by Amy Cross
“Help!” I scream, pushing Mother's shoulder over and over again but still not getting her to react. Her eyes aren't even blinking. “Help! Mr. Randall, something's wrong with Mother!”
Chapter Seventeen
“No!” I scream, as Mr. Randall tries to pull me away from the bed. “Stop! Let me go!”
Ms. Harper tries to come and help, but I immediately kick hard at her face. She ducks out of the way at the last moment, but I try again and again until I hit her shoulder. She lets out a cry of pain and falls back, but at that moment Mr. Randall puts an arm around my throat and holds me tight.
“Stop it!” he shouts. “Sylvia, stop right now!”
“Let me go back!” I scream, trying to push him away and get to the bed so I can reach Mother again. “She's not dead! She's just asleep!”
“Sylvia!”
“Let go!”
He adjusts his grip, but I manage to lean and bite him hard on the wrist. I dig my teeth deep into his skin until I taste blood, and then I keep biting even though he's gasping in pain. At the same time, through tear-filled eyes I can see Ms. Harper clambering onto the bed and shaking Mother, calling her name over and over again and sounding more and more worried.
Chapter Eighteen
They're out there talking now, in the lounge.
Sitting on the end of my bed, with my feet dangling over the edge but not quite reaching the floor, I wait for Mr. Randall or Ms. Harper to come through and tell me what's happening. They're talking very quietly, in hushed tones, as if they don't want me to hear. I thought they'd be rushing around by now, calling for an ambulance and trying to make Mother wake up, but there's been none of that.
In fact, other than the distant whisper of their voices, the apartment seems very quiet.
Nobody else has come yet.
Staring straight ahead, I think back to the moment when I was pushing Mother's shoulder. By the time Mr. Randall came into the room, I was crying, but Mother's face still hadn't moved at all. I ended up pushing her so hard, I rolled her onto her back. Her eyes and mouth stayed open, but it was her left hand that really scared me. Somehow, her hand remained curled against her chest, as if it was stiff and couldn't fall away like it should have done. Now, in my mind's eye, I keep thinking about her hand.
Why didn't it move?
I don't know how long I sit like this, but eventually I hear footsteps coming to the door, and I look up just as the door bumps open. Ms. Harper steps into the room, and I'm immediately shocked to see that her eyes are red and filled with tears as if she's been crying a lot. She looks scared, and she comes over very cautiously before kneeling on the carpet in front of me and taking hold of my hands, and finally she looks up into my face and tries – but fails – to smile.
Mother's dead.
I know it for sure now.
No, wait...
She's not dead, she can't be dead. Mother wouldn't die, not like this.
“Hey,” Ms. Harper says, her voice sounding like a whisper. “I...”
She pauses, as if she doesn't know what to tell me.
“Mother isn't alright, is she?” I reply, and I can hear my voice starting to crack.
“No,” she says. A fresh tear runs down her cheek as she swallows hard. “Sylvia, I don't know how much you knew, but your mother has been... battling something. She hasn't been very well for a long while. She didn't want you to know. I mean, she didn't really tell any of us very much, just what we needed to know so we could look after you. One thing I'm certain of is that she thought she had a lot more time. She must have just... I guess it snuck up on her.”
“What was wrong with her?” I ask.
“Her body was sort of starting to eat itself,” she says, before pausing again. “Well, that's not quite right. Have you ever heard of cancer?”
I nod.
“She had a type of that. She didn't trust normal doctors very much, she thought there were other things she could do to make herself better. I know that might not make much sense right now, but she was fighting so hard so that she could stay with you. She still absolutely thought that she'd live a long life, and that she'd get to see you grow up and become whatever and whoever you want to be in life. She loved you so much, Sylvia. You were the most important thing to her in the whole world.”
I pause for a moment, before remembering that I didn't tell the truth during the night.
“I did something bad in the night,” I say finally, “and I didn't tell Mother. Could that have made her die?”
“No!” Leaning forward, she gives me a big hug, holding me tight and close. “Don't ever think like that, Sylvia. What happened to your mother was nothing to do with anything you said or did.”
“I didn't tell her that I went down to see the mermaid,” I sob, as tears start rolling down my face. “I always told her everything, and then last night for the first time I kept a secret and now she's gone.”
I wait for Ms. Harper to reply, but she simply continues to hold me tight.
“I was only down there for a few minutes,” I continue, sniffing back more tears. “Mother changed it so that I could operate the elevator with my fingerprints, but I know she didn't mean for me to go down by myself. I just couldn't sleep and I wanted to see the mermaid again because she's so beautiful, but I didn't realize it was going to be so dark in there. I just tried to talk to her, and then I came back up, but I didn't tell Mother until she was asleep and then she didn't hear and now she's gone away and left me forever, so how do I know it isn't my fault for keeping a secret?”
Again I wait, but again Ms. Harper says nothing.
“I didn't cause this to happen, did I?” I ask.
Again, nothing.
“Did I?” I whimper, starting to panic. “Please, I didn't cause anything bad to happen by keeping a secret, did I? I only wanted to see the mermaid again.”
