BritDog

Sunday

Sylvia stood beside her daughter’s bed watching her sleep, conflicting emotions coursed through her mind and body. To see her now you would think Donna didn’t have a care in the world. She looked so child-like and peaceful. Anyone who had witnessed her distress and behaviour over the last forty eight hours would know differently.

The night before, Sylvia had just turned the kitchen light off and was heading towards the stairs to bed when she heard her mobile phone ringing in the lounge. She idly wondered who could be calling her at this time of night. Donna would be with Tony, so she wasn’t overly concerned that she wasn’t home yet. She quietly prayed that things had gone as her daughter expected them to. Sylvia had a good idea why she had rushed out that evening to, as she put it – surprise Tony. ‘Oh mum I just know he’s going to be so excited.’ Sylvia wasn’t so sure.

Earlier in the day, Barry, their vicar had called in to see her at work. Over a cup of tea he had told her the gist of his conversation with Donna. It had taken some coaxing from her to get him to admit to his suspicions with regards to Tony’s sexuality. Once he had, she told him briefly about her brother. It wasn’t a subject she broached very often due to the guilt she still felt for her brother’s death, but it helped her to explain to Barry why, although she was worried for her daughter, she was determined not to ostracise or condemn Tony. If, as both she and Barry believed, he did turn out to be gay it was better Donna found out sooner rather than later. From then on they had talked as friends with a common cause, a new trust and respect building between them. Unfortunately they had failed to come to any sort of resolution to their problem, and had parted with only a shared acknowledgement that something would happen eventually to force their hands. At least they were prepared. Or they hoped they were.

Her phone rang and rang. Whoever was calling was persistent. Sylvia checked the time  - 11:45 – then picked up her mobile. The number was withheld. Like millions of others she usually ignored such calls but given the time of night she pressed ‘accept’.

‘Mrs Martin?’ It was a man’s voice, deep and commanding.

‘Yes. Who is this?’

‘My name is PC Gordon Clover.’

Sylvia sat heavily on the sofa, her heart racing. ‘What’s happened? Is it Donna?’

‘It’s alright Mrs Martin, no one is hurt, please try to stay calm.’ He paused, giving Sylvia time to regain her composure. ‘Your daughter has been involved in an incident. She is unharmed but given the state she was in we thought it best to take her to the hospital.’

Panic returned, ‘The hospital. Oh my God what’s happened? Tell me.’

‘I repeat Mrs Martin, Donna is safe and unharmed, physically at least. There seems to have been some sort of altercation between her and her a gentleman called Tony Swift.’

‘He’s her fiancée.’

‘Really? I see.’

‘What’s happened Officer Clover?’

‘To be honest Mrs Martin, we aren’t exactly sure. There appears to be another man involved, but as no actual crime has been committed it’s difficult for us to do anything.’

Taking a deep breath, Sylvia regrouped her senses and took charge. ‘Tell me what ward she’s in and I’ll be right there.’

* * * *

Grahame watched Tony closely. They had taken a taxi to the hospital after Donna had been whisked away in an ambulance following her dramatic and quite frankly frightening entrance. Tony had tried to calm her down but she was beyond rational thought. The scratches and stitches on Tony’s face were testament to her reaction when he had attempted to put his arms around her. Like some sort of wild animal she had intensified the hideous scream coming from her twisted mouth and launched herself at the man trying to comfort her. She had kicked, screamed, punched, scratched and pummelled Tony to the ground. Tony appeared helpless and weak as he tried in vain to hold her off. He had curled himself into a ball as Donna had kicked and stamped on him.  Grahame had seen enough and approaching from behind had enveloped Donna in a vice like embrace. He pinned her arms to her sides and forced her to the floor before she could kick out at him. ‘That’s enough.’ His voice was firm and powerful cutting through the noise of the screeching girl and taking control of her. He felt Donna go limp in his arms, soft sobs wracking her fragile body.

‘Why? Why?’ was all she said. Over and over.

