by Cathy Sharp
‘Terry likes doing things with his hands. He wouldn’t mind helping the caretaker – or working in the garden. He isn’t stupid, sir. He used to go down to the Docks sometimes and earn a few shillings carrying things; he’s strong for his age. People are often surprised how strong he is.’
‘I can chop wood for the boiler,’ Terry said suddenly, confirming Mark’s suspicion that he was listening to every word. ‘I like chopping wood.’
The idea of Terry being let loose with a chopper made Mark go cold all over, but he merely nodded and gave the lad a serious look. ‘Yes, I’m sure you do, Terry. We shall have to see if there are any jobs you can do to help here. It would be better than sitting alone while Nancy has her cooking lessons.’
He left them soon after, more than ever convinced that Terry needed watching. Anger had been building inside that lad for a long time and Mark was certain now that it only needed a small spark to set it alight. He must see if he could speed up the move for Terry. Somehow, he would have to get Nancy alone so that he could explain that there was a chance her brother could improve if he was given the right treatment, but he would always need to live in a secure environment. Left to himself, he was just going to build on his hatred of everyone and everything until something caused that simmering cauldron to explode.
When the time came, Nancy had to go along with it, to accompany her brother to the clinic and see him settled. If he fought the doctors there they would be able to deal with his tantrums safely, and under the right care he might retain his sanity. Despite his anxiety over the lad’s mental state, Mark liked him. He could only guess at the years of abuse that had shaped him …
Because Nancy had been so nervous when she first came to St Saviour’s, and was so obviously hiding something, Mark had sometimes wondered if she’d killed her father because of what he’d done to her. He’d had to probe deeper to be sure which of the two was the instigator of what had happened. Now he was pretty certain that she’d been protecting her brother, afraid of what he might say or do … and that meant Nancy either knew or believed that Terry was responsible for the fire.
Could he really have done such a terrible thing? Mark found himself shying away from what he was beginning to think must be the solution to the mystery, because it meant that Terry was really dangerous and might never be able to live a normal life. A part of his mind was still wrestling with the ugly truth when he reached Sister Beatrice’s room and knocked at her door.
‘Come in.’
Mark entered and saw that Sister Beatrice was standing by her filing cabinet with a sheaf of papers in her hand looking bothered. ‘Am I disturbing you?’
‘No, of course not. I was just looking for some figures for the repairs. You know we need some work done on the kitchens, and I’ve had a quote for the roof. That storm last month dislodged several tiles and the builders tell me it will have to be re-felted in places, because it has cracked and will start to let in water.’
‘When were you thinking of having the work done?’
‘Well, I’ve been told they can start on the 11th March and get everything finished in one day, but there will be workmen everywhere. We shall need to keep the children out of the way, so I’m going to ask Angela to arrange some trips to keep the young ones happy. The older children will be at school during the day so that’s all right …’ Sister frowned. ‘You didn’t come to discuss the repairs – is something wrong?’
‘Well, yes, I think it may be,’ Mark said. ‘I’ve found a place for Terry, but they can’t take him for another month – but I’m a bit worried about him. I fear his condition is worsening.’
‘I’m not sure what to think,’ Sister said as she sat down and placed the folder on her desk. ‘Please sit down, Mark. Angela took the brother and sister to the pictures and tea the other week. She thought he was a bit sulky but he does what his sister says. The carers at night tell me he sleeps and doesn’t scream out now so it appears he’s getting better. I understand that Terry needs special care, which we cannot provide here – but could we find a school or something here? It is going to upset them both when we split them up.’
‘I thought you wanted him moved as soon as possible?’
‘Well, yes, I did, but he seems settled now. I thought Billy Baggins was a troublemaker at first, but now he’s getting on well at school and most of the time he behaves … of course he never stops running everywhere, but boys will be boys, after all. You know best, of course, but I hate the thought of separating them,’
‘I should have to talk to Nancy before we move Terry,’ Mark said. ‘But I have booked a place for him in the clinic and I think it will be necessary to move him in the future.’
