by Sheila Tibbs
“I have never before realised how cold this place looked,”
Sarah said, so quietly it could have been to herself. Holding her hand, he smiled, “Come.”
Slowly they left the car, Sarah leaving the passenger door open, in case she needed to run back to the vehicle quickly, and, together, they slowly mounted the front steps.
Father Mather took out his Crucifix and Bible and started to recite the Lord’s Prayer out loud. Sarah stood directly behind him, holding on to the back of his coat.
Father Mather turned the handle and the door swung open. The hallway was empty, the house apparently in silence, all apart from the radio Sarah had left on in the kitchen. Together they entered.
“Show me the way to your study,” Father Mather whispered to Sarah.
Without saying a word, Sarah pointed the way.
Once inside the study, Father Mather closed the door. Sarah stood staring at her computer screen.
“I left the computer on.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I took the photo album back upstairs, intending to come back in here to print of the picture, it was on the screen,” she said.
“Does the computer switch itself off ,if it’s left too long?” he asked.
“No, no it doesn’t. It would go onto a screen-saver, until I was ready to use it again.”
Slowly, Sarah reached for the buttons. Her hands shaking, she turned the computer back on. It whirred and flickered until there, on the screen, was Isobel’s mother. They both stood there staring at the image.
“She is indeed a beautiful woman, but so sad.” Father
Mather’s voice caught in his throat. Sarah looked at him and smiled an acknowledgement of what he was feeling.
“The pain this poor woman has suffered is unbearable.”
Tears now running from his eyes, he looked at Sarah, and she knew he was hurting, as this poor woman had hurt.
Quickly, she printed off the image and turned off the computer.
Handing it to Father Mather, he folded it and nodded his thanks, still too upset by what he had seen in her eyes to speak.
Together, they walked around the downstairs of the Manor, Father
Mather blessed each room, finishing in the kitchen. Sarah felt happier now, the blessing of the rooms downstairs made her feel safe.
Relaxing a little, she offered Father Mather a hot drink.
After Father Mather had finished, they walked upstairs.
Father Mather blessing each room he came to. Outside Isobel’s door, he stopped.
“Not this room, she will know, and it may make her angry,” she said.
“This room more than any other, Sarah.”
Sarah could feel the fear rising, like bile, in the pit of her stomach. Father Mather reached for the door. It wouldn’t open.
Throwing Holy Water on the door, he demanded it to open. The door seemed to buckle and groan ... but it remained shut.
Again, he demanded it to open, this time a voice screamed out from within.
•
At school, Isobel screamed. Her left hand appeared scolded.
“I need to get home, now!” she shouted.
The teacher ran her to first aid, where the school receptionist – come – first-aider tended to her hand.
“How on Earth did this happen?” she demanded.
Isobel’s teacher, pale from shock, just shook her head.
“Well?” she screamed.
“I don’t know! We were sitting in class, doing Maths, when Isobel screamed out. I really have no idea how her hand got burnt.” She was almost crying now.
Isobel sat there staring angrily.
“I said, I need to go home. NOW!” The tone of her voice now deep and menacing.
“Yes, yes, of course you do, dear. Just let me finish dressing your hand and I will phone your foster mother.” The receptionist smiled.
“I said NOW!” Unable to control her anger, the dressing trolley flew across the room, just as the receptionist reached for the bandage. She stared at Isobel, then the teacher.
“Sorry,” she said, “I must have caught the trolley with my elbow.”
She walked over to the trolley and retrieved the bandage.
'I didn’t knock the trolley,' she thought to herself, 'I would have felt it if I had, and I didn’t. What’s happening here?'
Back at the chair, she leaned forward to Isobel’s hand. Her own hands were beginning to shake as she wrapped Isobel's injury, as quickly and neatly as she could, then left the room to phone Sarah.
•
The phone rang, making both Sarah and Father Mather jump. Staying together, they both rushed to Sarah’s bedroom and picked up the receiver.
“Hello,” Sarah said.
A long silence followed. Sarah stared at Father Mather, her eyes widening second by second.
“Okay. Thank you, I will be there shortly.” Shakily she replaced the receiver.
“Well?” he asked. “Who was that? Was it the school?”
Sarah, unable to take her eyes off the phone, said, “Yes, it was the school. Isobel has apparently been burnt.”
“So she has become one with the room, “he said.
Sarah looked at him, as though it was the first time. “I can’t do this. I can’t cope with this. Is she now going to hurt me?”
Tears stung her eyes.
“No, I don’t think so. I think she needs you,” he said, trying to re-assure her.
“You don’t think so?” she said, “what if your wrong
Father, what then?”
He didn’t have the answer.
“What do you mean, you think she needs me? Needs me for what?”
She wanted to scream at him, shout and hit out, but she couldn’t. Instead she collapsed onto the floor and cried.
“I wish I knew,” he said.
Bending down, he comforted her. He offered to give Sarah a lift to the school, but she declined. Together they left the house and each climbed into their own cars.
At school, Isobel sat there, smiling.
As Sarah and Father Mather pulled away, you could just hear the sound of the music box, playing in the wind.
