by Amy Cross
“Tell me!”
“Would you like some bread and jam too?”
“Tell me!”
“I'm so tired,” she replies. “I think I have to go and sleep, just for a few hours.”
“And you're not going to -”
“Can we drop it, Rachel?” she continues. “Please? Yes, a nurse lived here twenty years ago, and yes there was something about a child at a hospital, and there might have been some other trouble too, but I really don't want to talk about it right now. It all happened a long time ago and it doesn't affect us at all. End of story.”
“None of that explains why we're living here,” I point out. “A crazy nurse wouldn't have lowered the value of the property to the extent that we can afford to move in.”
“Suddenly you're an expert, are you?”
“It's simple economic logic. Mum, I just...”
I pause for a moment.
“Do you believe in ghosts?” I ask finally.
“Of course not. And neither do you.”
“But if -”
“You're far too sensible and intelligent for that rubbish,” she adds. “Please, Rachel, don't start making drama.”
“I'm not, it's just that last night I -”
“Where do you want to sit while I'm napping?” she asks, and from her tone of voice I can tell that she really doesn't want to continue the discussion. “Upstairs? Downstairs?”
I pause for a moment, before figuring that I should wait until she's a little less tired.
“What kind of day is it?” I ask cautiously.
“It's quite nice out there. Sunny.”
“Maybe you can park me on the porch, then,” I continue. “I can listen to the sound of the world as it passes me by.”
Chapter Twelve
Alice - Twenty years ago
As soon as I someone coming down the stairs, I get to my feet, and a moment later Mrs. Lewis comes through to the kitchen. She's smiling as she removes a pair of green plastic gloves from her hands.
“Well?” I ask cautiously. “How did he seem?”
“Your father is...”
She hesitates for a moment.
“He's basically the same as last week,” she continues. “There's no notable deterioration of his condition, although obviously it's difficult to be certain. I tried to persuade him to take a trip to hospital, but he insists he's not leaving the house.”
“He's been saying that for a while now,” I tell her.
“It'd be useful to get a scan of his torso. Have you tried to change his mind?”
I nod. “He's got it into his head that if he goes in, he won't be able to come out again. He wants to spend his final months here in this house, and he's convinced that people are trying to trick him into leaving.”
She pauses, and I can tell she's concerned.
“Your father's tumor isn't going to be getting any smaller,” she says finally. “It's still pressing on his gallbladder, which is most likely why he's so constipated. Plus, the hernia isn't exactly helping. If he'd agree to come to the hospital, there are certain things we could try. A stent, for example, would relieve the pressure, even if it's only temporary, and we could work to clear the blockages that are keeping him from going to the toilet properly. He'd be so much more comfortable, at least.”
“I know.”
“Is he still refusing to take pain-killers?”
I nod. “He says they make him confused.”
“He's in agony.”
I nod again.
“And how are you coping, Alice?”
I bristle slightly. “I'm fine, I just -”
“You're not fine,” she continues, taking a step closer. “I've known you for a long time, Alice. I remember the day you arrived on our ward, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to work. I hope you don't mind if I'm candid about this, but right now you look like you're about to drop. You're clearly exhausted, and having your father at home like this is -”
“It's what he wants,” I point out, interrupting her.
“Is it what you want?”
“He's my father,” I continue. “What am I supposed to do, walk away?”
“If he insists on being at home, a nurse could -”
“He won't allow it,” I add. “He says that since I'm trained as a nurse, I can do everything for him.”
“But that's an awful lot of pressure on you.”
“I'm fine,” I tell her, although I'm aware that I might be blinking a little too fast. That's something that happens sometimes when I'm under particular pressure. “Honestly. He's my father, and I'm the only real family he has left, so it's only right that I should be the one who looks after him. That's what family is for, isn't it?”
She stares at me for a moment.
“Are you sure you're not punishing yourself, Alice?”
“Why would -”
“Because of Anthony Harper.”
I shake my head. Why did she have to bring the boy up?
“The review board hasn't reported its findings yet,” she continues. “You poor thing, you must be terrified about Thursday. Even if it was your fault, that kind of thing happens to all of us and -”
“Have you ever killed someone by giving them the wrong medication?” I ask.
“No, but -”
“It was more than a mistake. It was much worse.”
She sighs. “When the review board reports on Thursday, it's perfectly possible that you'll be -”
“Is there anything else you need to do here today?” I ask, interrupting her before she can go into detail.
“Alice -”
“I'm fully aware of the procedure,” I continue. “Believe me, the whole thing has been explained to me in great detail. Right now, however, I'm fully focused on looking after my father during his final months. I'm his daughter, and I have a duty to provide the best possible care. And that's a duty I would never dream of ignoring.”
I wait for her to reply, but she's watching me with an expression of pure pity.
“You really don't need to come every week,” I tell her. “Everything is under control here. My father is doing as well as can be expected. If he needs anything, I can always call.”
