Part Ninety-Seven
On the Thursday morning, Karen decided it was time to see if she could talk to Jo. She would have done something about it on the Wednesday, but a steadily growing crisis on H wing had accosted her as soon as she'd gone into work. She'd phoned George on the Wednesday evening, just to see if she was all right. But now it was Thursday, and Karen didn't think things were getting any better. Dialing the number for Jo's office, Karen tried to formulate what she was about to say. If put in the wrong way, this would make her sound either utterly pathetic or completely insane. "Jo, it's Karen," She said, on being greeted by the confident, familiar voice. "This is a nice surprise," Jo said, sounding pleased to hear from her. "I'm not sure you'll think so," Karen said carefully. "It's about George." "I'm listening," Jo replied, not altogether sure of what was coming. Karen didn't strike her as the type who would actively go seeking relationship advice. "She's stopped eating again, and I think I need filling in on a few details in order to help her." "I see," Jo said quietly. "I have a client due in about five minutes," She said, glancing at her watch. "And this is definitely going to take longer than that. How about meeting somewhere for lunch?" "Yes, good idea," Karen said, sounding incredibly relieved that Jo had agreed to help her. After arranging to meet in a small winebar not far from Jo's office, Jo said, "Don't worry, we'll sort her out," And as Karen replaced the receiver, she sent up a prayer to whoever was listening that they could.
At one o'clock, Karen walked through the door of the bar Jo had suggested, to be greeted by the delicious aroma of garlic and herbs, combined with espresso coffee and cigarette smoke. Jo waved at her from a corner table. "This is nice," Karen said as she sat down opposite Jo. "This is the nearest place to my office where I can smoke, eat, and get a decent scotch if I need one." "If I didn't have to work this afternoon, that would be a wonderful idea." Ordering a pot of coffee and lighting cigarettes, they both searched for a way to begin what was most likely going to be a very difficult conversation. "Tell me what's happened," Jo invited gently, observing Karen's difficulty. "Before I do, you should know that George knows I'm talking to you. I didn't want to do this without her permission. She's had a fairly huge row with John, mostly about me, though I'm told it didn't start like that." "So, that's why he's been avoiding me this week," Jo said in comprehension. "Probably," Karen agreed. "I know very little of what he said to her, but I do know that George has ended up feeling guilty, for not being able to be who he wants her to be. She came to see me on Tuesday night, and that's when some of this came out." "How long have you known about her problem with food?" Jo asked, taking a long drag of her cigarette. "Since the first time we had dinner together." Jo's eyes widened. "Well, that's progress," She said with pride in her voice. "I might be wrong, but I've a feeling she wanted to redress the balance of how many skeletons she knew about of mine. It's funny, but she'll talk about the anorexia, but not about the depression that goes with it." "I'm not really surprised," Jo said quietly. "Having been there intermittently myself over the years, I know how difficult that is." "Just how bad does it get for her, Jo?" Taking a sip of her coffee, Jo attempted to organise her thoughts. "I take it you know why George starves herself, whether intentionally or otherwise?" "I know about Charlie, and I know that it's usually guilt of some form or another that makes her stop eating, though I suspect it's all mixed up with a hefty dose of self-loathing." "That's about the size of it, though pretty much anything can spark it off, if she's depressed to start with. Just after the Merriman/Atkins trial, she seduced John, and yes, believe it or not, he did need persuading. But it wasn't quite the success she thought it would be. I think she wanted it too much, or should I say needed it too much. Not long before this, she'd been given a black eye by her previous lover." "The current secretary of state for trade," Karen filled in. "Yes, I know about him." "Well, I greatly surprised George by letting her shout at me, the morning after that happened. Before then, the thought of me and George even being vaguely civil to each other was almost unheard of." "So, she felt guilty for sleeping with John, because of you," Karen said, beginning to put the pieces together. "Which would have knocked her for six in itself." "Quite. I knew she was losing it, the day we questioned you about Fenner, but I didn't know the full extent of it." "She told me about the day she fainted in court." "Not