Jenni Fagan - The Panopticon

‘Anais, sorry, I didnae introduce myself properly. I am the Officer in Charge, my name is Joan. D’ye need a drink or anything?’

‘No.’

She looks at the polis and they shake their heads.

‘Okay, Anais, this is Eric, he is our student at the moment. This is Brenda, this is Ed, and this is your support worker, Angus.’

They all nod in turn, smiling. Ed has a frizzy ginger mullet and wee round specs. Slick. Ginger isnae the problem (all the hottest girls are redheads), it’s not even the frizz; it’s the tone, a pissy-orange colour, and it’s waist-length and — a mullet.

The student prick is trying to dress like he’s a casual. Twat! Brenda appears to be on Prozac and Valium, her eyes have that glazed dullness about them. My support-worker guy, Angus, has long green dreadlocks and knee-high Doc boots.

‘I do apologise, you’ll need tae excuse us — sorry, you caught us in between shifts. We were hoping to try and finish the changeover before you arrived,’ Joan says.

The policeman puts my files down.

‘Without disclosing anything directly, of course — can you verify that Anais has been released without charge?’ she asks.

‘We haven’t charged Miss Hendricks, but she is under investigation. We need her school uniform in this, and you’ll need tae do it as soon as we leave. We cannae give her the opportunity tae tamper with possible evidence.’

The policeman hands a clear plastic bag with a label on it to Joan.

‘D’ye not normally do this at the station?’

‘Miss Hendricks cited many, many regulations while she was detained. These included her right to only have her clothes removed, for a full search, if she has a female social worker present. She has this stipulated on her file.’

‘Why’s that?’ Joan asks.

‘There were previous allegations from Miss Hendricks about treatment during searches. We did try to get her social worker but she is apparently abroad, and of course we are only concerned for her well-being, so we decided tae wait until we brought her here.’

Old skelp-your-pus sounds well convincing, I almost fucking believe him myself.

‘That’s not a problem, officer.’

‘I’ve arranged for our lab technician tae come out tomorrow. She’ll do the final tests and collect Miss Hendricks’s school uniform.’

He’s shifting from foot to foot, he wants out of here — good!

‘Can you tell us if the police officer’s condition is stable, at least?’ Joan asks.

‘For now.’

‘It is a coma, though?’

‘An acute coma.’

‘Is she expected to come out of it soon?’

Joan’s not looking at me. All the staff are, carefully, not looking at me. Except the student. He’s fucking fascinated.

‘No, she’s not, they dinnae know if she will.’

‘But you didnae charge Anais?’

‘No. We’ve no actual evidence that Miss Hendricks was responsible for the assault. Not yet.’

Joan puts the plastic bag in her drawer and signs a release form.

I hold my hands out and the policewoman unlocks my cuffs. It feels so good to be able to rub my wrists. Imagine a bath — that would be too good. A great big fuck-off thing on legs with a huge window next tae it, and bubbles, and views of the sky. Imagine a bathroom like that, with fluffy white towels and a bolt on the door.

Joan ticks more forms for the police, then they leave. Crusty reaches over to shake my hand.

‘Hello, Anais, I’m your support worker, Angus. I’m really pleased tae meet you.’

‘Hiya.’

‘Are you no gonnae take a seat?’ he asks.

I sit down.

The polis get intae their car, doors slam. The sky is azure out there now; azure means blue — it’s nothing to do with Aztecs. The pigmobile trundles up the drive. Smell ye later, wankstains. The statues on those pillars are stark against the sky — the gargoyle’s telling the flying cat a secret. His wings lift in the breeze.

‘So Helen — it is Helen, your social worker?’

I nod and Joan continues.

‘Good, Helen is not due tae arrive for at least another few weeks. She is really, really sorry that she has been held up like this, but it is completely out of her control. She asked me tae pass on her apologies.’

The cat’s wings flex, just lightly.

Sit up straight and stare. It definitely moved, or it could be a flashback. There’s nae tracers, though. I get the flashbacks a lot lately, I’m beginning to worry I didnae make it back from my last bad trip.

Mental note — quit tripping on schooldays. Keep it for special occasions: bar mitzvahs, pancake Tuesday, fucking Easter. Jay told me gangsters used tae dip their pinkies in liquid LSD so they were permanently tripping, but the clever bit was, if they got done, they only went to the nuthouse. It’s because if you’re permanently tripping, you’re legally classified as insane. In the States, even if you only take acid like ten times or something, they still reckon you’re certifiable. They’d think I was well gone.

I hate this. Handovers. New places. Staff. Files. What I want is a hole under the ground to live in. Or a treehouse. Somewhere nobody can see me.

My stuff’s not arrived yet; well, it isnae in this office anyway. I asked for something other than bin bags — to move my stuff in — once.

‘What would you like, Anais?’

‘Matching Italian leather suitcases? Designer. Vintage if possible. And a trunk, a big old leather one with my name on it.’

They thought I was being wide. To be honest, I would have settled for a fucking rucksack! I’m not paying for one, though. Why the fuck should I have to pay to keep moving?

‘Your room is forty-nine. The fourth floor is totally out of bounds for all clients right now. You will have access tae arts groups and counselling through your support worker. We practise a holistic approach tae client care in the Panopticon.’

Joan’s been talking at me the whole time I’ve been sat here.

‘Holistic?’

‘Aye, that means we take into consideration all the needs of our clients.’

‘All of them?’

‘The ones we consider healthy.’

‘Is it healthy getting locked up twenty-four hours a day, like?’

‘You know why secure units are necessary, Anais, and you are not locked up in the main unit anyway.’

‘Does that mean I umnay being put in the secure unit?’

‘We cannae place anyone in there yet; there are delays because there’s asbestos in the roof. The whole secure-unit renovation has been postponed, until we resolve funding issues.’

‘Right.’

My heartbeat’s fast, fast, fast. This is a score. I was sure they were gonnae get me locked up on the top floor straight away. This buys time. Maybe I’ll no be dead for my sixteenth birthday. I’d rather be dead than locked up 24/7 — cos if that happens, the experiment will have finally, totally fucking got me.

‘Am I getting put up there when it opens?’

‘Well, let’s hope not, Anais. But if you do get placed there at some point in the future, then rest assured you would actually be in one of the best small secure units in the UK.’

‘Spiff-fucking-spoff.’

She just looks at me.

You dancer! It isnae open yet. Thank God, thank Jesus and Mary and Buddha. The student is fascinated. Subtle much? He wants tae measure me up — turn me around, knock on my head and peer inside my ear to see what’s marching around in there. What a fucking womble!

‘Are you gonnae ask me if I did it?’ I ask him.

He doesnae know where to look.

‘No, Anais! We are not going tae discuss it here.’ Joan stands up.

‘Aye? Well, he obviously wants tae, he wants tae so bad he needs put on a leash.’

‘That’s enough,’ she snaps.