Silent Treatment Read online

  'Reckon anything will happen today?' said the deliverer of the tea. If ever the job title 'Junior Reporter' was more apt then she had yet to see it. Jeremy looked all of sixteen. She probably wouldn't serve him in a pub.

  'Oh probably the usual,' she replied without much enthusiasm. It was the part of the job that wasn't her favourite, the constant waiting around. She could at least disappear for a while. She made sure that she was here when the employees arrived for the institute, that was the time she really had to be here. Just in case. In case one of the directors at the institute got out and made a startling announcement; or got out of his car and attacked a photographer. Just a smile would do – she could concoct a headline out of very little. DIRECTOR HAPPY WITH PROGRESS. Not great, but it would do.

  She was aware that they had to keep the interest going. The attention span of the general public was only matched by the short attention span of the media. The actual saying “tomorrow's chip paper” may not be entirely accurate nowadays, perhaps “tomorrow's deleted link” might be more appropriate now. But the central point was still valid. If you didn't keep the public's interest in a story, then there would be another one along shortly to take its place.

  But somehow she thought this story had a long way to run. She hadn't detected any lessening in the public's fascination with the children, in fact the lack of any real progress towards the truth seemed to have fuelled more interest. As is often the way, some people took the lack of any information as the sign that something had happened, it was just that they weren't being told about it.

  What was there not to be fascinated about with this story?

  A group of teenage children appear out of nowhere.

  No one knows who they are or where they came from. Not even their names.

  And to top it all, they are refusing to speak!

  Or maybe they can't speak.

  What's not to like!

  And boy had the speculation really begun to hot up. Not that she dealt in wild speculation, she was a serious journalist after all. But it all helped to keep it in the public's eye.

  It had ranged from the relatively sane plane crash theory, then to a car crash, and finally ended up in speculation that they were aliens and hadn't learnt the language yet!

  The lack of any real information just fuelled more and more wild speculation. It was why she had needed to get a bit resourceful; a little more inventive. It hadn't yet paid dividends, but she was still hopeful. Maybe she would have to turn up the heat herself a bit; this was not something that would be a problem for her. She couldn't just wait until something was announced, that wasn't journalism to her.

  There was a sudden upsurge in activity all around her. Equipment was hoisted on shoulders, suits were swept clean of crumbs and people started to assume their positions. It was remarkable how a scene of complete disarray could be transformed into one of relative order in a matter of minutes. In the case of Karen is was a remarkable testimony to the restorative powers of a cup of tea.

  Over the shoulder of her cameraman Karen could see a familiar car approaching, it was the silver Jaguar of the director of the institute, Robert Sherman.

  She positioned herself perfectly so she and the director would be in shot together.

  'And now we see the director of the institute, Robert Sherman arriving. We will try and get a few words with him.'

  She was almost certain that it wouldn’t happen. But she wanted to keep the audiences interest. Perhaps, this time, he would roll down his window and say something.

  The camera zoomed in on the car and its occupant.

  His expression remained entirely passive. She had got used to being met with this visage. But she felt that he looked more troubled than before. Or perhaps she was imagining it, anything but the expression that she had seen for several weeks.

  'The director arriving there, looking troubled by the situation. Perhaps there has been some bad news?'

  She wasn't above a little embellishment, she was a journalist not a saint. Keep the public interested.

  The car and occupant sailed impassively by. Karen finished her piece to camera and, picking up her phone, began planning her next move.

  And with that the morning report was over.

  Following the director's car was a rather less impressive car, still a little dirty, the occupant looking tired and dishevelled compared to the director. As she drove through Sarah barely registered with the media at all.

  Chapter Nine

  Sarah didn’t sleep well. She hadn’t slept well for a while now and once again she found herself sleeping for only short bursts.

  Initially she had told herself that it was to be expected and it would pass. But now her broken sleep had become the norm.

  She used to just lay there trying to get to sleep. Then she tried reading. This helped a little, but she still found herself waking frequently.

  And now, she would find herself walking around the house late at night; maybe getting something from the kitchen, but often just wandering around aimlessly and trying to tire herself out. She sometimes found herself back in the study and that at least seemed to calm her thoughts for a while. Sometimes she found herself back in bed and wasn’t sure if she had dreamt getting up and wandering about the house.

  She awoke from a disjointed, slightly disturbing dream and her mind was half between her dream world and reality as she leant out and touched the table as usual, looked at her father's photo, and by the time she had dressed and eaten a meagre breakfast, she was ready to face the new day.

  She drove through the assembled media just after the director. The cameras and people, that surrounded his car suddenly melted away as she approached and she sailed through with barely a glance from them.

  Sarah emerged from her car at the institute carrying even more paper than normal. After she had been in her father’s study, she had spent the evening and possibly some of the night researching and printing. She clung tightly to the fruit of her efforts as she stumbled towards the entrance.

  It wasn't exactly ground breaking or original. But since the children had shown a willingness to write in the journals, she wondered if she could get them to complete the psychological evaluations that she had printed out. She had found it difficult to find ones for children of their age, but she had managed to amend some standard ones until the questions seemed at least partly relevant.

