Poppy Shakespeare (14 page)

'I hadn't noticed it before but over the far side of the room, they'd kind of screened a corner off behind these blue display boards. Well after a bit this man came out in a white coat, holding a clipboard and he called the IT bloke to come round and everyone's like, "What's happening?" Then eventually they came back out, shook hands, and the bloke went off. And then it was my turn. "Miss Shake­speare," he goes and the others all started wishing me luck. I was kind of half-laughing to be perfectly honest 'cause it just felt a bit unreal. Behind the boards they had this bed, covered in paper, like at the beauticians, and basically I had to sit on it while he checked my blood pressure and listened to my heart and shone a torch in my ears. "I just need a sample of blood," he said. "Nothing to be alarmed about. "I'm like, "Go ahead, help yourself." Then I had to get up and stand on the scales, and he measured how tall I was as well and he even got these callipers out, started pinching me all over the place for my Body Fat Percentage. Then that was it; he said they'd be in touch. And the last thing he did was to hand me this bottle. "If you wouldn't mind leaving a sample," he said. "There's a ladies' through in the foyer."

'I went home really excited about it. I know it sounds weird, I mean looking back, but at the time, I suppose I just sort of thought well they're not going to go to all that trouble just to turn me down. My friend Natalie was like, "You lucky cow!" 'cause she's desperate to go to college. I said, "Why don't you ring them up and ask. I mean if
I
can get on, do you know what I'm saying . . . " But she's already doing this foundation course in aromatherapy two nights a week, so she reckoned she'd leave it, see what happens with that. Well then two days later, I mean no time at all, I got this letter, here.' Poppy taken an envelope out. Royal Mail Special delivery; I seen the sticker on it. She got out the letter, bit tatty it was, smudged and begun to go through at the folds like she'd read it about a million times though you couldn't see why to be honest.

NEW DIRECTIONS:
it said at the top.
investing in a

NEW BRITAIN!

'So this is Monday,' Poppy said. 'Two days ago, OK. I dropped Saffra off then I just walked down. I know Ridley Road, it's five minutes away. You know where the railway bridge crosses Sniff Street, you turn left after that and it's there. I was going through all this stuff in my head, trying to remember about the tests and what I'd put, and why Media Studies and all that sort of thing and I suppose I was nervous, I
know
I was nervous but at the same time I thought well it's only a course, and there's always MediaSavvy.

'It was when I got
in
there . . .' Poppy said.

I never even realised she was crying at first, most probably on account of how I was stood up and her being sat down and her head down as well; it was just when Roberta passed her the tissues - toilet paper it was actually, which I don't know where she got it from 'cause there weren't never none in the toilets.

'Take your time,' Roberta said.

'I'm sorry,' said Poppy and she wiped her eyes, like upwards with the balls of her hands, run a finger under each one. 'It was when I got in there, everything changed. I knew immediately. Just a feeling; I wanted to turn and run but I told myself not to be stupid. There were two of them in there, a man and a woman, sat behind this table, then a second man, Simon, stood by the door; it was him called me in, really smirky and thin; I hated him from the start.'

'Take your time,' said Roberta again and Poppy wiped her eyes again; I'm not being funny but I'm starting to look at the door.

'I can't remember exactly,' said Poppy. 'I'm not sure how it began, but basically they said they'd looked at my tests and they had concerns about some of the answers I'd given. "I've got a few concerns myself," I said, just joking, to lighten the mood, but the woman nodded, really sympathetic. "I thought so," she goes. "That's very inter­esting." Then they said they'd got this psychologist in to assess everybody's answers and he'd singled out mine as showing evidence of a "severely disordered personality". They had the report right there on the table and the man — he had these huge bushy eyebrows - he kept looking down and reading bits, then glancing at me and nodding. Then the woman said they'd got a psychiatrist in and she'd diagnosed "a major psychotic disorder". I couldn't believe what I was hearing, I'm like staring at them: "You're saying I'm
a psychol"
And she said that for someone in my state of mind doing Media Studies was out of the question, she said it could be really
dangerous,
and I needed treatment, the sooner the better, and they'd found me a place and . . .'