‘Phone for an ambulance Tony. NOW.’ His commanding tone snapped Tony out of his state of inaction. ‘She needs help Tony. She’s in shock.’ His voice was now calm and reassuring. ‘You’re both in shock.’

Ten minutes later the ambulance arrived, lights blazing, siren blaring. It was followed by a police car making a similarly conspicuous entrance. Grahame had been relieved to pass the catatonic Donna to the paramedics so that he could take care of the man he realised he was beginning to love. Fear of rejection gripped his heart as he took Tony in his arms and tenderly kissed his forehead. Relief flooded through him as Tony put his arms around him and buried his face in the crook of his neck.

‘I’m sorry Grahame, I’m so sorry.’

‘What do you have to be sorry for?’

‘This. Donna. Everything.’ He raised his head to look at the man holding and comforting him. ‘I just want you Grahame. Just you.’ He buried his face in the warm safety of Grahame’s neck again, squeezed his eyes closed and attempted to shut out the pitiful sounds coming from his now ex-fiancée.

* * * *

By the time Sylvia arrived at the hospital, Donna was in a quiet room on her own, heavily sedated. The doctor and nurses responsible for her assured Sylvia that Donna was perfectly safe. They did not have the same reassurance for her when she asked about the state of her mental health.

PC Clover had turned out to be a man in his fifties. He was slightly overweight but had a face and manner she instinctively knew she could trust. He was a man who had seen much and was shocked by little. He told her all he knew about Donna’s breakdown, how she had seen Tony and his friend holding hands and kissing outside the gym. That she had followed them to a restaurant where she had waited in her car for them to come out. When they did she walked after them. They stopped at what she assumed was Tony’s friend’s house.  ‘It seems the straw that broke the camel’s back was seeing Tony and his friend indulging in what she describes as ‘ dirty queer things’.’

‘Queer things?’

‘I think it’s pretty obvious that she means Gay Mrs Martin.’ He studied the woman sitting next to him on the hard, unwelcoming bench in A&E. She was clearly a strong lady able to handle all he needed to tell her. ‘I’ve spoken to Tony and his friend – his name is Grahame incidentally.’

‘Grahame,’ interrupted Sylvia. ‘Grahame. Sounds respectable doesn’t it?’  She stood, paced for a few moments. ‘That was a bloody stupid thing to say wasn’t it?’  She turned to face to PC Clover, ‘Are they lovers?’ She saw a questioning look cross the policeman’s face. ‘I need to know before I speak to them and my daughter.’

PC Clover studied his hands as he considered her question and how to answer it. It was not his job to make assumptions, he based his decisions on facts and evidence. ‘I see a young man who appears to have found something he wants, something he has perhaps fought against for a long time. Whether or not they are lovers is probably academic.’

‘But you think Tony is gay?’

‘I’m pretty sure that a romantic future for him and your daughter is no longer an option Mrs Martin. From what he’s said, I’m guessing that he has only just begun to accept and admit to his sexuality. In my experience I would say that he is as frightened and upset as your daughter is angry and hurt.’ He stood and crossing to Sylvia gently placed his hand on her arm. ‘I think he would have told Donna in his own time. In fact, I’m sure he would. She just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

Covering his hand with hers Sylvia gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘Thank you officer.’

‘Call me John. I’ll be around for a while yet so come and find me if you need anything at all. My wife tells me I have a nice firm shoulder to cry on.’

‘Do you have children John?’

‘Two, a boy and a girl. Both married – to men.’ A look of understanding passed between them before they both burst out laughing.

Sylvia walked to the door, as she opened it she turned her head to look back at John.

‘Wish me luck.’

* * * *

Once the paramedics had got Donna inside the ambulance, one of them checked the wounds on Tony’s face. He was stunned to learn he would need stitches in at least two of the deep gouges. Donna really had done a good job on him with her talon like manicured nails!

