by Liz Lawler
Climbing stairs with her tired clown’s face, she took off clothes and showered. She spurned the bottles of perfumes and lotions set out for her use, as a rejection of him. She dressed in clean jogging bottoms and loose T-shirt in an act of defiance. He was not there to see how she dressed or moved or sat or smiled. He was not there to witness this moment of freedom. She was dressed for action, not to be sat across a dining table. She intended to search this house while she had time alone for this woman’s name.
She stilled as she heard the doorbell ring. It was probably a delivery or some such thing. She could ignore it and pretend not to be home. It was after six, a time when most people were busy, having their tea, or bathing children, or just settling in for the evening, so not a convenient time. The bell sounded again and then a voice called out from the other side of the closed door. Tess startled. Her guard instantly went up, never imagining this caller coming to her door.
Anne Ferris smiled at her. ‘Impromptu visit, I know, and I would have called first if I had your number. I thought I’d take the opportunity while Ed and Daniel are having a working drink together. They’re discussing a difficult case coming up, I believe.’
Tess wondered if the ‘working drink’ was at Anne’s home or somewhere else. She felt sure her husband wouldn’t approve of this visit. She’d been surprised at him inviting Ed Ferris for dinner after knowing what his wife did for a living. She could dissect a mind with the same level of skill as he could repair a dissecting aneurysm, and well-qualified to deal with disturbed dark minds. Tess smiled at the woman as she let her into her home. She led the way to the kitchen and automatically switched on the kettle.
‘Would you like tea?’
‘Yes, please,’ Anne answered warmly. ‘Builder’s tea preferably, but without sugar. Builders all seem to like their sugar. The ones we have do. I have to remember to get it in for them.’
Tess’s mouth had gone dry. Why was she visiting? It seemed strange to just turn up like this.
‘What work are you having done?’
Anne sighed. ‘Endless projects Ed keeps starting and not finishing. We’ve had them at the house for two weeks now. They’re finishing a wall Ed started, a conversion to our front porch because Ed wanted it larger, and a window put in the garage because Ed wanted natural light in there so that he could do more projects.’ She laughed. ‘The man is endlessly busy and still wants to find time to work on projects. Being a surgeon it seems is not enough.’
‘So is he working at the hospital as well as working in the States?’
‘Oh yes. As soon as he steps foot on the tarmac he’s back to being scrubbed up.’ She looked at Tess a little surprised. ‘Have you not had the pleasure of working with him yet?’
‘No. I’m having a bit of a holiday sorting out this house,’ she lied brazenly. She was reassured she hadn’t been the topic of gossip at work. The conversations on Sunday had centred on several subjects, interesting ones about plays and places to visit, about food and wine and her wedding, of course. Nothing about the hospital or work had been mentioned. Ed hadn’t seemed to know she was off. But she shouldn’t be surprised – Stella seemed the type that wouldn’t allow it. Possibly only the few who were there that day were aware of why she wasn’t working. The few would become most once the outcome was known. Someone being sacked or struck off was harder to keep quiet about. Especially if it went into a newspaper, which it probably would.
She was finding it difficult to think of other things to say.
‘I saw Vivien on the train yesterday. That was a lovely dinner party she gave. She’s a great hostess, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, it was a very pleasant evening. Ed and I don’t get to socialise much with us both being busy.’ She smiled openly and shrugged her shoulders expansively. ‘If he’s not working on projects, he’s sat at his fish pond. Which is another enormous project all of its own entirely. He seems to enjoy watching them. Which is fine, I suppose, as I like to read.’
‘Me too,’ Tess replied, forcing some energy into her voice. She put a teabag in each mug – he wasn’t there to see how she made it – and made one stronger than the other. She took out a packet of biscuits. If she was eating she couldn’t be talking. She opened them and bit into one. Picking up the mugs she placed them on the kitchen table.
Anne joined her and sat down. ‘I hope you don’t mind me turning up out of the blue. I enjoyed your company the other night, Tess. I found what you said interesting.’
Tess took a sip of hot tea and swallowed the mouthful of biscuit.
‘I found it interesting, and a little concerning. Sunday wasn’t the right time to talk about it with the men there.’
She wasn’t beating about the bush and neither would Tess. ‘You mean because I asked if they ever stop?’
‘Yes,’ Anne said, her eyes showing concern.
‘Did you think I was talking about something related to me?’
‘Yes.’
Tess quickly weighed up her options. Should she go for the offended look or the surprised look? This woman was shrewd. She went for somewhere in between and shook her head sadly.
‘I wasn’t talking about me. I was talking about a nurse I worked with at St Mary’s. It’s quite sad. She said her husband locked her in a cupboard for not aligning his shirts properly. He makes her wear some sort of uniform to do housework. She’s been to the doctor with bruises to her breast and the doctor didn’t ask how she got them.’
Anne let out a breath. ‘So not you, but someone else?’
Tess nodded. ‘You do remember I’ve only been married four months?’
‘Yes, I do,’ she said, looking Tess in the eye. ‘You do know domestic violence can’t tell the time? I had a patient once who murdered his wife the day he married her. He told me he was waiting to make her his before he carried out the deed.’
