LITMIR.BIZ

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sun.’ ‘But there is light, and that helps to calm the patients. Unfortunately, our winter lasts a long time, if it didn’t, we’d have a lot less work.’

      It was useless arguing; she went out and walked a little, looking about her and surreptitiously seeking some way of escaping. The wall was high, as required by the builders of the old type of barracks, but the watchtowers for the sentries were empty. The garden was surrounded by military-looking buildings, which now housed the male and female wards, the administrative offices and the employees’ rooms. After a first, rapid inspection, she noticed that the only place that was really guarded was the main gate, where everyone who entered and left had their papers checked by two guards.

      Everything seemed to be falling into place in her mind again. In order to exercise her memory, she began trying to remember small things, like the place where she used to leave the key to her room, the record she’d just bought, the last book she was asked for at the library.

      ‘I’m Zedka,’ said a woman, approaching.

      The previous night, Veronika hadn’t been able to see her face, she had been crouched down beside the bed all the time they were talking. Zedka must have been about thirty-five and seemed absolutely normal.

      ‘I hope the injection didn’t bother you too much. After a while, the body gets habituated, and the sedatives lose their effect.’

      ‘I’m fine.’

      ‘About our conversation last night, do you remember what you asked me?’

      ‘Of course I do.’

      Zedka took her by the arm, and they began to walk along together, amongst the many leafless trees in the courtyard. Beyond the walls, you could see the mountains disappearing into the clouds.

      ‘It’s cold, but a lovely morning all the same,’ said Zedka. ‘Oddly enough, I never used to suffer from depression on cold, grey, cloudy days like this. I felt as if nature was in harmony with me, that it reflected my soul. On the other hand, when the sun appeared, the children would come out to play in the streets, and everyone was happy that it was such a lovely day, and then I would feel terrible, as if that display of exuberance in which I could not participate was somehow unfair.’

      Delicately, Veronika detached herself from the woman. She didn’t like physical contact.

      ‘You didn’t finish what you were saying. You were saying something about what I asked you last night.’

      ‘There’s a group of people here, men and women who could have left, who could be back home, but who don’t want to leave. There are many reasons for this: Villete isn’t as bad as people say, although it’s far from being a five-star hotel. Here inside, everyone can say what they like, do what they want, without being criticised, after all, they’re in a mental hospital. Then, when there are government inspections, these men and women behave like dangerous maniacs, because some are here at the State’s expense. The doctors know this, but there must be some order from the owners which allows the situation to continue, because there are more vacancies than there are patients.’

      ‘Could they get hold of some pills for me?’

      ‘Try and contact them, they call their group the Fraternity.’

      Zedka pointed to a woman with white hair, who was talking animatedly with some younger women.

      ‘Her name is Mari, she belongs to the Fraternity. Ask her.’

      Veronika started walking towards Mari, but Zedka stopped her:

      ‘No, not now, she’s having fun. She’s not going to stop something which gives her pleasure, just to be nice to a complete stranger. If she should react badly, you’ll never have another chance to approach her. The “mad” always believe in first impressions.’

      Veronika laughed at the way Zedka said the word ‘mad’, but she was worried too, because everything here seemed so normal, so nice. After so many years of going straight from work to a bar, from that bar to the bed of some lover, from his bed to her room, from her room to her mother’s house, she was now experiencing something she had never dreamed of: a mental hospital, madness, an insane asylum, where people were not ashamed to say they were mad, where no one stopped doing something they were enjoying just to be nice to others.

      She began to doubt that Zedka was serious, or if it wasn’t just a way by which mental patients could pretend that the world they lived in was better than that of others. But what did it matter? She was experiencing something interesting, different, totally unexpected: imagine a place where people pretend to be mad in order to do exactly what they want.

      At that precise moment, Veronika’s heart turned over. She suddenly remembered what the doctor had said and she felt frightened.

      ‘I want to walk alone for a bit,’ she said to Zedka. After all, she was ‘mad’ too, and she no longer had to worry about pleasing anyone.

      The woman moved off, and Veronika stood looking at the mountains beyond the walls of Villete. A faint desire to live seemed about to surface, but Veronika determinedly pushed it away.

      ‘I must get hold of those pills as soon as possible.’

      She reflected on her situation there; it was far from ideal. Even if they allowed her to do all the mad things she wanted to do, she wouldn’t know where to start.

      She had never done anything mad.

      After some time in the garden, everyone went back to the refectory and had lunch. Immediately afterwards, the nurses led both men and women to a huge lounge divided up into lots of different areas; there were tables, chairs, sofas, a piano, a television and large windows through which you could see the grey sky and the low clouds. None of the windows had bars on them, because the room opened onto the garden. The doors were closed because of the cold, but all you had to do was turn the handle, and you could go outside again and walk once more amongst the trees.

      Most people went and sat down in front of the television. Others stared into space, others talked in low voices to themselves, but who has not done the same at some moment in their lives? Veronika noticed that the older woman, Mari, was now with a larger group, in one of the corners of the vast room. Some other patients were walking nearby and Veronika tried to join them in order to eavesdrop on what the group members were saying.

      She tried to disguise her intentions as best she could, but whenever she came close, they all fell silent and turned as one to look at her.

      ‘What do you want?’ said an elderly man, who seemed to be the leader of the Fraternity (if such a group really existed, and Zedka was not actually madder than she seemed).

      ‘Nothing, I was just passing.’

      They exchanged glances, and made a few mad gestures with their heads. One said to the other: ‘She was just passing.’ The other repeated the remark more loudly this time and soon they were all shouting the same words.

      Veronika didn’t know what to do and stood there paralysed with fear. A burly, shifty-looking male nurse came over, wanting to know what was going on.

      ‘Nothing,’ said one member of the group. ‘She was just passing. She’s standing right there, but she’s still just passing.’

      The whole group fell about laughing. Veronika assumed an ironic air, smiled, turned and moved off, so that no one would notice that her eyes were filling with tears. She went straight out into the garden, without bothering to put on a coat or jacket. A nurse tried to convince her to come back in, but another appeared soon after and whispered something in his ear, and the two of them left her in peace, in the cold. There was no point taking care of the health of someone who was condemned to die.

      She was confused, tense, irritated with herself. She had never allowed herself to be provoked; she had learned from early on that, whenever a new situation presented itself, you had to remain cool and distant. Those mad people, however, had managed to make her feel shame, fear, rage, a desire to murder them all, to wound them with words she hadn’t dared to utter.

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