didn’t happen in this case.’
‘Oh? And why would that be?’
‘The descriptions he gave of his symptoms were too spontaneous, too vivid.’
Bavistock looked doubtful. ‘How would that rule out the possibility of exaggeration or amplification?’
‘Well, it would have required an extraordinary degree of imagination on his part to describe the symptoms with such accuracy.’
‘What, even if he’d studied such symptoms in depth?’
‘I would say so, yes.’
Bavistock raised his eyebrows slightly. ‘Now, you have described Mr Deacon’s symptoms in your statement – if I can refer you to page seventeen, paragraph three.’ When Ainsley had found his place, Bavistock went on, ‘Mr Deacon seems to have every possible symptom of PTSD. Nothing missing at all. What you might call a textbook case. Would you agree?’
‘Well . . . In simple terms, yes.’
‘In any terms, surely?’
For the first time Ainsley showed faint irritation. ‘Yes,’ he said shortly.
‘Isn’t it odd that one person should have such a comprehensive list of symptoms?’
‘Not at all.’
‘But you’ve just told us that you wouldn’t expect to find the full range of symptoms in every case.’
Ainsley seemed to falter, and for a moment Hugh thought he was going the same way as the cognitive behavioural therapist Munro. But then Ainsley straightened his back and said crisply, ‘I meant only that it was uncommon. I didn’t mean it was impossible.’
‘You didn’t think it strange at the time?’
‘No.’
‘It didn’t occur to you that Mr Deacon might have imagined a fuller range of symptoms than he actually had?’
‘As I’ve said, I think it unlikely.’
Adopting one of his coping strategies, Tom hunched forward over the table and, resting his forehead on his fingertips, screwed his eyes tight shut, as if to blank everything out.
Moving on, Bavistock leafed through his notes. ‘Now, you have diagnosed Mr Deacon as having severe PTSD. Could you tell us what other degrees of severity there are?’
‘After severe, there’s moderately severe, moderate, and minor.’
‘Could you define the moderate category for us, please?’
Ainsley thought he must have misheard. ‘Moderate?’
‘Yes, moderate.’
‘This is when the injured person has largely recovered, and any continuing effects are not grossly disabling.’
‘Not grossly disabling?’ Bavistock echoed.
‘Correct.’
‘So a moderate case could be more difficult to diagnose?’
‘It could be. But the critical factor is the exposure of thepatient to a traumatic event that falls outside the normal range of human experience. If the patient’s condition can be traced back to that, then they can said to be suffering from PTSD.’
‘But if this link isn’t spotted, if the patient himself doesn’t realise why he’s unwell – or indeed is in denial about it – then a moderate case might well go undiagnosed?’
A minute hesitation. ‘It’s possible, yes.’
‘Could indeed be misdiagnosed?’
‘That’s possible too.’
‘It might be diagnosed as depression, for example?’
Ainsley had the wary look of someone who realises he’s being backed into a corner. ‘It’s just possible, yes.’
‘Only “just possible”? Surely if a diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder is missed, then depression would be the obvious alternative?’
‘Depression is only one of several alternatives.’
‘Name a few, if you would.’
With the confidence of someone returning to safe ground, Ainsley went briskly through his list. ‘Adjustment disorder, acute stress disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder, conversion disorder – not to mention any number of psychosomatic disorders.’
‘But these are diagnoses that would only be made by a specialist like yourself, would they not? An ordinary GP would not be qualified to give such diagnoses?’
Ainsley was forced to agree.
Behind the spread of his hands Tom still had his eyes squeezed tight shut, but