Inheritance

‘I didn’t know her.’ His client leaned forward and stubbed out a cigarette. ‘I think that was the whole point, really. That I didn’t know her.’

She leaned back in her chair, eyes steadily meeting his and her face an expressionless mask. It was their fourth mandatory session, and he expected a struggle.

‘In what way?’ He adjusted the black notebook on his knee, squaring it against the perfectly crisp crease of his trousers.

‘Because she hated the others. Look, we’ll never get anywhere if you ask pointless questions. How about I do the talking and you listen? Like you’re paid for?’

‘Would that make you more comfortable, Sadie?’

‘It’s Ms Morgan.’ She folded her arms.

‘Do you feel that you gain distance from me by disallowing the use of your first name?’

‘What I feel is that if I’ve to call you doctor, then you’ll be calling me Ms Morgan. It’s about respect. Or do they train that out of you at shrink school?’

He made a note, light reflecting from the monogrammed pen. ‘As you wish.’

‘You’re such a cold fish.’ She snorted. ‘And you’re the most sympathetic thing they could find for us losers to confide in. The world’s gone to hell. Mine, anyway.’

The blank expression momentarily slipped and he caught a wave of sadness rippling across her face. Sadness, and … something else. Regret? Anger? It was gone before he could place it, her mask restored.

‘Tell me how life went wrong.’

She grinned. ‘It’s because I inherited twenty grand. Funny. You’d think money makes life easier, but it doesn’t.’

‘So, it’s your aunt’s fault you’re here? You took no pleasure in her legacy?’

‘I didn’t say it was her fault. It’s mine. My cock up. My disaster.’

He watched a lone bluebottle navigate the high, narrow windows. Parched earth and freshly mown grass threaded the air, the distant mower a quiet drone.

‘It’s good that you’re able to own your actions. You feel being here is disastrous?’

‘Wouldn’t you?’ More humour. ‘And it’s wrong to say I didn’t enjoy it. It was great at first, being able to help my friends, to eat out, buy decent clothes. It was fun, until he got involved..’

She leaned forward to take a tissue, uninvited, from the box on his desk. He was perversely irritated. Yes, the tissues were there for his clients, but they were there for the criers, the well behaved ones with whom he could adopt an authoritative, avuncular tone, as they gazed at him in adoring trust. Not for Sadie Morgan to wipe the sweat from her face and cleavage. It was all he could do not to grimace as she poked about inside her sweatshirt, the tissue greying with grubbiness from unwashed skin.

Bad enough that she didn’t take him seriously. He was sure she was laughing at him, humouring him. That she was here only to tick obedient boxes. She certainly wasn’t trying to get better, assuming she even realised she was ill. She seemed not to.

Sadie crumpled the damp tissue and aimed it at his waste paper bin. Missed. It sat there, an untidy irritant at the edge of his vision. She grinned again at his involuntary flinch.

‘Bothers you, doesn’t it? Bet you’re bundles of fun at parties. How does your wife cope with the anal tidiness? Or is she as bad? Bet she is. Bet she’s a proper Stepford..’

‘We’re discussing your life, not mine.’ He cleared his throat, sitting straighter. ‘Perhaps you could tell me how Mr…’ He consulted his notes. “Mr Guthrie became involved.’

She smirked, watching him squirm for a few endless seconds. Rising, she scooped the tissue into the bin and flopped back into her chair, the legs squawking across the floor as she landed. He winced internally.

‘It was the end of October, around Halloween. Always a good time to spark up a new flame, eh? What can possibly go wrong with a guy you met on Halloween?’

‘In your case, rather a lot.’ The words slipped out, unintended.

‘Knew I’d get a rise out of you eventually.’ She sagged in her seat. ‘But you’re right. In my case, a lot did go wrong. Because Mr Guthrie, a.k.a scumbag Jay, hit on me in a bar.’

‘You were drinking?’

‘Best way to make terrible decisions. There I was, dolled up and, rocking my Elvira costume like a boss, when this guy comes and leans on the bar next to me.’ She paused, remembering. ‘Darcy and Lou had gone to the bog so I was guarding their stools - and a theme pub on Halloween is a heck of a place to try saving seats. I damn near had to fight this one woman. Cheeky cow. She actually…’

‘Stay on subject.’

‘Whatever. Anyways, up comes Jay, making like Gomez. He’d mistaken Elvira for Morticia, like the wig doesn't give it away, and started doing the ‘Oh, Tish...’ thing. And I wasn’t feeling it. I wanted us girls to move on to a club. Spiderzone had this…’ A fast head shake. ‘Never mind. Basically, I was going to tell him to do one, when he goes ‘It’s Sadie, right?’ That threw me. He said we’d been at school together and did I recognise him from geography.’

‘Did you?’

‘Nope. ‘Cause he lied. He’d collared Darcy near the loo and asked if I was Emma from Collier school. She said no, I was Sadie from Stonemoor. So then he’d got his intro and approach planned. I was embarrassed to Blackburn and back ‘cos I’d no idea who he was. And he insisted on buying me a drink.’

She glanced pointedly at the water jug on the desk, and he nudged a glass towards her. ‘Help yourself.’