I wait, and finally Ms. Harper pulls away from the hug and stares at me.
“Please,” I say with a trembling bottom lip, “did I do a bad thing?”
“You went down to see a...”
Her voice trails off. Her eyes still look sore from crying, but there don't seem to be any more tears. Instead she's staring at me with a puzzled expression, and after a moment she starts furrowing her brow a little.
“It's not my fault, is it?” I ask. “Did I make Mother go away?”
“No,” she replies, “of course not. Sylvia, no, never, but...”
I wait for her to finish the sentence.
“But what?” I ask.
“What you said just now,” she continues, “about going downstairs in the night. What exactly did you go down there to see?”
Pausing, I start to realize that I've already said too much.
“I'm not allowed to tell anyone,” I explain cautiously. “Mother said -”
“Your mother's not here now,” she replies, cutting me off. “Sylvia, I'm so sorry, but some of the rules are going to be different in your life, now that your mother's not here. A lot's going to change for you, but I'm certain your mother would want you to be big and grown-up, and to take on some of her responsibilities. So how about you start by telling me what you went to visit down there?”
“Where's Mother now?” I ask. “Is she still here? Can I see her?”
“You mentioned a mermaid. You were joking about that, right?”
“I want to see Mother.” Suddenly I feel like I have to go back to her, like maybe if I shake her really hard she might wake up. “I want to see if I can help her!”
I try to get up from the bed, but Ms. Harper grabs my arms and holds me in place.
“You can't do anything, honey,” she tells me.
“I have to try!” I sob. “I can make her better! She didn't wake up for you, but she'll wake up for me if I try again! I just didn't do it right last time!”
“That's not how it works.”
“You don't know that!”
I try again to get up, but she holds me even more firmly this time
.
“I want to go to her!” I shout.
“Don't get angry!”
“I want to go to Mother!”
“Tell me about this mermaid,” she replies. “You didn't mean an actual mermaid, did you? What did you really mean?”
“Let go of me!” I yell, struggling harder. I manage to slip free of one of her hands, and then I twist around to try getting away from her all the way.
“I was hoping I wouldn't have to use this,” she mutters. “Please, Sylvia, you have to calm down. Don't have another one of your tantrums.”
“I want to go to Mother!” I shout, filled with a growing sense of anger. Why won't she let me go to Mother? “I want -”
Suddenly I flinch as I feel something sharp in my arm. Pulling away, I find that there's a syringe sticking out of my arm. I try to slide it out, but somehow my hand feels really heavy and puffy now and the whole room seems to be spinning.
“It won't hurt you, I swear!” Ms. Harper explains. “It's just to calm you down. You're dealing with a lot right now, Sylvia, and this will help you rest.”
“No!” I stammer, but my voice is slurring. I manage to pull the needle out, but then when I get off the bed my knees immediately buckle and I collapse to the floor. “No,” I try to say again, but now my entire face seems numb and I slump down until my face is pressed against the bristles of the carpet. I can't even cry out now, and it's as if everything inside my body has become a thousand times heavier.
“It's okay,” Ms. Harper says as I lose consciousness. “It's just for an hour or two. It's to help you, I promise. Everything's going to be fine.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Wake up.”
“What?”
Startled, I open my eyes and sit up. I'm on my bed, in my room, but after a moment I realize I can feel and hear my heart beating fast. That sensation quickly fades, and then I'm left sitting on the bed and not quite remembering how I got here.
Glancing at my bedside table, I see that it's 9.40AM, which means I should have been up hours ago. Mother will be -
And then I remember.
Mother.
Mother's gone.
I feel a sudden wave of nausea twisting from one side of my tummy to the other and then up into my chest. I want to believe that Mother's okay, that I just had a bad dream, but a moment later I realize I can hear Mr. Randall and Ms. Harper talking in the distance. Then I remember the needle, and when I pull my sleeve up on my left arm I can just about make out a sore red spot. I was getting angry earlier, because Ms. Harper wouldn't let me go to Mother, and then...
Then she injected me and I fell asleep.
Clambering across the bed, I slip off and hurry quietly to my door, which has been left ajar. I can hear Mr. Randall and Ms. Harper's voices a little more clearly now, although I still can't make out what they're saying. I wait a moment, and then I slip out into the corridor. I don't know why, but I feel very nervous as I start creeping along toward the hallway, although after a moment I stop at the turning as I realize I can finally hear their voices properly now. They've talking quietly, as if they don't want to be overheard.
“I know it sounds crazy,” Mr. Randall is saying, “but we've been saying for weeks now that she was up to something.”
“Sure, but -”
“And do you remember what I overheard her saying on the phone? She was specifically talking about a water tank that was being installed on the floor below this one.”
“I know, but -”
“And about two specimens she was expected. I heard her mention the word mermaid at least once. I told you, remember? We both thought that maybe she was finally losing her mind, that maybe the cancer was affecting her thought process.”
“She must have been,” Ms. Harper replies.
“And then that Collier guy showed up and started working down there, and the pair of them were thick as thieves. I looked him up online, Jenny. Ian Collier is an expert on marine biology, with a particular interest in cryptozoology. You know what that means, don't you? It's about hunting for creatures that regular science doesn't acknowledge.”
