The Prison

by Amy Cross

“And -”

  “Everything's fine. Can I just go?”

  “You're fidgeting.”

  Looking down at her hands, Amanda realized she was drumming her fingertips against the side of her chair. “I'm not fidgeting,” she muttered, putting her hands in her lap, “I just don't have time to sit here like this.”

  “You do have time, because this hour of your day was specifically set aside for a session with me.”

  “You don't understand!” she hissed.

  “So explain it to me,” he replied. “In all our sessions so far, Amanda, you've been quiet and polite, but this time it's like something's wrong. I know you've been enjoying your work with Doctor Bell, but something seems wrong this morning and I'm not letting you out of this room until you tell me the truth. You can either come out with it right now or we'll sit here until you change your mind. The choice is yours.”

  “I saw...” She paused, immediately aware that there was no way she could tell him the truth. “I went to talk to my husband this morning during the visiting session,” she said finally, switching to a half-truth, “and he didn't show up. That's all.”

  “And how does that make you feel?”

  “Like... Like I might not get another chance.”

  “Because you think he won't come again?”

  “Not before...”

  He raised a skeptical eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

  “Did you sleep last night?” he asked finally. “You look tired, Amanda.”

  “I'm fine.”

  “Maybe you should get Doctor Bell to check your blood sugar levels and -”

  “I'm fine,” she said again, getting to her feet. “I just don't have time to sit around making smalltalk when...” Spotting movement out of the corner of her eye, she turned to look at the door just as a guard made his way past the small window. Her heart racing, she waited a moment, just in case she saw Leonora Blake again, but finally she realized that it had been a false alarm.

  Not like the previous night.

  “Are you scared of something?” Andrew asked after a moment. “Amanda, the idea that prisons are full of fights and gang violence is thankfully blown out of proportion, but if someone is threatening you, you know you can come and talk to me, don't you?”

  She turned to him.

  “If someone's causing problems, you only have to tell me. There are things I can do to help.”

  “I don't think that would be much use,” she replied darkly.

  “Are you being deliberately cryptic this morning, or -”

  “Do you believe in those stories?” she asked. “You know, the ones about the little girl?”

  “I see,” he replied, clearly a little concerned by her question. “Is this linked to the recent unfortunate passing of Emma Tate? I know some rather wild stories have been circulating among the inmates. Leonora Blake is being blamed, isn't she?”

  “Do you think it's possible?”

  “That a ghostly little girl is haunting Hardstone? No, not for a second.”

  “But what if -”

  “I'm absolutely certain that Leonora Blake was a real person,” he continued, “a long, long time ago. From what I've read, it also seems that she killed some people when she was released, but apart from that, I'd caution against believing too much of the story. Over an entire century, facts can become distorted and whole new parts of the tale can be added. As for the supernatural elements of the whole thing, I certainly don't think there's any chance that Ms. Blake is still wandering the corridors, or that she'll ever do so. I do, however, think that the human mind -”

  “My hour is up,” Amanda pointed out, watching the clock on the wall.

  He turned and saw that she was right.

  “I'm worried about you,” he replied, looking back at her.

  “Don't be.”

  “It's my job.”

  “I'm fine,” she told him. “Like you said, I didn't sleep too well last night, and everything that happened with Emma, plus my husband not showing up this morning... I guess it all got on top of me, that's all.” She forced a faint smile, hoping to ease his mind. “There are lots of people here who need your attention, I'm just... I'm late for work.”

  “Then you'd better get going,” he replied, “but I'm scheduling an extra session for tomorrow morning at nine. I want to check on you again, just to see how you're doing.”

  “Fine,” she said, heading to the door. “Do whatever you want.”

  As the guard led her away from the room, she couldn't help glancing both ways along the corridor, just in case there was another hint of the child's presence. She had no idea why she'd been left alive after her encounter the previous night, but she was convinced that it would only be a temporary reprieve. Still, all she could think was that she wanted to get it over with rather than living with the shadow constantly hanging over her head. In fact, she figured she'd more or less worked out why she was being targeted by Leonora Blake: it was retribution for the fact that she'd murdered her own children.

  Twenty-four hours ago

  “And will you be taking tea at the usual time?” Jefferies asked as he opened the window and looked out for a moment at Hyde Park.

  After a moment, hearing no reply, he turned to see that his employer was reading a newspaper.

  “M'am?” he continued. “I was just -”

  “It's happening,” the old lady said, her voice filled with fear as she turned to him. “I always knew it would, but I fear the day has finally arrived.”

  “I see,” Jefferies replied cautiously. “In that case, M'am, should I start making the necessary arrangements?”

  “I'm a fool,” she said, staring over at the window. “I thought I was in control, but now I see... I was just fooling myself. Something has to be done before she kills again.”

  Today

  “Gone?” Grace replied, clearly startled. “What do you mean? Where has he gone?”

  “North,” Doctor Bell replied, smiling as she sat behind the desk in Governor Windsor's office. “He left last night for a conference.”

  “He didn't tell me anything about a conference.”

  “He must have forgotten.”

