Isobel

by Sheila Tibbs

  “And what do you make of that, Sarah?”

  Ben was scribbling down some notes as he spoke.

  “Well she’s either lying, or Isobel hid when she heard her coming,” she said.

  “And where would she hide?”

  “In one of the other rooms, I suppose.”

  “Don’t you think the person occupying that room would have seen her?” He looked up from his pad.

  “Maybe. Maybe the nurse is lying, maybe she did see Isobel and she just said that she didn’t.”

  “And why would she do that, Sarah?”

  “Maybe Isobel has made her say that. I’ve told you she’s evil. She can make people do what she wants them to do!” She snapped.

  “Sarah, David came and saw me today.”

  He put his pen down and clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. Sarah looked up, her eyes alight for the first time in two days.

  “Did you ask David?” she asked. “He’ll tell you all about Isobel. What she has done to our small community. How he got rid of her.” Sarah's face contorted into pure hatred.

  “I did ask him about Isobel. He said you never fostered a little girl and that Isobel was dead and best left to rest in peace. What do you make of that, Sarah? Why would David say you hadn’t fostered a child if you have ... and why let Isobel rest in peace?”

  Sarah’s face changed again. Puzzlement replaced the hatred that had been there moments before. You could almost hear the clogs of her brain turning, trying to make sense of what she believed to be true, no, knew to be true and what Ben had just told her David had said. She looked up at him.

  “You’re lying. David knows, he wouldn’t deny it. Ask him again.”

  “I’m not lying, Sarah. I have no reason to lie. I gain nothing from lying to you. But, yes, I will speak to David again if you like.”

  “Yes, I like!” she shouted, then stood up. “I’d like that very much.”

  She started to pace around the room. She stopped in front of his desk and looked at him. Slamming her fists on the desk she snapped. “In fact, get him on the phone now, I’d like to ask him myself.”

  “Calm down, Sarah,” Ben said, almost dismissively.

  “Calm down! How dare you tell me to calm down!” she screeched.

  Then in a calmer voice, she said. “You haven’t believed a single word I have told you, have you. Tell me, Ben, why am I here? Why?” The tears welled in her eyes and she swallowed hard.

  “You’re here, Sarah, because we need to get to the root of your… anxiety,” he said.

  “Ha ha. Very diplomatic of you, Ben,” she said, sarcastically. “Why don’t you say what you really mean. You never say what you really mean, do you? I’ve had enough of playing your games, Ben. I’m not suffering from depression in any shape or form. I didn’t try to commit suicide, like you think I did, I’m not insane, just scared.”

  Ben looked at Sarah and studied her for what seemed like ages.

  Sarah refused to look away and break his gaze, fearing it would prove her to be as mad as she now believed he thought she was.

  Eventually, Ben looked back at his notes, before clearing his throat.

  “Sarah, I don’t think you're mad, I think you're troubled, yes. Mad, no.”

  “Will you promise me one thing, Ben?” she whispered.

  Ben looked back at Sarah. “What would you like me to promise you, Sarah?”

  “Speak to David again, please. I want to go home.”

  With that, Sarah left his office, her head held high, her back straight and then walked off down the corridor, back to her room.

  Ben sat, pondering over what had just happened in his office. Rubbing his eyes, he thought, 'Yep you're getting too old for all this, mate. You’re supposed to be reading them like a book, not the other way round.' Sighing, he looked back at the notes he had just made and crossed the whole page out before tearing it from its binding and throwing it in the bin.

  Standing, he walked over to the window and looked out. The weather had been true to the time of year, leaving a covering of snow on everything it touched.

  Looking into the distance, Ben noticed it was getting difficult to distinguish where the ground ended and the sky began, the colouring was so similar. He shuddered as though a draft had just caught his neck by surprise. Instinctively he looked behind him, almost expecting someone to have just come in the room, but it was empty.

