“Is there a doctor’s surgery, or a chemist, here?”
“There’s a doctor’s. There’s a small dispensing chemist, but I told you, everybody’s gone.”
“Yeah, but where is it?”
“It’s at the end of the street. Just set back from the road a little. I…”
“You what?” Robyn asked.
“It…doesn’t matter.”
The three of them continued, and when they got to the end of the street, the man pointed in the direction of the surgery, before turning in the other direction and heading onto a narrow lane. “Where are we going?” Robyn asked.
“I told you. I’m taking you to my house.”
Robyn and Wren looked at each other. “Is it far?” Robyn asked.
“Not at all,” he said as they continued up the track. They came to a break in the trees and bushes on the left-hand side, and the man opened a white gate whose paint was badly chipped. “That’s my house,” he said, pointing up the to a small white cottage that had black water stains as a result of broken guttering. “Home sweet home,” he said, leading them to the door. “You wouldn’t mind leaving those out here would you?” he said, gesturing to the javelins. There’s not really a lot of room for them in the hall, it’s quite narrow.” The two girls shot each other concerned looks as their host opened the door, releasing a wave of warm, stale air. “Excuse the mess,” he said as they stepped over the threshold. The door opened into a cramped, dimly lit hallway that was made even darker by striped, bottle-green wallpaper interspersed with thin gold and black stripes.
Their host slipped his shoes off, and he paused, looking at them, expecting them to do the same. They looked down at the dirty beige carpet and struggled not to show disgust on their faces as they kicked off their boots and flicked off their rucksacks. “I’ll get the kettle on,” he said, walking down the hall and into the kitchen. Wren and Robyn looked at each other, shrugged and followed him. They stepped into the kitchen and their noses immediately twitched at the smell. There were mouse droppings on the floor, and a trap had sprung in the corner. There was a small wet patch around the dead rodent and the odour suggested it had been there for days.
“Erm, actually, I’m not that thirsty,” Robyn said.
“No, me neither. In fact, I’m feeling quite a bit better. I think that walk did me good,” Wren added.
“Well fresh air always makes me thirsty, so I’ll have a cuppa anyway,” he said, placing the kettle on the solid fuel range. “Go through to the living room, I’ll be in directly.”
“Where’s the living room?” Robyn asked.
“Stupid me,” the man said, pushing past the two girls and stepping back into the hall. “Here, make yourself at home.” He opened the first door on the left and stayed there. The girls brushed past him and walked in. “I won’t be a minute,” he said, retracing his steps to the kitchen.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Wren said.
“I know. Look, we’ll let him finish his tea, and then thank him and go find another place. If the whole village is in that church, there must be plenty of free houses,” Robyn said, as the two of them sat down on the 1980s floral design sofa. There were two matching armchairs and, like the hallway and the kitchen, the place smelt rank and looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years.
“The sooner the better. I think the wound’s bleeding again.”
“Shit! Look. When we get out, we’ll head to the doctor’s, get some proper supplies.”
Their host started whistling in the other room. “There’s something really weird about that guy,” Wren said. “And did you smell him? The water’s only been off a couple of days, not a couple of years.”
“I know...I suppose we could just slip out, while he’s making his tea.”
“That’s easier said than done. The door’s wide open, we’d need to get our boots on, our rucksacks, there’s no way. He’d see us. Look. Let him finish his tea. We thank him again, then go.”
“Okay.” They sat there, perched on the end of the cushions, not wanting to sit back in the filth encrusted sofa.
Their host came back through the door with his mug, and rather than going to sit on one of the free armchairs, plonked down, just a few centimetres away from Robyn, making her shuffle up even further towards her sister.
“Anyway, I’m Norman,” he said, smiling.
“I’m Robyn, and this is my sister, Wren.”
“Pretty, pretty girls the two of you.”
There was an uncomfortably long pause before Wren replied, “Thank you.”
“So, what were you doing in the village? How did you see us?” Robyn asked.