  “But he had several meetings scheduled for today.”

  “He must have forgotten.”

  “And the board of trustees is due to call after lunch to discuss the new extension for the main wing.”

  “I'll talk to them. I've already had a chance to look over his diary, actually. He said that rather than canceling everything, he felt I could easily slip into his shoes for the next few days. I have to say, it's a great honor and I'm very pleased that he trusts me.” She paused for a moment, studying Grace's face for any hint of suspicion. “There's really nothing to worry about,” she added finally. “He'll be back soon.”

  “I'm sure,” she replied, “it's just...”

  “Just what?”

  “This doesn't seem very much like him, that's all. He usually tells me everything.”

  “I think I know how we can settle this,” Doctor Bell replied, reaching into one of the desk drawers and taking out a phone, which she slid toward the other woman. “Give him a call.”

  “I don't know that I -”

  “Give him a call,” she said again, more firmly this time. “That's an order, Grace. I am in charge, am I not?”

  Smiling nervously, Grace picked up the phone and brought up Governor Windsor's number, before hitting the Call button and waiting for it to connect. Glancing over at Doctor Bell, she couldn't help but notice a hint of excitement in the woman's eyes, as if she was already enjoying her new role.

  “It went to voice-mail,” she said finally, lowering the phone.

  “I guess he must be too busy to answer,” Doctor Bell replied.

  “Must be. He's probably -”

  Before she could finish, the phone began to ring. Looking down, she saw that it was Governor Windsor trying to get in touch.

  “Well answer it,” Doctor Bell said calmly. “
What are you waiting for?”

  Tapping the front of the phone, Grace raised it to her ear.

  “Sir?”

  Immediately, she heard what seemed to be a wall of static, at such a high volume that she had to hold the phone a little further from her ear.

  “Something wrong?” Doctor Bell asked, clearly amused.

  “I don't know, it's...” Pausing, she realized that mixed in with the static, there was another sound: a kind of swirling, rhythmic noise that occasionally threatened to resolve into a human voice, but which apparently couldn't quite break through. “It sounds as if -”

  “Grace?” the governor's voice asked suddenly, emerging from the static. “Is that you?”

  “It's me, Sir,” she replied, feeling a sense of relief wash through her body. “I just wanted to see if you were okay. You left so suddenly and I was wondering if something's wrong.”

  “I'm...” His voice faded for a moment. “Yes, I'm somewhere dark. Very dark, in fact. I can't quite...”

  “Dark?”

  “I'm not sure if...”

  She waited.

  “Doctor Bell told me you'll be back next week,” she said finally. “Is that right?”

  “Next week?” He sounded confused, as if he was struggling with even the simplest of answers. “I suppose so. If that's what she says... Yes, next week. That sounds right. I'll be back next week.”

  “You don't have your diary with you, do you?” Grace asked. “You should have taken it, Sir. You know how hard it is for you to keep track of things when you don't have your diary.”

  “Absolutely. It's very hard to... It's dark here. And cold. I'm really not sure whether -”

  Suddenly the call ended, leaving Grace to look over at Doctor Bell's smiling face.

  “Well?”

  “It was him,” Grace replied cautiously. “The connection was very bad.”

  “I told you. He went north.”

  “He said it was dark. And cold.”

  “Probably Newcastle. Sounds like Newcastle.”

  “And he's coming back on Monday,” she continued, setting the phone down on the desk. She paused for a moment, unable to shake the feeling that something was most definitely wrong. She'd long had doubts about Doctor Bell, and now those doubts seemed more important than ever. “I suppose that's okay.”

  “It's absolutely fine,” the doctor replied. “I'm sure the whole place won't burn down just because I'm in charge for a few days. Don't worry, I have no desire to make any major changes. In fact, apart from when I have to attend specific meetings, I intend to spend all my time in the laboratory, getting on with my regular work. After all, the women of Hardstone won't stop needing medical attention just because their physician has to moonlight as governor for a few days. In fact, knowing them, I wouldn't be surprised if they require extra attention, purely to cause me problems.”

  Grace smiled weakly, even though she still felt that something wasn't right.

  “Well go on, then,” Doctor Bell said finally. “Don't just stand there, don't you have any work to be getting on with?”

  “Of course,” Grace replied, taking a step back.

  “And I heard that there's a storm coming,” Doctor Bell continued, “so do make sure that the leaky roof on the third wing has been fixed. We wouldn't want the inmates getting wet, would we?”

  “I'll get right onto it.”

  “And have someone do something about those horrible bones in the yard. I thought they'd been buried, but this morning I noticed a few of them poking up from the soil. I mean, how hard can it be to bury a few pieces of bone? Sometimes I wonder about the basic functional intelligence of the people around here.”

  “I'll speak to Ferguson.”

  Grace watched as Doctor Bell took a file from the desk and opened it. Realizing that she had nothing left to say, she turned and hurried out to the reception area, but before she could sit at her desk she noticed a figure standing in the doorway. Turning, she saw to her surprise that there was a little girl staring straight at her.