By the time Sylvia walked into the waiting room where Tony sat holding Grahame’s hand as though he was afraid to let go, he had been attended to. Sylvia saw a frightened, wounded boy sitting by a well-dressed, older man who quickly stood placing himself between her and her erstwhile ex-son in law. Grahame’s reaction to her entrance clearly showed he was going to protect Tony and was prepared to go into battle with her. She sighed and held her hands up to them, palms forward.

‘I’m not here to shout and row. I don’t want to cause any more trouble or upset, I just want to understand what’s happened.’ She stopped a few feet from them. ‘May I sit down?’

‘Of course.’ Grahame answered for Tony who he knew was terrified at the thought of any further confrontation. ‘Can I get you a tea or coffee? There’s a café down the corridor.’

‘Tea would be nice. Thank you.’ She smiled in what she hoped was a friendly way. ‘Not too strong, milky, two sugars – actually, make that three sugars.’ A tired laugh escaped her mouth. ‘I think I need it.’ Grahame made to leave the room to get her drink when Tony suddenly spoke up.

‘Don’t.’ His head fell forward as he tried to hade his tears from Sylvia. ‘Don’t leave me.’

At that moment a nurse popped her head round the door. She smiled brightly. ‘Anyone like a cuppa? We’ve just put the kettle on.’ Relief flooded the room.

Soon the three of them were sat facing each other, Tony and Grahame on the sofa, Sylvia in an armchair, mugs of hot sweet tea grasped in each of their hands like a shield against the weapons expected. Sylvia took the bull by the horns and started their conversation. She spoke quietly.

‘You know I had a brother?’ Tony nodded wondering what a dead brother had to do with anything. ‘You know he died young.’ Another nod. ‘What you don’t know is why.’ Sylvia faltered. She looked at Grahame drawing strength from his calm, encouraging expression. ‘He killed himself Tony. He killed himself because he was gay.’ Tony looked up sharply. ‘When he told us we all laughed and said hurtful, horrible things to him.’ Grahame could see the torment in the small woman as she fought with her demons. ‘No, that’s not true.’ She paused to take several deep breaths. ‘He only told me and I told everyone else.’ Tears were running down her cheeks and her voice cracked as she continued. ‘He told me because he loved and trusted me and all I could think to do was mock and belittle him. I………’ a sob escaped her lips and her shoulders slumped. ‘I know I killed him Tony.’ Her head fell lower. ‘As sure as if I put the rope round his neck I killed him. My own beautiful brother.’ Her body shook as she finally, after all these years allowed her grief and guilt to pour out.

Unhesitatingly, Tony put his tea on the small table between them, stood, took the two paces across to Sylvia, dropped to his knees, wrapped his arms around her, lay his head on hers and cried with her. Their tears weren’t just for Sylvia’s brother. Tony’s relief and understanding of why she had told him her long held secret allowed them an empathy that was almost a tangible. It seemed to Grahame that all he needed to do to feel their collective pain was reach out and touch it. He was surprised to find tears running freely down his own face as he sat and watched the two of them.

Later, after Sylvia had been allowed to see Donna, the three of them would talk till dawn woke the world around them. Sylvia became a friend to the man who her daughter now hated, something that would cause strife for her in the weeks and months ahead. By the time they parted she also fully understood what he saw in the man he had chosen. She was surprised, but glad to find herself happy that he had found someone to love him for who he was. If she was honest, she had known for a long time that the love her daughter had professed for him was all about image. Her spoilt daughter had a need to impress others. The future she had woven for herself and Tony could never have lasted even if he had been straight. No man would tolerate her selfishness for long. Donna’s father had ruined her, unable or unwilling to refuse her anything, even at one point putting them into debt to ensure he gave her everything she asked for. His attitude towards their daughter had put an immense strain on their relationship as man and wife. They often rowed about her and the money he spent to keep her happy.