  'Maybe, just maybe, Sarah is telling the truth, as bizarre as it is,' he thought, ' ... and David is lying. But why would David lie? Perhaps he wants Bethany to himself. Maybe he wants Sarah out of the way. No. Sarah’s story is just too bizarre to be true, and David obviously loves her very much.'

  “Yes, Sarah, I’ll keep my promise, I’ll speak to David again,” he said aloud.

  Sarah sat in her room, thinking.

  'So you’re hiding the truth, David, are you? Liked being visited in the night by that thing, did you? Is that it, she’s back, visiting you again? Yes, it must be. Well, I will get out of here, mark my words, and when I do ... God help you.'

  •

  David laid Bethany down for the afternoon, switched on her cot mobile and left the room. The sound of ‘girls and boys come out to play’ filled the room. Bethany looked up and smiled.

  Chapter twenty-eight.

  That evening, David had fed, bathed and laid Bethany in her cot, and she had been asleep in minutes.

  David sighed, he felt old and exhausted.

  Slowly, he descended the stairs and closed the lounge door quietly behind him. He flicked on the television and sat down heavily. An adaptation of Charles Dickens', ‘A Christmas Carol’ was just beginning and David smiled as he remembered how

  Sarah loved this story and wondered if she was in the group room, at the hospital, watching it.

  'Perhaps she doesn’t know it's on,' he thought, 'maybe I should phone and let her know. No, they probably won’t let her come to the phone and it is getting late, maybe she’s not allowed in the group room at this time of night.'

  Instinctively, he glanced at the clock on the mantel, seeing it was nine in the evening already. 'God, how I wish Sarah were home here, where she belongs.' Tears began to sting his eyes.

  'I miss her so much, so does Bethany, she needs her mother and I’m exhausted.'

  He tried to stop the thoughts bombarding his mind but he failed, and the tears began to flow freely.

  The first ghost, the one of Scrooge’s partner, Jacob Marley, had just entered Scrooge's bedchamber, when there was a loud knock on the front door, making David jump and cry out. He could feel himself begin to blush at his stupidity, and was glad that he was alone in the lounge at that moment in time.

  Quickly, he rushed into the hallway and to the front door, before his untimely visitor could knock so loudly again and wake Bethany from her much needed sleep. He opened the door and there stood Ben, Sarah’s doctor.

  “Hello, David, I’m sorry to trouble you this late, but I need to speak to you, quite urgently,” he stuttered. 'Shit,' he thought,

  'Why am I here? Shit ... it seemed like a good idea earlier.'

  “Sorry, David, I have no right to disturb you at home, I wasn’t thinking, perhaps it would be better in office hours. Please forgive me,” he blushed.

  David, still reeling from shock at finding Ben on his door step, quickly grabbed Ben’s arm as he turned to walk away.

  “No, Ben, I’m sorry, just a little surprised to see you that’s all, please forgive me. Come in, you must be frozen,” he said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I’d be pleased of some company to tell you the truth.” He stepped aside for Ben to enter. Ben stepped into the warmth of the hallway and smiled,

  “Thanks,” he said and blew into his cupped hands to warm them.

  “Here, give me your coat and go into the lounge, the fire's on and I’ll get you a drink.” David smiled back.

  Ben walked into the lounge, the glow of the Christmas tree light
s and the fire made the room look like it had just stepped off of a Christmas card. All that was missing was the young child you normally saw, sitting by the window, watching for Santa and his sleigh to fly through the night sky.

  Ben was in front of the fire, rubbing his hands together, when David walked in carrying two large tumblers of scotch, and held one out for Ben.

  “Here, that’ll warm your cockles,” he said.

  “Oh, thanks,” Ben said gratefully.

  David set the drinks down on the table and motioned for Ben to take a seat.

  “Before you start, Ben, may I ask you a question?” David said. “Are you married?”

  “No, I’m not married, not any more anyway.”

  David nodded his understanding. “Ben, I already know why you’re here, or at least I think I do. You’re here to talk about Isobel, aren’t you? And yes, I am still pleased to see you. I could do with the company to be truthful, like I said before. I think I owe you some sort of explanation, and an apology for walking out this morning, you took me by surprise that’s all.”

