Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine. Gail Honeyman
serious concerns about Raymond’s mental capacities.
‘No, no, Eleanor – it’s Sammy as in … short for Samuel. Thom as in T-H-O-M.’
‘Oh,’ I said. There was another long pause.
‘So … like I said, Sammy’s in the Western. Visiting starts at seven, if you want to come in?’
‘I said I would, and I’m a woman of my word, Raymond. It’s a bit late now; tomorrow, early evening, would suit me best, if that’s acceptable to you?’
‘Sure,’ he said. Another pause. ‘Do you want to know how he’s doing?’
‘Yes, naturally,’ I said. The man was an extremely poor conversationalist, and was making this whole exchange terribly hard work.
‘It’s not good. He’s stable, but it’s serious. Just to prepare you. He hasn’t regained consciousness yet.’
‘In that case, I can’t imagine he’ll have much use for his Irn-Bru and lorne sausage tomorrow, will he?’ I asked. I heard Raymond take a breath.
‘Look, Eleanor, it’s entirely up to you whether you visit or not. He’s in no rush for his stuff, and I guess you should throw out anything that won’t keep. Like you say, the poor old soul isn’t going to be making a fry-up any time soon.’
‘Well, quite. In fact, I imagine that fry-ups are exactly what got him into this situation in the first place,’ I said.
‘I’ve got to go now, Eleanor,’ he said, and put the phone down rather abruptly. How rude!
I was on the horns of a dilemma; there seemed little point in travelling to the hospital to see a comatose stranger and drop off some fizzy pop at his bedside. On the other hand, it would be interesting to experience being a hospital visitor, and there was always an outside chance that he might wake up when I was there. He had rather seemed to enjoy my monologue while we were waiting for the ambulance; well, insofar as I could tell, given that he was unconscious.
As I was pondering, I picked up the fallen page from the file and turned it over. It was slightly yellowed around the edges, and smelled institutional; metallic, like filing cabinets, and grubby, touched by the unwashed skin of multiple, anonymous hands. Bank notes have a similar odour, I’ve noticed.
DEPARTMENT OF SOCIAL WORK
NOTE OF CASE MEETING
15 March 1999, 10 a.m.
Case Meeting: OLIPHANT, ELEANOR (12/07/1987)
Present: Robert Brocklehurst (Deputy Head, Children and Families, Social Work Department); Rebecca Scatcherd (Senior Case Worker, Social Work Department); Mr and Mrs Reed (foster carers)
The meeting took place at the home of Mr and Mrs Reed, whose children, including Eleanor Oliphant, were at school at the time. Mr and Mrs Reed had requested the meeting, which was outwith the regular scheduled sessions, in order to discuss their growing concerns about Eleanor.
Mrs Reed reported that Eleanor’s behaviour had deteriorated since it was last raised at a case meeting some four months earlier. Mr Brocklehurst requested examples, and Mr and Mrs Reed cited the following:
Eleanor’s relationship with their other children had almost completely broken down, particularly with John (14), the eldest;
Eleanor was insolent and rude to Mrs Reed on a daily basis. When Mrs Reed attempted to discipline her, for example by sending her upstairs to the spare room to reflect on her behaviour, she had become hysterical and, on one occasion, physically violent;
Eleanor had, on occasion, pretended to faint in an attempt to avoid being disciplined, or else in response to being disciplined;
Eleanor was terrified of the dark and kept the family awake with hysterical crying. She had been provided with a night light and reacted with violent sobbing and tremors to any suggestion that she should give it up, being too old for it now;
Eleanor often refused to eat the food which was provided for her; mealtimes had become a source of conflict at the family table;
Eleanor refused point-blank to assist with simple household chores, such as lighting the fire or clearing out the ashes.
Mr and Mrs Reed reported that they were extremely concerned about the effects of Eleanor’s behaviour on their other three children (John, 14, Eliza, 9 and Georgie, 7) and, in light of these concerns and also those raised previously during scheduled case meetings, they wished to discuss the best way forward for Eleanor.
Mr and Mrs Reed again requested more information about Eleanor’s past history, and Mr Brocklehurst explained that this would not be possible, and indeed was not permitted.
Miss Scatcherd had sought a school report from Eleanor’s head teacher in advance of the meeting, and it was noted that Eleanor was performing well, achieving excellent grades in all subjects. The head teacher commented that Eleanor was an exceptionally bright and articulate child, with an impressive vocabulary. Her class teachers had reported that she was quiet and well-behaved during lessons, but did not participate in discussions, although she was an active listener. Several members of staff had noticed that Eleanor was very withdrawn and isolated during breaktimes, and did not appear to socialize with her peers.
After lengthy discussion, and in light of the concerns raised and re-emphasized by Mr and Mrs Reed about the impact of Eleanor’s behaviour on their other children, it was agreed that the most appropriate course of action would be to remove Eleanor from the family home.
Mr and Mrs Reed were content with this outcome, and Mr Brocklehurst informed them that the Department would be in touch in due course regarding next steps.
File note: on 12 November 1999 a Children’s Panel Review of Compulsory Supervision Order concerning Eleanor Oliphant took place, at which Mr Brocklehurst and Miss Scatcherd were present (minutes attached).
The Children’s Panel concluded that, on account of Eleanor’s challenging behaviour in this and previous placements, foster care in a family environment was not appropriate at the current time. It was therefore agreed that Eleanor should be placed in a residential care home for the time being, and that the decision of the Panel would be reviewed in twelve months.
(Action: R Scatcherd to investigate availability of places in local facilities and notify Mr and Mrs Reed of expected date of removal.)
R Scatcherd, 12/11/99
Liars. Liars, liars, liars.
THE BUS WAS QUIET and I had a seat to myself, the old man’s shopping sitting in two Bags for Life beside me. I’d thrown out the sausages and the orange cheese, but I kept the milk for myself, reasoning that it wasn’t stealing as he wouldn’t be able to use it anyway. I had some qualms about throwing out the other perishable items. I do understand that some people think waste is wrong, and, after careful reflection, I tend to agree. But I’d been brought up to think very differently; Mummy always said that only peasants and grubby little worker ants worried about such trivial things.
Mummy said that we were empresses, sultanas and maharanis in our own home, and that it was our duty to live a life of sybaritic pleasure and indulgence. Every meal should be an epicurean feast for the senses, she said, and one should go hungry rather than sully one’s palate with anything less than exquisite morsels. She told me how she’d eaten chilli-fried tofu in the night markets of Kowloon, and that the best sushi outside of Japan could be found in São Paulo. The most delicious meal of her life, she said, had been chargrilled octopus, which she’d eaten at sunset in an unassuming harbourfront taverna one late summer evening on Naxos. She’d watched a fisherman land it that morning, and then sipped ouzo all afternoon while the kitchen staff battered it again and again against the harbour wall to tenderize its pale, suckered flesh. I must ask her what the food is like where she is now. I suspect