The Green Room

by Faith Mortimer

  There was a stunned silence as we took it all in. One or two girls fished out some tissues from their handbags and wiped their eyes.

  “That’s the fifth one, isn’t it?” Ann Lacy Ellison sniffed. “It’s a horrible way to die. No one’s safe.”

  “Here…have you noticed something? Apart from all the women being killed in Surrey, they’ve all been dark-haired. I’m dark-haired. Oh my god! What if this killer has a fetish for dark hair or something? None of the other women murdered has been blonde or redheaded. Oh no, what if one of us is next? He could be waiting outside.” Jacqueline Nelson’s voice climbed near to hysteria, but then she had always been a bit of a drama queen. She clutched hold of her neighbour’s arm.

  “Can I grab a lift with you, Mimi? I want to go home.”

  “I think I’m going to change my hair colour. Dark hair is definitely not lucky.” Mimi replied in a loud voice. The level of general conversation rose as alarm overtook the initial shock.

  Teresa grabbed my arm. She turned her troubled face towards me. “Have you got your car with you, Ella? I know Michael’s not here, but do you have a lift home? If not, Josh and I can drop you off. We’re just about to leave. ”

  I smiled. “Yes, I have my car here. I’ll be fine but thanks for asking.”

  “This whole Surrey Punisher thing is horrible. For Christ’s sake, when are the police going to catch him? They need to get their fingers out. He wants stringing up.”

  “I don’t know. Michael says he’s a clever stalker. The police believe he watches these women and monitors their movements before killing them. Because none of them has ever reported anything suspicious, he remains completely unidentifiable. He seems to be able to pounce without being seen.”

  “I’m glad we’re getting away for a few days. Manchester will seem quiet in comparison. We’re looking forward to it.” Her pretty face lit up, and I knew she was thinking about her younger brother.

  I smiled. “It’ll be great. Do send Sean my best wishes and congratulations. I can’t get my head round your brother no longer being a horrible fourteen-year-old with all the worry that comes with it. Do you remember when he grew all that cannabis and tried to sell it to us? He reckoned it was the best skunk in Surrey!”

  Teresa rolled her eyes and laughed. “Yeah! Sean Talbot, prince of skunk! He was a total horror, wasn’t he? But nine years and a first-class degree later, it’s amazing how he’s changed. Mind you, I think Laura has a lot to do with it.”

  Teresa and I have been great friends since junior school. We shared nearly all the same lessons over the years, growing up, and then took the same nursing degree course. She and her husband were about to leave the next day for her brother’s wedding, followed by a week’s holiday.

  “I’ll miss you, but have a great time up in Manchester.” I hugged her and we said goodbye.

  After she and Josh had gone, I looked round the room. Some of the girls looked scared, and I saw how the panic was spreading. Fear fed fear, it seemed. I caught Alex’s eye and knew the party would break up soon. Three girls near me were still discussing the rapist’s apparent fetish for dark hair.

  “I’m certainly not changing mine to blonde,” I said with a laugh, attempting to ease the intensity among the small huddle of student nurses. “Serial killer or no serial killer.”

  There were a couple of stabs at forced laughter, and a few minutes later, most people were back talking in subdued groups and throwing alcohol down their throats to allay their anxiety. I decided to leave, anyway.

  As I shrugged my arms into my coat sleeves, I wondered if Michael knew any more about this latest murder. Michael didn’t accompany me to the party because he was on duty that night, although there was no guarantee he would have come even if he had been free—he disliked parties, especially ones involving the medical profession. He wasn’t on the CID police team devoted to solving the crimes committed by the so-called ‘Punisher’, as he worked in the smaller neighbouring town of Godalming and not Guildford. His unit didn’t even have a dedicated police station—they had desks in offices inside the Waverley Borough Council offices in The Burys, in Godalming. I questioned whether Michael was a bit embarrassed by being part of a small provincial town’s police force, but he simply shrugged in reply. I had never been inside the offices to see where Michael worked, as he always made the excuse that he hated mixing work with pleasure. I respected his views because I knew it was good to get completely away from my own work sometimes. Even so, with the Guildford cop shop only a few miles away, he would have heard the latest dreadful news.

