Red Ribbons Read Online Free Page B

respond. I don’t, not even a blink.
    ‘Maybe, Ellie, we could aim to have our chats in the afternoon? How would you feel about that?’
    ‘Fine.’
    He can have as many chats as he likes, but I won’t be saying anything. It has all been said before, dragged up and dissected, mulled backwards and forwards. It doesn’t change anything, nothing can.
    I lean farther back in my chair and he stares at me like he knows I am about to say something. I suddenly like this about him, noticing the small things probably makes him a good judge of people.
    ‘Do you have children, Dr Ebbs?’ I ask this as I turn away from the framed photograph of his children on the desk. They look about eight and ten years old. The girl is the younger one. I know he has caught me looking. I don’t care.
    ‘Yes. I have two, a boy and a girl.’
    ‘A gentleman’s family. You should mind them well, they won’t always be around, you know.’
    ‘Indeed.’
    I can tell he feels uncomfortable with someone else setting the agenda. He says nothing about me looking at the photograph. He is being polite, no point in upsetting the lunatic too soon. Perhaps I should feel guilty about taking advantage of our meeting, of him wanting to put me at my ease, but there are always pros and cons on both sides. I know the protocol better than most. He will talk to
me
on first name terms, but if I were to call him Samuel, it would be overly familiar. He knows he is in charge of the questions and that it is my expected duty to answer them. He will try to make me
better
, but I don’t want to be
better
. I am fine as I am, history-less.
    ‘Your bouts of depression, it says here, Ellie, they started not long into your marriage?’
    Picking up his pen, he clicks down the top, like he’s pressing the Play button on a tape recorder, as if now I should open my mouth and speak so that he, being the good doctor, can write it all down diligently. The fact that I remain silent does not unnerve him, merely initiates a change of tactics.
    ‘Ellie, I know this will be slow. It will take time for you to learn to trust me, but I do intend to help you. Little by little, we will work through things together.’
    All this is said with sincerity, the lines on his forehead deepening, his eyes looking straight at me as he leans back in his chair, every movement designed to put me at my ease. If I cared enough, I could humour him, give him some encouragement, but I don’t care. Soon, he won’t either.
    ‘I want to go.’
    ‘But, Ellie, you’ve only just arrived.’
    ‘So?’
    ‘So now that you are here, it might be good to talk a little longer. I won’t delay you, Ellie, just a few more moments of your time.’
    I almost laugh out loud, to hear him talking to me like I’m some busy person. ‘Do I have a choice?’
    He leans forward again, his physical proximity requesting a more intimate response.
    ‘Didn’t think so,’ I say under my breath. I can see my smart remark is a disappointment to him.
    ‘Ellie, I’m going to talk straight with you. I’m new here at St Michael’s, but I’ve been involved in psychiatric care for a very long time.’
    This is supposed to make me feel confident, happy to spill the beans, to trust him. But I am too long at this game for stupidity like that.
    ‘You look tired. How have you been finding the medication?’
    ‘Fine, tired is good.’
    ‘You enjoy sleeping?’
    ‘It passes the time.’
    ‘Which is a good thing?’
    He is starting to annoy me now, bad enough sitting here answering his questions without them being completely stupid. I say nothing. He’ll learn.
    ‘For now, let’s say we keep you on the same medication but that we can review it later.’
    Again he plays the game. We both know he decides on the medication, it is not and never will be a joint decision.
    ‘Ellie, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, to putting a face to the file, as they say.’
    He laughs at this. I don’t. My lack of reaction does not