by Lisa Stone
Robbie finished his snack and, picking up one of Eva’s toys, went over to show her.
‘I think you have a new friend,’ Emily said.
‘I like Robbie,’ Eva replied.
‘He likes you too,’ Alisha said.
Emily saw that Alisha was finally starting to relax. She’d seemed so tense and on edge when they’d first arrived that Emily had thought something was seriously wrong. It was probably stress. The stress of looking after Eva while coping with her own ill health must be overwhelming at times.
‘Alisha, if you ever want me to sit with Eva so you can go out for a while, you only have to say,’ Emily offered.
Alisha looked shocked. ‘Oh no, thank you, but I don’t go out.’
‘I know you don’t. But you could. Why not? On a day when you’re feeling well enough. It would do you good.’
‘But where would I go?’ she asked, astonished.
‘Anywhere you like. Shopping? For a walk? Just for a change of scenery.’
‘That’s kind of you, but I’m OK really … and Amit wouldn’t like it.’
Emily stopped herself from saying that Amit need never know. ‘Think about it,’ she said. ‘The offer stands until I have to return to work.’
Alisha nodded, but Emily doubted she would ask her.
A moment later, the doorbell rang, making Alisha start. ‘It’ll be a parcel for Amit,’ she said. Immediately standing, she crossed the room. ‘I must hurry. I daren’t miss it.’
Emily threw Eva a reassuring smile, for she too was looking concerned. ‘Mummy’s gone to get the parcel, she won’t be long.’
‘She has to hurry,’ Eva said slowly, her words hampered by the shape of her mouth. ‘Daddy gets angry if they go next door.’
‘Does he?’ Emily said. ‘How does he show he’s angry?’
‘He shouts,’ Eva said, her eyes sad like Alisha’s were sometimes.
‘At Mummy?’ Emily asked.
‘Yes. I hear him.’
‘Does he shout at you?’
‘He stays away from me. I love Mummy but not Daddy.’
Emily was taken aback by the child’s forthrightness and was about to ask her why she didn’t love her father, and if he ever hit her or her mother, when Alisha returned.
‘Got to the door in time,’ she said, relieved and out of breath.
Emily nodded and then, after a moment, asked, ‘How does Amit get on with Eva?’
‘He doesn’t have anything to do with her,’ she said, her voice flat. ‘He is ashamed of her as he was our son.’
Emily looked at Eva, wondering if she should hear this.
‘She knows,’ Alisha said. ‘I can’t protect her from everything. Amit has rejected her and blames me for making her as she is by carrying the faulty gene.’
‘That’s awful,’ Emily sympathized.
Alisha gave a small nod. ‘Yet I understand why he is angry and spends so much of his time trying to find a cure. He can’t bear to be with us, and while a cure won’t help us, he will make a name for himself.’
‘That’s so sad. I’d have thought he would want to spend as much time with you both as possible while he has the chance.’
‘We’re used to it.’ Alisha shrugged despondently. ‘It could be worse.’
Emily wasn’t sure how, but she let it go. Alisha had tears in her eyes.
‘Daddy’s parcel?’ Eva asked, looking at her mother.
‘Yes. Another one!’ Alisha exclaimed, raising a smile.
‘Whatever was in that huge one that arrived a few weeks ago?’ Emily asked, finishing her tea.
‘When was that? There are so many, I don’t remember.’
‘You wouldn’t forget that one. It was massive. Big enough to hold a body.’ She laughed, but Alisha looked serious. ‘I was in Robbie’s bedroom and heard the lorry park outside. I held him up to the window to see. He loves lorries.’
‘I don’t remember that,’ Alisha said, frowning.
‘Amit was home and took care of the delivery.’
‘Was he?’ She wrung her hands in her lap.
‘You don’t remember? I think I still have the picture.’ Emily took out her phone.
‘You took a photo?’ Alisha asked, amazed.
