"You're not crazy..."

I wake up with a start and the doctor and Cheryl are sitting either side of my bed, watching me without concern.

“How are the McCanns doing?” I blurt out.

Cheryl sighs. The doctor is taken aback. “Err…Very well, I think.”

“They did it, you know.”

“Did what?”

“They did it.”

“I’d be careful what you say,” the doctor warned me.

“They did it. They cleared their name.”

“Oh. I thought you were going to say that they murdered little Maddy.”

“No, of course not. Of course not.”

“No. Although I think that they murdered her,” the doctor says.

“Oh. That’s just your opinion, is it?”

“Yes. So that’s fine.”

“Doctor,” Cheryl begins. “I’ve got so much to do. Can we speed this up a little?”

I look at my wife and try to force a tear from one of my eyes. “Darling,” I say. “I know hospitals are boring and depressing but try to have some compassion.”

Cheryl squeezes my hand but her attempt at a smile looks more like a grimace. “I have had so much compassion, Christopher. I’m still trying, but…it’s been eight days now.”

“I had a nervous breakdown,” I say. “I’m sick.”

Cheryl can’t help herself shouting. “You didn’t have a nervous breakdown. You’re just a little stressed for Christ’s sake.” She recovers herself. “Sorry,” she says, but to the doctor, not me.

The doctor coughs. “I think what Mrs. Hardy is saying is that…well, beds in the psychiatric ward, as in any hospital facility, are scarce. We haven’t found any real…scientific evidence of mental unbalance, and perhaps you’re ready to face the world again, with all its trials and tribulations, in order to give someone else a chance at rehabilitation. Someone with more…pressing problems that require our attention.”

I look at him. “You’re saying that you couldn’t find anything wrong with me?”

“We’ve conducted many tests, Mr. Hardy, and as I say, no concrete evidence of psychological problems was detected.”

“A-ha!" I shout gleefully. "Got you!"

“Got me?”

“Some of the questions I deliberately gave crazy answers to,” I say, jabbing a finger in the air. “Anyone paying attention would have noticed that.”

“Perhaps what happened,” Cheryl offers, “is that you’re actually insane but in order to appear insane you inadvertently gave normal answers.”

“Oh God,” I say, suddenly panicked.

“No, no,” the doctor says. “Our tests tell us who’s genuinely disturbed. If someone answers every question with ‘rhubarb’ then the chances are he’s having a joke.”

“Hey, I only used ‘rhubarb’ two or three times,” I say.

“I don’t like to use the word ‘faker’ Mr. Hardy, but… The fact that you were deliberately trying to deceive us would suggest that you have a certain degree of self-awareness and that you’re playing a game.”

“Your hospital admitted me,” I say.

“Yes, I seem to recall you turning up at reception unannounced, demanding to be looked after.”

“Doctor, you placed me on suicide watch.”

“Again, at your insistence, Mr. Hardy. Most of the patients we treat here have severe psychological problems that potentially make them a threat to themselves or others. There’s a big difference between being clinically depressed and a bit fed up.”

“When I was young,” I say, “My family went on holidays to France and my dad used to place me in front of topless girls on the beach so that he could pretend to take a picture of me when in fact he was zooming in on naked women.”

“And you’re telling me this because...?”

“He never told me,” I say, looking downcast. “I looked through the albums and thought I was invisible to cameras for years.”

“Mr. Hardy…”

“My mum died,” I say. “My father left the family. Black Kids failed to crack the top ten.”

“Doctor,” Cheryl whispers. “Be firm.”

The doctor leans forward. “If I prescribe some pills, will you go home?”

“What colour are the pills?”

Annoyance flickers over the doctor’s face for the first time. “Beige.”

“Can I have pink ones?”

He looks at me for a long time. “Deal.” We shake hands. Cheryl lets out a long breath and she and the doctor stand up immediately. An orderly comes in and starts pulling the sheets out from under me.

“By the way,” the doctor calls from the doorway. “I was only joking about the McCanns. They’re clearly innocent and deserve all the money and support they’ve received. I just wanted to make that absolutely clear. Good afternoon.”