by Amy Cross
“He's your uncle?” the nurse replied, clearly a little confused as she turned to Susan. “Then who are you?”
“She's no-one,” Sam said firmly. “My parents are dead. Harry and I only have each other now.”
“Then you'd better come with me,” the nurse told him, leading him back to the door.
“Where do you think you're going?” Sam asked as Susan began to follow them.
“I just want to -”
“You've done enough,” he added, pushing her hard on the shoulder, forcing her back. “He's my uncle, and you're just an employee. A pretty rotten one at that. And after tonight, you shouldn't count on being one for much longer.”
He turned and followed the nurse, leaving the doors to swing shut.
Left alone in the corridor, Susan stared at the doors for a moment before taking a step back. She reached up and wiped a few tears from her eyes, and then she turned to walk away, only to realize that she couldn't possibly abandon Harry and Sam. As she began to make her way over to another seat in the corridor, she thought back to the sight of Harry being carried into the ambulance, and she couldn't help but remember how frail he'd looked. She thought, too, of the strange woman who'd momentarily appeared next to him in the foyer, but she reasoned that there'd be plenty of time later to figure out exactly what had happened.
For now, taking a seat, she simply looked straight ahead, and after a moment she spotted a plaque on the opposite wall.
“In memory of all those souls lost in the destruction of Crowford Hospital,” she read out loud, before noticing a date that placed the bombing in the Second World War.
Next to that plaque, another photo showed some people gathered to celebrate the opening of the new hospital that had been built a few years later.
Hearing footsteps in the distance, she looked to her left, just in time to see a nurse hurrying past the corridor's far end. There was something strange about being in the hospital and knowing that so many people were tucked away on the various wards, some of them dying. Susan had never needed to go to a hospital before, so the experience – the sights, and the sounds, and especially the smells – were all very new to her. Finally, looking back up at the plaque, she saw that there was also a photo showing a group of nurses standing outside what she assumed must have been the old, long-since destroyed building.
Suddenly another door opened, and she turned to see Sam stepping back out. He stopped for a moment, staring straight ahead, and then he leaned against the wall and put his head in his hands.
Getting to her feet, Susan waited for him to say something. With each second of silence that passed, she became more and more worried.
“Sam?” she said eventually. “How is he?”
Sam kept his head in his hands for a moment, before slowly turning to her.
“Is he...”
She waited.
“Did they tell you anything?” she asked. “What's happening?”
“What's happening?” he replied, taking a step toward her. Tears were glistening in his eyes. “I'll tell you what's happening, Susan. My uncle, the finest man I ever knew, one of the finest men in Crowford's history, is dead.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head, “he can't be.”
“He's dead, Susan!” he said firmly, as he began to tremble with anger. “His heart gave out!”
“This has to be a mistake,” she told him. “Go back and check again. They might have got him mixed up with someone else.”
“I saw his body.”
She shook her head, as fresh tears ran down her face.
“I saw his body!” he yelled, grabbing her by the arm and slamming her against the wall. “How thick do you have to be to not understand? The man is dead, and do you know what else I know? I know that he wouldn't be dead if that gang of animals hadn't stormed the cinema and caused all of this to happen. So before you think about telling me to calm down, you need to take a good long look at yourself and realize what you've done!”
“You're hurting me,” she replied, trying and failing to pull free of his grip. “Sam, please...”
“Are you going to tell me that none of this is your fault?” he asked, leaning closer. “Go on, I dare you. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't feel even slightly responsible!”
She tried to answer him, but she quickly found that she had no words. Shocked by his anger, she also knew that he was right. She did feel responsible.
“Get out of my sight,” he said firmly, “and don't ever come near me, or that cinema, ever again. Do you hear me? I don't want anything to do with you!”
“I'm so sorry,” she sobbed.
“Get out of here,” he sneered, shoving her away with such force that she almost fell.
“Please,” she said, turning back to him, “I never -”
“Go!” he roared.
Shocked, she took another step back, and then she turned and raced away along the corridor. Barreling through a set of double doors, she almost collided with another nurse, but she kept on running until she was all the way out of the hospital, and then she continued to run along the road that led all the way back into the center of Crowford.
Chapter Twenty
Sniffing back more tears, Susan pulled the cinema's door shut and turned the key in the lock, and then she stepped over to the side and posted the key through the letterbox.
After leaving the hospital, she'd had no idea where to go. She'd almost headed home, but at the last moment she'd realized that she should at least check to make sure that the cinema was secure. Sure enough, she'd found that the door had been left open and that many of the lights were on. She'd gone around switching everything off, and then she'd stepped back out. She knew that most likely she'd never be allowed to set foot in the place again, but she figured that at least – one final time – she'd been able to help.
Stepping back, she looked up at the big sign above the door. The word Empire, usually illuminated in a bright red glow, stood dull and dark in the late-night air.