Chapter twenty.
Father Mather pulled up outside Rochford Mental Health unit and turned off the engine. He sat there for a few minutes staring up at the building. It was 11:20. He had ten minutes until his appointment, and, after leaving the car, he walked to the main entrance.
Patients were walking about inside the lobby; some just stared at him, some through him. He walked to the desk and waited for a member of staff. A woman approached him.
“Hello, can I help you?”
Father Mather turned and looked at the young woman. She was dressed in a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, and she wore trainers on her feet. Father Mather smiled.
“Yes, I’m Father Mather, I have an appointment with...”
He paused to check the name of the doctor on his note pad, “with Doctor Spencer. I’m just waiting for a member of staff.”
“I am a member of staff.” The young woman laughed.
Blushing, Father Mather said, “Oh, I do apologise, you’re dressed so casually I thought...”
“Don’t worry, it’s an easy mistake. We all dress casually here, and always wear trousers!”
Father Mather held out his hand. “Well, in that case, let me start again. I’m Father Mather.” His smile warmed to the young woman.
'He was probably a very handsome man, when he was younger,' she thought, 'his eyes are so kind and that smile ... I know plenty of men who would kill for a smile like that.'
“And I’m Penny, Penny Bowen. I’m one of the staff nurses here, and I’m pleased to meet you.” She accepted his outstretched hand and shook it gently.
“Do your patients always walk around the front lobby?” he asked, looking around himself.
“Yes, some of them, but don’t worry, they are harmless.”
“Don’t they ever try to leave he
re, walk straight out the front door?”
“And go where?” she asked. “Come on, I’ll take you to
Doctor Spencer.”
Together they walked deeper into the building. Past wards with patients lying in beds, nurses and carers darting here and there, medicine trolleys crashing up and down the corridors. Some patients were inside rooms on their own, shouting and calling out.
“Don’t you ever feel uneasy here?” he asked Penny.
“No. Not any more. I used to when I first started ... it’s a bit daunting, isn’t it?” she smiled.
Father Mather smiled back and nodded.
They walked through a pair of double swing doors and the noise level dropped drastically and took Father Mather by surprise. Penny noticed the look on his face as his eyes darted all around.
“Sound proofed,” she said.
“Sorry?”
“This wing is sound proofed. That’s why the noise has stopped. The doctor’s rooms are down here and they can’t concentrate on their sessions with the patients if they are distracted by the noise, and their patients can’t concentrate on the doctors if they are being disturbed, so it’s sound proof.”
Penny stopped outside a door about halfway down the corridor, on the right hand side, and knocked gently before entering.
“Father Mather to see you, Doctor Spencer,” she said and moved to the side to allow Father Mather to enter.
“Ah, Hello, Father Mather.”
Father Mather walked into the room and stopped. Clearing his throat he held out his hand and said, “Hello, Doctor Spencer, thank you for seeing me at such short notice, you must be very busy.”
Doctor Spencer took his hand and said, “Please, call me Miriam.”
“Please excuse me for staring like I did, but I was expecting a man, a much older man.”
Laughing, Miriam said, “You spoke with my colleague, Simon. And yes, he is much older ... but don’t tell him I said so.”
The office was small but cheerful and colourful pictures adorned the cream walls.
Her desk sat central to the room with comfy but worn armchairs scattered around. A small table held a stack of magazines and another, smaller desk to the right, hosted colouring pens and pads of plain paper.
“Please, sit down, anywhere you like,” Miriam said and sat behind her desk. Files where piled high and she moved them to a stack already present on the floor beside her. Thanking her, Father Mather sat at the chair in front of her desk, so they were facing each other.
“So, my colleague said you are looking for a woman, and believe she could be here?”
“Yes, that is correct. It is most important I find this woman, but unfortunately, I don’t have a name, only a print out of a picture that was taken about seven or eight years ago.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the picture and handed it to the doctor. Miriam studied it and handed it back.
“I’m sorry, Father, but I don’t have a patient here that resembles this woman. Can you tell me anything? Only patients suffering from certain illnesses can ... change. I don’t know how, but they do. They look nothing like their former selves. Don’t forget, Father that a lot of the more severe patients are tortured souls ... they age, their hair changes and becomes lifeless, they lose weight. So, what do you know of her?”
“Not very much really. By all accounts she is, or was, the mother of twin girls, identical. Apparently she is, or was, very religious, and, like a lot of people, she believed that there is good and bad in every one. However, she was also a believer that in identical twins, one was good and the other evil, not a mixture of both as in everyone else.”
He paused while the doctor made some notes, and, when she had finished, she nodded for him to continue.
“Well, she was supposed to have killed her daughter, the one she believed to be evil. She was a difficult baby, from what I can gather, needed more comfort than her twin ... that sort of thing, and that is all I know.”
“And her daughters names?” she asked.
“Ah,” he said, “there the problem can start. I only know one, the one that is still alive and in foster care. Isobel, her name is, Isobel.”
“Father Mather, thank you for sharing your information with me, but the lady you are asking about is not here.”