Poppy started crying. It weren't just a snivel this time, neither, tears the size of footballs easy come SPLASH out her eyes and CRASH off the table, soaking Roberta and me to the skin with showers of hot salty spray. The toilet paper was turned to a pulp inside of a half a second so Roberta starts handing her fistfuls of forms and Poppy's like mopping away at her face and wringing them out and blowing her nose and it looks like somebody beaten her up, her face is so smudged with black ink.

'Then they tried to make out I was being defensive,' said Poppy. She taken a long deep breath, but it come out all jolty; she was shooking as well, like blasts of ECT. 'I said to them "You've made a mistake. You've got me mixed up with somebody else." But they'd got all my details, employment and stuff and they knew about Dud and me having split up. The woman, she's trying to be all sympathetic, you know, like "It's nothing to be ashamed of. It's just an illness like any other. No one's
accusing
you, Poppy; you're
ill.
Would you be reacting like this if we told you you had cancer?" And I'm just sort of staring back at her. I mean, I didn't know what to say. 'Cause whatever I said, I knew I'd sound like a bigot, and I'm
not
bigoted; it just isn't an issue. I mean, I don't have a problem with mental illness; it's just I'm not mentally ill!

'So I s'pose I said I'd think about it, but first I needed to get a job 'cause I had to think about Saffra as well and maybe I'd find a counsellor but I knew even as I was saying it . . . The way Eyebrows looked up at the man by the door, I just
knew;
I knew what was coming.

'She said it was Saffra they were worried about. She said if I didn't agree to treatment, I mean
full-time
treatment five days a week, they'd have to put me on the ward and Saffra would have to be cared for elsewhere and she said if it came to it they could "insist" but she hoped it wouldn't come to it.

'It just felt like a dream by this point, to be honest. Either that or I
had
gone mad. I thought maybe this is what going mad means. Maybe this is what happens. We went outside; there was an ambulance waiting. They all shook hands; I just stood there beside them. Eyebrows said something; I remember, 'cause that was the first time he'd spoken; he said they had to get over to Haringey, "No rest for the wicked."

'Of course as soon as the ambulance started moving, I knew it was all a mistake. Like one of those things you read about; I
knew
I hadn't gone mad. I tried to explain to this Simon bloke but he just sat there, pinching his lips and clutching his bag with my papers in. He said it wasn't up to him and I'd have to discuss it when I got there. And I'm like "Get
where?"
but he didn't say. Then the ambulance pulled up.'

The rest of what Poppy said weren't nothing new, 'cause it's all stuff I told you already. How she gone to see the doctors, said she didn't need to be there and the doctors said it weren't for her to judge. So she asked them to tell her
why
she was there and doctors said it weren't for them to say. And she had to be prepared to help herself and shit, and nobody couldn't do it for her. Which I never met a doctor yet who
didn't
say that; they all spout the same old bollocks.

The weirdest thing was the stuff she left
out.
Like she never said nothing about when we met and how she thought I was staff and that and how we laughed about it. And she never said I'd told her how to answer the doctors or all of the other things I done. Though she did say she reckoned she
would
of gone mad if it weren't for the fact she had me, which I s'pose was a sort of a compliment, though a back-handled one all the same.

'OK,' said Roberta, when Poppy had finished. 'So what would you like to complain about?' And Poppy said, 'Well,
everything!
I mean
all
of it!' But Roberta said that wouldn't work. 'You need to be specific,' she said. 'What is it you're unhappy about? The more specific, the better,' she said, else she wouldn't know where to address it. And she run off a list of all the things that people complained about, and how they was all of them specific, like something about the medication or something about something somebody said, or the food - there was lots about food, especially wanting to switch to halal 'cause it come in a separate plastic tray with a see-through lid you peeled off, meant Canteen Coral couldn't gob in it.

