The Reunion

Chapter 7

DIANA KING

I had sent Diana King a card game called Go Fish. I didn't know if this would do any good, however, I had not received any call or message cancelling the meeting for the Wednesday. So I travelled up to London by train, then got the underground to Stratford. Jude and myself used to love coming here for the shopping. Unfortunately online purchases finally killed the high street in the late 2030s to early 2040s. The Westfield Shopping Centre had now been converted into luxury apartments. The stadium purposely built for the 2012 Olympic Games, which became the home venue for West Ham United in 2016, was becoming a little dishevelled. Ladies and Gentlemen had played the stadium in 2023 after a fallout with the former O2 Arena.

Because of the reconstruction of Stratford, again, ten to fifteen years ago, there had been much protest about the new mental institution establishment. Mainly because it looked like a prison which, to be honest, it did. Barbed wire atop six-metre-high walls.

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People said, rightly, that the patients were there voluntary. They were not inmates. They were not convicted prisoners sent there to be held under the Mental Health Act. They were, as already said, patients. Many were voluntary. It was completely different to Ullacombe House. There was hardly any garden for one. It was a sad state of affairs that when the millennium began, mental health issues were, unfortunately, on the increase and it hasn't really stopped. Successive governments have tried to wipe it under the mat. This always surprised me because if anyone should be held under the Mental Health Act it was certainly politicians.

Security to get into the home was tight. I had to go through a full body scanner. Then I had to wait until a guard, apologies, orderly, was able to show me to the meeting room.

'So you've come to see Diana,' he said. 'Are you the one who sent her the Go Fish card game?'

'Yes,' I replied.

'Well thanks very much for that,' he said. 'We've got to play it from morning to night.'

'Sorry about that,' I said as apologetically as I could.

The orderly laughed. 'No, it's good fun for her. She hasn't had much fun since she was transferred here.'

'How long ago was that?' I asked.

'About eight years ago,' he replied.

'Is her mind really unstable?' I wanted to know.

'She has good days and she has bad days,' he replied honestly. 'The last

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couple of weeks have been bad. But she really deteriorated the day of Susan Adams's funeral – you know – Graham Longmuir's sister.'

'Really?' I was intrigued.

'Yes,' the orderly said. 'You couldn't say anything to Diana after that, and she wouldn't speak to anyone. She then appeared to get better but had the relapse, hence why your meeting her was postponed. But she really perked up when she received that damn pack of cards.'

'I'm glad to hear it,' I said, amused.

I was shown into a room which, surprisingly, looked like a very comfortable lounge. There were five reclining chairs, a three-seater sofa, some pouffes and comfy beanbags. A small coffee table was conveniently placed between two of the chairs. The walls were painted a neutral magnolia colour although quite a few pictures were hung on them. The only thing that was missing was a television.

The orderly indicated that I should sit in the chair to the right of the coffee table as we were looking at it. 'Diana likes to sit in the other one,' he explained. 'Now I can make you a tea or coffee but you'll have to drink it out of a plastic beaker, I'm afraid. We're not permitted to have China or metal cups for obvious reasons.'