They’re really only here in case of emergencies so they don’t have any set duties.  The laundry people come in at night too, usually between ten and midnight.’

‘I see.  What about the doors at the end of each corridor?  Aren’t they locked?’

‘No.  Like I said, the patients’ rooms are locked anyway.’

‘So it would be easy for an outsider to nip in, l
ight the fire, and then nip back outside.  It would only take a few minutes and provided the guard was on his rounds he would never suspect a thing.’

‘I know. 
We’ll have to tighten up security now, but we’ve never experienced anything like this before.  What security we have is designed to keep people
in,
and to be honest we’ve never needed much.  Our patients are usually a lot happier here than in the outside world, and rarely try to get out.’

Kate smiled wryly, ‘Most institutionalised patients feel that way, and it’s hard to blame them.  Sometimes I feel like shutting myself away from the world too.’

Trevor looked at her quizzically, ‘I doubt it, Kitty. Many people would have been broken by the trials you’ve endured, and not just recently; I mean throughout your whole life.  But you just keep getting up and dusting yourself down and carrying on.’

Kate shifted uncomfortably at this allusion to her
forbidden past but then smiled, ‘Remember that funny song from years ago? 
I get knocked down, but I get up again? 
That’s how I feel sometimes.  But you know something, Trev?  It gets harder to keep getting back up every year.’

She shook her head and said wistfully, ‘Why do I seem to attract trouble?  Why does tragedy seem to stalk me?’  She laughed self-consci
ously, ‘Sorry for being melodramatic but it really does seem that way sometimes.  I guess I was just born under an unlucky star.’

Trevor shook his head, ‘There’s no point in my telling you that you should have undergone therapy years ago, because you kn
ow it already.  As you also know that most psychiatrists and psychologists attend counselling themselves at some stage.  Indeed, many of us are drawn to the profession not just because we want to be healers but because we have problems ourselves and want to acquire the knowledge with which to resolve them.  But not you.  You refuse to acknowledge your problems and keep trying to struggle on alone.  Why?’

‘Leave it,’ said Kate quietly
but with finality.

He leaned back in his chair,
‘Fine.  I’m too tired to argue anyway.  And I suppose you do pretty well, considering.  That last attack, in Trinity, have you had nightmares about it?  Depression?  Loss of appetite?’

He clearly wasn’t finished, was only just beginning, in fa
ct, but Kate interrupted him incredulously, ‘Are you trying analyse me for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?  I don’t have it, all right?  And if I did I could handle it without your ham-fisted attempts at therapy!  Now leave it alone!’

He laughe
d softly, ‘Okay, okay!  Though the “ham-fisted” bit hurt!  I guess you’re a survivor, and as long as you’ve got someone who loves you as much as Peter does, you’ll be okay.’

Kate tried to keep her face expressionless but he read something there
anyway, and asked in concern, ‘What did I say?  Did you and Peter have another fight?’

Kate stood up, ‘Mind your own business.  Where’s Grainne now?  I’d like to see her.’

He got to his feet and said doubtfully, ‘She’s on the third floor of the East wing.  I can take you to her new room but she’ll still be pretty much out of it from the sedatives we gave her.  Couldn’t you leave it until later?’

‘I’d rather not. 
If she’s awake I think she should talk about this now, in case it compounds her disassociation.  Which is chronic enough as it is.  A fresh trauma like this could undo all the progress she’s made, particularly if she did start the fire herself.’

Trevor clearly wasn’t convinced and opened his mouth to argue,
but then he shrugged and said, ‘She’s your patient.  But take it easy...  Whoops, sorry!  Please don’t take my head off!  Not trying to teach you to suck eggs and all that!’

Kate smiled, ‘Shut up, idiot!  And I will be careful.  But I don’t want this to fester in her mind and cause further problems.  I think she has enough already, don’t you?’

He made no further comment, silently opening the door for her and leading her up to Grainne’s new quarters.  As before, he left her outside the door, but before he went he put one hand on her shoulder and gently kissed her cheek.  Kate paused before knocking on the door, blinking away the sudden tears his show of affection engendered.  She might not have post-traumatic stress disorder, but she had certainly been very emotional and vulnerable over the last couple of days.  Which was not the ideal state for a trauma therapist to be in.

