With effort, she continued turning her head towards the bed. It was narrow, industrial-looking, as you’d expect in a hospital. The wooden headboard was mounted on a metal frame. The casters were visible.
Closing her eyes tightly, she took a deep breath, trying to focus her thoughts. Finally, when she couldn’t stall any longer, Sandra opened her eyes, and saw her. She was propped up against the pillows, her head back, her long hair framing her face. It looked well cared for, as if someone made sure to brush it every day, remove any tangles. Her body, covered by a thin sheet, looked tiny. Much smaller than Sandra remembered. It was almost as if she had shrivelled, the years sucking the life out of her. She’d never been fat but now she looked sick. She was sick, Sandra reminded herself.
And yet, even from her hospital bed, Miriam could still harm her. All she needed to do was say a few words to the police and all of them would be under scrutiny, having to find out ways to save themselves, get out of the mess that they’d managed to avoid for so many years.
Sandra heard a hissing sound and for the first time looked at Miriam’s face, noticing the thick pipe going into her throat. ‘What’s that?’ she asked the nurse.
‘The tube? It’s to help her breathe. She had a setback, right after that policeman came to visit. She was not ready for that news.’
‘What happened?’
The nurse looked at Sandra intently and for a second she thought she was going to change the subject, tell her that it was private information, that it was not something she could share with her. ‘You know, the police came here, wanting to speak with her, excited that she was starting to remember some things. We told them that they should talk to Miriam’s doctors first, make sure that she was strong enough. We didn’t let them in before they did.’ She looked inside the room, and her face softened as she stared at Miriam.
‘The doctors think they know everything. But they don’t. They come in here with all their airs and spend two seconds with the residents. They don’t know them, don’t know how they will react to talking to strangers, being asked all these questions. All of us nurses knew that Miriam couldn’t handle it. She was too frail, her brain already struggling with the pieces of the story she was told by others.’
Her eyes were glistening and she looked as if she was about to tear up. But then she squared her jaw, a look of determination crossing her face.
‘We told the police to tread carefully, that she’s a very sick woman, but they wouldn’t even allow one of us to sit with her while they spoke with her. Allow her to have someone familiar. I don’t know what they said, whether they divulged some details that she hadn’t yet remembered. They closed the door and we didn’t hear anything.’
She shook her head and clicked her tongue. Once, twice, three times. ‘I went in to check on her after they’d left and she looked so distraught. She didn’t even want to talk, tell me about it. It’s so unlike her. She’s usually so chatty, always smiling. I’ve always admired her ability to be happy despite her situation. But not that time. She just continued staring into space, not wanting to look at me. She didn’t eat that day and that evening she was struggling with her breathing. It’s almost like something DCI Hawkins said had sucked out what little energy she had. It was horrible to watch.
‘The next day she was feeling better. We started making arrangements for her to come to London for the meeting with the police, but that night she started having nightmares. She was dreaming about the accident. Slowly, more memories started coming back, and each seemed to traumatise her even more. She started becoming increasingly upset, as if it was way too much for her to handle. When I went in to give her lunch, she got very agitated, said we were trying to kill her, that we were poisoning her food…’
The gasp escaped Sandra’s lips before she could hold it back, compose herself, make sure she didn’t reveal her shock. Her hand flew to her mouth as she struggled to keep her emotions, her increasing fear, under control. She felt her knees shake and leaned against the doorway.
‘Shocking, isn’t it?’ the nurse continued, seemingly unperturbed by Sandra’s reaction. ‘We’ve been nothing but loving and caring towards her. Everyone here adores Miriam. But, of course, I had to make a report and now the hospital has to investigate.’
Sandra swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in her throat. ‘Why do you think she’d say something like that?’
The nurse shrugged. For a while she continued staring at Miriam. ‘Who knows? I would bet anything that nobody here did anything of the sort. She’s probably confused. The trauma of remembering something so horrible. It can be too much for some people.’