  Alex walked me to my car and checked no one was lurking around in the bushes as I started the engine. He was considerate like that. We hugged goodnight, and safely in my car, engine purring, I buckled up. It had been raining, and I wondered if this was the real beginning of autumn, as we had been having some glorious weather up until then.

  Driving home, I passed the land where the woman had been found. Halfway along the road, I saw a group of vans and cars parked nearby where a path cut across the playing fields. Flashing lights and yards of scene-of-crime tape clearly indicated the area where she was killed. It was the first time since the Surrey Punisher had begun his vile campaign that I had actually seen where one victim had been murdered only hours after it had happened, and it made me feel sick and nervy.

  I often walked or jogged across the fields. Okay, so I didn’t often venture across when it was getting dark, but that poor woman could so easily have been one of my friends…or me. I shuddered.

  Chapter Three - Ella

  The next day flew by, and I hardly found time to give a thought to the poor murdered woman.

  We were frantic in theatre, as there had been a major carve-up on the A3 just outside Guildford, and the ambulances bringing in the accident victims turned up in the Accident and Emergency Trauma Unit thick and fast. We saw most of the victims with one severe neurosurgery patient being sent to St Georges, London. It was a traumatic day all round. Five deaths as a result of the carnage and at least the same number again admitted for emergency surgery, plus countless minor injuries treated on site or brought in to A and E. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen so much blood, and the loss of life was heart-breaking. I thought briefly of Teresa and her family up in Manchester, enjoying the wedding celebrations.

  I bumped into Liam coming out of the theatre restroom as the morning list ended. He looked tense, weary and unusually distracted. He stopped, and although his usual polite self, after a few words, he cut short our conversation and hurried off down the corridor. I stared after him, wondering why he had acted so out of character. He normally treated each encounter as an excuse to chat me—or any other reasonably attractive nurse—up. I shrugged. He was most probably feeling the pressure more than usual; either that or he had an almighty hangover. We were all rushing around, but it wasn’t as if we weren’t used to it. I bolted down a sandwich and a bottle of water and returned to the remaining theatre cases. I had been scrub nurse most of the morning and was now taking my turn at running. I had at least four trolleys to get ready for the afternoon.

  At last, my shift ended. After tossing my theatre greens wearily into the bin and changing into my jeans and sweater, I remembered I had two whole free weeks to enjoy. Absolute bliss! The thought was an instant pick-me-up, and I couldn’t help giving a little grin at my reflection in the mirror as I planned my leisure time. It was going to be such fun. I could forget work and indulge myself for once in my life.

  I undid the clasp which kept my hair neat and tidy under my theatre cap and dragged a brush through my locks. I’ve always loved having long hair but it was getting too unruly. Time to think about having it cut. I applied a quick trace of lipstick and left the staff changing room.

  The air outside the building felt fresh and cool on my face after spending the day under the hot lights in theatre. I felt slightly light-headed as I walked to my car and put it down to my late night. At home, after Alex’s party, I kept think
ing about the latest murder for some reason, and although I was desperate for sleep, it eluded me. I resolved to have an early night in order to get cracking on my flat the next day.

  On my previous two days off, I bought paint, brushes, sandpaper, varnish and everything else I needed, and I was really looking forward to my two weeks at home. My flat was all my own. The first property I had ever owned and I loved it. As well as being a woman of property—that still made me smile—I knew I was pretty darned lucky all round. I had a job which I enjoyed, enough friends whom I cared about and parents who had made it all happen. They sent me to good schools, supported my choice of career, and then after I qualified as a general nurse, encouraged me to pursue my dream of specialising in the operating theatres.