‘Oh, please give him a little more time,’ Sister said. ‘I think we misjudged him at the start. He’s just an unhappy little boy who needs his sister.’
‘I am reluctant to place him in a mental institution, because he has not shown himself as violent, merely surly and unbalanced. I do not feel that is sufficient reason to place an order of restraint. I shall not insist until the clinic can take him, but I really think we must make the arrangements soon for Terry’s own sake, as much as anything else.’
Mark was thoughtful as he left her office. He understood Sister Beatrice’s natural concerns about separating the brother and sister but was she right to think he was settling down or was it simply that Terry was getting better at concealing his frustrations? Mentally disturbed patients could be devious at times.
‘Mark! Were you coming to see me?’
Mark’s thoughts of Terry were suspended as Carole emerged from the sick room and walked to meet him, smiling. Her perfume, which she always wore despite it being an unwritten law that nurses didn’t at work, reminded him of the evening they’d spent together. Her eyes held an intimate, inviting look and he was immediately wary. Going to bed with her had been a mistake. He didn’t wish to hurt her or make her angry, but he had no intention of becoming more deeply involved with her.
‘I’m going to stay in the country with my mother and her sister next weekend,’ Carole said. ‘There’s a lovely old-fashioned inn where you could stay in the next village – if you wanted we could spend some time together …’
Warning bells rang in Mark’s head. He was undoubtedly in the wrong, because he should never have allowed himself to be drawn into that kind of affair – and out of consideration he must let Carole down lightly.
‘I’m afraid I’m just too busy,’ he said. ‘Perhaps another time.’
‘Oh.’ Something like anger flashed in her eyes, but in a moment it had gone. ‘Yes, of course. Another time …’
Mark walked away. He had the feeling that Carole was watching him and he knew she was angry with him for turning her down, but there was nothing he could do. He would send her flowers, apologise for what had happened. After that, he would just have to find excuses for not seeing her again. He felt pretty rotten for his behaviour but there was no way he could pretend that he felt otherwise; she certainly didn’t deserve it after what he’d done … but the last thing he wanted was to become even more involved so that he felt obliged to marry her.
Carole’s eyes narrowed as she watched Mark walk away. Outwardly, she’d managed to remain calm, but inwardly she was fuming. No man did that to her! She’d thought he was well and truly caught, and he’d certainly been no trouble to coax into bed once they were at the hotel. He’d snuggled up to her naked body and murmured a name, but it was too indistinct for Carole to hear.
Unfortunately, Mark had been far too drunk to make love to her. He’d kissed her a few times and stroked her thigh and the small of her back, but then he’d turned on his back and fallen into a deep sleep. She’d hoped for better results in the morning, but she’d gone to the bathroom and when she returned he was already dressing, apologising for having to leave hurriedly. He had appointments he couldn’t break but he’d talk to her later, so he’d promised in his haste to get away.
So the evening hadn’t worked out
as she’d hoped … but she didn’t think Mark knew that; in fact she was certain he wouldn’t have looked so uncomfortable if he’d remembered. Mark believed they’d made love and that meant she still had a hold on him … in fact she could have him in the palm of her hand. In a few weeks she would cry and tell him that she was having his baby. A man like Mark Adderbury wasn’t the sort to turn his back on a woman he believed was carrying his child …
A smile touched her lips as she began to plan. She would go over the record book and wherever it had been initialled by Sister Beatrice she would change figures: just one here and there, but important drugs, drugs that could be dangerous. And then there was the rota … she could double-book one of the girls and that would cause chaos. Her smile broadened. She knew just who she was going to double-book.
Yes, she would have Sister’s job before she’d finished – and with a bit of luck she would have Mark Adderbury on the end of her string too.