“I don't just come because I'm worried about your father,” she replies. “I also come because I'm worried about you, Alice. The strain must be unbearable, and this house...” She pauses. “I can feel the tension in the air. It's all around. This isn't a home anymore, it's more like a medical facility. How can you possibly -”
“I have things to do,” I add, interrupting her again, “so really, if you're done for today...” My voice trails off for a moment, and I wait for her to take the hint.
Suddenly there's a loud bump from upstairs, followed by several more, and I realize that Father is trying to get my attention again.
“He needs me,” I explain, forcing a smile in an attempt to reassure her, “so if you'll excuse me, I must go to him. I'm afraid you'll have to show yourself out.”
Chapter Thirteen
Rachel - Today
“Are you the new neighbor?”
Turning to my left, I listen to the sound of footsteps coming closer.
“Sorry,” he continues, “I didn't mean to bother you. I just saw you sitting on the porch and I thought...”
His voice trails off.
“It's fine,” I tell him, realizing that since I'm wearing sunglasses, he might not even realize that I'm blind. I should take them off and let him see, but then he'll act differently toward me. I want to have a normal conversation, even if it only lasts for a few more seconds. After all, first impressions are important, and the whole blindness thing can wait. “I was just sitting here watching the world go past.”
Watching the world go past? Listening to it, more like.
“I'm Aidan,” he says. He sounds young, and confident too. Happy. Relaxed. “I live next door with my mother. You might have seen me out in the driveway, tinkering with my bike.”
“My nam
e's Rachel,” I tell him, wondering whether I can hide the fact that I'm blind for a little longer. Then again, what's the point? He'll find out soon enough. “Mum and I just moved in yesterday.”
“Cool.”
“And I'm...”
I pause.
How do I explain this? It's pathetic to keep the truth hidden, and I refuse to be pathetic.
“The glasses,” I continue, reaching up and tapping the bridge. “I guess maybe you figured out that I'm blind.”
“Oh. No, I didn't really...”
Again, his voice trails off.
“It's no big deal,” I continue. “I'm just waiting for my other senses to step up and take the strain, you know? I'm working on the whole Matt Murdock, Daredevil thing, but it's not been long enough yet. How long did it take him to get those super-senses, anyway? Am I just being impatient?”
I wait, hoping that he might laugh, but all I hear is the sound of a car passing.
“Are you still there?” I ask finally.
“Yeah! I just...”
“You've never met a blind girl before?”
“Oh, well... Yeah, I guess I have, I just...”
He seems embarrassed. Suddenly his confidence is gone, and perhaps his interest too. That's my fault. Whereas a moment ago he seemed keen to chat, now he just sounds awkward, as if he wants to leave. Hardly a shock. Even if he hasn't spotted the edges of my scars as they poke out from beneath the sunglasses, he probably thinks blind girls aren't much fun. I don't blame him at all.
“Are you still there?” I ask again.
“Yes! Absolutely!”
“So do you know anything about this house?” I ask, figuring that it might be best to change the subject. “Mum isn't really telling me much, but I'm getting the feeling that something might have happened here. I know there was a nurse who got into trouble for killing a patient, but there has to be more to the story than that.”
“Well...”
I wait, but now he seems uncomfortable.
“Are you sure you're still there?” I ask, hoping to make a little joke.
“Yes! Absolutely!!”
I force a smile. “Sorry, it's just hard to tell sometimes.”
“No, I was just...” He pauses. “Well, I mean, I guess you know about the whole Alice Bradshaw story, right?”
“The nurse who killed a kid?”
“There's a little more to it than that,” he continues, although he sounds pretty awkward. “I don't really know where to start, but it's kind of a local legend. Do you know about the stuff with her father?”
“What stuff with her father?”
“Well, it's pretty crazy. I mean, it all happened way before we moved here, so I don't know the details at all.”
“Please tell me it's something gross,” I continue. “Am I living in a haunted house? That'd be kinda cool, seeing as how I can't see anything. I'll just be able to hear all the spooky noises.”
“It's just... There was the whole thing where she went kinda crazy.”
“Go on.”
“I don't know the specifics, not exactly. Just what I heard.”
“Was she an ax-murderer?”
“It's more like she lived in the house with her father,” he explains, “and it was just the two of them, and he was pretty sick. I think they didn't have much contact with the rest of the world, at least not near the end of it all. Anyway, the story goes that she just, like, totally flipped one day and killed the old man. And her brother too, I think. And I think some other stuff went down too.”
“Did she kill them with an ax?”
“I don't know. I guess it's possible.”
“So two people were murdered in this house by a complete psycho?” I ask, unable to keep from smiling. “Seriously?”
“I don't know the exact details, but... I guess I could find out.”
“That'd be great,” I reply. “I knew Mum was keeping something from me. Maybe those Daredevil senses are starting to come online after all. I mean, I don't want to act like some kind of psychic, but I swear I could kind of feel something weird about the place. Like, I don't know, maybe when something really bad happens, somehow part of it gets left behind. Do you think that's possible?”
“Huh,” he mutters. “Well... Maybe.”
“And the house has been empty ever since?”