Father Mather nodded.
“But,” she continued, “I haven’t been here long, just over a year now, but I came here from Moorlands, do you know it?”
“Yes, I have an appointment there this afternoon.” He could feel his heart begin to race. He knew he was getting closer.
“I believe the lady you are after is in Moorlands, Father.
We have a patient there, or rather they have a patient there who supposedly killed her baby daughter ... but always protested her innocence, saying her twin killed her. She also insisted that one was good and the other, the surviving twin, was pure evil. But she doesn’t look anything like your photo, which is why I probably didn’t recognise her. She wasn’t my patient, so I don’t know too much, but the doctor you need is Ben Williams. He will be able to assist you.”
“Thank you, Miriam, you have been most helpful,” Father Mather said as he stood to leave.
“Tell me, Father, just out of curiosity, why do you want to find her?”
“I believe she is right about her living daughter.” He smiled and left the room.
Doctor Miriam Spencer sat at her desk chewing the end of her pencil. Picking up the receiver on the telephone, she dialled. When the call was answered she said, “Doctor Williams please.”
•
Father Mather sat in the small café in the Village Square.
The young waitress, whose badge read; Donna, smiled as she placed his coffee in front of him. She left the bill and walked away.
He took out the photo of Isobel’s mother and studied it. She was indeed a beautiful young woman, but her eyes held such heartbreak and sorrow. It pained him to look at her, so he carefully put the picture away. 'The winter has set in fast,' he thought.
The heavy grey sky hung what seemed to be just out of reach, and the threat of snow lingered in the air. The shops that lined all four sides of the square where competing with each other for the loudest Christmas tunes and decorations, and the local council had placed a large tree in the centre of the square which was adorned with beautiful baubles and lights. They had also placed a fence around the tree base, to stop unruly teenagers from vandalising the object that was to bring good will to all who saw it.
Young children were running around as their mothers gossiped and shopped, playing catch with each other. Father Mather smiled at the sight of the youngsters. So innocent, so pure, what did their future hold?
'Enjoy your childhood while you can and don’t grow up too quickly,' he thought quietly to himself.
Finishing his coffee, he left a pound on the table and opened the door. The winter chill whipped around him, and pulling his collar up round his neck, he walked into the busy streets.
In the nearby phone box, he called Runwell Hospital and thanked them for their kindness, then told them that he wouldn’t need his appointment after all. Then he phoned Sarah. Sarah replaced the receiver and felt thrilled that they may have found Isobel’s mother, but worried that it would prove nothing. What if she had really killed her daughter? What if she believed Isobel to be all-good, and would hear nothing said against her? What if she even denied having a daughter? There seemed to be a lot of 'what ifs' and now Sarah wished she had gone with Father Mather, to hear it all first hand.
Back in his car, Father Mather decided he would drive out to Chelmsford for lunch and see if he could alter the time of his appointment at Moorlands. Doctor Spencer had told him to ask for Doctor Ben Williams, and he hoped he could see him sooner rather than later .He wanted to be home in the warm before nightfall. He reached forward and turned up the heater in the car. The hot air blowing on his feet and his hands slowly began to warm him after a short time. Sarah glanced at the clock
on the wall; seven o’clock Father Mather had said. Be round the cottage at seven.
It was now 12:45. Six hours and fifteen minutes to go. She didn’t think she could wait that long, she needed to know and know now.
The ringing of the phone made her jump. With her heart dancing violently in her chest she picked up the handset.
“Hello,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Hello, darling, just thought I’d give you a ring to say I love you,” David said, cheerfully, down the line.
“Oh. Hi, love, it’s you,” she said, “I love you too.”
“Are you okay, Sarah, you sound … out of breath?”
“No, I’m fine, honest. I was out the back and ran to answer the phone, that’s all,” she lied.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” She felt herself smile.
“Okay then. And have I got a surprise for you tonight when I get home?” the excitement in his voice evident.
“Oh, that’s nice. What time will you be home, David, only…” She broke off.
“The usual time, love, only what?” he said.
“Only I had told Father Mather I would pop round tonight to help him with the Christmas programme,” she said, lying again, “but it doesn’t matter, Father Mather won’t mind doing it another night.”
“No, that’s fine, love,” he said. “Your surprise is for us later, when Isobel is tucked up nice and warm in bed. So you go do what you have to do and I’ll watch Isobel when I get home.”
“Are you sure, David, because I don’t mind cancelling?”
'Please say you don’t mind!' she said to herself over and over again.
“No, that’s fine, love, honest. Anyway, must go, see you tonight. And, Sarah, I love you.”
The phone went dead.
•
Doctor Williams had agreed to see Father Mather earlier than expected, and was waiting for him at the main entrance when he arrived. After introducing themselves they walked quickly to the doctor’s office.
“Please, call me Ben, we are all on first name terms here, it helps the patients to relax, and creates trust. Please, take a seat.” Thanking him, Father Mather sat down.
“Now, I’m not going to lie to you, Father, or beat about the bush either. Miriam phoned me when you left her this morning and filled me in. Have you still got the picture with you?”