THIRTY-FIVE
‘Tiddles has gone,’ Betsy said, tears trickling down her cheeks as she leaned against Sally’s legs and sniffed. ‘We all loves him and now he’s gone …’
Sally stroked her hair, smiling tenderly down at the tearful child, because she knew how much the little girl loved the stray cat the children had adopted. Pets were not supposed to be tolerated at St Saviour’s, but the tiny kitten had turned up in the garden one day looking thin and vulnerable and the children had saved scraps from their meals to feed it. It had grown plumper and sleek and was a general favourite with the children and staff alike, and even Muriel had been known to save a few fish skins for their pet.
‘Perhaps he’s just hiding somewhere,’ Sally said. She’d been off duty for a couple of days and wasn’t sure what had been going on in her absence. ‘Shall we all go in the garden and look for him? Everyone put your coat on and then we’ll look. He might have got shut in the shed.’
‘The shed is locked, miss,’ one of the boys said. ‘The caretaker keeps the key in the cellar.’
‘Well, we can look through the window and if we see him, we’ll fetch the key – but he might just be hiding. He could be somewhere in the house in one of the dorms.’
‘We’ve all looked for him,’ another of the girls said. ‘He’s been missin’ a week – I think someone has stolen him.’
‘No, that’s just silly,’ Sally said. ‘Why would anyone want to steal Tiddles?’
Sally marshalled the children and took them out into the garden. They all ran round looking under things, calling to each other, and then everyone peered in through the shed window, but no one could find him. After she judged they had looked everywhere, Sally took the children inside again. Since several of them were obviously upset over the disappearance of the cat, she took them to the kitchens and asked Muriel if they could look in there and the scullery.
‘I was wondering where the poor creature was myself,’ Muriel said. ‘Look as much as you like, my dears – but don’t touch them sharp knives on the table there.’
The children promised they wouldn’t and conducted a thorough search of the pantry, scullery, kitchen and the toilet area, returning with glum faces when no trace of the cat was discovered. Sally apologised for the intrusion and the search party moved off. Cloakrooms, the dorms, and every cupboard they saw were investigated, but still no sign of the pet was found.
‘He must have wandered off,’ Sally told the disappointed children as the bell sounded for their lunch. ‘I expect he will come back again. Now off you go and wash your hands.’
Sally was shepherding them towards the bathrooms when Angela came to meet her. ‘You’re back then,’ she said. ‘I haven’t seen you lately because you were away and I had a couple of days off work, too. My mother wasn’t feeling well and Sister let me take my holiday to look after her. Did you have a nice visit?’
‘Yes, lovely,’ Angela said. ‘What have you been up to this morning? I heard a lot of voices just now.’
‘We were searching for Tiddles,’ Sally told her. ‘Apparently, he’s been missing for about a week and the children are worried. You haven’t seen him, I suppose?’
‘No … now you mention it I haven’t seen him for some days – since before I went home, when I think about it. He often comes to visit me in my office, likes sitting on my lap as I work … Do you think he’s been knocked over in the street?’
‘I hope not. The children adore him. I can’t understand him running off, because he was so thin when he came to us and now he is well-fed.’
‘Surely he wouldn’t?’ Angela frowned. ‘Cats often get shut in places, don’t they? I’ll speak to the caretaker and ask him if he’ll look in the cellar for us. It isn’t safe for the children to look down there, but I’ll speak to him now.’
‘Some of the children do sneak down there,’ Sally said. ‘Billy Baggins used to and … I saw Terry coming from there a few days ago …’
‘Terry …’ Angela frowned. ‘I wonder … No, I’m sure he wouldn’t …’
‘What is it?’
‘Oh, I saw him with the cat a few days ago, and then I found the salt pots had been tampered with. He was teasing it and it scratched him. He kicked out at it and I told him not to. He said he was sorry and the cat walked off, wagging its tail the way they do when they’re angry. It didn’t like Terry.’
‘Animals always know.’ Sally frowned. ‘I don’t trust that boy. There’s something wrong with him if you ask me.’
‘I think he’s just moody, and he can be sullen, but he’s all right unless you upset him.’
‘You said the cat scratched him,’ Sally reminded her. ‘You don’t think he would harm it?’