  But the icing on the cake had been about eighteen months earlier when Mum and Dad bought an old listed building they planned on dividing up into flats. They hoped the leased accommodation would provide a decent income for them, and I considered it a good idea.

  When I first learnt about their proposals for the building, they didn’t tell me about their ultimate plan. I was too busy with my own career and life. But on my last birthday, my thirty-fifth, they presented me with a small set of keys. I can still remember it all as if it was only yesterday. I recall giving them a small puzzled frown before following them from our already re-furbished family ground-floor apartment up to the top floor.

  I had no cause to regularly visit this part of the old house during the main renovation work, but I recognised the smell of fresh new paint and sawn wood still rich in the air as we climbed the ornate stairway. On the top floor, there were only two doors: one to each of the flats. Dad always referred to them jokingly as the ‘penthouse’ apartments, and this time he walked past the first and stopped at the end of the landing. I noticed a twinkle in his eye as he exchanged a glance with Mum, and I got a warm fuzzy feeling deep down inside.

  Could I dare imagine that behind the door lay a special birthday present? Dad always loved playing games with me; I think it was the artist in him.

  “Go on then. You have the key—open it.” Dad stood back, his arm around Mum’s waist.

  My fingers trembled as I fumbled against the Yale, and then, as I heard a satisfying click, gave the door a gentle push. I stared and couldn’t say a word. I was trying hard to swallow the huge lump in my throat.

  “Say something, then,” Mum said, giving me a little push from behind. “Aren’t you going to go in, explore the place?”

  There was no furniture in the apartment and just a base coat of paint on the walls. I spun round, eyes wide.

  “Is…is this what I think? You’re letting me use it?” I gasped.

  They grinned, and the next minute, Dad was enveloping me in a warm embrace which included Mum.

  “Happy birthday,” they chorused.

  To say I was surprised was an understatement. I was staggered, rendered speechless at first. I flew from room to room, and as I admired the view from each and imagined living there, I broke into excited chatter. Eventually, after calming down, I stood still, but I was tingling with excitement.

  “Wow! Mum, Dad. This is amazing. I can’t take it all in.”

  “It’s all yours. The freehold is in your name to do whatever you like with it. But of course, we’d like you to live here…for a while at least.”

  Again, I stared, and my mouth dropped open before I burst out, “What? All for me? But I thought it was just for me to live in and pay you rent. Mine? Oh, wow! I don’t know what to say.”

  Dad chuckled. “Did you now? Why wouldn’t we give our only child her own home once we could afford it? The building’s our pension, and once we’re gone, it’ll all be yours. In the meantime, this flat is for you, and I hope you enjoy it, sweetheart. You’ve earned it…you’ve worked so hard during your nursing years.”

  Mum nodded, her smooth face pink with pleasure on seeing how happy they had made me. “We thought it was time you had a real place of your own. I know we’ll only be downstairs, as it were, but living here, you’ll be your own boss. You can come and go as you please, and maybe your Michael will finally pop the question.”

  “Leave the girl alone, Sibel,” I heard Dad mutter to Mum.

  I turned away and walked over to the window. Below me I could see down into the garden next door. The Browns always enjoyed the fruits of their labour, and the perfectly smooth green lawn and still-colourful flower beds that early autumn painted a pleasant picture. I rested my forehead against the cool glass as I mulled over Mum’s words.

  Michael. Two years was a fair old time going out with someone, as Mum called it. I doubted he would ever get round to asking that question. I truly believed he hadn’t the real commitment for living with someone. But truthfully, I wasn’t worried either. If I was completely honest, our relationship was based more on sex than mutual loving and partnership. And did I actually want to get married yet? I considered I was still reasonably young with time to further my career. Okay, so yes, I did want children sometime, but I wanted more of life before dirty nappies and vomiting infants took over. Yikes! Give me one step at a time.

  I turned back and smiled at my parents. “I think the whole flat is brilliant, and it’s a great idea being independent but still living near you. Mum, Dad, thank you so very, very much. I can’t wait to show Michael. Did he know anything about all this?”