“I caught sight of you from the window,” he replied, taking a drink from his mug.
“Erm, how? You can’t see the church from here,” Wren said.
“Oh, silly me. Yes, I was at my house,” Norman replied.
“I thought this was your house,” Robyn said.
“Well, it is. This is where I grew up. It was my mum’s house, and now...it’s mine. Mum was in the church when...”
“So, you have two houses? Why didn’t we go to the one nearer the church?”
“Oh no, no, no. We couldn’t do that. That wouldn’t be a good idea,” he said putting down his mug on the coffee table and standing up. “Would either of you like a biscuit? I’ve got custard creams or digestives.”
“No. You’re fine,” Robyn replied. She waited until he was out of the room and immediately stood. “Come on. This guy’s a whacko—I’m guessing his surname is Bates. We need to get the hell out of here now.”
“Agreed,” Wren said, getting to her feet. They heard tins being opened in the kitchen and both of them crept out of the room and down the hall. They slipped on their boots quickly and quietly. Robyn helped Wren to put her rucksack on, and was just about to put her own on, when Norman came back out of the kitchen. He stopped in mid-stride, holding four custard creams in one hand and the mouse from the trap in the other.
“What are you doing?” he asked calmly.
“We’re going,” Robyn said, staring at the dead rodent dangling by its tail. “We’ve decided to head on to the next village before nightfall, so we need to get off.”
“I see,” he said. “That’s a bit rude, don’t you think? I offer you hospitality and you get up and head out the second my back is turned.”
“I’m sorry,” Wren said, “but we need to get going…our Grandad’s expecting us and…we don’t want to get caught outside in the dark.”
“I thought you were going to rest here. I thought that was the plan,” he replied.
“I’m feeling a lot better,” Wren said.
“Well, you don’t look it. You’re looking a little pale and clammy,” he said, carefully putting the biscuits down on the telephone table and balancing the furry little corpse on top of them. Norman began to walk towards them. “You should stay here until you’re feeling better. I have plenty of room.”
“No, you’re fine, thanks,” Robyn said, putting her rucksack on, and picking the holdall up.
Wren tried the door handle, half expecting it to be locked, but when warm fresh air rushed into the entrance, relief enveloped her. “Thank you again,” she said, almost running out, and grabbing her javelin.
“Yeah, thanks Norman,” Robyn said, grabbing her javelin as well. The two girls speed-walked down the path and out of the gate. They cast a glance back towards the doorway to see Norman still stood there, watching them with a bemused look on his face. Once they’d turned and started up the narrow lane towards the village, both of them let out a deep breath.
“Wow!” Wren said.
“That was the creepiest guy I have ever met, and I have met a lot of creepy guys in my time.”
“Didn’t stop you bringing them home though, did it? Slapper!”
“Virgin!”
“Prozzie!”
“Old maid!”
The two sisters let out a small laugh before Wren moved her hand back to
her wound.
“I’m sorry, I’m really going to have to rest up.”
“It’s okay, sis. We’ll find somewhere.”
chapter 17
It did not take Robyn and Wren long to get back to the main street in the village. They had deliberately walked in double-quick time, more than a little concerned that creepy Norman was following them.
“He said the doctor’s surgery was this way,” Robyn said, and the two of them veered onto a path by the side of what looked like an old schoolhouse. There, at the end of the path was a small sign that said “Surgery Parking.” The surgery itself was a large stone-built building that fitted in with the rest of the village. At one time it had probably been the home to some very well-off merchant. The pair of them walked through the car park and up the front steps. Wren reached out and twisted the grapefruit-sized brass doorknob, but to no avail.
“I’m guessing that means they’re closed,” she said stepping back from the door.
