‘You see, I went to Aleron in an attempt to see Ed again. When I got there, I noticed from the gate what was happening at the fig tree. They had just encouraged him down. I couldn’t believe what I’d witnessed, so I crept closer. When Simon Jones saw me, he hurled threats at me, so I ran. But I had learnt enough to know that Ed needs our help more than ever. I have read of new ways to treat people with brain sickness that are more compassionate than current practices. I have searched for any doctors of that kind in Australia, but I have had no luck. He may need to return to England, or even the Americas to find better help.’
It was much to process, but Serena believed him. Caleb Moncrief was the best friend Edward had, even if he didn’t know it. But what to do with this new change of facts. Serena ran her fingers over the bumpy nails that fixed the leather to her chair, considering her options. More than anything, she just wanted to see Edward free of the asylum. The rest could be dealt with later. ‘So, you agree that we need to get him out of Tarban Creek?’
‘Absolutely.’ His nod was firm.
‘Would you care to join us right now?’
‘To go to the asylum?’
‘Yes. I’m ready to break him out if I have to.’ Remembering her father’s rheumatism, she turned to him. ‘That is, if you are well enough, Papa.’
Papa chuckled. ‘I’m always ready for an adventure. Don’t mind me. I’ll manage.’
Serena turned to face Mr Moncrief again. ‘So?’
Mr Moncrief’s mouth curved in an appreciative smile. ‘Let’s go.’
By the time they pulled up at the entrance to the Tarban Creek Asylum for the Insane, the afternoon had waned. Serena’s apprehension had returned, particularly after Mr Moncrief had warned her of what to expect at the hospital.
‘The treatment of patients is inhumane to say the least,’ he had told her and Papa while deftly guiding his pair of bays around a corner.
‘Have you been there?’
‘No. I have heard stories, that’s all. Since realising that Edward is mentally ill, I took it upon myself to find out everything I can. That’s how I learnt of the new treatments available for these patients. I believe they wanted that to happen here, but the medical staff are just not advanced enough in their knowledge, and so, the old ways persist.’
‘The old ways?’
Mr Moncrief pressed his lips together in a thin line. ‘Just prepare yourself for unpleasant sights and sounds.’
As they entered the two-storied stone building, Serena reflected that Edward would find the simplistic shape rather dull architecturally, and smiled to herself. She had learnt from him, after all. She allowed Mr Moncrief to place the enquiry and used the few moments of waiting to inspect her surroundings, while gripping hard onto Papa’s arm. A hallway ran in both directions, the length of the building, with a staircase leading to the upper floor ahead of them. The stairway also led downwards, to a basement she presumed. The rooms nearest them seemed to be offices, or perhaps consulting rooms. Serena could see none of the patients, but the odd cry in the distance met her ears. Involuntarily, she shivered. The sounds a troubled mind could make were eerie indeed.
‘Right this way.’ The voice of one of the staff broke her from her thoughts. He led them downstairs.
Mr Moncrief whispered to them as they walked. ‘They’re bringing him to us. They don’t want to offend the lady’s sensibilities, or break with propriety.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘More likely they don’t want us to see how their patients suffer.’
Not that their path avoided them that distress, anyway. As soon as they descended the bottom step, the smell made Serena want to retch. She covered her nose and mouth as a mixture of stale vomit, unwashed bodies and urine assaulted her. The basement was airless and dim, and here the cries, weeping and growling of various patients were unmistakable, and Serena dug her fingers deeper into her father’s arm. He reached over with his other hand and patted hers, giving her minor comfort, although the fetid air soon stirred him into a fit of coughing.
As they made their way through a gloomy hallway past the wards in the male division, Mr Moncrief kept up his spiel of information. ‘This place should house up to sixty patients, but is already overcrowded.’
‘How many are here?’ Serena spoke from behind her handkerchief.
‘I think around one hundred.’
She wondered how many patients they crammed into these small rooms. And what accommodations they had. Were they provided with any comforts, or just a bed? What were they fed? Serena chewed on her lip, uncertain. What condition would Edward be in?
The medic led them into an empty room, a few lamps giving minimal light to their surroundings. Serena hugged herself, even though the chill was only part of what made her cold. She let out a long, slow breath.
A few minutes later another medic wheeled Edward into the room, barely clothed and slumped in a chair, his head hanging low.
Serena gasped. ‘Edward!’
Even Papa uttered an oath under his breath.
Serena hurried and knelt at Edward’s side, lifting his chin to look into his sunken, empty eyes. ‘Oh. Dear God, what have they done to you?’
Edward blinked and slowly focused. ‘Serena. You came.’ His voice sounded like a rasp on dry wood. Noticing Papa standing close by, he blinked again. ‘Mr Bellingham.’ Then his eyes flickered to over her right shoulder. ‘Caleb?’
‘Yes. I’m here too.’
Without warning, Edward started to sob. ‘I thought...I thought...’
‘Hush,’ Mr Moncrief put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m here. That’s all that matters.’
Serena swallowed the ball of emotion rising in her throat. Why hadn’t she realised the truth about Moncrief earlier?
‘I just want it to be over,’ Edward groaned. ‘I just want it to be over.’
Mr Moncrief straightened and addressed the medic who stood by. ‘What treatments
