The Last House on Needless Street(91)
They described how differently memory works for them. Each alter holds certain experiences. Memory is not linear, but nested in a series of compartments. ‘I will never know what it feels like to remember things like you,’ they told me. It can make seemingly simple tasks difficult. When following a recipe, for instance, they can’t remember more than four ingredients at a time. Retaining too much information is dangerous because it means they might have to remember other things too. Sometimes they leave a gap between switches, leaving the body vacant for a moment, so that alters don’t have to share knowledge. They described how difficult it is to pack for a holiday; remembering to put everyone’s different things into the suitcase, clothes for all the alters of different ages. They described their own inner worlds, where their alters convene: a farmhouse at the centre of a crossroads, where approaching enemies can be seen from any direction; a playground guarded by armies; a beach.
They told me that they were healing. The alter who used to rip up photographs, trying to destroy the past, has stopped. After years of therapy and with a family of their own, they are learning to live together as one.
Towards the end of our meeting I asked, ‘What would you like people to know about the disorder, that you don’t feel is understood?’
‘I’d like people to know that we are always striving towards the good,’ they said. ‘We are always protecting the child.’
It could take a lifetime to understand this complex disorder. There seem to be many variations between cases, and a multitude of different ways in which dissociative identity disorder can manifest. Ted is not based on a particular case. He is wholly imagined and any mistakes are all my own. But I have tried to do justice in this book to the people whose lives are touched by DID – to hold onto what was said to me that afternoon, over our cooling cups of coffee. Dissociative identity disorder may often be used as a horror device in fiction, but in my small experience it is quite the opposite. Those who survive, and live with it, are always striving towards the good.
Acknowledgements
To my wonderful agent Jenny Savill whose faith in Ted, Olivia and Lauren kept me going, and who fought for them all the way, I can only say thank you. The stars must have been aligned the day we met. My amazing US agent Robin Straus and her colleague Katelyn Hales worked tirelessly to bring this book to the US. I am eternally grateful.
The tireless, redoubtable Miranda Jewess edited this book firmly and gently into its final form. It must have been like driving a team of octopuses down Piccadilly. I am full of admiration for her, Niamh Murray, Drew Jerrison and all the Viper team who have worked so hard to support this book. The Last House on Needless Street found its perfect US editor in Kelly Lonesome O’Connor, and the best US home with Tor Nightfire. It is so rewarding to work with these wonderful publishers.
Love and thanks go as ever to my mother Isabelle and my father Christopher, for all their help since the very beginning. Their support sustains me, as does that of my sister Antonia and her family – Sam, Wolf and River.
To my shining, good-hearted and very impressive friends, thank you. I am so grateful to Emily Cavendish, Kate Burdette, Oriana Elia, Dea Vanagan and Belinda Stewart-Wilson for their willingness to listen, a place to lay my head in tough times, many words of comfort as well as more caustic observations, wine and much wisdom. Natasha Pulley has my deepest gratitude for our long talks, for her excellent ideas and endless wit. Gillian Redfearn’s support and friendship has been a lifeline. My earliest readers were Nina Allan, Kate Burdette, Emily Cavendish and Matt Hill – their encouragement spurred me on. Eugene Noone’s joy, creativity and friendship inspired me for many years and his memory will continue to do so. He is deeply missed by me, and many others.
I am profoundly thankful for my endlessly talented, wonderful partner Ed McDonald – for his support, generosity of spirit and keen editorial eye. I am so very lucky. I can’t wait for more adventures together.
The charity First Person Plural provided me with invaluable resources on DID and gave me insight into what it’s like to live with this complex disorder. They helped to bring dissociative identity disorder to life for me; I hope I have done them justice.