Tess opened her eyes wide as if she’d been shocked. She wasn’t. After what he did to her tonight she didn’t think much more could shock her. He hadn’t hurt her physically. He had stripped her of her humanity. While she sat through his actions it struck a memory from when she was a student nurse of a young psychiatric patient called Wendy. She’d been ungainly, overweight, and slack featured with a heavy jaw and little schooling. She was in love and excited for her new boyfriend’s visit. Another trainee nurse offered to make her look pretty. Wendy had wanted to see her face after the make-up was put on, but she forgot after a while, after she was told she looked beautiful. She had smiled at him and danced across the dayroom floor to him, all eyes on her ungainly movements, all mouths open as they laughed and clapped and encouraged her to carry on. It was entertainment. In the toilet Tess had cried. The nurse had made Wendy look like a grotesque clown. White-faced, red-nosed, black-lipped and black eyes stripping her of dignity in front of her new boyfriend.
‘Your job must be incredibly challenging,’ she said.
‘It is, because truth and lies are often told together. The truth to hide the lies and lies to hide the truth.’
‘And what advice would you give this nurse, in this relationship?’
Her eyes locked on Tess. ‘I’d tell her to get out of it. Today. Tonight. Don’t wait and hope he will stop. And I’d tell her to get a new doctor.’
When a short while later Tess waved her goodnight, she was left feeling out of sorts and exposed, as if she’d been talking about herself and not some other woman’s account. Recounting back to Anne what she’d read so far in that black book highlighted the things that had been done to her in a much shorter timeframe. He’d poured a cup of boiling coffee into her lap and had then held her down to make it burn more. He had drawn on her face with lipstick, making her look like a clown. He had taken her phone, her bank card, her choice of what she would wear. He had pinned her by the neck against a wall. He had taken her job. He had lied and made her take the fall for a man dying. He had taken, taken, taken.
Anne’s response might have been different if she’d told her these things and admitt
ed she was speaking about herself. She might even have called the police. But it wouldn’t help Tess’s situation go away unless there was evidence. At this moment in time she needed hard facts not counselling. She could get that at a later date. Then take back what he had taken from her. Her life and her soul.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The next morning she found a pretty headscarf in the cloakroom. It was square and patterned with swirls of gold on a turquoise background. It felt like silk and looked vintage in style. It wasn’t hers so maybe Anne left it behind, and Daniel put it away. She would borrow it to wear on the platform, the last thing she needed was for the platform man to recognise her from yesterday. She’d return it to Anne, if she visited again. Hopefully, next time, she’d give Tess some warning she was coming. Though, without her visit, Tess might not have found what she did. As she would have searched the bedrooms first and not come down the stairs if Anne hadn’t rung the bell.
He’d forgotten to lock his office door as he normally did. In a blue-leather phone book left out on his desk she found the telephone number and address of his parents. It was listed under M beside the names: Mother/Father. Not Mum and Dad or Ma and Pa, but Mother and Father. Beneath their title was their address and she couldn’t have been more surprised. They lived not too far away, in Bradford-on-Avon. No more than twenty minutes by train. In fact just down the road. Not over a hundred miles away in London like she’d thought, but on their doorstep. Tess was betting it was since Daniel was a child, betting the very small amount of money she had that he was born in the area and this area was his home.
She picked up some envelopes from the mailbox before setting off, in case there was a letter from the hospital. She forgot to check when she got home yesterday. She shoved the mail in her rucksack. She didn’t have time to read it now. She wanted to catch the 8.13 so as to be at the flat early again so she could leave early as before.
Of all the people to see at the platform, only seeing Sara would have made her happier. Cameron came right up to her and as if it was the most natural thing in the world gave her a big hug. He then kissed the top of her head and said, ‘Hello, friend. Almost didn’t recognise you with the scarf on your head. Very Audrey Hepburn.’
Tess smiled, ever so pleased to see him. A second of his company was like a little tonic.
‘Hello, Cameron. How are you?’ she said.
‘I’m off for a day out at John Radcliffe, to go and watch a heart bypass operation. I think it would be good for me to go and see another hospital.’ He gave a rueful laugh. ‘Before they try and get rid of me.’
She touched his arm. ‘You’re doing really well. Don’t think that.’
He caught her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Hey, enough about me. More to the point, how are you?’
She scrunched up her nose, and shook her head at him. ‘Let’s not talk about that.’
He plucked at the collar of the dress she was wearing, the one she’d sworn never to wear, the washed-out lavender granny dress.
‘Interesting,’ he said politely, pressing his lips and raising his eyebrows.
She elbowed him in the ribs and he looked startled.
‘Shut up, I didn’t pick it. I just wear it.’
‘Phew,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want to say in case you’d been left it in a will by a favourite aunty or something.’
‘Funny.’ She smiled. ‘So are you catching the train to London?’
‘Yes, but not all the way. Got to change at Didcot Parkway for Oxford.’
‘What time’s the operation?’
‘Nine thirty.’
Tess stared at him. ‘You’re not going to make it. It’s almost eight now.’