a very easy day for either of us," Jo replied, remembering the tortuous words she'd coaxed out of George that day. "George does talk, at least an awful lot more than she used to, but it's still not enough. I remember," Jo stopped, the pain evident in her face. "That day she fainted in court, I took her home and she got into bed, having just enough energy to talk, but not enough to do anything else. All she was wearing was a cotton nightie, and she looked so thin. I've never seen anyone so painfully underweight as George was. Her arms were like sticks, and John carried her out of court as if she weighed no more than a child, which I suppose she didn't." "She's not looking all that healthy at the moment," Karen said, beginning to realise just how serious the situation could get if not curtailed. "How is she apart from not eating?" "Not good," Karen said regretfully. "But she'll only tell me so much." "Like John," Jo said gently. "You're that bit too close to her. If I know George, she'll be so scared of frightening you off, that the last thing she'll want to do is to be entirely honest with you. It's no reflection on you, I promise. George is simply terrified of losing the people she cares about. I might be wrong, but I think it stems from losing her mother when she was a child. She and John are really very similar, when it comes to the one thing they will only discuss under duress." "Just how low did she get last time?" Karen asked, thinking that it was time she knew the full extent of how George could be feeling. "Very," Jo said somberly. "But it was like trying to get blood out of a stone, persuading her to admit it. George is a great one for euphemisms, and even when I dragged it out of her, she couldn't quite say how she felt, without trying to diminish the true extent of it." "Was she suicidal?" Karen had been working up to this, and in truth, she didn't know how to phrase it. But when the words simply left her mouth without prior consideration, she knew that the bare, blunt approach had been for the best. "Yes," Jo replied, it hurting her immeasurably, to have to remember George's pitiful description of how she'd felt, on that Sunday in late October. "Has she ever done anything about it?" "Not to my knowledge, no, though that doesn't mean she never would." Lighting another cigarette, Karen tried to buy herself some thinking time. "There is actually a very simple reason why I don't think she ever could go through with it," Jo continued. "You know John almost better than I do these days, so I expect you know how his mother died." "Yes, he did tell me." "The last time George got this bad, she said that she could never do that to John, because of how his mother had died. She said that he'd never forgive her." Karen blew smoke up at the ceiling where countless people had done the same before her. "How do I help her, Jo?" She finally asked. "How do I stop her from sliding back into that downward spiral, that's if she isn't there already." "All you can do," Jo said, putting a gentle hand over the one of Karen's that wasn't holding a cigarette. "Is what you're doing now. George knows she has you, and if she wants to talk to you, she will. But I can't promise that she will. Even though she's aware of your talking to me about this, it won't make it any easier for her. I'll try and talk to her over the weekend. The worst thing you can do is to crowd her, because the more she feels pressured into talking, the less she'll do it. Tell her you're still there for her, but let her come to you. Even if George thinks you know all there is to know, she still won't want to talk about most of what she's feeling. She may be able to with me, because it ultimately doesn't matter what I think of anything she does or says." "I feel useless," Karen said regretfully. "You're not," Jo said gently. "You're doing everything you can for her, and she knows that. John, however, is a very different matter." "Jo, George asked me not to get involved with the row she had with John, and I suspect she would feel the same about you too. She said that if he's going to apologise, he's got to do it when he feels it's right, not when anyone else tells him he should." "She could be in for a long wait," Jo said bitterly. "But okay, for now I'll leave him to his own devices. But whatever happens, I am not letting George get as thin or as depressed as she did eighteen months ago, just because John can't learn to control his pretty pathetic streak of possessive jealousy!" As Karen drove back to Larkhall, Jo's words echoed in her mind. There were clearly so many things both she and Jo would say to John if they could, but for now, George was their immediate concern, not some overgrown adolescent who didn't want to share his most prized possession.