by Amy Cross
“I could.”
“But you didn't.”
Holding back tears, Elly took a deep breath. “No, I didn't.”
“And why didn't you?”
“I've been asking myself that, and... I was so busy, I was trying to get Mr. Pickering's bath over as quickly as possible.”
“You were rushing?”
“No, I...” She paused, before nodding. “Yes, I was rushing.”
“And you assumed that Nurse Clarke had set the temperature correctly.”
“That's no excuse. I take full responsibility for not checking.”
“It's not just about that, though,” the chairman continued, looking down at his notes. “We spoke to Nurse Clarke this morning, and she stated that while you were working together, you told her the temperature was okay. She said that she was going to check for herself, but that you seemed to have looked at the gauge. Is that correct?”
“She said that?” Elly replied, shocked by the idea. She specifically remembered that she had done no such thing, that Nurse Clarke had said the gauge was okay. At the same time, she felt certain that there was no way Chrissy Clarke would lie to shift the blame, so she began to wonder if she had said those things and now was just mis-remembering.
“Nurse Blackstock?” the chairman asked. “Is Nurse Clarke's statement accurate?”
“I...” She paused, feeling as if all the certainty had begun to drain away as she started to doubt herself. “I'm not... I'm not sure...”
***
“She's thrown you under the bus,” Doctor Calder said as he and Elly made their way along the corridor. “I heard Clarke's testimony to the panel. She basically shifted almost all the blame onto you.”
“She wouldn't do that.”
“Well, she did.”
“There must have been a misunderstanding,” Elly continued. “I know Chrissy, she just wouldn't treat me like that.”
“Either way, it's going to be a problem for you. When the panel delivers its findings, Elly...” He stopped as they reached the elevator. “You should prepare for the worst. Chrissy Clarke is going to face possible criminal proceedings, but you won't be entirely off the hook. At the very least, the panel's findings could cause problems for you, and they might make it difficult for you to find another job.”
“Why would I need another -”
Pausing, she realized what he meant, and she immediately felt as if she might burst into tears.
“So I won't be able to come back here?”
“After what happened to that man, Elly... I'm sorry, but the board would never accept it. I can give you a good reference, but there's not much more I can do to help.” He paused, and it was clear that he was holding back from delivering the worst news. “Elly, you need to understand that the panel's report might be very, very difficult for you to read. I just want you to be prepared.”
“I should get home,” she replied as the elevator door slid open. “My mother -”
“That's something else I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Don't worry about me,” she continued, forcing a smile. “Honestly, I'll be fine.”
“You said a while back that you live with your mother.”
She nodded, while hitting the button for the ground floor.
“Elly, I did some checking and -”
“I really should go.”
“Elly, your mother has been dead for three years.”
As tears continued to build in her eyes, she jabbed at the button, and finally the door began to slide shut. She tried to say goodbye to Doctor Calder, but the words caught in her throat.
“Elly,” he continued, putting his hand over the sensor and causing the elevator door to open again, “your mother died of throat cancer three years ago. She's buried in Thistlegate Cemetery.”
Elly paused, before nodding. Her eyes were filled with tears now and her bottom lip was trembling.
“I've heard you on the phone to her,” he continued. “I've heard you talking to her. Recently, even over the past few weeks.”
She took a deep breath, before shaking her head.
“So who are you really talking to?” he asked. “All those times I overheard you on the phone, all the times you acted as if you were talking to your mother... Who was it really?”
She took another deep breath, trying to pull herself together.
“I pretend,” she managed to say finally.
“I'm sorry?”
“I pretend,” she continued, forcing herself to hold back the tears, no matter the cost. “When my mother was alive, I talked to her on the phone all the time. After she died, I didn't have anyone to call. I live alone, I don't have any friends and... I started talking to her in my head, having these long, imaginary conversations, telling her about my day and my problems, and imagining the advice she'd give me. Eventually it wasn't enough to just do it in my head, so I started pretending to talk to her on the phone.” She sniffed back more tears. “I'm not mad.”
“I don't think you're mad,” he replied, with a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I just think... Elly, do you have no-one to talk to?”
She shook her head.
“We all have imaginary conversations,” he continued. “We don't all have them on the phone, that's taking it a little far, but...” He paused. “You have my number, Elly. If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to get in touch. In fact, my wife and I are having a small dinner party next Friday, why don't you -”
“I'm fine,” she replied, interrupting him.
“You might get to know people. Come on, please -”
“I'm fine.”
“Elly, I hate to think of you sitting at home alone, having imaginary conversations with your dead mother and -”
“I'm fine,” she said again, and this time she reached out and pushed his hand away from the sensor. “Thank you for the invitation, but I don't think a party would be appropriate right now, and besides I think I'm going to be very busy looking for a new job, maybe even a new career. I hope your dinner party goes well, though, and -”
The door slit shut.
