“No,” he deadpanned. “It’s for anyone I’m assessing.”
Amusement flickered in her eyes. He made a note.
“For the record, can you state your full name?”
“Matilda Rose Havers.”
“And your date of birth?”
She gave it to him without hesitation.
“Thank you. Now, you are currently detained in Ashwell High Security Hospital following your transfer from a general psychiatric unit after an incident in Sale involving a former partner’s family. Can you tell me, in your own words, why you are here?”
Matilda leaned back. “Because everyone’s overreacting. Nothing happened.”
Dr. Scott waited.
She rolled one shoulder. “I went to see Connor.”
“You travelled from Whitley Bay to Sale.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Train, mostly.” A shrug. “I can still use timetables. Don’t I deserve a sticker?”
“You had recently been discharged from hospital after being sectioned following injury to the same ex-partner’s child while under your care,” he said. “Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you had been prescribed medication for bipolar disorder?”
Her smile sharpened. “You’ve read the chart. Gold star.”
“Were you taking it?”
“Yes,” she said at once.
He glanced down. “Staff notes indicate concerns that you were concealing tablets in your cheek and not swallowing them.”
Matilda’s eyes glittered. “Concerns. Such a useful word. Means people can say whatever they like without proving anything.”
“Were you taking the medication as prescribed?”
“No,” she said, after a beat. “I saw that trick in the movies.”
“Why not just take it?”
“Because it made me dull.” Her lip curled. “I don’t like being slow.”
Dr. Scott nodded once. “So you stopped taking it.”
“Bingo.”
“You spat it out later.”
“No, I hid it under my mattress. Trying to save the NHS money, you know.”
