The Girl Behind the Gates

by Brenda Davies

Things have irrevocably changed, though a new order isn’t yet established, and both Nora and her mother languish in the void – the no man’s land of shock.

Nora aches, watching her mother’s struggle as they seek out each other’s eyes in the full knowledge that they can protect each other no longer.

Her eyes bore into the man, who oozes a sense of power that is almost palpable – a power that could silence the clock from its ticking.

‘The Mental Deficiency Act of 1913 categorises four types of mentally disabled people. The only one I need bother you with here is that of the moral imbecile.’ Nora shrivels inside, sick with humiliation. ‘Such people, since 1927 termed “moral defectives”, include those such as criminals, alcoholics and prostitutes –and also unmarried mothers.’

One after another, they wrap the sheets very tightly around her, mummifying her from neck to toe, until she’s a stiff, shapeless parcel, shivering uncontrollably and totally helpless.

They place a cold compress over her eyes and she’s imprisoned, the frustration of injustice and grief boiling over inside her. The only thing she can do is scream; each time she does, they slap her viciously.

But some things don’t change. On winter mornings, cold fog rises up from the earth and clings to the trees, while the souls of the departed creep around, just as they did when clothed in their tortured bodies.

Though the patients are alive, many are quiescent, their spirit extinguished.

She caresses it. But then she digs, forcing her nails into the hardened soil, skinning her knuckles, filling her recent wounds with filth, glorying in the pain. Mixing her blood with this earth that has contained her flesh without her knowledge for all these years.

We can’t undo what’s been done, but sometimes with hindsight we can see it differently. That goes for the things people have done to us and the things that we, ourselves, have done too. And, since blame doesn’t really help, and neither does guilt, hopefully, over time, we’ll be able to banish both these things. If we can do that, it allows us to take responsibility for who we are and where we are, and that gives us the power to move forward.’

‘Lots of parts of you haven’t had the chance to grow, but they still could and we can find out what you want to do.’

‘Emotional wounds need the same amount of attention as physical wounds, but often we don’t give them that,’ Janet continues. ‘We just carry on and try to forget about them; pretend they aren’t there.’

‘I have a favourite quotation, though I don’t know where it came from,’ Janet says. ‘It goes like this: “the measure of our greatness is in how we stand up after we fall”.’ Janet reaches towards Nora and places a finger under her chin and lifts it gently. ‘Nora, you have to stand up – to get out of this on your own. You have to make the decision. No one can make it for you.’ And now Nora’s eyes lift to meet Janet’s. She mumbles something in a very low voice, then looks away. ‘I can’t hear you, Nora. What did you say?’ Nora looks back, with a tinge of defiance. ‘I said, I want to sing.’

‘The thing is, if we had harsh parents or other authority figures, we tend to become critical about ourselves, and instead of our inner-parent part taking care of us, cherishing us and treating us lovingly, it can often shout at us, say awful things – like that we’re useless or no good. Are you with me?’

‘I’m inspired by your courage, to say nothing of your wisdom and your beauty as a human being. Sometimes places like this destroy those things, but even though you’ve lost so much, here you are, whole, standing on your own. From tomorrow, you can choose.’

I’m sorry something awful happened. Now I know that I could never kill myself so please don’t worry about me. Thank you. Nora

Then, at last, morning approaches, the world wakes up and it’s not so bad. She fills her kettle and lights the little gas stove, sets out her cup, sniffs yesterday’s milk and gives thanks that she’s survived another night of ‘freedom’.

Sadly, of course, any situation where one person is placed in a position of control over another often attracts those whose aim is not to help or heal, but to dominate.