‘I’m cutting it fine,’ he contradicted. ‘I’ve got a taxi to pick me up at the other end. I’m sure I won’t miss anything.’ Then sheepishly he added, ‘I slept through the alarm. I haven’t even had a morning coffee yet.’
‘We’ll get you one on the train,’ she replied, happy to use some of her spending money to buy him a coffee.
‘And you? Where are you off to?’
‘London. Sorting out the contents of my husband’s flat. Today should see the last of it hopefully.’
‘Good,’ he said more seriously. ‘Good that you’re keeping busy. I—’
She touched his arm as he looked awkward. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was difficult.’
He shrugged and then tutted at her mildly. ‘Could you not have let me down more lightly and picked someone less tall, less handsome and only half as intelligent?’
She laughed. ‘I will next time.’
An hour later she said goodbye to him at Didcot, making no plans to talk to him or see him again. He commented on the journey that she was no longer on Facebook. He didn’t pursue the subject when she looked away. And it would have sounded odd if she’d said, ‘I didn’t know that.’ She didn’t know that he’d taken something else away, of course. She put Cameron out of her mind. She was at peace now. A brief interlude where she felt they were friends again. It was enough to have that.
Tess felt sick in her stomach. She had just gone through her mail and found an envelope unstamped and unaddressed but with her name on it. Her insides were quivering from recognising the blue handwriting. She had been followed right to her door! By a stranger writing to her. With trembling fingers she tore open the envelope and found a postcard. A plain white business postcard, the same as the one she received yesterday. With a squiggled drawing in the top right corner clearer to see it was an angel not a butterfly.
She read the message on the card.
I have thought about what you tried to do and it has left me feeling somewhat uneasy. I am asking you now to get help. Please don’t make me have to do it for you.
She scanned the faces around her to see if anyone was looking at her with an air of ownership, making sure she was behaving herself and not thinking foolish thoughts. Her head swam and she felt woozy and then overwarm. She pulled off the headscarf to let air at her head. She should eat something to settle her nerves before she passed out. She’d not eaten since last night and her blood sugar was probably low. She’d also forgotten to refill her water flask which was now empty in her bag.
Getting shakily to her feet she made her way to the buffet bar and kept a look-out for anyone suspicious, though what the postcard sender looked like was anyone’s guess. It could be the man smiling at her now as they carefully passed one another or the man in the wheelchair blocking the vestibule or even the young woman with the toddler on her lap.
She kept her hand firmly over the top of her bag. She was wearing the rucksack front-facing across her chest so as not to be caught unawares if this person tried to slip her another message. Up ahead she saw two British Transport Police and momentarily stilled. They looked tall and imposing with all their equipment padding out their jackets and hanging off their belts. Black was a very imposing colour when worn as a uniform. She flushed as she saw one of them staring at her intently, causing sweat to trickle down her back, especially when he started speaking into his radio. Had the postcard messenger already sought help for her and they were there waiting?
She should be bold and go straight up to them and report the stalker, report that she was receiving unwanted attention in the form of two postcards and it was someone who travelled on trains as she’d received one of them while on board. Would they be interested in helping her once they discovered what she had done? Killing a patient and then attempting to kill herself? They would call this postcard messenger a Samaritan and then have her sectioned before handing her over to paramedics to be carted off somewhere safe.
She let go a sigh of relief. They had turned away from her. She was not someone of interest to them.
At the buffet bar she chose a banana and a bottle of regular Coke. The man behind the counter stared at her with eyes magnified through thick lenses, eyelids seeming puffy and wrinkles exaggerated. Sparse grey hair covered his pale pink scalp. His customer service le
ft a lot to be desired, as he hadn’t passed a word to her. She handed over her money and moved away from the counter.
She heard a familiar voice behind her.
‘Hello, Bill. Long time no see.’ The Bradshaw’s book man stood next to her at the counter.
The buffet attendant stiffened for a fraction, then cracked a smile at the man. ‘Well, I’ll be blowed.’
Tess sneaked a glance at the Bradshaw’s book man and caught the smile he gave to Bill.
‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Bill. I’m surprised to see you too. You don’t normally do the morning train.’
Bill descended from what must have been a step as he was now much shorter. Shorter than Tess.
‘Times change,’ he said, folding his arms. ‘Nights ain’t good for me anymore. Be retiring soon. Can I get you anything from the bar, complimentary of course, seeing as you’re a special traveller?’
The man smiled again, but Tess didn’t think it looked natural. ‘A cup of coffee would be nice.’
‘One coming right up,’ was the jaunty reply.
Tess peered at Bill. She was intrigued to know what he meant. He’d called the Bradshaw’s book man a special traveller. Was the man a travel writer, maybe like Michael Portillo or another celebrity? He was certainly being treated in a deferential manner.
Bill handed him the lidded coffee. ‘You travelling all the way?’
‘Only as far as Reading.’
Bill nodded. ‘Well, good to see you.’
She saw the man’s hand rest on the counter. He tapped it once. ‘I haven’t forgotten what I saw, Bill, in case you were wondering.’
Tess felt a change in the atmosphere. Bill seemed to shrivel to an even smaller size. ‘You got that all wrong about me,’ he said in a strained voice.