“Goodbye,” Susan said, feeling a growing sense of sorrow in her chest. “I'm sorry, Harry. If I could undo all of this, if there was some way to...”
Her voice trailed off, and after a moment she turned and began to make her way along the road. This time she was determined to get home, even though she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. She'd lost track of the time but she figured that it must be at least one thirty in the morning, maybe closer to two or even three. Although she felt absolutely exhausted, she was under no illusion that she'd ever be able to sleep.
Stopping outside one of the large houses near the castle, she looked up at the windows and realized that a party was raging in one of the flats. She knew that Angie often hung out in that particular flat with her friends, and she felt her blood starting to boil at the thought of those idiots laughing and drinking and probably taking all manner of drugs, just hours after they'd caused mayhem at the cinema and driven a good man to his death. She told herself that she should simply keep walking, but the anger in her chest was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before and finally she realized that she had no choice.
“Hey!” she yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth in an effort to be heard above the din. “Angie! Get down here!”
She waited, but the music continued and she realized that most likely she hadn't even been noticed.
“Angie!” she screamed. “Angie Carter, I need to talk to you!”
When this failed to work, she made her way to the front door and started banging, but she already know that her efforts were futile. A moment later, hearing a window open, she looked up at one of the other flats just as a man leaned out.
“Will you please be quiet?” he snapped. “We've already got enough trouble with that racket going on!”
“I'm not with them,” she told him, “I -”
“I don't care who you're with,” he replied, cutting her off, “I want you to stop being so objectionable in the middle of the night. Might I suggest t
hat you go home like a normal person?”
With that, he slammed the window shut, leaving Susan standing all alone. She looked back up at the other flat and watched for a moment as bright lights flashed against the glass from the inside, and she listened to the pounding thud of music, and finally she realized that she was on a hiding to nothing. Figuring that Angie was most likely in a complete daze, she turned and resumed her walk home.
Feeling that she wanted to be alone for as long as possible, she took the meandering route up Mill Road, past scores of closed pubs and then through the housing estates. She didn't see a single other soul along the way.
***
“No, please,” she said through gritted teeth as she stopped in front of her parents' house and saw that another party was in full swing. “Why tonight, of all nights?”
She briefly considered turning and around and going somewhere – anywhere – else, but she couldn't quite handle the thought of wandering the empty streets all night. Figuring that her best bet would be to simply sneak into the house and avoid contact with anyone, which was a strategy she'd used many times before, she fished her keys from her pocket before making her way to the front door.
As soon as she was in the hallway, she scurried up the stairs and headed to her room. She had to nod politely to a random man on the landing, but she was soon in her room and to her immense relief she found that this time she didn't have to chase anyone out. She shut the door and turned the key, and then she stepped back before sitting on the bed and trying to take stock of everything that had happened.
After a moment, she reached over and opened the drawer of the chest by her bed, and she fumbled for her stash of money. To her shock, however, she found that it was gone.
“No!” she stammered, dropping to her knees and pulling the drawer all the way out, then tipping it over and frantically searching for the cash. “Please, no...”
Once she was certain that it was missing, she got to her feet and tried to figure out exactly what might have happened. She knew full well that she hadn't moved the money, so finally – with a growing sense of anger – she opened her bedroom door and stormed downstairs before rushing into the living room and heading straight over to her father.
“Where is it?” she shouted, making sure to be heard over the sound of all the music.
“Where's what?” he replied. “Welcome home, by the way, love. You've been out a long time.”
“Where's the money from my drawer?”
“Ah,” he said, somewhat sheepishly, “you'd probably better ask your mother about that.”
“I want -”
“It was her decision,” he added. “Don't get angry at me!”
Hurrying through to the kitchen, she found her mother drunkenly pouring drinks for the various guests who'd been allowed to follow them home from the pub.
“Where's my money?” Susan yelled.
“Calm down,” her mother replied, struggling to pour without spilling.
“The money that was in my drawer,” Susan continued. “It's gone, and Dad told me to ask you!”
“You've got a lot of complaints around this house,” her mother said, “for someone who lives rent-free all the time. If you want to know the honest truth, we needed some money for bills and I felt well within my rights to take some of that cash you've been storing up. It's not like you've been doing anything with it, anyway. Money's no good to anyone if it's just sitting around in a drawer.”
“It didn't belong to you!”
“If it's in my house, it belongs to me,” she replied. “Now, can I get you a drink, darling? You look like you need to calm down a bit.”
“Give it back to me!”
“We've spent it. Electricity, gas and water don't come free, you know. Not to mention the television license and the phone bill. You young people think all this stuff's just piped into the house for nothing.”
“I want my money!”
“No offense, darling, but you won't get anywhere with that attitude. While you're living under my roof and partaking of my hospitality, not to mention all the food I cook for you, you'd do well to watch your tongue.”