Sitting quietly next to her sleeping daughter, listening to the muffled sounds of a hospital waking up, Sylvia allowed herself to take a good hard look at her life. She didn’t like what she saw, what she knew other people saw and wondered at. She was a spare-part in the lives of the two people who she had hoped would love her most. Staring at the angelic face before her and comparing it to the sharp, demanding almost scornful looks she usually received from it, Sylvia had to admit that as much as she loved her daughter, and she did love her, she didn’t like her. She would never choose her as a friend. She was just like some of those overbearing, middleclass, middle aged, Daily Mail reading harpies who had effectively run the church before Barry’s appointment. Women she loathed and avoided like the plague. Most had never done an honest day’s work in their pampered, closeted lives. It saddened her that her daughter had turned out to be like them. Donna represented the selfish side of society she had fought against all her life. She felt ashamed, a failure as a mother.

Well, she thought, he may not be blood but Tony is more like family to me than my own flesh and blood will ever be. If a choice was forced on her she knew with certainty which side she would end up on.

* * * *

Tony went home with Grahame. The decision to do so was a no-brainer as far as he was concerned. He knew that he would be safe with this man who had stood by him through the difficult night. He still felt guilt for what his actions had done to a girl he had known and cared for, for most of his life. He probably always would, but Sylvia’s description of the events leading to her brother’s suicide helped to convince him he was making the right choice, and as much as it hurt him to admit it, there was nothing he could do to help Donna whilst she was in her current state.

Sunday was cold, wet and miserable. A typical late October day thought Tony as he looked out of the window. Grahame’s house was both large and cosy at the same time. The log burning stove in the corner of the large, Victorian conservatory was happily churning out the dry, relaxing warmth that only such a fire could. The heating in the rest of the house, along with all the new insulation, windows and improvements Grahame had brought to the old mansion kept the place more than comfortable.

They had finally left the hospital at six thirty, just as daylight was filling the eastern sky. It had been a glorious sunrise with reds and purples throwing a ghostly light over everything. The old rhyme – Red sky at night shepherd’s delight, red sky in morning shepherd’s warning – held true, as shortly after the sun reached it’s highest point that day, the heavens opened and it hadn’t stopped raining since.

Tony and Grahame had shared a warm, relaxing bath in Grahame’s massive, spa-bath. Subdued classical music played through the smart speakers throughout the house. Each time a romantic piece played Tony felt his heart filling with emotions he struggled to control. Happiness, love and excited anticipation fought with feelings of guilt and fear. Guilt for how his coming out had affected Donna and fear of how his family and friends, particularly his Dad, would react when they found out he was gay. He had laid back between Grahame’s legs, his back against the firm stomach, cradled in the comforting protection of a pair of strong arms. Grahame was able to kiss, snuggle, lick, nip and generally make love to Tony’s smooth, sexy neck bringing his cock to erection. He thought he must be harder and bigger than he had ever been before. He felt such passion and longing for the man holding him, despite the night’s events, that he was able to push thoughts of Donna and his family to one side while he enjoyed the feelings his first male lover was sending through his aching body.

After their bath, Grahame took pleasure in drying his new lover, kissing each area as it was towelled, leaving the thick, hard penis till last. The foreskin was drawn halfway back revealing the firm but spongy head. It was shiny and purple, and even after he had dried it a drop of pre-cum appeared in the eye at it’s centre. Grahame leaned in and licked up the tear drop of cum. Tony shuddered and by instinct put his hands on Grahame’s head. A loud groan escaped his lips as Grahame took first the helmet then over half of his length into his warm mouth. To Tony’s amazement, Grahame didn’t stop until his nose was buried in the trimmed bush of his pubes, and his cock was firmly lodged in his throat. Hands explored his backside, feathering over it one minute, firmly squeezing and kneading the next. A finger trailed down his ass-crack coming to rest on the entrance to his virgin hole. The mouth around his cock was sucking back and forth, varying the depth it took with each movement of Grahame’s head. A hand cupped his heavy, full balls. Finger and thumb formed a ring around the base of his sac and pulled down. The mouth on his cock sped up and it’s suction increased. The hand pulling on his balls stretched them almost painfully. Tony thought he could take no more when suddenly the finger at his love button breached the tight ring and drove in. He shouted in surprise, discomfort and then total passion as he felt the end of his cock pulse, grow then shoot rope after rope of his man juice into Grahame’s eagerly swallowing mouth.