‘As long as I don’t make a mess?’

He shifted paperwork aside. ‘Use the coaster.’

‘So anal.’’

He watched silently until she set the glass down and continued.

‘I should’ve known he wasn’t legit. That night literally makes it one whole time that an attractive guy’s ever put the moves on me. Look at me, I’m the girl who gets ignored ‘til the end of the night. 'Til ‘pull a pig’ hour. Because us fat girls are grateful, or dirtier, or something. I slapped the crap out of the a-hole who mansplained that to me. He thought I’d be grateful enough I’d…’ She shuddered. ‘Ugh. Point is, Jay seriously wouldn’t leave me alone. Lou did say she didn’t want him coming to the club with us. Said she couldn’t put her finger on it but something about him gave her the squicks, and.... Did you just write that I’ve a history of violence? Seriously? Because of one slap?’

He shifted the notebook nearer, covering it with his hand. There was nothing the matter with her eyesight, however lacking she may be in the proper respect and deference for psychiatry.

Didn’t she know how important he was to her future prospects?

He smiled condescendingly. ‘We both know there’s rather more to your, ah, violent propensities than one slap. But we can start managing those next session.’

Sadie’s turn to grimace. ‘Good thing we’re not assessed on whether or not we like you, isn’t it? Did you know the other girls call you Doctor Douche behind your back? No? Didn’t think so. Honestly, why do they give short men power? And quit sneering at me or I’ll damn well show you what violent propensities really are.’

‘If you threaten me I’ll end the session, and won't be able to recommend…’

‘Blah, blah, Doc Morris the Great and Powerful. I know. I’ve heard it before. Where was I? Oh, the nightclub. Well, Jay stayed with us giving it the full charm offensive, and pouring enough Bacardi down me to sink a battleship. Which is why my dumb ass took him home to bed. And he never bloody left. Because here’s the fun bit…’ She leaned forward, jaw set and angry. ‘I was set up from the get go.’

‘How?’ He wrote something.

‘The bank he worked for handled my aunt’s money and he decided he’d like some of it. And by some, I mean all.’ She slapped an angry palm against her leg. ‘The turd. It was ok up until that second evening. Seems he wanted to avoid bedding a swampdonkey twice. He worked fast. I nodded off on the sofa for twenty minutes, and the scumbag let three of his mates in. I woke up, and there they all were, trying to look hard and intimidating.’

She stopped and poured more water, sipping gingerly. For the first time, Dr Morris felt he was seeing the real Sadie. That her sarcasm was a cover for the emotion twisting her mouth and pinching her nostrils.

‘Shall I open another window?’ He surprised himself by offering.

She shook her head, swishing blonde ponytail emphasising the greyness of her pallor. ‘It wouldn’t have happened if I’d left the money in the bank. But I thought I was being clever, pulling it all out and hiding it. The recession had kicked in, and I didn’t trust the bank as far as I could spit them, so…” A light shrug. ‘And he knew I’d done that, so he’d come looking for me. They tried to make me hand it over. Threatened to do all sorts of horrible things to me. I’m sure you can imagine. Blokes in a group aren’t especially creative when they decide to threaten women. So, I pretended to be really scared of them, which wasn’t hard, quite frankly, and I said it was in the kitchen. Jay followed me in there, left the others guarding the door like I was gonna make a run for it with the cash.’

Another abrupt halt. She gagged violently, pulling the bin towards her with a foot as she turned away from the desk. After a long few seconds bent over it, face obscured by her hair, she raised her head, expression stricken.

‘What happened?’ A coldly gentle prompt.

‘He died. And the others legged it ‘cos they didn’t fancy getting nicked. End of. Nothing more to tell.’

‘Yes, there is.’

‘Ok. Fine. He decided to do the old gropey intimidation thing. Honestly? I thought he was going to, well. Do that to me. Seemed like he was. And I panicked. Smacked him as hard as I could and tried to get back to the lounge. Stupidly thought his creepy mates being there made me safer.’ She met his eyes, voice dead. ‘But he blocked the door. So I snatched a knife off the rack, tried to scare him off me. He grabbed my hair, punched me a couple times wherever he could reach. I fought back, and…’

‘And?’

‘And he died, ok? I stabbed him and he died and his mates ran away when they saw the blood. Then I called the cops and got arrested. Game over. And of course one of the coppers actually had been at school with him, and of course all his mates stood up for him in court; said he was joking with me about the money, that nobody threatened me. That I’d stabbed him deliberately for not wanting me once he was sober.’

More retching. This time she did vomit, and he fought a scowl at the stench of his sullied bin.

‘And did you?’

‘No, it wasn’t deliberate,’ she said wearily. ‘ I was trying to fight him off and the next thing I know he’s bleeding out.’

‘I see.’ He nodded, and rose, holding out a chilly hand for her to shake. ‘You’ve made progress today, Sadie. It’s a start. I’ll see what I can do for you.’

She smiled faintly, and he beamed back, the avuncular caregiver again now he’d broken her into a show of weakness.

When she’d left he re-opened the notebook …

Patient aggressive and lacking remorse. Cannot recommend for parole consideration.

He smiled, life was good.