‘No, I’m sure he wouldn’t,’ Angela said, ‘but I’ll go and find the caretaker now. I’ll ask him to have a good look in the cellar – and in the cupboards under the stairs. Anywhere the cat might have got shut in.’
‘Yes.’ Sally gave a little shiver. ‘You’re still on for next week?’
‘Of course I am. It’s your birthday. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
‘Andrew will be seeing Mark Adderbury this afternoon. He’ll ask him – it’s booked for Friday next week. Don’t forget.’
Angela promised she wouldn’t and went off to look for the caretaker. Sally rounded up the children and then took them to the dining room. She settled them with their choice of meal and then Nan came up to her.
‘Could you take some sandwiches and a pot of tea up for Staff Nurse Carole, Sally? She says she is too busy to come down for it this morning, because she has some new patients to admit to the wards.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Sally said, and went into the kitchen to fetch a plate of nicely cut tomato and paste sandwiches and a fresh pot of tea. She wouldn’t have chosen the duty for pleasure, but Sally never refused when Nan asked her to do something.
She took the lift upstairs, knocked at the door of the sick room and then went in. There was no sign of Carole, so she placed the tray on the desk and was about to leave when she saw that the record of medicines had been left open on the desk. Sally was puzzled, because it was normally kept in the cupboard with the medicines themselves. Glancing down at the entries, she saw that one column looked slightly odd and she brushed her hand over it, realising that an eraser had been used on a couple of figures. Someone must have made a mistake and wanted to correct it before Sister saw the book. She looked again and saw that the entry had been signed off by Sister herself – so why was someone erasing some of the figures?
Sally was puzzled but turned away from the book as she heard a child crying. It was coming from the bed at the far end of the ward and she saw it was a little boy, whose name she didn’t know.
‘Hello, I think you’re new here,’ Sally said, sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘What is the matter? Do you feel ill?’
He shook his head, knuckling his eyes. ‘I’m thirsty. I asked the lady for a drink but she wouldn’t give me one … she said I must wait until she came back.’
‘Is this your
first day here?’ Sally asked. ‘Have you been ill?’
‘I was sick,’ the child said. ‘I’m always sick when I go somewhere new – but I’m not ill and I taste bad.’
‘Your mouth is dry, I expect,’ Sally said. She looked above the bed but there wasn’t anything to say he couldn’t have a drink. ‘Would you like a glass of orange?’
‘Yes, please,’ he said, staring at her hopefully.
‘All right, I’ll get you one,’ Sally said. ‘What is your name?’
‘I’m Alfie, miss. Alfie Jones.’
‘Well, stop crying and I’ll fetch your drink.’
Sally smiled at him, got up and went into the nurses’ rest room. She made up a glass of the concentrated juice with water and took it back into the ward. As she started towards Alfie’s bed, the door opened and Carole entered.
‘What do you think you’re doing with that orange juice?’ she asked sharply.
‘Alfie wanted a drink.’
‘Please do not interfere. I’ve told you before, I am in charge here. Alfie is on a very strict regime. He has a tummy bug – something you wouldn’t understand – and he can only have sips of water.’
‘Oh … I’m sorry. There was nothing above his bed to say he couldn’t have a drink.’
‘I don’t have to tell you. The night nurses will have the sense to check Alfie’s notes. You should not even be here without a nurse to supervise.’
‘I brought your lunch up because Nan said you were busy.’
‘That does not give you the right to interfere with my patients. If you do so again I shall report you to Sister Beatrice.’
Sally bit her lip. Carole was being particularly nasty to her and she didn’t know why. Perhaps she had been wrong not to check Alfie’s notes, but Michelle and the other nurses always placed a nil by mouth notice above restricted patients’ beds so that it was clear to everyone. Obviously Carole had her own routine and as a lowly carer, Sally couldn’t argue. She apologised and left, feeling that she would like to tell the nurse what she thought of her, but if she did that she might find herself out of a job.
