The Book: Chapter 23

‘Betty, may I speak to Tommy?’ Alice asked.

‘No.’

Betty was agitated, her pitchy voice sharper than usual. Her tone carried a beating-stick of finality, leaving no room for negotiation. She adjusted the cuffs of her cardigan, her fingers stabbing as she smoothed invisible wrinkles. Her posture was impeccable, her gaze steady, but Alice made a note of the tic in her jaw, it was new. Betty’s fingers flexed and knotted, a mounting indicator of tension.

‘What have you written about me?’ She was ready to attack.

‘I just made a note that you seem upset.’

‘Of course, I’m upset, you stupid creature. Show me. Give it to me now.’

Alice glanced at Dr Amos, a fellow doctor of psychiatry assigned to shadow her appointments while she was under investigation again. Tony Amos gave her a nod and Alice showed Betty the notes.

Betty was a woman who took control. She exuded a rigid formality—from the way she sat with her back as straight as a surfboard, to the bun pinned at the nape of her neck. The wig didn’t have a strand of hair out of place. Her clothing reflected the need for no fuss, but the demand for a world of order with no surprises coming at her—ever. Betty was the glue holding Thomas together. She wore a faded tweed skirt, 40 denier stockings, and a blouse fastened to the last button. A single string of charity shop pearls and a large broach with green glass stones completed her ensemble. Betty was moulded in grey clay from the hatred Tommy had for his mother, though Albert was nothing like the father who had beaten him throughout his childhood

Alice knew Betty well. She was the protector of the collective, a matriarch of the inner world. She believed she held the system together. But her principle came at a cost. Betty was OCD, and in opposition to her rigidity in most respects, her greatest love was food. It was a flaw in her created makeup, the only one in Thomas’ view of the perfect human being. When things proved difficult, Betty craved junk food and desserts. She ate furtively, and gorged, ashamed of her addiction. It caused Thomas no end of problems, not least his recent weight gain.

‘Why did you hurt Albert?’ Alice asked.

Betty pursed her lips, her face unreadable. ‘He’s changed. I don’t like him anymore.’

‘So you broke his fingers?’

Hers twitched before she clasped them together. Stop. Be still. Back in control. ‘He wants to kill me so he can move up the collective.’

Alice kept her expression neutral. ‘Albert can’t kill you.’

‘Oh, can’t he?’ She looked at Alice as though she was bacteria under a microscope. Alice fought to hold her gaze and not check her clothing for lint. ‘He’s always been a certain way, but recently he’s been tormenting me,’ Betty said. It felt as though she blamed Alice for her perceived mistreatment.

‘What did he do, Betty?’

‘He crept up behind me and whispered ‘Poof’ and he did this—she spread her fingers in the air, mimicking the motion of something going off in her face and then falling like dust. ‘Like I’m supposed to disappear, or something.’

‘Go on.’

 ‘You know the rest. I snapped his fingers.’ She glanced at the left hand in her lap and pulled a face at the splinted fingers. ‘Two of them, like a pair of pencils. I’d like to see him do his stupid dust trick now.’

Alice resisted the urge to flinch. She’d read about similar levels of conflict between alters but had never seen it so vividly.

Betty and Albert had been married for years. Theirs was a dysfunctional but deep-rooted relationship. It acted as the scales keeping Thomas’ balance level. Betty, a traditionalist, had the role of a conventional wife, while Albert, a few years younger and charismatic, was the charming but exasperating husband. Albert acted out and Betty reigned him in.

She tolerated Albert’s numerous flirtations and his penchant for pressed suits and polished shoes. But his character had changed. He was distant and unpredictable. Betty suspected he wanted to erase her. It was a dangerous tilt to the status quo of the system. If Albert pushed her out, she’d be relegated to the background where the forgotten pieces of Tommy rested. Betty called it dying, but other alters had been usurped in the past. They were still there, deactivated for now, but with the potential to resurface with charged, and potentially dangerous, personalities.

‘It must have been frightening,’ Alice said. ‘Did you believe he could erase you?’

Betty exhaled through her nose. ‘He thought he could beat me. He’s a fool to think he could make me vanish. I’m stronger than him. I always have been. I will take him apart.’

There was a pause.

A shift.

Alice had experienced it many times and felt it immediately—Betty dropped her head, she seemed to crumple into herself and became smaller in the chair. The transformation was unmistakable. The spine uncoiled and the lips reset into a harder male line, pursing in disdain as he emerged. The faint whiff of a musky cologne curled into the air from the groin and armpit areas. Betty kept her limbs held close to her body, controlled, and frigid, but as they straightened the posture opened, relaxing and moving away from her rigidity.

Albert came in.

His presence was striking in contrast to Betty’s tight control.

 ‘The gorgeous Dr Grant. Can we have some one-on-one time later? Alone time, you get my meaning?’ He winked and Alice ignored him. Albert was fluid and self-assured, the man about town. He exhaled, presenting himself in the body as he looked at his clothing with distaste.

This was new. Unlike the rest of the system, he rarely came in on the back of the others, preferring to be bathed and dressed before he made his appearance.

With his dominant left writing hand—the splinted one—he plucked at nothing from the cardigan sleeve, flicking it away with quiet refinement. He winced in pain from the effort. Albert took pride in his appearance. Betty’s clothing was an affront.

‘Good morning, Dr Grant.’ His voice changed after seeing the skirt. It was hollow with irritation, ‘Might I change before we speak?’

Alice studied him, making notes. ‘Nobody’s stopping you, Albert. You’re free to come and go as you please.’

His lips, stained with a dull brown muted lipstick, twitched as if he might smile, but it never formed. He sighed and smoothed the skirt. His fingers lingered on the fabric before he lifted their damaged hand. His expression hardened. ‘Bitch!’ he shouted. His eyes settled on Alice as if he had more to say.