“We’ll go take a look around the back.” They walked around the sizeable detached building, passing windows with Venetian blinds up, until they reached a small, high, frosted glass window. Robyn bent down and picked up a large stone, then proceeded to smash the glass out of the window. She made sure to wipe all the jagged shards from the sill, dumped her rucksack on the ground, placed her hands inside the frame and jumped up, pulling herself through, head first. Her body, then her feet, disappeared from view, but within a minute, she had re-emerged through the large wooden door at the rear of the surgery. She collected her rucksack, javelin, and the holdall, before taking hold of Wren’s arm and guiding her in.
Robyn locked the door behind them, and they piled into the first examination room they came to. The two sisters placed their javelins against the wall, unhooked their rucksacks once more, and Robyn dumped the holdall in the corner. There was an alcohol hand wash attached to the wall, and both girls pressed the dispenser button to coat their palms with a healthy layer of the cool gel. They massaged it into their skin thoroughly.
“Take your jacket off, Wren. Lie down on the examination table. I won’t be a few minutes,” Robyn said, heading back out of the room.
Wren did as she was instructed. She took her jacket off then lifted her t-shirt to see that the gauze was saturated and blood had leaked all over her skin. She put her hand up to her forehead and brought it back down with a sheen of perspiration on her fingers. She was feeling hot and sweaty, and she hoped that was due to the blood loss and exertion and not an infection. She pulled her t-shirt off and went to lie down on the examination couch. Despite the warmth of the day, she began to feel a little chilly, so folded her arms across herself to try and warm up. When Robyn had still not returned after five minutes, Wren started to get concerned and struggled down from the examination table. She looked back at the blue lining sheet; there was a dark streak down the middle of it where perspiration from her back had soaked it.
“That’s not good,” she said as she headed towards the door. Outside in the wide hallway, there was no sign of Robyn. There were a number of doors and a staircase leading up to a second floor, but there was no sound to give her a clue as to which direction her sister had gone. “Bobbi?” she shouted, but there was no reply. “Bobbi?” she called louder this time.
An uneasy feeling came over her, and she slipped back into the examination room to grab her javelin. She headed back out into the hall and slowly went from room to room. At the end of the hall to the right was a reception desk and the waiting area. There were posters up on the wall like there were in any doctor’s surgery. Have you had your flu jab? Can you spot the signs of dementia? Heart Disease: The Silent Killer. There was nothing out of the ordinary, but Wren’s heart began to race.
“Bobbi!” she shouted again. This time she heard a sound from upstairs. It was a loud thud, like a body falling to the ground. “Bobbi?” she whispered.
Wren walked back down the hallway and slowly began to climb the stairs, holding the javelin out in front of her. The building had tall ceilings, and there was a small landing half-way up before the stairs double backed on themselves. She could feel her wound stretching with each step she took. The perspiration began to run down her face, but she still felt chilly. She heard another thud, and despite the pain and discomfort, she started moving faster.
Wren reached the top landing and stood there looking at the four closed doors. She had no way of telling which room the sound had come from, and she did not want to risk shouting again. Her grip tightened around the javelin as she eased open the first door. It was a small stationery cupboard. She opened the second door, and the smell of fresh paint hit her straight away. Decorator’s sheets covered the carpet and a step ladder stood in the middle of the room. Wren moved onto the next room which was an office. There was a desk over by the window and filing cabinets lined the walls. She felt the sweat running down her back as well now, and no matter how hard she tried to grip the javelin, she felt it was not hard enough, as if her strength was leaving her. Despite this, she wrapped her hand around the handle of the last door and pushed it open, running into the room, spinning around, ready to attack.
“What the hell are you doing?” Robyn asked, as Wren stood in the middle of the room, in her jeans and bra, waving her javelin around hopelessly.
“I heard...I thought...you were in trouble.”
“I was getting supplies. They’ve got all sorts here. God, Wren! You look terrible.” Robyn went up to her and felt her sister’s forehead. “You’re red hot.”
“I feel cold.”