'But I don't need to
be
here,' Poppy said. 'That's what I'm trying to say.'

'I know,' said Roberta. 'I understand. I'm just suggesting we concentrate on what your needs are
now.'

'But there's nothing
wrong
with me!' Poppy said.

'How are you finding your one-to-ones?'

'Jesus Christ!' said Poppy.

'Would you like to apply for a travel pass?'

Poppy was pounding her head with her fist.

'You're perfectly entitled to one.'

'Just SHUT UP!' shouted Poppy. And she got to her feet and kicked back her chair, ramming it into my legs. 'I'm sorry,' she said, though it weren't clear to who, and she turned and walked out of Patients' Rights, climbing over the mountain of forms that was blocking her way to the door.

24. How me and Poppy gone to see Mr Leech

Poppy didn't hang about. It can't of been more than two days later, we's all sat around like usual. 'I've rung every single
solicitor in the Yellow Pages,' she said. 'I can't get anyone to give me an appointment.'

'Right,' I said. It weren't that I minded helping. I just would of rathered she didn't discuss it right in the middle of the
common room.

'What d'you need a solicitor for?' said Astrid. 'You murdered someone?'

Poppy glanced across at her and blown out a stream of smoke. 'I will if I have to stay sat here much longer,' she said.

I knew, in time, they'd get used to Poppy, 'cause dribblers'll get used to
anything
in time — even after a week they was coming around, spent less time tutting and rolling their eyes and more discussing MAD
money rates and meds and stuff like normal - but comments like that, do you know what I'm saying, even if they give me a snigger
they weren't going to speed things up none.

'No one will even listen,' said Poppy. 'As soon as I mention the Abaddon, they all think I'm mentally ill.'

Astrid muttered under her breath.

'I'm sorry?' Poppy said.

'My brother's a lawyer,' said Middle-Class Michael.

'Works in the House of Commons. Fascinating job, drafting legislation. Fascinating! Every word . . .'

'You tried ringing Leech's?' Wesley said.

'If they're in the Yellow Pages,' said Poppy. But Leech's weren't in the Yellow Pages 'cause Leech's only done dribblers.
And any dribbler didn't know Leech's, wasn't a dribbler to start with.

'They got me off of my section,' said Wesley and he said it like it been a great feat like George slain the dragon or something,
when it only been twenty-eight days at the most and probably twenty-four hours. 'They got me off of my section,' said Wesley,
'and
my GBH.' So then all the others had to join in 'cause they wasn't about to be topped. And everything Leech's had done for
them by proving they was sane or mad, or both, accorded to Candid Headphones, both at once in a single afternoon.

'They
won't say you's mentally ill, not if you tell them not to. That's their job,' White Wesley said. 'They just say what you tell
them. I know Mr Leech; he's alright,' he said.'I can ring him . . .'

I mean, I'm not being funny, but if
you
was her guide, do you know what I'm saying, and I'm just going to say, when in comes Tony with Malvin Fowler start handing
out envelopes. And the envelopes got our names printed on and everyone got one from Astrid to Zubin and Astrid she was all
puffed up on account of she got hers first, when everyone knew they was just doing it alphabetic. Brian was outside washing
his hands so Malvin left his on the seat of his chair and Dawn got hers on her chair as well 'cause she was off doing her
tables, and Harvey tucked his under his chin like a bib and gone back to sleep.

Astrid opened her envelope first and she took out a small white card. And she tried to cup her hands around it to stop me
and Michael from looking. But I seen anyway, it said:

And I thought that was pretty funny when she'd been so full of it. But when I got mine said exactly the same, except for mine
was at 1.45. And everyone else's said the same too, except different names and different times. 'Baseline assessments?' said
Sue the Sticks and she give it to Verna to check. Then we all sat, envelopes open in one hand, appointment cards in the other,
staring at Tony. And when Malvin had finished handing them out, he gone back and stood beside him. And he stood with his mouth
open, breathing so loud he was snoring worse than Omar. And he wedged his fat pink hands down the back of his trousers.