“Well, maybe I won't be living here much longer!”
“And where do you think you're going to go, exactly?”
“London!”
“London?” Her mother shrieked with laughter. “Oh Susie, you're very funny sometimes.” She slid a glass over to her. “Drink this, it'll make you feel better.”
“I'll show you,” Susan snarled. “You might think you can steal from me and stop me, but I won't let you!”
With that, she turned and stormed out, ignoring her mother's calls. Hurrying back upstairs, she once again locked herself in her room and this time she slumped down onto the bed and starting sobbing. For a moment everything felt hopeless, as if she was condemned to spend the rest of her life living in a small town with no prospects, surrounded by people who hated her and by reminders of her mistakes.
A moment later, remembering that she hadn't put her last pay packet with the rest, she reached into her bag and pulled out the envelope. She had a small amount of money – not much, but not nothing either – and she was starting to think that she needed to take a leap of faith.
“I'll show you,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “I'll show you all.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Shivering as she sat on a bench at Crowford Station, Susan once again looked up at the clock and sighed.
7.10am.
She'd spent several hours sitting on the bench, with her suitcase perched on the ground, and now the first train to London was almost due. Having packed in a hurry and left a note for her parents, she'd stormed out of the house without actually saying goodbye to them properly. She'd merely written that she was going off to start a new life in London, and that they might hear from her eventually. She knew she only had enough money to support herself for a few days, but she figured that she'd just have to be brave.
“I'm smart enough,” she whispered, trying to give herself a little more confidence, “and I can get by, and I don't need much. And people are friendly, I'll find a room somewhere and then I'll get a job. Soon I'll be standing on my own two feet.”
Another chill ran through her bones as an icy wind blasted along the platform. She checked the clock and saw that the train was due in just five minutes, and then she looked both ways along the tracks. After a few seconds, spotting an empty bench near the far end, she realized that she could just about see a figure in the shadows. She'd thought that she was the only person at the station at such an early hour, other than the man in the ticket office, and sure enough a moment later the figure on the bench seemed to disappear.
Forcing herself to not dwell on the strange apparition, she looked down at the tracks, but after a few seconds she heard a nearby door creaking open.
“Looks like it'll be a few minutes late,” the stationmaster explained, before blowing into his hands to warm them a little. “It's just arriving at Malmeston Station now.”
“That's fine,” she said, just about managing to muster a smile.
“Off on a trip, are you?”
“Something like that.”
“You should be in London nice and early,” he continued.
“I hope so.”
She waited, hoping that he'd get the message and understand that she really wasn't in the mood to talk. In truth, her resolve was starting to falter, and she couldn't help wondering whether she might yet simply turn around and go home. Her parents would doubtless be fast asleep still, so she'd be able to retrieve the note and sneak up to her room, and no-one would ever know that she'd tried to leave in the first place. Going back would be so easy, so safe, and yet...
And yet she knew that it would also be a form of defeat.
She turned to look at the stationmaster, and she saw that he was still standing by the door. After a moment, however, she once again spotted the strange figure at the other end of the platform; this time, the figur
e was standing close to the platform's edge, and as she continued to stare Susan realized that the woman appeared to be wearing a rather old-fashioned-looking dress, along with a dark hat.
“We don't get many people taking the first train of the day,” the stationmaster said, showing no sign that he'd noticed the other woman. “I was quite surprised when you purchased your ticket. I note that you have a suitcase with you. Are you moving to London?”
“I...”
She tried to think of an answer that would be honest, but that would also not invite any further questioning.
“People often like to leave under cover of darkness,” he continued. “I see them all, you know. Men, woman, young, old... I see them sitting right there where you are now, thinking they can sneak away without anyone noticing.”
“I'm sure I don't know what you mean,” she told him.
“All I mean is that there's a right way and a wrong way to leave a place,” he explained. “You probably think that I'm sticking my nose in where it doesn't belong, but I've learned to read the signs and -”
“I'm quite alright, thank you,” she said, interrupting him. “What I'm planning to do once I reach London is really none of your -”
Before she could finish, she saw the woman stepping even closer to the platform's edge.
“What is it?” the stationmaster asked, before turning to look that way just as the woman faded from view. “What did you see?”
“Nothing,” Susan replied, not wanting to give rise to any questions about her sanity.
“You know,” the man continued, turning back to her, “Crowford Station is said to be haunted.”
“I was under the impression that everywhere in Crowford is said to be haunted.”
“That's a fair point.”
“There's a woman people sometimes see here,” he told her. “She's the ghost of a lady who threw herself in front of a train many years ago. You'll notice that often the trains pull into Crowford Station very slowly, and that's on account of her. Many of the drivers know the story and they want to avoid seeing her, even if they know that she's already long gone. Some believe that going slow makes it less likely for her to appear and... well, recreate her grisly end.”