  She wasn't a particular believer in their effectiveness. But buoyed the fact that her father had a folder on them in his study, she was willing to at least try them. Besides, she calculated that it would be the sort of thing that would appeal to the director. Which might buy her some time as well.

  She managed to reach her desk without dropping the papers and placed them heavily them on the desk with a loud sound.

  'Is that your homework?' said Helen.

  'It's your classwork for the day actually,' said Sarah. She had been joking, but the expression on Helen's face suggested she hadn't taken it that way.

  Sarah decided to quickly return to her role as her manager. 'I have some psychological evaluations for the children to complete,' she said in a more serious tone.

  Helen found it difficult to contain her approval. This was more like it as far as she was concerned. Real treatment, not the softly softly approach they had been doing so far.

  She replied enthusiastically 'Sounds like a good idea.'

  'If you could gather the children together in room two, then we can get them to complete them this morning,' said Sarah.

  Helen stood up quickly and said 'I'll get that arranged right away.'

  Sarah settled down into her chair and began to sort through the evaluations.

  John had arrived just as Sarah and Helen had walked towards the room and joined them as they walked down to the far end.

  Room two looked a little like a classroom as Helen had laid out desks and chairs for the children.

  'Are we having a test?' said John.

  Sarah thought he looked slightly worri
ed by the prospect.

  Helen said 'Just a basic psychological evaluation,' said Helen.

  Sarah looked at John. He seemed to inexplicably be in the throes of a blind panic.

  'For the children,' said Sarah soothingly.

  'Oh yes, I know,' said John with an unconvincing smile on his face.

  Sarah was puzzled by his reaction, but before she could say anything else she heard the sound of the door opening. She turned to see the children being ushered into the room.

  Nathan led the way and he looked slightly quizzically at the contents of the room. Emily followed, her smile seemed to slip slightly as she saw the room. The twins drifted in afterwards and didn't seem to notice the room at all.

  'Thank you for coming in,' said Sarah. 'Now I don't want you to be alarmed at all. But we have a couple of questionnaires that we would like you to fill in.'

  Sarah felt “questionnaires” sounded less threatening than “evaluations”.

  'They will just help us to get more of an idea of yourselves.'

  Emily looked around the room and up at the ceiling and walls as if she was looking for something. As if she thought that something was missing.

  'If you could just sit down and start when you want. You can do them as quickly as you want. There's no rush,' said Sarah, trying as hard as she could not to make it sound too onerous.

  Emily looked towards Nathan. And there was a moment when Sarah wondered if they would sit down at all. But eventually, they all sat down. Sarah watched as the twins moved the desks as close together as they could. She also watched as Nathan turned over the paper to look at it.

  She was worried that he might look at the questions and look puzzled or even upset. So she was ready for that reaction.

  What she wasn't ready for was his actual reaction.

  He smiled.

  Not only did he smile, but he then proceeded to fill in the questionnaire so quickly that Sarah wondered if he was doing it correctly.

  But he periodically slowed down and evidently thought more deeply about a question, before, sometimes with a slight smile, returning to filling it in.

  Sarah left Helen and John in the room and returned to her desk.

  She busied herself with some long overdue admin and email answering until Helen approached and said 'All completed.'

  'Already?' said Sarah.

  'I can collate them for you if you like. I am used to doing that,' said Helen.

  Sarah was beginning to realise that this type of approach was clearly what Helen favoured.

  The beauty of these evaluations was that they were easy to process.

  'That's fine,' said Sarah, 'just let me know as soon as they are ready.'

  Sarah continued catching up with her backlog. As she scanned through her emails she spotted an invite to a conference. She glanced through the list of papers being presented and their presenters. They all looked very distinguished.

  She imagined if she managed to solve the mystery of the children and successfully complete their treatment. Imagine the conferences she would be invited to? The seminars where she would be the guest presenter? Her mind began to wander as she imagined the applause and the respect.

  Then a vision of her father's disapproving face jolted her back to reality.

  He had never sought fame and had openly decried the fashionable psychologists and their simplistic books. If anyone had mentioned “self help” books to him then they had better be prepared for his reaction.

  She looked up as if she had emerged from a dream and she saw Helen's expression as she was collating the evaluations. All thoughts of award ceremonies were dispelled by the look on her face.

  'Everything okay Helen?' said Sarah with genuine concern in her voice.

  'Yes, it's just that, well. The evaluations. They're…' her voice tailed off.

  Sarah wasn't used to this in Helen. She was used to her being cool and calculating. She assumed what she hoped was a reassuring tone as she said 'If you finish them off we can have a look at them. Perhaps after lunch?'

  Helen seemed slightly reassured and said 'Yes, that'll be fine. I'll have them finished by then.'

  'We'll meet up in room two if you like,' said Sarah.

  Helen nodded and looked back down at the papers in front of her.