‘Could she…?’ Sandra stopped, unsure whether she should even ask the question. ‘Could she be remembering something from the past?’
‘Perhaps. It could be anything really. It could have been something she watched on the telly that she’s confusing with her own past.’
‘And the investigation. Will that try to determine what really happened?’
‘Yeah, that’s the aim. They’ll ask a lot of questions, for sure. It’s going to be a lot of fun for all of us working here with all the added scrutiny.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Sandra turned back to look at Miriam. It was hard to believe that someone who seemed so helpless could do so much damage to Sandra’s life, to those of the others. ‘Will you have to lodge a police report?’
‘Honestly, I don’t know how these things work.’ The nurse was staring right ahead, her mouth set in a thin line. ‘It’s the first time something like this has happened since I’ve worked here.’
‘Hopefully she’ll be able to clear everything up, explain what she really meant.’
‘We’ll see. I wouldn’t count on her. When she had that episode, she started struggling to breathe. Nothing we did helped. We called the doctor and he ordered a tracheostomy. She was in hospital for a couple of days and then they brought her back. They don’t know when we can remove the tube.’
‘Does the tube mean she can't talk?’
‘No, not for now.’ The nurse’s mouth turned down and her face was overwhelmed with sadness. ‘It’s such a pity too, she’s a lovely lady. I always love talking with her.’
There was a lump in Sandra’s throat, her chest felt tight, emotions threatened to overwhelm her. She tried so hard to feel sorry for Miriam, for the way her life had turned out. For years she’d wondered how much the poison had impacted her reflexes, whether things would have been different if they hadn’t been adding powder to her food. They hadn’t been doing it for too long, only a couple of weeks, but they’d seen a difference. She had not been herself. Slower, less steady on her feet. And now here she was, stuck in a bed, unable to move.
And still, they were not free of her, not out of her clasp. One word from Miriam and they’d be doomed. The thought pushed any pity away and was replaced by the hate that was too strong, too deeply ingrained in Sandra’s heart to make space for any shred of sympathy.
And then it hit her. Until the tube was out she wouldn’t be able to talk to DCI Hawkins, tell him what they had done. It was buying them time that they sorely needed. Perhaps enough to get rid of the evidence and make sure that nobody would ever be able to corroborate Miriam’s accusations.
‘Will she recover?’
The nurse shrugged. ‘Who knows? She’s a sick woman. Even on good days… We don’t know how long it will take or if she’ll ever get back to normal. Her normal, I mean. Or how the memories will impact her life.’
She looked at Sandra and smiled. ‘Listen to me going on and on. We are all very fond of Miriam. Someone who’d dedicated her life to taking care of children. Those who are less fortunate. There’s something intrinsically good in her… But don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you want to spend time with her rather than hear me go on. Go ahead. Perhaps she’ll wake up.’
She pushed her gently forward and Sandra realised that she could not stall any longer. She had to go in, get closer to her.
‘Let me
close the door so you can have some privacy,’ the nurse said, walking out of the room. ‘Press that button if you need us.’ She pointed at the nurse caller hanging from Miriam’s bed and Sandra cringed at the thought of getting so close to her.
What was she going to do, say to her? She could just stand there, next to the door, hoping that Miriam didn’t wake up. She could stay for a few minutes and then leave, go back to London. She’d come and seen what she needed to see, learned all that she was going to learn. She needed to share this information with the others, call John, see if he could get the keys to the house earlier, dig that sandbox, get rid of whatever was still hidden there. If it was still there.
Despite her desire to get as far as she could from Miriam, there was a force greater than her that compelled her to step closer to the bed. She could see Miriam clearly now. Her eyes were sunken, surrounded by dark shadows. Her mouth was in a thin line. Her skin was all wrinkled, like crumpled parchment. Her cheeks were sallow, a sickly shade of yellow. The scars had faded, just as Sandra’s had.