‘Yes, I take photos of everything.’ She laughed. ‘I live my life through Snapchat.’ She found the video clip. ‘Here it is. The date and time is just above the recording.’ Holding her phone so Alisha could see, Emily touched the arrow to play the short recording. The same one she’d shown to Ben, of Amit at the bottom of the garden manoeuvring the cylinder-like object into his shed.
‘I must have been seeing to Eva,’ Alisha said as the clip ended. ‘But I really don’t understand why you would want to photograph it.’
‘I photograph everything,’ Emily said again. ‘A lot of people with smartphones do. Rather than text, we send snapshots of where we are and what we’re doing. There are apps and websites that allow you to share photos with your family and friends instantly. So, if I’m in a restaurant, for example, I will send a picture of my meal before I start eating. Or if I’m shopping for something new to wear, I’ll send photos of me trying on different outfits and ask my friends for their opinions. It’s like having them there.’ How difficult it was trying to explain the instant connectivity she enjoyed to someone who didn’t even own a basic mobile phone.
‘Look at all these,’ Emily continued, scrolling through some of the hundreds of photos and video clips she’d taken: everyday scenes and settings. ‘It must seem strange to you, but it’s what my friends and I do. So when I saw Amit with that massive container, I automatically reached for my phone.’
‘Who did you share it with? Your friends?’ Alisha asked, immediately growing anxious.
‘No. Only Ben.’
‘You didn’t tell him about Eva?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘What did Ben say when you showed him?’ Alisha asked.
‘Nothing really. I can delete it if you like.’
‘Yes, I think that would be best, and please don’t take any more of Amit. He’d be so angry if he saw you.’
Chapter Twenty
It was still daylight when Emily left that afternoon, but the cold winter evening was quickly closing in. From Eva’s window, Alisha could see frost already settling outside. Amit would be in the operating theatre for another hour. Checking Eva was all right and didn’t need anything, she hurried as fast as she could downstairs, slipped on her coat and shoes and, leaving the CCTV off, let herself out the back door.
She’d recognized the date and time on the video clip Emily had shown her. It was the day Amit had forced her into the downstairs cloakroom and locked her in. When he’d released her, he’d given her no explanation – she hadn’t expected one, and she’d never have asked. But why hadn’t he wanted her to see that delivery? She’d taken in plenty of others. What did he want with that tall cylinder that Emily had joked was big enough to hold a body? What exactly was he doing in that lab? She was hoping there’d be a gap at the edge of the blinds big enough to see in. Normally she never ventured down the garden, but something was telling her she needed to now, to try to find out more. It must be something to do with his research into finding a cure for what else could it be?
The lab was locked as always, and Alisha tried to peer in through the glass at the side of the blind in the main window. But the opaque film went right up to the very edge, so it was impossible to see anything inside. She tried the other windows, with the same result. Amit had certainly done a good job of stopping anyone seeing in. Was it really to keep out the prying gaze of neighbours as he claimed, or to stop her seeing in too? He’d used the opaque film on the windows of the house so that Eva couldn’t be seen from outside as had happened at their last house. He’d stuck it on this outbuilding about the same time he’d started calling it a lab and researching. Then the packages had started arriving.
Coming away from the windows, Alisha examined the padlock on the do
or. She’d no idea where Amit kept the key – with him, she assumed. She took a few steps down the side of the building; there were no windows here, but she trod on something soft. Looking down, she gave a small cry. Partially covered by fallen leaves was a dead mouse. She shivered. She didn’t like mice, dead or alive. It was something about their beady eyes and pink furless tails. Perhaps Amit had put poison down; that’s why it had died here. It couldn’t have been dead for long though, there was no sign of decomposition and appeared to be well preserved. Repelled yet fascinated, she nudged it with the tip of her shoe and grimaced. It was so well preserved, it looked as though it might get up and run off at any moment. Creepy Stepping over the mouse, she began up the path towards the house. Amit would remove it.