Total exhaustion gripped him once his pent up sexual energy was spent. Grahame effortlessly carried him to the bed where he slept as soon as his head hit the pillow. He covered him with the soft, luxuriant duvet. Looking down at the young stud sleeping in his bed, Grahame gently brushed his finger across the bruised cheek. A smile formed on the slumbering face, and if Grahame had had any doubts before that moment, he was now certain he had fallen in love.

Tony had woken at two in the afternoon, quickly remembering the events of the previous night, both bad and good. His cock was iron hard as he stood and made his way to the bathroom for his first pee of the day. He sat on the toilet waiting for his erection to subside, which it only did when he forced himself to think about Donna and not the gorgeous man he had woken with.

Now, he was wrapped in one of Grahame’s soft, over large bath robes as he sat quietly and contemplatively in the conservatory. His thoughts ranged wide and far as he corralled them into some sort of order and he failed to hear Grahame walk up behind him. He jumped and emptied his coffee cup over himself when a hand touched his shoulder and a deep voice said, ‘Hello sexy.’

Fortunately the coffee was cold and caused no damage. It did however give Grahame an excuse to lick his lover’s stomach and thighs clean, eventually using his tongue to ensure nothing had been spilt on the throbbing erection his oral ministrations had caused. His second mouthful of Tony’s semen in less than twelve hours only confirmed what he already knew. His boyfriend was perfect. He both looked and tasted perfect. He was kind, considerate, sexy, intelligent, thoughtful and gorgeous with it. A huge smile was plastered across his face as he made a fresh pot of coffee and fixed scrambled eggs and toast for a late lunch.

* * * *

On the other side of town, Sylvia was in the process of driving Donna home having previously walked to where her daughter had abandoned her car the night before. Whilst there she took the opportunity to be nosey and sneaked a quick look at Grahame’s house. It was impressively afforded, the impression heightened further by the two expensive cars parked on the drive. She allowed herself a humorous smile when she thought how out of place Tony’s Nissan Leaf would look next to the two gas-guzzlers.

Once she had returned Donna’s car to it’s usual spot outside the small block of flats her daughter occasionally lived at, she went up the stairs to the first floor and let herself into the apartment they had bought for her two years ago. It smelled musty and unused. There was little food in the kitchen cupboards and a very out of date carton of skimmed milk was the sole occupant of the fridge. Sylvia walked round the two bedroomed flat taking note of the lack of personal possessions her daughter had placed in it. She tried to remember the last time Donna had actually lived there. She couldn’t work it out in her head so checked the date on the now empty and rinsed out milk carton. Five months! Five bloody months. She felt her anger mounting.

Donna had begged, sulked, stropped, pleaded and been generally obnoxious in her attempts to persuade her parents to buy her a home of her own. Sylvia had been against it from the start knowing the only reason her daughter wanted a flat was to preen and strut in front of her friends who were, in the main, struggling to pay rent let alone buy their own place. Her husband, Greg, had finally given in. She had known all along he would. They had cashed several insurance policies and sold every share they processed, all things that were meant to help them through their retirement. Sylvia knew she was as much to blame for her daughter’s attitude to life as Greg was. She always gave in once he had announced he was letting his ‘Princess’ get her own way yet again.

As she looked round the expensively furnished but unloved and uncared for living room she promised herself that no matter what, she was supporting Tony. She was absolutely determined to make her daughter see sense, even if that meant finally standing up to her husband.

Sadness settled over her and she sat heavily on the white leather sofa. Reviewing her life she didn’t particularly like what she saw. She wouldn’t see the right side of forty again - her half century was just over the hill and she knew she needed to change things if she wasn’t to end up like her mother – old, lonely and unfulfilled. Two years ago  a good friend, Barbara, had up sticks and left her husband and family to set up life with a man at least ten years younger than her. It hadn’t lasted, but the brief affair had given impetus to Barbara to allow her to move on from an unsettled, unhappy relationship with a man she was, after twenty years of marriage, in danger of hating.