“Yeah,” he replies. “I mean, we moved here a few years ago and no-one's lived in it until you guys showed up. I'd kind of gotten used to it looking so rundown. I work on my bike a lot, and sometimes I look over at this place but... Until yesterday, it just seemed to be totally abandoned.”
“I guess the landlord finally managed to get all the blood cleared up,” I mutter.
“Maybe it's something like that. Like I said, I'd have to check up on the details some time, but I could do that for you.”
I wait for him to continue, but now he's fallen silent.
“I'm still here,” he adds finally.
“We have soda and stuff in the fridge,” I tell him, worried that he might leave. After all, he's the first person I've spoken to for several weeks. Apart from Mum, obviously. She's great, but it would be nice to grab even five minutes with someone else. Anyone else. “I mean, if you want to hang out for a while...”
“Oh...”
Silence.
“Maybe some other time,” he continues, and now he sounds nervous, and more awkward than before. “Thanks for the offer, though. I just... I have to fix a few things on my bike.”
“No worries,” I reply, suddenly feeling dumb for having even asked. I mean, he sounds pretty hot and cool, so why the hell would he want to waste his time getting to know some stupid blind girl? I'm not being self-pitying; I'm just being realistic. “It was just an idea,” I tell him, “but I bet you've got stuff to do and places to be, right?”
“Kinda,” he mutters. “Um, so I should get going. I'll see you around, though. And if I find out anything else about the nurse who lived in your house, I'll definitely let you know.”
“That'd be great,” I reply, despite the fact that he's clearly just being polite. I'll probably never speak to him again. “Thank you.”
Once he's gone, I lean back and take a series of deep breaths. I can't believe I actually invited Aidan to come and hang out for a while. He must think I'm a complete idiot, but I guess for a moment there I kind of forgot that I don't have a chance. Still, it's going to take time for me to get used to how things are, and to remember that the rules are different for me now. I just hope I didn't scare Aidan off forever. After all, I could really, really use someone to talk to, someone apart from Mum. I guess I just let my desperation get the better of me for a moment.
“Dumb,” I whisper under my breath, as I realize that Aidan probably wants to avoid me now. “Dumb, dumb, dumb...”
Chapter Fourteen
Alice - Twenty years ago
“No, she'll be fine,” Malcolm is saying as I reach the door and look through into Father's room. “You know what kids are like. She just needs to adjust to a new school.”
“She's a good girl,” Father replies with a faint smile. “Tell her to stick up for herself, though. And make sure she knows that her Grandpa is proud of her. She's a smart kid. Maybe she'll even grow up to be a doctor, like you and Judy.”
Just as I'm about to step back and leave the two of them alone, a floorboard creaks beneath my right foot and they both turn to me. Immediately, Father's smile fades a little, as if he's disappointed that I've interrupted his time alone with my brother.
“What is it?” he asks. “What's wrong?”
“I just thought I'd see if you wanted more tea,” I reply, as the board creaks again.
Father peers into his cup, before holding it out toward me. “Might as well make yourself useful. But put more milk in this time.”
“How're things going, Sis?” Malcolm asks as I head over to take the cup. “Is the old bugger keeping you on your toes?”
I smile politely. If only he kne
w the half of it, but he only drops by for an hour once a week. I know he's busy, and that he has a career and a family to deal with, but at the same time it can be frustrating when he shows up and acts like everything's okay. He's not the one who has to clean Father's diaper, or change his bags, or deal with the many little problems that arise each and every day. And yet, Father is always so pleased to see him, whereas I'm treated like nothing more than an annoyance. Malcolm is a doctor, and I'm just a nurse.
“She should be a bricklayer,” Father mutters. “She doesn't exactly have a gentle touch.”
He lifts the duvet and then pulls his pajama top aside.
“See that bruise?” he asks. “That's what I get from her!”
I can't help sighing. “You were trying to -”
“Excuses!” he snaps, pulling the duvet back up. “More excuses!”
“Come on,” Malcolm continues, “I'm sure she's doing her best. You're not exactly an easy patient, Dad.”
“She'll probably end up giving me the wrong pills,” Father says with a sigh, “and finishing me off, just like she finished off that poor little boy. She sees him about the place, you know. The little shit haunts her!”
Malcolm smiles.
“I'll bring more tea,” I tell them, turning and heading to the door.
“Tell your brother!” Father calls after me. “Tell him how you see the kid's ghost!”
“Leave her alone, Dad,” Malcolm says, but I can tell he's amused.
“It's what she deserves,” Father continues. “After what she did to him...”
They're still chatting away as I make my way downstairs. My hands are trembling so much, the cups are rattling, but I know I have to stay strong. Still, there are tears in my eyes and by the time I get to the kitchen I feel as if I'm going to collapse. After setting the kettle on to boil, I sit at the kitchen table and listen to the muffled sound of voices from upstairs. I want to scream, but instead I force all the thoughts from my mind and focus on trying to find some scrap of inner peace.
Upstairs, Father and Malcolm are laughing.
Chapter Fifteen