“Sylvia's a confused little girl. God knows what's going through her mind right now. She was probably just rambling and -”
“And by chance she happened to mention something that links to the big secret her mother was keeping from everyone else?”
“Maybe she overheard her mother and it influenced her.”
“Maybe,” he says, “or maybe there's actually something down there that's worth checking out. I'm not saying it's an actual mermaid, because we both know that's ridiculous, but Catherine Sykes was not crazy. She spend tens of millions over the last few months on something, and that something is down there right now.” He pauses. “I'm not saying we should do anything wrong, but this is our one and only chance to take a look. We've suffered through a lot of crap from this woman, and maybe now...”
His voice trails off.
“Maybe now,” he adds finally, “it might be payback time. We can at least take a look. Who's going to know?”
“We should call someone,” Ms. Harper replies. “That poor woman...”
“That poor woman was a bitch to use both,” he says firmly, “and delaying calling an ambulance for another hour won't hurt anyone. Trust me, this could be worth doing.”
They continue talking, with Mr. Randall still trying to persuade Ms. Harper, but after a moment my attention is drawn to the open door that leads into Mother's room. I know I shouldn't go and look, but deep down there's a part of me that still thinks this must all be a big misunderstanding. Mother's probably downstairs at work, just like normal, and I had some kind of weird dream that just seems real.
I listen to Mr. Randall and Ms. Harper for a moment longer, just to make sure they're still talking, and then I creep over to the door and peer into the bedroom.
I freeze as soon as I see Mother.
She's still on her back in bed, in exactly the same position I remember from earlier. Her eyes are open, staring at the ceiling, and her mouth is open too. Her left hand, meanwhile, is still curled against her chest as if it's stiff. Somehow, deep down, I instantly realize that everything earlier wasn't a dream, and I can feel a sense of panic slowly starting to rise through my chest until I take an instinctive step back.
My bottom lip is starting to tremble.
“No,” I whisper, “please, just wake up and -”
Suddenly I bump against the wall, but I can't help staring through the open doorway and watching Mother on the bed.
“Please wake up,” I stammer. “You can't leave me alone. You have to come back.”
Before I can say anything else, I hear footsteps nearby, and I turn to see Mr. Randall and Ms. Harper coming into view at the end of the corridor. They stop as soon as they see me, and for a moment I actually have to fight the urge to run away.
“Hello Sylvia,” Mr. Randall says, making his way calmly along the corridor. Stopping at Mother's door, he looks through at her for a moment before pulling the door shut and then turning to me. Whereas Ms. Harper always crouches down to talk to me, he stays standing and I have to look up at his face. “This is a very unusual morning, isn't it?” he continues. “There's a lot happening, and it must be very confusing for you. I understand that, but first I want you to know that everything is going to be just fine. Your mother had made ample preparations for this moment, so that you're provided for. Among other duties, I served as a witness to her will, and I am named in that will as her sole executor. So you see, she put everything in my hands, and I'm going to make sure that you're fine.”
Staring up at him, I realize I don't really understand what he's saying.
Suddenly he takes a step closer to me.
“Your mother was very busy over the past few days,” he continues, while rubbing the spot on his wrist where I bit him earlier. “I know there were some things she meant to tell me, but she didn't have time. I don't know if she knew that her sickness was getting much wo
rse, but maybe she suspected. Anyway, there are probably things that happened recently that she never quite got a chance to mention, but I'm sure she told you all about them. After all, Sylvia, you and she were so very close, weren't you?”
I don't know why he's talking like this.
He sounds very calm, but also very much like he's thinking hard.
He sounds different to how he sounds usually.
Behind him, Ms. Harper looks nervous.
“There's a lot to do today,” Mr. Randall continues, “but I'm going to make it as uncomplicated as possible for you. First, though, I need to ask you for a favor, Sylvia. I'm certain that your mother would want me to know exactly what I'm dealing with here as I look after you, so I need you to take me and Ms. Harper down in the elevator to the floor below this one. We can't use our fingerprints to make it work, but you can use yours. Are you willing to do that for us, Sylvia?”
He waits, but I don't know what to say. All I can think about is the fact that Mother wanted me to keep the mermaid secret from everyone.
“This isn't a time for secrets,” Mr. Randall says, taking another step toward me until I really have to crane my neck to look up at his face. After a moment, he places a hand on my shoulder, but he doesn't grip me tight. “Secrets are a bad thing, Sylvia,” he continues. “Now please, I'm asking you person to person, if you'd be so kind as to take us down to the lower floor. I promise you, it's what your mother would want you to do right now.”
Chapter Twenty
I still don't know whether this is right.
Stepping out of the elevator, I look along the brightly-lit corridor. I just want to be upstairs, I want to sit with Mother, but Mr. Randall says I can do that later. He says that right now I have to think of what Mother would want me to be doing, and he says that now Mother's gone I'm going to have to be more grown-up.
Mother always said that too.
She said I had to be grown-up.
So I suppose Mr. Randall is right. And anyway, I trust him. He'd never lie to me.