Sandra’s eyes rested on the breathing tube and followed it to the machine. She heard the whir of the ventilator.
Memories came flooding back. The pain from the constant beatings. The hunger. Being sent to school without any breakfast, or dinner the previous day. Being sent outside in the dead of winter with wet hair, with no gloves. And the continuous psychological abuse.
And in that moment Sandra wanted Miriam to suffer, just as much as she’d made her suffer. What had already happened to her was not enough.
Her eyes went back to the breathing tube and she thought how easy it would be to pinch the rubber between her finger and thumb, stopping the air from going through to her lungs. She could hold it like that for a few moments, enough to make her gasp for breath but not attract attention. Just enough to hurt her.
But what good would that do? It would simply anger her further, make it even more likely that she would divulge their secret.
No, she’d have to do more than just make her uncomfortable. She’d have to stop her getting air long enough to do some damage. Enough to ensure that she needed to have the tube for even longer, buy them more time, give them the opportunity to properly cover their tracks.
The challenge was doing that without getting caught. Miriam was hooked to machines. She was sure that the second air stopped going into her lungs, an alarm would ring. At least, that was what always happened on TV. Nurses would come running in and catch her, know what she’d tried to do. And then she would certainly be in trouble.
No, she had to find a way to be subtle about it. Make it look like an accident. Taking another step into the room, she urged herself to think, to try and find a solution. Quickly, before the nurse returned and her chance had slipped away.
The rhythmic thuds of her beating heart distracted her, disturbing her concentration. Get a grip, she urged herself. Her hands were trembling and she clasped them together, squeezing tight until her fingers were tingling. All the time her eyes were glued to Miriam’s face, seeing the rhythmic movement as the machines breathed for her.
And then it struck her. The nurses thought that she was excited to see Miriam, that she must love her, missed her terribly. That after all this time she would want to feel close to her. It wouldn’t be strange, out of place, if she had to hug her. She simply needed to find a way to squeeze the tube as she did so, position it in such a way that it was under her elbow, allow the bony part of her arm to do the work. She’d be so overwhelmed that she wouldn’t hear the alarms going off when the air stopped flowing into her lungs. It won’t take them long to get here, but hopefully enough time to do some real damage. She’d be devastated afterwards, of course. Inconsolable. She wouldn’t be able to believe what she’d just done. She hadn’t realised how fragile Miriam was, the mistake she’d made.
Her right foot shuffled forward, then her left and she found herself closer to the bed. Hovering over her. Her right hand lifted up, as if it had a life of its own. She was breathing heavily, almost panting. Her heart beating so fast and loud that she could hear it. There was a thumping in her ears. White specks disturbed her vision. She started leaning forward, slowly, carefully.
The back of her hand touched the tube. It felt warm, rubbery, unreal. For a second she was about to pull her hand back, disgusted at having touched it, but instead she lightly swept her hand to the side until the tube was lying in the position she needed it, on the bed next to Miriam.
Swallowing hard, she started leaning further forward. There was a lump in her throat and she felt herself stop breathing, not wanting to make any unnecessary movements, risk waking her before it was too late.
The seconds were ticking. Sandra didn’t know how much time she had. Clenching her fists tightly, she leaned even closer to her, bringing her arm up, poising her elbow in the perfect position. She closed her eyes, urging herself to be strong, opening them again to see exactly what she was about to do.
She was so close to Miriam that she could feel the warmth of her body. Smell the vanilla scent coming from her hair. And she was transported back to those awful days when being this close to her had meant being hurt, beaten, threatened. Hatred bubbled inside her. This woman had wanted to ruin her life.
And then, as Sandra was about to rest her arm on the bed next to her, Miriam opened her eyes. For a moment Sandra didn’t think she knew who she was. It had been so many years. She’d changed, grown up, learned to look sophisticated. But then recognition washed over Miriam, followed by fear. It was as if she knew what Sandra was about to do. As if she had been expecting this all this time.