  “Cheers, David, merry Christmas.” Ben held his glass high in a toast to the season and David did the same, their glasses clinked together and they both took a big gulp. The liquid warmed as it worked its way down and together they sighed.

  They sat there in silence, just enjoying each other’s company and watched the rest of the film David had been watching.

  Twice David had refilled their glasses and Ben felt himself relax for the first time in ages.

  “I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed that film,” Ben said when it had finished. “Albert Finney was always the best Scrooge, don’t you think, David?”

  “By far, no one has ever played that part better,” he agreed.

  “So, Ben, what do you want to know?”

  “Anything and everything you know about Isobel,” he said.

  “What has Sarah said about her?”

  “You know I can’t discuss that, David. Patient confidentiality and all that, sorry.”

  “Then let me summarise what I think she has said for you. Just nod if I’m right and shake your head if I’m wrong, can you do that?” he asked.

  Ben nodded.

  “Then Sarah has said that Isobel is a seven year old girl ... who is evil and killed lots of people ... and has now taken over our daughter, Bethany.”

  Ben looked at him in surprise.

  “I know there is more, but I did say I’d summarise,” David said.

  “But how did you know?” Ben said, unable to control the surprise in his voice.

  “Because I’ve lived with it all my married life.”

  “So, who is Isobel? Does she really exist, or is she all in Sarah’s mind?”

  “No. I think I’d better start at the beginning, or as near to the beginning as I know. Yes, there was a little seven year old girl called Isobel, and yes, she’s dead, has been for a long time,” David said.

  “So, what happened to her?” Ben sat forward in his chair.

  'Yes, I’m about to get to the bottom of this, I can feel it.' He thought.

  “Isobel was Sarah’s identical twin.” David paused to see Ben’s response and was pleased to see shock set in.

  “Sarah’s twin? But….” He stumbled to find the words and David raised his hand to halt him.

  “I know, I know. She didn’t tell you that, did she?”

  Ben shook his head.

  “Isobel was beautiful, long black hair that shone a bluey colour in the sun light, eyes that sparkled like sapphires. Mind you, so did Sarah’s at that age, only her hair wasn’t as shiny and her eyes not as blue. Isobel was out-going, while Sarah was shy and timid. She was good at sport, dancing, singing, everything. You name it and Isobel would be good at it. Sarah on the other hand, just faded into the background. For a while she was happy to be there but, after they started school, she began to hate being the forgotten one and hated Isobel for want of a better word.” David paused to let all he had just said sink in.

  “So, Isobel was Sarah‘s twin? And she was what? ... jealous of her?” Ben said, almost in disbelief of what he was hearing.

  “Yes, basically,” David agreed as he stood to replenish their glasses again.

  “But what you need to remember, Ben, is that we are talking about seven year old little girls here. Sarah was brought up to live in Isobel’s shadow. Her parents thought Isobel was the best thing since sliced bread and were always telling Sarah she should be more like her sister. Whenever they were with other family members, or friends, neighbours, in fact anyone who would listen, they were always talking about Isobel, what she had achieved in the past, and what her latest victory was. Whenever anyone asked after Sarah, they were always met with the same answer, ‘Oh, you know Sarah.’ Eventually people stopped asking after her, pushing her even further into the shadow cast by Isobel, which by then, seemed a very large shadow indeed.” David paused to have a drink from his half empty glass and to poke the fire, which by now was dying down.

  Ben sat there, trying to make sense of all he had been told so far and was desperate now to hear the rest of the story David was telling him. It all started to make sense to him somehow. Sarah was, it seemed, a very disturbed, young woman.

  “So, no-one had time for Sarah then, poor little mite.” Ben felt saddened at this thought.