A few deep breaths steadied her a little and she
tapped
softly at Grainne’s door.  To her surprise a man’s voice answered, ‘Yes?’

Michael.
She would recognize his voice anywhere.  Kate opened the door and looked inside.  Riordan was seated next to his daughter, who was lying in bed, reading her a story.  Kate blinked; it was a children’s story, Fantastic Mr. Fox.  It seemed a bit of an odd choice for a young woman of her age but perhaps hearing well-loved stories from her childhood gave Grainne a sense of comfort.  Or gave Michael one.  Kate gave him a small, mechanical smile, though her face clearly showed that she was anything but pleased to see him.  And she said, ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, Trevor didn’t tell me Grainne had a visitor.’

He looked at her guiltily, ‘That’s because I didn’t tell him I was here
.  I was worried when I heard about the fire, and the girl at the reception let me come up without an appointment.  It’s against the rules, I know, but this is an exceptional circumstance, wouldn’t you say?’

‘I suppose so,’ said Kate reluctantly, understanding his concern but still not best pleased.  She knew
how important routine was for mental patients, and how upsetting even a seemingly trivial thing like an unscheduled visit could be.  In a mental home, unlike in a normal hospital, visiting hours were for the benefit of the patients rather than the staff.  ‘But I wonder if I could to talk to Grainne alone for a few minutes?’

He stood up immediately, ‘Of course.’  He bent over and kissed Grainne’s flawless, peach-like, but
utterly unresponsive cheek, whispering in her ear, ‘I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.’

The girl was clearly still heavily tranquilised, because she showed no awareness of his presence, and no reaction to his departure.

He stopped beside Kate and said quietly, ‘Can I talk to you?  About us?’

‘Not now,’ Kate replied sharply, not wanting his daughter to see any signs of intimacy or collusion between; the unfortunate girl was suspicious enough o
f her as it was.  Riordan hesitated but then left without speaking again.  Kate closed the door behind him, her eyes on Grainne; was she in one of her trance-like states of retreat?

This question was quickly answered as the girl raised glassy, tear-filled eyes to Kate’s face and said, quite distinctly, ‘I didn’t do it.’

Kate smiled with intense satisfaction, ‘Good morning, Grainne.  Of course you didn’t; you were locked in your room when the fire started.  No one thinks you did anything wrong.’

Grainne closed her eyes and shook her golden head, ‘My father does
.  He asked me if I did it.’

Kate sat in the chair Riordan had just vacated, utterly furious with him.  But she kept her voice gentle as she repeated, ‘No one thinks you did
anything
.  Besides, if you tell me you didn’t do something, of course I’ll believe you.’

Grainne looked at her with those big, glassy green eyes and said with a
childish, heartbreaking air of hope, ‘Really?’  Heartbreaking because it showed the bewildered, frightened little girl inside the woman’s body.

Close up, Kate saw her dilated pupils and thought sh
e could discern traces of drug-induced confusion, but not as much as she had expected.  No doubt she had developed a resistance to chemicals from her years of substance abuse.  And she said quietly, ‘Yes, really.  I want to believe everything you tell me, and I want you to believe me, so I have a proposal to make.  A pact, if you like.  Suppose
we both swear never to tell each other a lie, no matter what?  No matter how much we lie to
other
people, we will always tell each other the truth.  What do you say?’

Grainne blinked slowly, ‘Why
should I?  And why should you?’

Kate smiled, ‘Because I like you and I want us to be friends.  I think we’re very much alike, and I think we can help each other.  But to be
real
friends we have to be able to trust each other, and to know that neither of us is lying to the other. 
Ever. 
So now I promise that I will never lie to you. 
Never,
about anything.  I swear it.’

Grainne hesitated for a long time, and at last Kate smiled and said, ‘It’s okay if you can’t promise just now.  But please, always
try
to tell me the truth.  And remember that I will never lie to you.  Do you believe that?’