“Thank you for everything,” she added, before stepping back against the wall as the elevator began to move down the shaft. Her heart was racing and she felt certain that Doctor Calder thought was was insane, but she told herself that there was nothing wrong with her imaginary conversations, that they were just the kind of mild craziness that everyone had from time to time.
Reaching into her pocket, she took out her phone and tapped the screen a couple of times, purely out of habit.
“Hey, Mom,” she said after a moment. “Yeah, everything's fine. I just wanted to talk to you, that's all.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Today
“Doctor Carmichael?” Kirsten replied with a frown, hurrying along the corridor with Elly struggling to keep pace. “Well, how should I know? I'm sure he's around somewhere.”
“But he's not,” Elly continued. “It's been three days now and there's no sign of him.”
“Maybe he's busy for once.”
“Don't you think we should check on him? He might be in trouble.”
Reaching the door that led through to the old part of the building, Kirsten turned and sighed. “What kind of trouble could he possibly be in? I've known Jonathan Carmichael for quite some time, Elly, and I can assure you, this is perfectly in keeping with his usual behavior. He has a tendency to go off for a few days every so often, and I've learned to work around those little peculiarities.”
“He isn't answering his phone.”
“Then maybe you should take the hint.”
“What hint?”
A faint smile crossed Kirsten's lips. “You and he went on a little date recently, did you not?”
“It wasn't really a date, it was just a few drinks.”
“And now he isn't answering your calls,” Kirsten continued, “which a more perceptive woman might take to mean...”
“But -” Pausing, Elly realized w
ith a sense of shock that he might be right. “Do you think he's avoiding me?”
“Maybe he's just not that into you.”
“I...”
“Did you put out?”
“I'm sorry?”
“Did you sleep with him?”
“No!”
“Did you get on your knees and -”
“No!”
“You just had a few drinks and went your separate ways?”
“We...” She paused. “I mean, yes, but... It got a little complicated at the end.”
“Did you kiss?”
She nodded.
“Was it a good kiss?”
“I'd rather not -”
“Maybe it was for you, but not for him.”
“It wasn't like that.”
“So maybe instead of running around like a lost little puppy,” Kirsten continued, “you should just accept that the date didn't go very well, and you should move on. Just keep swiping right, eventually someone'll reciprocate and you'll be off for another night out.” She opened the door. “Maybe try to be less picky, and for God's sake, at least go down on the next poor fellow. Don't be too pessimistic, though, I'm sure you'll get a guy eventually. There are men out there who really go for the pale, indoors look.”
“I don't...” Elly frowned. “The what?”
“Take some well-intentioned advice,” Kirsten added, “and forget about Jonathan Carmichael. Maybe you're not good enough for him, or maybe he's not good enough for you, whatever. Maybe you won't ever see him again, which might not be such a bad thing. There are plenty more fish in the sea, and you shouldn't just go for the big fish anyway. Don't get ambitious. You can be perfectly happy with a little tiddler.”
“I'm just worried he might not be okay.”
“If I see him, I'll be sure to let him know, but don't hold your breath waiting for him to call. Honestly, Ms. Blackstock, desperation isn't a good look.” With that, she headed through to the next corridor, leaving Elly standing alone and more confused than ever.
***
“That man is going to drive me crazy,” Sharon muttered as she made some notes on the chart. “I think maybe it's time to think about getting Mr. Lacy transferred to a specialist center. The longer he stays here with us, the more likely I am to...” She sighed, before turning to Elly. “Well, let's just say that there's a painless way to change a catheter, and there's a painful way, and if Mr. Lacy isn't careful...”
She smiled, waiting for Elly to say something, before realizing that her words had been falling on deaf ears.
“Hey,” she continued, snapping her fingers, “wake up there.”
“Sorry,” Elly replied, realizing that she'd drifted off into her own thoughts again. “I was just -”
“I know exactly what you were doing,” Sharon said, heading to the door. “You were thinking about Doctor Carmichael.”
“Do you really think it's nothing to worry about?”
“I think it's nothing for us to worry about. It's none of our business if the man decides to leave without any warning.”
“But he'll come back, right?”
“Why? Like him, do you?”
Elly opened her mouth to protest, but Sharon was already out in the corridor, laughing as she headed toward the patients' rooms. Figuring that there was no way she could defend herself anyway, Elly looked back down at the notes she'd been reading and told herself that she had to focus. After a moment, however, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket, and when she pulled it out she found to her surprise that an unrecognized number was trying to get through. She paused, before tentatively answering.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Is that Elisa Blackstock?”
She paused again. People didn't usually just call her out of the blue like this. “Yes,” she said finally, “but -”
“My name is Wallace Ford,” the man on the other end of the line replied, “I'm a cardiac specialist at St. Michael's Hospital. I believe we have a mutual associate in the form of Jonathan Carmichael?”
“Have you heard from him?” she asked eagerly.
“Just the other night. Did he tell you he was going to get in touch?”
“About what?”