“You’re running a fever. I’ve found some antibiotics—amoxicillin—we’ll get your dressing changed, get some painkillers and anti-inflammatories down you and we’ll stay here the night.” Robyn picked up a small box that she had put all the supplies in, took the javelin from her sister, and led her out of the room. “Walk behind me. Hold on to the bannister. You look like you could pass out any second.”
“I thought you were in trouble. I heard a thud. I thought you were in trouble.”
“I was shifting boxes around up there. Some of those things weighed a ton.”
“I was worried,” Wren said and she paused on a step for a second.
“What is it?” Robyn asked, looking concerned.
“Bit light-headed.”
“We’re nearly there, just take it slowly. Put your hand on my shoulder if you want to.”
Wren put one hand on her sister’s shoulder and the other on the bannister until the pair of them reached the ground floor.
“Feel dizzy.”
Robyn put the box down on the ground and took a tight hold of her sister’s waist, practically carrying her back to the examination table Wren had been lying on a few minutes before. Wren had deteriorated quickly, and now, she could not even manage to climb onto the high table. With some difficulty, Robyn managed to manoeuvre her on before she went back out to collect the box.
When she arrived back in the room, tears were running down Wren’s face. Robyn put the box down on the doctor’s desk and rushed to her sister’s side, stroking the damp hair from her forehead. “What is it?”
“I...I was scared when I heard that thud. I thought that something had happened to you.”
Robyn bent down and kissed her sister on the cheek. “And even despite all this,” she said, gesturing towards Wren’s wound, “you came to rescue me.” Robyn smiled.
“I don’t feel very well, Bobbi. If anything happens to me, I just want you to know I love you.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you, silly. And I already know. We’re sisters, remember? Now, just forget about everything. Relax, and take these,” she said, unscrewing a water bottle, putting some tablets in her sister’s mouth and easing her head up so she could take a drink. She took five tablets in all. Robyn gently lowered her head back onto the table. “Good. I’m going to take the tape off. It’s going to hurt a bit.”
“That’s okay, just do it.”
Robyn pulled the tap
e off, bringing the blood-soaked gauze with it. She could not help but curl her nose a little at the gooey mess underneath, and she cast a quick glance towards her sister in the hope that she had not seen her expression. Thankfully, Wren had her eyes closed. She just wanted it to be over.
“I’m going to clean it with alcohol. I won’t lie to you, this will hurt.”
“Aaarrrggghhh!” Wren screamed through gritted teeth.
Robyn cleaned the wound and all the surrounding area. The bleeding had more or less stopped, but it was clear that any activity could open it up again.
“I found a couple of boxes of butterfly stitches. They’re not ideal; you could probably do with sewing up properly, but they’re the best we’ve got right now.” Robyn opened the box, took out four of the specialist plasters and removed the non-stick paper. She carefully stretched each of the plasters over the wound, bringing the edges of the cut as close together as she could before placing another gauze over the top and finally, some more medical bandage tape. She looked back at her sister’s face. Wren still had her eyes closed. “That’s it. We’re done.”
Wren squinted down at the neat dressing. “You should be a nurse.”
“No thanks,” she replied, walking across to Wren’s rucksack. She unfastened it, and brought out a fresh t-shirt. “Did you bring a sweater or something?”
“Didn’t think I was going to need one.”
Robyn reached into her own rucksack and searched around, eventually pulling out her favourite comfy jumper. “Here,” she said walking over to her sister. “You need to stay warm.” She handed her the t-shirt and helped her to sit up. She put her hand on Wren’s back and immediately recoiled. Her skin was still hot and clammy. “You’ve definitely got a fever.”
“You still happy for me to wear your favourite top?”
Robyn smiled. “Just make sure you have it dry cleaned before you give it back to me.”
Wren put the fresh clothes on. “What now?
“What now, is, I go find some blankets or whatever, we get you cosy, and you rest. An afternoon’s rest and a good night’s sleep will help you.”
The End of Everything Box Set, Vol. 1 [Books 1-3] Page 13
