In the end, she was found to have diminished responsibility, they called it some sort of mental disorder, the details of which escape me. She was to be sent to a secure hospital and would remain there for the rest of her life.
Despite everything, I’d felt just a little sorry for her in the end.
37
Treatment
I looked up as I heard the door open. She stood there in the doorway, a sudden look of fear in her eyes as she saw me sitting at the table across the room. She tried to push back, seemingly desperate to return from where she came, but the nurses gently brought her through. She sat opposite me, visibly trembling, unable to make eye contact.
“Hello, Sally… How are you doing?”
“Hilary, why are you here?” Her voice was quiet, broken. She glanced up at me briefly.
“I wanted to see how you were, I care about you.”
“Why? Why would you care? After everything I did, to you, and Kate and Olivia… I did…” She gulped, tears dripping down her face. “I…”
“Sally. You were unwell. I hope you will get better. I should have seen you were struggling, I should have recognised the signs, spent time getting you the help you so desperately needed. You always seemed so strong yet you were hurting inside. I am so sorry. Most of all Sally, I wanted you to know, you aren’t on your own.”
Sally looked up, tears running from her eyes. “I hurt you… You have every right to hate me…”
“I don’t hate you, Sally… I could never hate you. What you did… What you did was wrong. I think you know that. I think you recognise what you did was terrible. But I believe that it wasn’t you, at least not the Sally I used to know. Whatever happened to you, something went wrong in your mind. I can’t forgive what you did. I’m sorry Sally, but I just don’t think I can, but what sort of friend would I be if I just left you all alone?”
“Friend? I don’t deserve a friend…”
“Sally I know you’ll be getting treatment, maybe someday you can leave here. But, until then, I’ll visit you, if I may?”
The nod of her head was almost imperceptible.
For a long time, I had hated Sally, hating what she had done. For months the thought of her coldly killing a young girl revulsed me and I could never imagine a time when I would be able to forgive her. The pain of what she had done to me and Kate burned in my mind.
It was only when I saw her in court when I had sat, wanting revenge for what she had done, that I suddenly saw the helpless young girl stumble into the dock.
I listened to how she had a mental imbalance, how mental illness had clouded what was right and wrong in her mind. How it had made her paranoid, scared even. She’d spoken passionately about her work before this had happened, how she had never wanted to disappoint me. She’d caught my eye in the public gallery as she spoke.
Then she had spoken of how her life had changed. How she felt insecure. Her doctor had explained how her grip on reality would have changed, how she would have not understood what she was doing, how the condition would have created almost manic mood swings.
Of course, Grace had been baying for blood. She’d stirred up the press, yelling abuse in the courtroom until she had been forcibly ejected. I could never fully appreciate her pain, but I could understand how raw and visceral it was for her to lose her daughter. I could understand how she would never forgive.
In the end, the jury had agreed Sally had been unwell. They called it diminished responsibility; it wasn’t the girl I had known who had done these terrible things. Well, at least that was how I understood it. The Sally who had put us through all of this had been ill, confused and not able to appreciate what she was doing. It was as much my fault for seeing she was not behaving as she had. I had ignored the subtle changes, the signs that she was unwell. I truly blamed myself.
Sally was to be placed in a secure hospital indefinitely. And so that was where I was now, having travelled some distance unsure of what I would find. The idea in my mind was of some Victorian sanitorium, a dark prison for the insane.
In fact, it had been bright and cheery in the visiting room. Security was tight and very obvious; however, it was clear this was a place where she would receive the help she so desperately needed.
Sally’s eyes lit up when I started to tell her about my new horses, reverting, for just a moment to the girl who had been my hardworking and pretty groom. It brought me back to the nights we had spent together, laughing, sharing beer and pizza in the horsebox or those times we had ridden together admiring the view and racing to the top of the hills. Somewhere, deep within her troubled mind, I told myself, that girl was still there.
All too soon it was time to leave. I stood up, opening my arms. Sally nestled in my grasp, I could feel her once strong body, muscles now wasted, her ribs showing through her polo shirt.
I promised to see her again soon, handing her some equestrian magazines, the staples removed as instructed. I hoped she would enjoy them.
I watched as she meekly walked back through the steel door which locked soundly behind her. There was a moment when I stood alone in the visiting room. I would never quite forgive myself for allowing Sally to have become so unwell.
38
Rain And