He thought for a second, opened his mouth to rant at her—and, as suddenly as he’d arrived—he was gone.

The body curled inward, shoulders hunching, and a small whimper left his lips. Sometimes the transformation wasn’t pleasant. Tommy’s feet shuffled as he slid onto the floor from the chair. His arms wrapped around himself.

Simon was here.

‘Hi, Alice,’ he mumbled without looking at her. But as he realised where he was, his voice brightened and Alice felt her tension easing.

‘Are we going for an ice cream?’

‘Not today, Simon. We’ve got work to do.’

‘That’s boring.’

Alice always experienced a maternal ache when Simon came forward. He was seven years old, hesitant and wary until he opened up, and then he was the light in the darkness of Tomas’ soul. Simon embodied the dominant’s lost innocence and was funny and precocious—a delight to be around.  

He slid onto his knees with none of the awkwardness of the adult body he’d taken over and crawled to the toy box Alice kept in her office. His fingers brushed various toys before he chose a red tractor. Simon pushed it across the carpet, focussing on the wheels and letting the rhythmic motion soothe him.

Alice gave him time to align before speaking.

He flopped onto the carpet, stretching like a starfish and shooting the ceiling lights with his good hand before rolling onto his stomach. Simon propped himself up on his elbows and gave her a mischievous grin.

Alice hadn’t slept and she stifled a yawn.

Are you tired?’ he asked, tilting his head. ‘Did you forget to sleep?’

She laughed. ‘Excuse me, young man. You’re too clever for your own good. I’ll have you know, I get at least five hours of sleep every night.’

‘Five? That’s just a nap. Hey, I bet my bedtime is later than yours. I can go to bed at nine o’clock if I want to.’

‘Oh really? And who permits this late bedtime?’

He broke into a guilty smile and Alice was charmed. ‘Okay. Maybe Betty.’

‘Ah, I see. Betty the Boss.’ Alice nodded. ‘Have you ever tried negotiating with her? Maybe giving her some of your bedtime snacks in exchange for extra time to play?’

Simon’s eyes lit up. ‘Betty would do anything for snacks.’ He dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘I have to hide them, or she eats everything.’ The staff knew about Simon’s stashing. They’d find half-eaten chocolate bars and packets of squashed crisps all over the unit. He once put an open black cherry yoghurt in the middle of a pile of clean linen. ‘I tried negotiating with her once But she said if I don’t do what she says, I’ll grow up to be one of those men who doesn’t have a job and drinks beer all day. Albert let me try beer once, and I don’t even like it. so that doesn’t make sense at all. And she won’t let me have too many snacks. I don’t see anything wrong with that. Do you? She eats them all the time.’

Alice snorted. ‘Honestly, she might have a point.’

Simon groaned, dramatically covering his face. ‘I know. She always knows what I’m doing. It’s like she sees the future.’

Alice laughed. ‘Right let’s get on or she’ll be back to tell us off and then we’ll both be for it.’

His bright eyes clouded and Alice saw nervousness settle over him. ‘It’s okay, love. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.’

‘It’s okay, I suppose. But don’t ask me what Tomas is hiding under his mattress.’

‘Is it something that can hurt him?’

‘No, it’s just an old book. It doesn’t even have any pictures.’

The book should have been in her locker. It explained Betty’s rage and the self-inflicted broken fingers.

Floyd was an alter that didn’t come forward very often, but there wasn’t a locked door he couldn’t break into—or out of. This had his mischief written all over it and could be one way the book travelled at will. Floyd wouldn’t be difficult to manipulate and while he was dominant Thomas wouldn’t know about it. ‘Where did Thomas get the book, Simon?’

‘I dunno.’ Simon blushed and Alice figured he did know.

‘Did Floyd take it?’ He shrugged and shut down. Alice changed tack before she lost him.  

‘How’s the gang doing?’ He was young but astute. Simon was fond of listening at doors, both inside and outside of Thomas’ head, and if you wanted to know something, Simon was the kid to go to. Alice pandered to his tiny ego. He liked being important and knowing things.

Simon shrugged. ‘Betty’s angry. Albert’s hiding. Nobody talks much.’

Alice nodded, her voice gentle. ‘Do you think they’ll be okay?’

Simon tensed, fingers tightening on the tractor. ‘I don’t know. There’s someone new.’

Alice was shocked but kept her composure. ‘A new headmate?’

‘Uh huh.’

Simon stopped playing and looked up with frightened eyes. He nodded but didn’t speak.

Alice leaned forward, keeping her tone even. ‘Can you tell me about them?’

Simon shook his head. ‘It’s real bad. It won’t show, but it’s there all the time.’ His voice dropped. ‘It doesn’t come out, but it watches.’

‘Is it a male or female? How old?’

‘A man, I think. I don’t know. It’s very old. Even older than Betty and she’s as old as a mountain.’

Alice’s pulse quickened. ‘Do you know its name?’

Simon whimpered. It doesn’t have one. It’s not like the others. It’s just there.’ He looked around in fear and Alice saw a spreading stain darkening the floor underneath Thomas. It leaked through the skirt, soaking the carpet. ‘Don’t make me talk about him, anymore. Alice. I’m frightened.’ He put the tractor on his knee to try and hide his shame.

Alice put her hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s okay, Simon. You don’t have to.’

The little boy using the man’s body relaxed. She saw his shoulders drop and his face adopted its default lop-sided grin. He forgot about wetting himself as only a child can, and went back to rolling the tractor across the floor. This time he made a motor noise and was happy because he didn’t have to answer any more questions. But the air in the room had shifted.

 

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