The Maidens

by Alex Michaelides

As a therapist, she knew a baby’s first sense of self comes through its parents’ gaze. We are born being watched—our parents’ expressions, what we see reflected in the mirror of their eyes, determines how we see ourselves.

And as she watched him, Mariana said a silent prayer to Demeter, and to the Maiden. She prayed for Sebastian and for herself—for their happiness—and for their love.

“It doesn’t take much to save a childhood.” A little kindness, some understanding or validation: someone to recognize and acknowledge a child’s reality—and save his sanity.

She reached into her bag. She pulled out the British Journal of Psychiatry that she’d been carrying around. She flicked through the pages until she found what she was looking for. She showed Theo the journal, pointing at the advert in the box. “Look.” It was an advert for the position of forensic psychotherapist at the Grove, a secure psychiatric unit in Edgware. Mariana glanced at him. “What do you think? I know Professor Diomedes—he runs it. He specializes in group work—he taught me for a while.”

“Yes.” Theo nodded. “Yes, I know who he is.” He studied the advert with obvious interest. “The Grove? Isn’t that where they sent Alicia Berenson? After she killed her husband?” “Alicia Berenson?” “The painter … who won’t talk.” “Oh—I remember.” Mariana gave him an encouraging smile. “Maybe you should apply for the job? Get her talking again?” “Perhaps.” Theo smiled, and thought about it for a moment. He nodded to himself. “Perhaps I will.”

You can’t love someone if you’re afraid of them,