  After a typically dull lunch from the canteen Sarah approached the room with a mixture of interest and a little trepidation. She hadn't seen Helen have that expression on her face; her normal cool demeanour had slipped. In a slightly unkind way Sarah was rather pleased to see her react this way. She didn't seem quite so perfect now.

  As Sarah opened the door and saw that Helen was already sitting at the small desk, surrounded by the evaluation papers.

  'You're keen,' said Sarah.

  Helen looked up at Sarah and she almost felt pity for her. The expression on her face was to put it mildly troubled.

  'Everything okay?' said Sarah in a more comforting tone as she sat down.

  'Yes, I guess,' said Helen.

  Sarah sat down opposite her and said 'Have you looked at these types of evaluations before?'

  'I have yes. Well, mainly the theory actually. But I do have experience. We looked at lots of examples at university,' said Helen defensively.

  'It's okay,' said Sarah feeling genuinely concerned for Helen, 'it's not an interview. You've already got the job.'

  Helen managed a weak smile.

  'Can you run me through the results please,' said Sarah.

  Helen seemed to be slightly calmed as she arranged the papers on the desk. The formality appealing to her.

  'Shall we start with Nathan then?' said Sarah.

  Helen took a deep breath and said 'Well, he seems to be a perfectly adjusted young man.'

  'Really?' said Sarah, before she had time to stop herself. It wasn't a very professional response.

  'His answers were all well within the range. Nothing to flag up at all.'

  'Nothing?' said Sarah, finding it hard to believe.

  Helen started to smile as she looked straight at Sarah and said 'Maybe he is a bit passive. And possibly avoids confrontation too much.'

  Now it was Sarah's turn to laugh.

  And for a moment Sarah and Helen were not clinicians at all and sounded like they were discussing some character from a soap opera.

  'And Emily?' said Sarah.

  Helen's smile evaporated as she brought Emily's evaluation in front of her. She adjusted herself on the seat.

  'Emily appears,' started Helen adopting a formal voice, 'to suffer from delusions, is overly aggressive and is quick to anger.' Helen remained studiously looking at the papers.

  Sarah didn't laugh this time. Eventually she said 'Dare I ask about the twins?'

  Helen put a single evaluation result in front of her.

  'Don't you need both?' said Sarah.

  Helen looked up. 'No need. They are both exactly the same.'

  They both sat there in silence for a moment.

  Eventually Sarah, as the more senior staff member here, said in a slow measured voice 'They are manipulating the test to make us look foolish aren’t they.'

  Helen protested 'The evaluations take care of any deliberate manipulation. There are built in checks and balances.'

  Sarah nodded, but she was ahead of Helen.

  'Unless they have taken them before. And not just once.'

  Chapter Ten

  The end of the day approached and Sarah picked up her papers from the desk and began to make her way through the building.

  As she stumbled to get through one of the doors, she was more than a little surprised when a hand appeared from nowhere and steadied the ship.

  ‘Carry your books teacher?’

  It was John and he was smiling pleasantly at her and before she could respond

  she felt the load lifted from her arms and was left with an infinitely more manageable pile.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Sarah, managing a smile.

  ‘A burden shared is a burden halve
d,’ said John.

  Sarah hadn’t seen John’s thoughtful face before, it was a pleasant surprise to her.

  John walked slowly beside her and said ‘So how are we doing teach?’

  Sarah really hoped that he wouldn’t call her that from now on, she was finding it difficult enough to maintain her air of authority as it was. She was certain if that nickname stuck then the task would become even more difficult.

  John seemed to pick up something from her facial expression even though she wasn’t aware that she had given any clues.

  ‘Sorry, would you rather I called you Madam instead?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ an image of a woman in her sixties with a tight bun sprang into Sarah’s head, ‘Sarah will do just fine.’

  They walked a few minutes further, John holding all the doors open for her to carry the papers through.

  ‘What else have we got planned for the children then?’ said John conversationally.

  ‘Well, I’m hoping that they have entered something into their journals. If not, then…’ Her voice tailed off as she hadn’t really thought what else they would try.

  John waited long enough for Sarah to come up with her next sentence, but having judged that none was forthcoming, said ‘Well if you need anyone to bounce ideas off, then look no further, I’m a good listener.’

  Sarah looked at John’s face which had the sort of supportive and comforting expression on that was difficult to refuse.

  ‘I may take you up on that,’ she replied, it suddenly sounded very appealing to be able to confide in someone. And who better than the unthreatening John?

  John delivered a quick parting smile as Sarah headed towards Gary's office.

  Sarah had instigated a process of collecting the journals from the children. She didn’t want to be seen to be putting pressure on the children, and they were not put under any pressure to fill in the journals at all. Sarah had nearly worn out the phrases ’If you like’ and ‘If it isn’t too much trouble’. Her current favourite was ‘If you feel it would help’. She couldn’t help feel that sometimes the ‘help’ she was referring to was helping her. But she had begun to care about the children. She could see sadness in their eyes at times that seemed to reflect her own sadness and she did genuinely feel some connection with them. And she did want to help them, and not just because it was her job.