Poisoned Ground: A Hakim and Arnold Mystery (Hakim & Arnold Mystery 3) by Barbara Nadel Read Free Book Online Page B

the same. Druggies, all of them!’
    Terry started crying again and eventually Shirley called over a nurse, who wordlessly led him back to his room.
    ‘Chronic patients like Terry can seem almost normal when they’re not on their particular hobby horses,’ Shirley said as they walked out of the locked ward and into the open air. ‘With Terry it’s his father’s cremation. He’s fixated on it.’
    ‘Does anyone know why?’ Mumtaz asked.
    ‘Not that I know of. But he’s far too sick to leave so he’ll never have to deal with normal life.’
    Knowing what she did about mental health and its reputation as the ‘Cinderella service’ within the NHS, Mumtaz wondered if anyone had ever asked Terry to explain what his fears meant to him. The nurses on the chronic ward had looked almost as torpid and badly dressed as the patients, the TV had been on at full volume, cranking out chat show nonsense, and every chair she’d come across had been stained beyond redemption. How could anyone work effectively in such an environment? How could the patients ever get well? But then she remembered that they weren’t expected to.
    ‘You’ll notice,’ Shirley said, ‘that I didn’t collude in Terry’s delusion.’
    ‘No.’ Mumtaz hadn’t imagined she would. Whatever iniquities remained within mental health services, the propagation of patient delusions was not one of them. Acknowledging a different perspective while retaining one’s own point of view had been a standard therapeutic response for many years.
    ‘You give the service user respect as an individual with a unique position while at the same time not playing a game of pretending to believe them just to make them happy and give yourself a quiet life,’ Shirley continued.
    ‘What about Terry’s idea that the medication the patients are given isn’t working?’ Mumtaz asked.
    ‘Well, it’s nonsense.’ Shirley smiled. ‘And he does take his meds, in spite of what he says. He has to, he’s sectioned.’ Then she said, ‘Do you smoke?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Well, I need a fag. You’ll find that most of the service users and most of the staff smoke. But these days we have to do it outside. We’ve got a smokers’ corner behind the old laundry block,’ Shirley said. ‘If you want to join me, you’re welcome. You’ll get to meet just about anyone who is anyone in this place if you do.’
    ‘OK.’
    They walked the length of the chronic wing until they came to a low red-brick building. Where there had once been windows, now there were wooden boards and a large chimney at one end, which looked as if it was in danger of collapse. Shirley led Mumtaz round the back of the building.
    ‘All the laundry used to be done on-site,’ she said. ‘But when it was decided that the hospital would close, it was contracted out to some private company. That chimney is over where the old laundry copper used to be.’
    ‘When is the hospital supposed to be closing?’ Mumtaz asked.
    ‘This time?’ Shirley shook her head. ‘Officially 2014, but in reality God knows. This place has been “closing down” since the 1980s to my knowledge. Hiya, Kylie.’
    They were suddenly in amongst a large group of people.
    ‘Hi, Shirley.’ Kylie was a young girl, probably no more than eighteen or twenty, and she wore one of those nylon tabards Mumtaz recognized as the uniform of the hospital’s cleaners. She smiled at Mumtaz. ‘All right?’
    ‘This is my new advocate, Mumtaz.’ Shirley lit a cigarette.
    ‘Hiya.’
    ‘Hi,’ Mumtaz said.
    Mainly nurses, care assistants and cleaners, the smokers consisted of one large, apparently cheerful group, plus two smaller collections of people. One of these was made up of patients. Clustered around a blocked-off doorway, most of them sat on cracked paving stones and scrub grass sharing roll-ups. Occasionally one or other of them would glance up at the larger group and then look away quickly.
    Shirley said, ‘They wait around for dog-ends. When