“About you,” Ford replied. “He spent half an hour on the phone, telling me exactly why I should hire you to replace a member of staff who just retired. He said you have some experience on a cardiac ward, and that...” He paused. “Well, he told me about the incident that happened at your previous post, but he insisted that I should look past that. It's not often that a man like Jonathan Carmichael recommends someone so highly, so I figured... Are you interested?”
“Interested?” she asked. “In... a job?”
“Can you start on the first?”
“An actual job?” she continued, afraid to believe what she was hearing in case it turned out to be some kind of misunderstanding. “Are you offering me a job?”
“You sound shocked.”
“No, I just...” Her voice trailed off for a moment. She'd resigned herself to being stuck at Middleford Cross forever, yet suddenly a way out had dropped into her lap.
“Think about it,” Ford continued. “You won't get rich working here, but Jonathan told me you're at Middleford so... Well, don't take this the wrong way, but anything's better than that place, isn't it?”
“It is,” she whispered, still not quite able to believe that she was really going to get away so quickly. “Did Jonathan say anything else to you?”
“Just that you're a real star,” Ford told her, “and that I'd be mad to pass you up. He seemed to be in something of a hurry, I tried to call him this afternoon to ask him some more questions but I couldn't get hold of him. I guess he must be busy.” He paused again. “So, are you interested in this job? You'd need to come for an interview next week, but that'll mostly be a formality. I can't imagine it'd be too difficult to get out of your contract at Middleford.”
“No,” she replied, “I mean... Yes! Yes, I'm interested, I'm very interested.” She took a deep breath. “I definitely want to come to the interview.”
“Excellent. If you get in touch with me via the email form on my department's homepage, I'll send you all the details. I realize this is an unorthodox approach, Ms. Blackstock, and I don't usually headhunt people, but... Well, you come highly recommended and that's good enough for me. I look forward to working with you.”
“Me too,” she told him. “I mean... Sure. I'll email you right away.”
Once the call was over, she stood for a moment in stunned silence. She remembered Carmichael saying that he'd try to get her a job away from Middleford Cross, but she'd never actually believed that he'd do it, or that it could happen so fast. She'd been getting used to the idea of just keeping her head down and carrying on with the night shifts, and now the sudden realization that Carmichael had done something nice for her was enough to bring tears to her eyes. More than ever, she felt that she absolutely had to get in touch with him so she could thank him, so she grabbed the office contacts book and began to search for his entry, figuring that he might have a second phone number or another email address.
A moment later, she heard the door creaking open behind her.
“Hey,” she said, barely able to contain her excitement, “I just... I need to get in touch with Jonathan, it's really urgent, do you know any other way I might be able to find him?”
No reply.
She continued to look through the book, ignoring the slow, shuffling footsteps that were gradually getting closer.
“Something about this doesn't feel right,” she continued, finding to her surprise that there was no entry in the book for Doctor Carmichael. “Sharon, don't you think it seems wrong that he'd just disappear like this?” She turned. “Maybe if -”
Before she could finish, a figure lunged at her, pushing her back against the desk as it pressed down on her shoulders.
Struggling, Elly managed to duck out of the way and slip free, before turning back to see t
o her horror that Rachel Brown had not only climbed out of bed but had torn the bandages from across her face, damaging some of her stitches in the process. The pipes in her neck, which were usually connected to various machines, were trailing loose, having been torn away from their connecters. With blood pouring from the edges of her tattered skin, Rachel turned and reached out, trying blindly to find Elly again.
“Are you okay?” Elly asked. “Did -”
Suddenly Rachel lunged at her again, throwing all her weight onto her and almost knocking her down. As Elly stepped out of the way, Rachel crashed into a desk and moved it along the wall, knocking papers and equipment off as she frantically reached out for something.
“Rachel!” Elly shouted.
Turning to her, Rachel lumbered forward, knocking over a trolley and sending trays of glass bottles smashing to the ground. Letting out a faint, gurgled gasp, Rachel looked up; the remaining muscles around her jaw area were rapidly flexing, as if she was trying to scream even though most of her mouth was gone. With every movement, fresh blood was squeezed out and dribbled onto the floor.
“Stop!” Elly shouted. “What's wrong with you?”
As Rachel lunged at her again, Elly slipped away and ran to the door, just as Sharon arrived.
“She came up behind me,” Elly explained, turning to watch as Rachel stumbled across the room. “I don't know what's wrong with her but -”
“Jesus Christ!” Sharon hissed, hurrying over to Rachel and grabbing her arms, while reaching into the pocket of her uniform and pulling out a syringe. After pulling the cap away, she plunged the needle into Rachel's arm and injected her with a clear liquid, and a moment later she and Elly supported Rachel's weight and eased her down onto the floor. “A basic sedative,” Sharon muttered, tossing the syringe into a nearby bin. “Working at a place like this, you quickly learn to carry one at all times.”
“She's bleeding,” Elly pointed out, spotting another patch of damaged skin on the back of Rachel's head, with a thick bandage having been taped in place. “I don't know what went wrong, I checked on her twenty minutes ago and she was sleeping!”