  “No, not quite, her grandparents, the previous owners of the Manor, loved Sarah very much. Apparently there were numerous rows between them and Sarah’s parents. They were appalled by the way they almost ignored Sarah over Isobel and

  Sarah used to spend a lot of her childhood here, with them, while Isobel was being taken all over the country by her parents, for some dancing contest, or sport activity somewhere or other. Being here with her grandparents was the only time Sarah was truly happy. She was the apple of their eye, and had, for the time she spent here, a little of what Isobel had, every day of her life.”

  David looked at Ben. “Really, you have to pity her, don’t you?”

  Ben nodded in agreement. Tears for this poor little girl stung his eyes and he blinked hard.

  “How could a child’s parents act in such an appalling way to their offspring? How did Isobel act with Sarah? Was she competitive? Did she also belittle Sarah in the same awful way as her parents did?” There were so many questions Ben wanted to ask but

  David again silenced him with his hand.

  “Slow down,” he laughed and Ben found himself laughing too, but his laughter almost bordered hysteria.

  Why was he feeling so desperate for this young child? 'It was years ago, she’s now a young lady, a young lady in his care who is obviously still living in her dead sister’s shadow.'

  The thoughts danced around in his mind. They seemed to go faster and faster until they were so jumbled, he couldn’t make sense of them anymore. He shook his head to dispel the chaos that was present and said, “Please, David, go on.”

  “Isobel was so perfect, Sarah’s words not mine, that she loved Sarah and used to say to her, don’t worry, Sarah, everyone is good at something, you’ll see, your time to shine will come. That made Sarah hate her even more, she didn’t want, didn’t need her pity, and that was how Sarah saw her kindness ... as pity. Sarah would do all sorts of things to get Isobel in trouble, like dress in her clothes and let the boat go from its moorings, so their grandfather would have to wade into the lake to retrieve it. Or she would go into her room and throw her clothes around and drop them on the floor of her wardrobe so it looked like she was being disrespectful to her belongings. Her parents just used to clean up behind her though, and say nothing. Her grandparents knew, of course, that it was Sarah and used to smile and wink at her to let her know they knew.”

  David again stood and poked the fire, which was almost non-existent by now.

  “Ben, would you like another drink? Or a coffee perhaps?” he asked and stretched his spine. Sitting there for so long had made his bones seize and he needed to get the blood flowing through his v
eins again.

  “Yeah, thanks. Coffee would be nice,” Ben answered and stood to follow David into the kitchen. He was impressed by the cleanliness of the place. David was obviously very domesticated, unlike himself, and he felt ashamed when he thought of the state of his flat. He promised himself that he would clean it up before Christmas and his New Year resolution would be to keep it clean and tidy. He had great respect for David. All he’d been through ... was still going through ... and he could keep on top of domestic chores as well, what a hero.

  “So, tell me, David, how did Isobel die?” Ben questioned.

  Together they walked back into the lounge and sat back in the same seats as before.

  “Apparently, and this is according to Sarah’s grandparents, you understand. Sarah had always loved the Manor, as I believe I said earlier, and her grandparents had always said that one day it would be hers, or half of it anyway. One night, Sarah couldn’t sleep. She didn’t feel well, or something, and she came downstairs to see her grandmother and overheard her parents and grandparents arguing in the lounge.

  The door wasn’t shut properly, just slightly open, so she stood outside to listen. She knew it would be about how wonderful Isobel was, but was shocked when she heard her mother say, 'We just can't connect with her, bond you know? It’s like she’s not our daughter.' Her grandmother had screamed and screamed at her mother and father saying that the only reason they had never bonded with Sarah was because they had only time, and love, for Isobel, and that Sarah would live there with her and her Grandfather, rather than go into care. If they insisted on leaving Sarah behind, then they would be cut out of their will and everything, including the Manor would be left for Sarah and Sarah alone. Of course, her father had put up a fight, after all, the Manor was his, by family rights, and he had planned to leave it for his children in his will. His father had then said for both your children or for Isobel ... and the row had continued.”

  “No! Are you serious?” Ben screeched. “Those evil people wanted to take Isobel away with them ... and put Sarah into care? Separate their twins? How could they choose one daughter over another like that, it’s unbelievable!”