  “No, love. We thought he might let it slip out and spoil our surprise.”

  “He’s the one who’s going to be surprised. Although I rarely venture into his place, this is a darn sight more luxurious. He really needs to spend time and money on it. As I remember, it’s a bit of a dump…even for a bachelor who hates housework!”

  “Do you think you might get engaged sometime?” Mum asked in a hesitant voice, a warm smile on her face.

  I shrugged and laughed, I knew she was dying to become a grandmother. “No, I don’t. You know him. He takes a long time to think everything through. But I don’t mind. I’m happy as we are, I don’t want to be tied down just yet.”

  Dad nodded. “If you say so. Being happy is what matters most.”

  ***

  Thinking about Michael as I drove home from the hospital made me realise I hadn’t spoken to him since early that morning. When I rang, he said he couldn’t spend long talking, and I assumed he must have been as busy as me. He had told me before that, although he wasn’t directly involved with the goings-on in Guildford, there was often a knock-on effect. Officers were moved around on a temporary basis on orders from Mount Brown, where the Surrey force had its police headquarters.

  I decided to ring him as soon as I got home. After working nights for the past few weeks, he was due to return to day shifts. Maybe he’d like to come round, share a meal together, watch television and catch up on news. I racked my brains as I went over the contents of my fridge; there was enough to knock up a stir-fry or a chilli.

  I changed gear and eased my foot off the accelerator.

  I knew Michael wasn’t the one for me. We never said anything, but I was sure he was of the same mind. It was partly my fault, as I was quite hopeless when it came to men. I had been out with plenty, but none was my ideal partner. Maybe I was fussy, but, as Teresa said, my Mr Right was out there somewhere. I frowned. I hated disappointing my parents. I knew Mum and Dad expected it; they joked enough times about how policemen and nurses so often ended up together. Apart from the lack of empathy between us, Michael was an okay guy, but not nearly ambitious enough. He joined up just before his twenty-fifth birthday after a string of what I considered pointless, uninspiring jobs and at thirty-six was still a constable. Once, in a rare moment, he let slip he took his sergeant’s exams long before we met. I had no idea why he failed, and he didn’t seem keen on giving me a reason when I asked him. He didn’t seem too interested in retaking them, either, although he became interested and intense when something riveting caught his attention from ‘on the beat’. I often wondered whether this lack of ambition would anno
y me more as I strived to further my own career. Deep down, I was sure it would, especially if we lived together. Was this another reason I wasn’t too worried about getting hitched? I knew I didn’t love him. And maybe our relationship was just too unexciting and sedate, apart from good sex. I was a shy person, preferring to be a follower rather than a leader, but perhaps it was time for me to think more about the future as Mum and Dad suggested.

  ***

  I turned the corner into our road and drove the last few yards to our house. I felt a familiar thrill go through me as I glanced up to the top storey. My place.

  My mobile burst into life, and as soon as I had parked, I pulled it from my bag lying on the passenger front seat. The screen read Michael Blakeney. Within minutes, I fell into the familiar routine and invited him round. I smiled wryly as I glanced in the driving mirror.

  So much for rethinking my options.

  Chapter Four - Ella

  As soon as I let myself in through the communal front door, Mum opened the door to their apartment and joined me in the hall. Similar in height to me, but slimmer and daintier, she wore her hair in a sleek chin-length bob, which she regularly had tinted to keep the grey at bay.

  “Hi, Mum.” I kissed her cheek and caught a whiff of her familiar favourite scent, Chanel No 5. The other door on the ground floor was closed, and I remembered that the occupants—an unmarried couple who worked in London—were away on a long holiday in Tenerife. Only Mum, Dad and I were in this part of the building. As far as I knew, the other two wings were almost full with tenants.

  “Hello, dear. Had a hard day? We heard all about that awful crash on the midday news. So many deaths…you must have been busy in theatre.”