  ***

  “You didn't see anything,” Andrew said as he kissed the top of Grace's head a short while later. “I warned you that this might happen. You let these ideas get into your head and they burrowed deep until -”

  “I'm not insane!” she hissed, pulling back from him. “I know what I saw! It was a little girl and she stared at me for a moment and then she turned and walked away.”

  “Well that's a good thing, isn't it?” he asked. “Clearly she's not interested in you.”

  “Can't you take this seriously?”

  “Take what seriously? The whole prison is buzzing with talk of this Leonora Blake girl, just because of that incident with Emma Tate the other day. Impressionable minds breed illusions, which breed -”

  “Do you think I have an impressionable mind?” she asked.

  “I think you're very sensitive.”

  “I saw her!” she continued, clearly starting to become agitated. “She was right there, as clear as day, as clear as you're standing here now and -” Pausing, she stared at him for a moment with a slowly dawning sense of horror. “You think I'm just some idiot who gets over-excited after hearing ghost stories, don't you?”

  “No, I -”

  “I can see that look in your eyes!” she told him. “It's like... pity, mixed with compassion. You're totally certain that you're right, and you think anyone who believes in this kind of thing must have some kind of mental weakness! You're looking down on me!”

  “I know how the human brain works,” he replied, “and I know that it can create sensations that are extremely powerful and that seem totally real.”

  “I believe in these things,” she said firmly. “We've skated around this problem before, Andrew, but if you really think that my beliefs make me a fool, then I don't know why you even want to be with me.”

  “Let's not get dramatic -”

  “It wasn't something that came rumbling up from the depths of my mind,” she continued. “It was a little girl, standing right there in the doorway, looking directly at me, and she was real. She stared at me for a moment, and then she just walked away. You can try to explain it however you want, but you'll never convince me that I imagined it. I saw the same little girl that David Bradford and Emma Tate both saw, and look what happened to them!”

  “So you think you're in danger?”

  “I...” She paused. “I don't know what to think. The story always goes that people die when they look straight into her eyes, but I'm still here so... Something must be different. It's almost as if she decided she didn't want me.”

  “Listen,” he replied, stepping toward her and putting a hand on her waist, “why don't we get dinner tonight? We'll go somewhere relaxing and -”

  “There's a storm coming, remember?” she told him. “I don't think it's the kind of night where you want to be caught out. From what they said on the weather, this storm is going to be a once in a decade kind of thing, so it might be better to just sit it out at home.”

  “Then we can -”

  “And I'll talk to you tomorrow,” she added finally, making it clear from her tone that she intended to be at her own home, without him. “Don't worry, though. I won't get so scared that I start hallucinating again. God forbid that I'd let my weak little mind get the better of me.”

  With that, she turned and headed back to the door.

  “I didn't mean it like that,” he muttered with a sigh. “I just meant that the chances of an actual ghost being here at Hardstone are pretty much below zero. It's just not possible.”

  Twenty-four hours ago

  “Are you sure you're up to this, M'am?” Jefferies asked as he wheeled her out into the courtyard, where the limousine was waiting. “After everything that has happened lately -”

  “I have no choice,” she replied. “You heard what that young man said yesterday. So many innocent people have had their lives ruined by this mess. I should have put it all right a long time ago.”
>
  “Is such a thing even possible?” he asked as he eased the wheelchair up a small ramp and into the back of the car. “You've said yourself, M'am, that the situation is most likely beyond your control.”

  “I have to try,” she said firmly, her eyes filled with tears. “The tragedy of Hardstone was bad enough the first time around. It can't be allowed to happen again!”

  Today

  “Doctor Bell is very busy today,” Amanda said as she lifted the bandage from across Chris's face, “so -”

  Stopping for a moment, she looked down at the mangled flesh and blood-filled eye-sockets beneath the bandage and realized that there seemed to be no improvement at all. In fact, if anything, Chris's injuries seemed to be getting worse, and there were several areas where pus had begun to gather, almost as if an infection was forming.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked.

  No reply.

  “So I'm going to be looking after you today,” she continued hesitantly, turning to the trolley and taking a moment to prepare the equipment she'd need. “Don't worry, though. I've been told exactly what I need to do, and I'll make sure you don't feel a thing.” Opening a fresh pack of pipettes, she realized her hands were trembling a little with nerves, and after a moment she glanced back across the room, just in case there was any sign of Leonora Blake.

  Nothing.

  Just another faint moan from Chris.

  “I saw something last night,” Amanda continued, turning back to the trolley. “I can't tell anyone else, but... I saw something that made me question my sanity. It was the girl, or at least I think it was... Either there really is a ghost here at the prison, or maybe I'm just cracking up. I mean, how do you know when you're losing your mind? I guess you just have to wait for other people to tell you, 'cause otherwise everything just carried on making total sense to you.” She paused for a moment. “After everything that happened before, I was examined by two psychiatrists, but they both said that I seemed okay. Maybe they were wrong.”

  Grabbing the pipette and a metal tray, she turned and made her way back toward the bed, but at the last moment she fumbled with the tray and let it slip from her hands.