'It's nothing to worry about,' said Tony. 'The doctors just want to see you all . . .'

'What for?' said Astrid.

'Just listen,' said Malvin. His fingers wriggled inside of his trousers. 'Just listen and you might find out.'

'They want to hear how you're getting on,' said Tony.

He weren't looking comfortable; he was stood with one foot on top of the other. 'They want to know if your treatment's helping
. . .'

'Sorry?' said Poppy. 'What treatment's that?'

'And if there's anything more we can do.'

'It says
"assessments"
here,' said Sue. 'Doesn't it, Verna. Here,
"assessments".'

'There's no need to worry,' Tony said. His feet was now crossed so his right foot was stood on the left-hand side of his left
one. 'We're making some changes. From now on,' he said, 'the doctors will see you all once a month.'

'Check you're making progress,' said Fowler.

And out they gone to the sound of stamping slippers.

Everyone knew why assessments was changing from once a year to once a month; everyone said it was obvious why; the only thing
was everyone disagreed. Michael said the whole thing stunk of Veronica Salmon all over. 'Evidence-based healthcare,' he said.
'That's the word of the moment!' And he gone off on one about privatisation and how the health service had to prove that hospitals
made people better. 'Results, results, results,' he said, thumping his fist on the arm of his chair. 'This government's obsessed
with results!' And he called a special meeting of the Patients' Council.

Verna and Sue the Sticks said bollocks, the reason weren't nothing to do with results, it was just 'cause they'd sold so many
tickets they couldn't fit everyone in. And Sue said soon as her blisters healed they was going off searching again, and she
shown us (again) where her hands was rubbed raw from walking so far on her crutches. They said this time
they'd find
the viewing room. They would of found it last time, they said, but the corridor was so long. And Zubin said what if there
wasn't
a room, but they said they got proof now there
must
be a room on account of the monthly assessments.

Rosetta, who weren't the same Rosetta since Pollyanna gone, she said they done it on account of what happened, 'cause they
wanted to keep a closer check, make sure we was all OK. And she said it was proof of how caring they was and how good could
come out of the worst things in life so long as you trusted in God. But Brian the Butcher didn't got trust, or if he did,
do you know what I'm saying, he weren't relying on it. He upped his hand-washing six hours a day the moment he heard about
it, whilst Tina kept trying to work out what she done and Elliot torn his card into strips and eaten them one by one.

The entrance to Leech's was this tiny doorway in between Cafe Diana and Borderline Cars. The only reason you knew it was there
was this sandwich board they got out on the pavement pointing you up the stairs.

'You don't have to come, you know,' Poppy kept saying.'I'll be fine by myself.' But I weren't going to
leave
her. There might of been
some
guides reckoned the job finished four-thirty sharp, but I weren't one of them and I said so as well, and Poppy smiled, and
you seen she was pleased underneath.

I'd never been in Leech's before. I'd met solicitors of course — they was always sniffing around the wards, looking for flops
to appeal their sections, and before that as well when I been in trouble, nothing too much, as a kid. Mr Moussaka, I remember,
sat in the office at Sunshine House with his shiny black case on the floor by his chair. 'Well you're certainly keeping us
busy, N . . .' and he give me a mint; he was alright, Mr Moussaka. But whenever I'd met them
they'd
come to
me,
now as me and Poppy gone up the stairs, I couldn't help wondering what it be like and whether they'd have glass offices and
stuff like on the telly, and I couldn't really see it, over Cafe Diana, but I done up my puffa anyway to cover the marks on
my sweatshirt, and I run a finger under each eye, though I weren't wearing nothing to smudge it.

Reception weren't nothing like
LA Law,
closest thing it reminded me of was the dentists my mum sometimes taken me to; Mr Smile, I think he was called, filled all
of my teeth three times over. All it was was a landing with stairs going on up, the dirty blue carpet worn thin on the bend
like the hair on an old dog's tail. The windows looked down on to Borderline Road and Planet Kebab opposite, through blue
plastic letters transferred on to the glass.