Clenching her jaw, Sandra tried to steady her shaking body, looking Miriam right in the eyes, wanting her to know that her fate was in Sandra’s hands, just as theirs was in hers. She leaned closer towards her; her elbow was just an inch or so away from the tube.
Her stomach turned. She couldn’t do it. Straightening up, she turned back on her heels and rushed out of the door and down the corridor. ‘Sorry, I have to go back,’ she told the nurses, before opening the fire-escape door and running down the stairs. It was only when she was in the car, driving away, heading back home, that she managed to properly breathe.
30
Bea banged the taxi door, ignoring the protests of the driver, and hobbled towards the hospital, going faster than she had in a very long time. She had to slow down when she got to the automatic doors or she would slam into the glass. Once inside, she searched the crowded waiting room, craning her neck and scanning the crowd. Finally, she spotted them. Gemma was sitting down, hunched over, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Martin was standing next to her, pacing in a circle, anxiety pouring out of every part of his body.
‘I’m here,’ she said when she got to them. They hadn’t even seen her, too wrapped up in their thoughts.
Gemma stood up and Bea noticed how long it took her to execute the small movement. She seemed as if she had aged, suddenly, irrevocably. She looked smaller than she had the last time she’d seen her too, new wrinkles lining her face. Her usually bouncy hair looked limp, as if it had been stripped of life. ‘Oh, Bea,’ she said as she took the younger woman in her arms. ‘I can’t believe this is happening. I wish it had been me in that car.’
‘Have you heard anything new?’ Bea held tight to Gemma, rubbing the older woman’s back, even though she knew that nothing would bring comfort.
‘No, just that they’ve taken her to a treatment room, but they won’t let us near her.’ Gemma wiped her eyes. ‘They told us to wait here, that they’d come back when they have an update, but we’ve heard nothing.’
‘Let me go check again,’ Martin said. But first he walked towards Bea, hugging her tightly. ‘Thank you for coming, kiddo.’
‘Of course.’ Turning to Gemma, she asked: ‘Is Sean with her?’
‘No, he’s getting some tests done.’ She paused and looked at Bea, her eyes glistening. ‘It was a really bad accident. They had to cut them out of the car.’
The words echoed in Bea’s head. She felt as if she could hear them over and over as memories crowded her brain. The sound of the electric saw as it cut through the metal, the red glow where the cut was being made, the van rocking to and fro. She remembered the smell of metal being torn apart, the screams of the other children. And then Sebastian, lying right across from her, his eyes wide open, staring at her. Dead.
Suddenly she felt as if her legs could no longer support the weight of her body and she slumped backwards, onto one of the chairs. Her body crumpled forward and she buried her face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening again. A road accident had already cost her too much. It could not take away Sophia. Or her baby.
‘Come on, they’re letting us see her.’ Martin was running towards them, waving his hands in the air. ‘Hurry, hurry.’
*
Nobody spoke as they rode up in the lift, the only sound coming from the pinging as they passed each floor. Once the doors opened, they followed the nurse down a corridor that seemed as if it went on forever. Bea could hear the nurse’s shoes squeaking on the laminate floors. She noticed the florescent strips on the ceiling, the doctors scurrying along, the life-saving equipment pushed against the wall, ready for the next patient who desperately needed it.
Outside one room, leaning against the wall in a squatting position, was a man. His face was buried in his hands and his shoulders were quivering. As Bea walked by, she peeked inside the ward through the open door. The body on one of the beds had been covered with a sheet. Despite the long weeks she’d spent in a hospital, it was something Bea had only seen on television and for a moment she stopped walking, staring inside the room, her heart filling with sadness for the man and the person that he loved who was now gone.
‘Bea, are you coming?’ The voice startled her. Bea’s head shot up and she turned to see Martin waving his hands at her. ‘Come on, come on.’
We All Fall Down Page 17