Preserved. That term, why did it resonate with her? And the size and shape of the object Amit had had delivered reminded her of something, although she couldn’t say what. She’d thought so when Emily had shown her the video clip of the delivery but hadn’t said anything. Perhaps it resembled something she’d seen in a picture or on television? Big enough to hold a body, Emily had quipped, finding it amusing. But what did she know? Her life was perfect, with a partner who doted on her, a healthy child, and a career. Someone like Emily couldn’t possibly understand her life, although she pretended to. She shouldn’t have taken that photo. It was intrusive. Perhaps Amit was right to distrust her. Yet …
Arriving at the back door, Alisha paused before going in. She raised her right hand as if to lift the lid on the bin, then decided otherwise and continued indoors. Sometimes it was better to ignore things and pretend you hadn’t seen them for your own good. She and Eva needed Amit and would never survive without him.
Chapter Twenty-One
In the week before Christmas, the flu epidemic peaked and many National Health Service hospitals in England were stretched to the limit. Targets for routine operations were being missed as elderly patients were admitted, treated and then bed-blocked as they lived alone and there was no care plan in place for them to return home. The tabloid press ran regular front-page horror stories of the elderly being left on trolleys in hospital corridors for hours until a bed became available. One even died there. Shocking and unacceptable for a supposedly caring society, but perfect for what Amit had in mind.
Advising work that he too had succumbed to the flu virus – he’d never have been allowed the time off otherwise – he shut himself in his lab with his laptop and set about finding the hardest hit hospitals. He needed one that was already struggling, failing to meet its targets and now found itself in crisis as the flu struck. It wasn’t difficult. The online news was full of appalling statistics. St James’ would do perfectly. He downloaded the visitor’s guide to the hospital to his phone, locked up his lab and went indoors.
In his bedroom, he changed into his hospital scrubs, packed an overnight bag, including casual clothes, and then put on his overcoat. On the way out, he shouted to Alisha that he would be away a few nights on a conference and didn’t know exactly when he’d be back. She didn’t reply. She was in Eva’s room, presumably seeing to the child who needed so much attention and gave nothing in return. Well, not for much longer.
Amit dropped his overnight bag on the back seat of his car and then settling into the driver’s seat tapped the postcode for St James’ Hospital into the satnav. It was fifty-three miles away. Ideal for his purpose. Not so close that he might be recognized on the ward, but not so far as to require an overnight stop on the return journey, which would be a problem.
He accelerated off the drive in a surge of adrenalin. He felt good. He’d made huge progress and was now on par with ELECT – at the forefront of the revolution to preserve life indefinitely. At some point in the future, his work would be recognized and he would go down in history alongside pioneers like Alexander Fleming and Louis Pasteur. Men at the cutting edge of medical science who’d pushed the barriers further than their contemporaries believed possible. True, what he was about to do was illegal, but needs must, and he couldn’t find any moral objection to his plan. Just the opposite in fact. He was going to save an old person from the indignity of dying catheterised in a hospital bed or alone at home.
He switched on the radio to classical music and relaxed into the drive. This was the next and final stage in the testing. He’d perfected the procedure on animals, but now he needed to trial it on a human before he was ready for Alisha. He needed someone who wouldn’t be missed. What better than an old person without any relatives. Then the only decision was whether to deal with Eva before or after Alisha. Clearly, it would be a waste of his time and resources to preserve the child. She was beyond hope, always had been, and he felt nothing towards her but bitter resentment. The ancient Amazonian tribes had the right idea when they left sick and deformed babies to die in the forest. But he’d deal with Eva when the time came. There was no rush, as no one knew she was there except him and Alisha.
Arriving as planned at 2.30 p.m., Amit parked in a side road close to St James’ Hospital. With mounting anticipation and pushing aside any fear he may fail or, worse, be caught, he removed his coat and clipped his identity badge to the pocket of his scrubs. He needed to stay focused and positive, his plan required bravado. There was no room for doubt or hesitation. He was relying on the security guard and hospital staff being too busy with the flu epidemic to notice his ID was from a different hospital. They looked very similar from a distance. And with nearly half of St James’ staff being agency, there’d be little continuity, so he doubted another new face in their midst would stand out.