A woman was sat behind this desk answering calls off of one of them phones, you know down the Social where the lights keep
flashing non-stop. 'Leech's solicitors, how can I help yeeeeeew? Line's busy would you like to hold? Thank yeeeeeew! Leech's
solicitors, how can I help yeeeeeeew? Line's still busy would you still like to hold? Thank yeeeeeew!' Honestly like that forever,
I ain't exaggerating; she never even drawn breath, hardly, lungs of a whale she must of had, and every time Poppy tried to
break in, she'd hold up a finger and roll her eyes like 'I won't be a minute, honest.'

'And
I'm
the one out of a job!' goes Poppy and the woman looked up like sharp 'cause she heard. And I'm stood next to Poppy just giggling
- I couldn't help it, the way she said it. 'Can I help you?' the woman goes, arsey as fuck. Then she nodded at me. 'Has she
got
an appointment?' she said.

'Who?' goes Poppy, like who do you
mean?
Though she knew 'cause she told me later.

The woman was stood with her wrist bent back, holding the phone like a cigarette in one of them old-fashioned films. She glanced
at me, then she looked at Poppy again. 'And you are?' she said.

Well just as Poppy was saying who she was, who should come out of this door at the back but Rapper Rashid, you remember I
said, who lived in the flat above me; and behind him this man with curly dark hair in a suit, cost a thousand pounds easy.
And as soon as I seen them I turned away — I ain't sure why exactly — and I started reading this thing on the wall, a certificate
or something it was, the wall was covered in them, and behind me Poppy was still going on how she wanted to see a solicitor
and yes she knew it was mental health and no she wouldn't come back in a week and what was the use of a walk-in service you
wasn't allowed to walk into. And I stayed turned round till I heard Rashid go past me and down the stairs, and when I turned
back, the man in the suit was shooking Poppy's hand. 'Peter Leech,' he was saying. 'Come through.' And I didn't know what to
do myself, like whether to stay or go or what, and I honestly thought she'd forgot I was there, but then Poppy looked back.
'Are you coming?' she said. 'Or do you have to head off?' And I walked across right in front of the desk, and if looks could
kill, do you know what I'm saying. 'N's my consultant,' goes Poppy. You should of seen her!

Mr Leech was really nice, sat us down and offered us tea, and when Poppy said how she didn't want tea, on account she'd been
drinking tea all day, 'cause that was all dribblers done drunk tea, he laughed and asked if she wanted anything else. 'Feel
free to smoke,' said Mr Leech and he give us a cut-glass ashtray, and as soon as we'd stuck our fags in our mouths, he whipped
out this lighter and give us a light, only I was so stunned I forgotten to suck and he had to give me another.

'So how can I help?' said Mr Leech. He opened the window behind his desk then sat hisself down, leant back in his chair and
smiled like a warm cat stretching.

As Poppy told him her story he listened, and he made little notes on this pad on his knee, and he asked Poppy questions and
wrote what she said. You could see right away how intelligent he was.

A couple of times I come in with stuff when Poppy forgotten to tell him, and I helped by explaining a few things as well,
like how Tony asked me to be Poppy's guide, instead of Astrid, who'd been there longer, and how I'd advised her about the
doctors and I watched the black pen with its shiny gold nib noting it down and I felt like I done alright.

When Poppy had finished, Mr Leech sat there just shooking his head from side to side like he couldn't believe all the terrible
things she gone through. 'It sounds absolutely appalling!' he said. 'I can hardly believe what I'm hearing!' And he run through
a few of the details again and Poppy said yes, that was right, that's what happened, and Mr Leech shaken his head again, and
not being funny but I couldn't help thinking it weren't
that
awful, was it! And I found myself wondering what he'd of said if I'd told him a bit of what
I
been through in my twenty-nine –
years probably nothing at all on account of the words would of failed him.