The police officer looks over with a smile. ‘Hello, there. Maude and I have just been having a chat. I’ve learnt a lot about beekeeping.’
So, it seems that the interest in beekeeping that Maude expressed at their last appointment was more than a passing comment, making Phoebe feel even worse about not having found a way to reconnect her with her former passion yet.
‘Hi, Maude. It’s good to see you. Shall we go and get you changed so we can give this uniform back and then I’ll drive you home?’
Maude pauses, tilting her head to look over her shoulder as if to confer with someone, as she often does. Phoebe waits, used to this habit of hers. ‘Praise be!’ she says, taking the last sip of her coffee and placing down her cup.
‘Thanks for keeping me company, Maude,’ the young police officer says with a kind smile. She can’t be long after joining the force, but Phoebe can tell immediately that she’s going to make a great police officer.
‘Don’t forget what I told you about the bees,’ says Maude. ‘It’s a common misconception, but they’re very docile really. They only get angry when they feel as though they’re under attack.’
Hearing her words, Phoebe recalls another phone call she received like this a few years ago. That time, the police had been called by the staff in a shopping centre when customers had started to grow wary of the woman in her sixties who was shouting Bible quotes at an increasingly loud volume. The officers then had been firm, thinking a direct approach the best course of action. But something about the tone must have frightened Maude because she’d grown frantic. By the time Phoebe had arrived, she’d been so worked up that it had taken a long time to calm her down.
But now, thankfully, she seems at ease.
‘I won’t forget,’ says the young police officer. ‘You take care of yourself, all right?’
‘Thank you,’ Phoebe says with meaning as Maude heads for the door, Phoebe holding it open for her. ‘I’m glad it was you and Sergeant Halifax who picked her up.’
‘What were you doing out on the road like that, Maude?’ Phoebe asks gently as they make their way to a nearby bathroom. ‘You could have got yourself killed.’
Maude rolls her eyes. ‘Isn’t that what resurrections are for?’
Phoebe covers her smile behind her hand.
‘What about the other people on the road who aren’t immortal, then?’ she says more seriously. ‘You could have caused one ofthemto have an accident. Where were you going anyway?’
‘I was trying to get back to the convent. The bees needed me. No one’s been looking after them since I left.’
Maybe if Phoebe had found a way for Maude to get back in touch with her old love of beekeeping, then this might not have happened.
‘And your clothes?’
‘They were just holding me back.’
‘Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to put some on now because we need to give that uniform back, as much as it suits you. I grabbed some of my things from home; I hope that’s OK just until we get you home.’ She had wanted to get to the station as quickly as possible so grabbed the first things that came to hand in her wardrobe. They are, thankfully, around the same size, even if Maude is thirty years older than her.
‘How do I look?’ Maude asks as she emerges from the toilet stall a few moments later. Phoebe works very hard to suppress her laughter. In her hurry, she didn’t notice that what she thought was a plain white T-shirt is actually a slogan tee she wears when cleaning the flat.
Maude spreads out her arms to better display the words ‘Yes, sir, I can boogie,’ written across her chest in bold green letters. Paired with high-waisted red jeans and a pair of bright red Converse, it’s quite a look for someone who usually dresses in long, loosely fitting dresses in shades of grey and black, reminiscent of the convent.
‘You look fantastic, Maude.’
She gives a little twirl and this time Phoebe lets herself laugh because Maude is laughing too.
‘Come on, let’s get you home. Amanda, your social worker, is meeting us outside to drive you back.’
‘That’s a shame. I hoped I’d get a ride on the back of your motorbike.’
‘Maybe next time,’ Phoebe says with a smile.
They head out of the police station, saying goodbye to the officers they pass on the way. A visit to the police station hadn’t been on her to-do list for the day. But at least that’s one thing she can say for her job: no two days are ever the same.
By the time she arrives back in Farleigh-on-Avon at the end of the day, Phoebe is exhausted. Thanks to the morning’s excursion to the police station, the rest of the day has gone by in a frantic rush of constantly feeling she’s falling behind. As she met with a few new patients, she tried extremely hard not to look flustered or to glance at her watch. She wanted to show them that she had all the time in the world for them, even if her packed diary said otherwise. As well as the new patients, she’d popped in to see Ben. He seemed less perky than her last visit, but she tried not to worry too much – mental health came with its ups and downs and at least he was on a better track than a lot of her patients, with his beloved football club to go to twice a week and job interviews lined up.
Lunch had consisted of a chocolate bar, a packet of crisps and a soggy sausage roll grabbed from a service station on the way between appointments. While she was there, she grabbeda frozen pizza too, knowing she wouldn’t have the energy to cook when she got home.
Her last appointment of the day was with Tara and Phoebe was gutted to see that her mood hadn’t improved since her last visit. She was still taking the medication, for now, but the loneliness of the silence that surrounded her now that the voices had gone was becoming hard to bear. Phoebe turned on the radio, hoping that the background chatter might help but knowing it was no substitute for human contact.