Amit wiped the perspiration from his forehead. Then, summoning the confidence of a man in hospital scrubs who has every right to be there, and with his heart drumming loudly, he went in the main entrance and through reception. The security guard nodded respectfully at him and he returned a tight smile. It was very busy, as he knew it would be, especially at this time. In addition to those attending outpatients appointments, it was half an hour after the start of visiting time and he knew from the hospital where he worked this was when most people visited. They generally left around 4 p.m., then there was a lull until the evening visitors began to arrive around 5.30. He needed to be out by 4 p.m.
His palms sweating, Amit checked the map of the hospital he’d downloaded to his phone and continued to the staircase, then up to the second floor. Elizabeth Ward, St Anne’s and King Edward were situated here and were top of his list. These were general medical wards where patients would be recovering from a number of different illnesses, including transfers from Accident and Emergency. But, more crucially, they were now having to act as holding stations for the elderly until they could be discharged home.
Elizabeth Ward first, he decided, and getting in was the first hurdle. His swipe card wouldn’t work in another hospital, so he waited a little way up the corridor until a group of visitors buzzed to be admitted and he followed them in. Easy.
The layout of this ward and the other wards he planned to visit was standard, with a central corridor and six bed wards leading off. Forty-two beds in all. The nurses’ station was in the centre and it was empty, all the nurses were occupied, tending to patients or answering relatives’ questions. He could tell from the nurses’ expressions as he passed them in the corridor just how stressed and overworked they were. Other than an acknowledging nod or hello they didn’t bother with him – a doctor in blue scrubs and wearing an ID badge.
He was sweating freely now – why were hospital wards always so fucking hot? The temperature and humidity in the operating theatre where he spent most of his time was carefully regulated. Taking a tissue from his pocket, he mopped his brow. Then, assuming the air of a doctor checking on his patients, he wandered in and out of the wards. They were full to capacity. There wasn’t a single empty bed, and since he’d arrived a new patient had been wheeled in on a gurney. There were plenty of elderly patients, but most of them had visitors. He took another tour, then returned to the first of the two possible candidates who appeare
d to meet his criteria: old and infirm and who didn’t have any visitors. Heavily wrinkled and nearly bald, she was propped up on a mound of pillows and staring into space. Amit set his expression to professional doctorly concern and unhooked the observation chart from the end of her bed.
‘How are you today, Elsie?’ he asked reading her name from the chart.
‘Not too bad,’ she croaked, her voice hoarse and her lips dry.
‘Are you drinking enough?’ He nudged the beaker on her bedside cabinet closer.
‘Yes, doctor.’
‘No visitors then?’ he asked nonchalantly while studying her chart.
‘My son will be here later when he’s finished work.’
That ruled her out. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Well make sure you drink plenty.’
He returned the chart to the end of her bed, went into the main corridor and gulped in air. Now for the other possible. Using the same tactics, he approached Miss Kerry, but she told him she was expecting her brother to visit shortly. Having exhausted both possibilities on this ward, Amit left.
He would try the male ward next, King Edward. He went further along the corridor. A visitor was coming out and held the door open for him to go in. ‘Thank you,’ he said politely.
He would employ the same modus operandi. A couple of tours of the wards as if he was looking for a patient he needed to check on, then approach those without visitors. Again, the staff were far too busy to notice him. There were five patients here without visitors, but three of them were too young to be of any use to him. He went to the first of the other two.
‘Hello, Mr Ridley,’ he said, unclipping his chart from the end of the bed. ‘How are you?’
‘Not too bad.’
‘No visitors today?’
‘My wife’s coming later.’
‘Very good.’
As he left, a nurse came in wheeling a blood pressure monitor but gave him no more than a cursory glance. He nodded as she passed and went to the next six-bed ward and to Mr Smith, but as he unclipped the chart, a visitor arrived.