Sylvia suddenly knew exactly why her friend had done what she did. If only she had the courage to do likewise. She had a good job at one of the best solicitor’s offices in the town so she could easily support herself. She was sitting in an abandoned, perfectly acceptable flat that she could see becoming her home whilst she decided what to do with the rest of her life. But could she do it? No, she didn’t have the courage. Besides, she still loved Greg ………………. Didn’t she?

* * * *

Donna was still sedated when Sylvia finally arrived at the hospital to see if she was coming home or being kept in for observation. The doctor and nursing staff she had seen the night before were all long gone and at home in bed by the time she got to the ward Donna had been transferred to. She found herself being taken into an office and offered tea by a very polite and professional female doctor who looked far too young to hold the position advertised on the office door of Consultant Psychologist.   

‘May I call you Sylvia? I find informality helps at times like this.’

‘Yes of course.’ Sylvia sat and looked as sternly as she could at the woman behind the desk. ‘Times like these?’

The Psychologist sat back comfortably in her big padded chair and swung herself from side to side as she spoke. ‘Please call me Emma. I am in charge of Donna’s care.’

Sylvia was more than a little confused. ‘Donna’s care? I don’t understand. I wasn’t aware there was anything wrong with her other than shock and upset brought on by discovering the man she thought she was going to marry prefers men.’

Emma smiled. ‘Well, yes.’ She opened a file on the desk in front of her. ‘Are you aware Sylvia that just under twelve years ago, when Donna was eleven, she was diagnosed with a rare form of Autism?’

‘What?’ Sylvia’s mouth fell open and it took her some minutes to collect her thoughts. ‘What on earth are you talking about? Donna has never been near a psychologist or anything like one.’

Emma stopped her chair from swinging from side to side, stood and moved round to the front of her desk, taking the chair next to Sylvia who was becoming very obviously agitated and angry. ‘From what I have read in your daughter’s records, her father took her to A & E after an incident involving a knife?’ Sylvia shook her head. ‘Do you remember anything at all about her injuring herself?’

Sylvia took a deep breath to try to calm herself. Jut then there was a knock on the door. Emma opened it to allow her assistant to enter with two mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits. The interruption gave Sylvia time to trawl through her struggling memories searching for a time when Donna was hurt and needed hospital treatment. A small light seemed to appear in her mind.

‘When exactly was this?’

Emma read the dates out, ‘November the fourth, 2008. She presented with extensive wounds to her right wrist. The attending physician was convinced they were self-inflicted although your husband appears to have been adamant the injuries were the result of an accident.’ She looked up at Sylvia. ‘He wasn’t believed and the police were contacted – we are legally obligated to do so in cases like this, and as a result she was referred to the hospital’s resident psychiatrist who after several tests diagnosed her with Autism.’ She took note of the look of shock and anger on Sylvia’s face. ‘You don’t know anything about this do you Sylvia?’

‘No,’ she shook her head then reached out for her tea. ‘I’ll bloody kill him. The stupid bloody fool.’ She took a sip of tea, allowing the warm, sweet liquid to work it’s time honoured magic. Much calmer, she looked up at the doctor’s concerned face. ‘It was when I was in Australia with mum. We have family there, my mum’s sister, she was dying and mum wanted to see her one last time. We went for three months. Greg’s sister moved in with him and Donna to look after them whilst I was away.’ She took another calming sip of tea, then settled back in the padded office chair with a big sigh. ‘They never told me. The buggers never bloody told me.’

Emma allowed several minutes to pass, waiting for Sylvia to continue. She watched a firm determination take hold of the small woman, a narrowing of her eyes and lips pursing together in a thin, bloodless line. She began to slowly nod her head up and down as she spoke.

‘This explains everything. Everything.’ She became very still and for the first time in her entire life swore, using the ‘f’ word. ‘I’ll fucking kill the bastard!’ Her outburst was followed by a smile that grew and grew. Now it was Emma’s turn to be confused.

‘Are you alright Sylvia? Can I get you anything.’

‘Yes, you can.’ Sylvia put her empty mug on the desk. ‘Another cup of tea please if that’s alright, and a new bloody life.’ She saw the look of concern on the doctor’s face. ‘I’m fine – Emma was it? I’m absolutely fine. I’m bloody angry and annoyed that the old bugger is responsible for my using that dreadful swear word I hate so much, but yes, I’m perfectly fine.’ The smile grew broader and she began to tell Emma about her life and how much she hated it. How Greg always gave in to Donna. How he always took Donna’s side against her, leaving her feeling alone and unimportant. She told her of the other women she suspected her husband had used to sate his huge appetite for sex. ‘Well he wasn’t getting it from me dear so he was obviously getting it somewhere.’ By the finish, the psychiatrist was confident Sylvia was a well-balanced individual who had reached a turning point in her life. She couldn’t help but smile herself when Sylvia concluded her monologue with – ‘I should have left the miserable old sod years ago. Well, he’s in for a surprise when I get home I can tell you. I’ve had enough!’

More tea arrived and as they drank it, Emma told Sylvia what Donna’s autism meant and how her daughter was affected by it. As she listened, she began to understand why Donna behaved as she did and why her husband always gave in to her. The former couldn’t help herself and the latter would do anything to not only hide his daughter’s mental illness, but to deny it even existed. Emma explained that medication would help and that with time Donna would become less erratic and demanding but that her need for certainty would always be with her.

‘You will find that whenever her world is rocked by something she has not planned for, or like yesterday, when someone in her version of a perfect world steps outside of the role he or she has been given in an unforeseen, unexpected way, she will see it as a betrayal and react accordingly. To you she will seem irrational, but in her own head she will feel she has every right to punish whoever she perceives as having let her down. I think that is one of the reasons your husband behaves as he does with her. It’s much easier to go with the flow and give in to her than to suffer the consequences of not doing so.’

‘Like the incident with the knife?’

‘Yes, I believe so. I should imagine that while you were away, someone, probably your sister-in-law refused to be taken in by what she would have seen as Donna’s childish, petulant antics and didn’t allow your husband to be his usual placatory self. I think the result was a tantrum of monumental proportions that ended with Donna slashing her wrist in order to get her own way. She has no checks or balances on her demanding personality and over the years her belief in her own rightness has been reinforced every time she has been given her own way by your husband. I should imagine the two of them are almost inseparable?’

Sylvia nodded, years of anger, frustration and confusion falling away as she absorbed the full impact of all she had been told. A sudden thought entered her head. ‘From what you’ve just told me, Tony may actually be in danger. She may try to exact some sort of vengeance on him?’

‘Yes, yes she will. Which is why it is important she be placed in a secure place, where she can be helped and treated.’

Sylvia understood what was being asked of her. ‘You want me to commit my own daughter?’

‘For her own safety and wellbeing. Look, I know this isn’t easy but we also have to think of others she may well see as her enemy.’

‘Will that include me if I do as you ask?’

‘Yes, I won’t lie to you, it probably will.’

Even knowing she was doing the right thing, it was a difficult moment for Sylvia as she signed the relevant forms. As she finished, a thought struck her that for some reason hadn’t come to her earlier, although it should have. Where was Greg? Why hadn’t he come to the hospital with her. After all he worshipped his daughter. She asked the question of Emma who smiled as she answered.

‘I think you have probably answered that question yourself without really knowing it.’ She paused, giving Sylvia time to think. ‘He knows what is wrong with Donna and he probably guessed that you would find out today.’

‘The bloody coward. Wait till I get home.’

‘Please don’t do anything in haste Sylvia.’

‘I won’t. But I am going to make changes in my life, and they won’t include him that I can promise you. I’ve been a fool long enough.’ She took Emma’s hands in hers. ‘You’ve been very kind. Thank you.’ Releasing her hands she picked up her handbag and walked to the door. ‘Now I think it’s time I saw my daughter.’