I took a tissue from the box and carefully wrapped them before placing them in the top drawer of the cabinet. I would show them to Paul later. Meanwhile, sleep was all I craved.
It wasn’t to be. The door opened. Time for my usual checks. This was swiftly followed by my morning cup of tea, shower and breakfast.
It struck me around then. I had been out of my room for maybe three hours, since before dawn, and no one had missed me. Those who had noticed had merely assumed I had gone for an early walk – even though I must have broken the cardinal rule of telling someone when I left the ward. Supposing I had come to harm in that strange place, how long would it have been before anyone had realized I was missing?
* * *
Paul’s anger showed in his rapidly reddening face. “I’m having a word with someone. This is disgraceful.”
“No, Paul, don’t. Please. I’ll only have to try and explain where I was and no one will believe me.”
He hesitated. “Look, I understand that, but anything could have happened to you and they wouldn’t have known. I’ll only promise I won’t make a complaint this time if you promise me you won’t go looking for trouble again. Stay away from that… that…whatever it is.”
“Okay.” I sighed. Frankly, after my last experience I didn’t much fancy repeating my visit or even my encounter with Agnes. “Let’s go for a coffee.”
“Are you sure you’re up for it?”
I nodded, then pointed to the flakes of paint lying in the tissue. “Do you think you could get someone to analyze those?”
“I have contacts,” Paul said, carefully wrapping the tissue into a tight wad and tucking it into his jacket pocket.
“I wish I could have found something more tangible.”
Paul was looking at my feet. “You need new slippers. I’ll bring some tomorrow and I’ll get the old ones analyzed as well. You never know. Maybe you’ve picked up something on them that couldn’t possibly be here in this day and age.”
“Thanks. They look as if I’ve been for a ten-mile hike.”
* * *
The cafeteria bustled as usual. A patient limped by, wheeling a portable drip. Others lounged in dressing gowns talking to their visitors. Children chattered and played. Nurses grabbed coffees and sandwiches on their breaks.
I nursed my cup of mocha while Paul sipped a flat latte.
“Do you think you’ll still be coming home next week?” he asked.
“I hope so. Maryam hasn’t said anything different. I should be getting the MRI results through soon. Meanwhile, I’m keeping quiet on my experiences. I don’t want to give them any fuel for thinking I need psychiatric assessment.”
His attention was drawn to something over my shoulder. “Your friend’s back.”
I blinked. Paul nodded behind me. I struggled to my feet.
“Hello, Vanessa.”
Hearing her voice without seeing her brought a shock of recognition. It held a distinctive tone. How had I missed that in our earlier encounter down here? I took a deep breath and turned to face her. She stood, smiling at me. That was why. The voice and the facial expression didn’t match and I had previously allowed myself to be taken in by the warm smile. It was in evidence today, but much altered. This time, her mouth smiled, but her eyes were a different matter. Gone was the aura of friendliness. In that instant I knew I was right and another piece in this impossible jigsaw slotted into place. “Hello,” I said, my mouth dry.
“You’re looking tired. Are you getting enough sleep?”
“Not entirely.” I was aware of the chill in my voice.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you’ll sleep much better very soon. In fact, I know you will.”
She smiled, nodded and moved away. I sat down.
“You were almost rude to her,” Paul said. “You defended her to me last time. What’s happened? Something you haven’t told me?”
I avoided his eyes for a second while my thoughts raced, but there was no point in hiding my suspicions. “It’s her voice I heard whispering to me in the corridor when I went through that wall. I didn’t register at first but now I’m certain. Somehow she can materialize here and go back in time. She looks different there but I’m certain. She’s the one who tells me I’m next. But next for what? She’s some sort of link between the two…worlds.”
Paul stared at his coffee. “I think we need you out of here. Get you home or transferred to another hospital.”
“No, Paul, no. I’m getting the best treatment here, I can’t go anywhere else. This is the right hospital for my cancer.”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “I’m not happy about this.” He stood, pushing his chair back.
“Where are you going?”
“To have a word with that woman. Which way did she go?”
I looked wildly round. Still the milling throngs, but no sign of the woman.
“Damn it!” Paul sat, scraping the chair noisily across the floor.
“It won’t do any good,” I said. “Just leave it.”
“I can’t just leave it. That woman threatened you.”
“When? She hasn’t actually said anything threatening at all, apart from ‘you’re next’, and I have no idea what she was referring to when she said it. It could be something completely innocuous.”
“But you don’t think so. And then there’s that little ghost girl. Didn’t she warn you about her? She actually said that woman would kill you.”
“Maybe I got that wrong. Maybe Agnes got that wrong. Maybe she didn’t even mean her or it could simply be my own paranoia.”
“You’re not paranoid. I’ve known you too long, Nessa, I’d notice.”
I drained my coffee. “I think I’d like to go back now. I’m feeling really tired.” I didn’t tell him about the strange feeling I was experiencing. Something in my head didn’t feel right.
Paul took my arm as we made our way back to the lift. No sign of the woman.
Back in my room, it was a relief to sink into my comfortable bed, even though the area between my nonexistent waist and the top of my thighs stung and burned until I got myself comfortably settled.
“Better?”
“I will be. It’ll die down in a few minutes.”
“Do you need some more painkillers?”
I shook my head. “It’s too early. They’ll come round with them later.”
Paul glanced at his watch. “I’d better get off now. I’ve still got some notes to write up for tomorrow’s staff meeting.”
“Thanks for coming and for putting up with me.”
Paul smiled and kissed me lightly on the lips. “No wandering into strange places. Remember you promised.”
“I know. I won’t.”
The door closed softly behind Paul as I leaned back against the pillows and closed my eyes.
* * *
I felt a breath on my cheek, opened my eyes and stared straight into the face of the woman from the café.
She smiled down at me as I shrank back in bed.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“My name’s Hester,” she said. She had opted for the natural look today. No scarf. The light glanced off her bald head.
“How did you find me?”
“I told you when we first met. I can see things others can’t.”
“But why me?”
“Because you have been chosen.”
“Chosen for what?”
“You have a special purpose.”
I clutched the sheet tightly up to my chin, my knuckles white from the effort. “I don’t understand what you want from me.”
She laid her hand over mine. Icy cold, white, bloodless. I shivered.
The woman’s eyes held me in their gaze. She said nothing. Tension mounted inside me. “My husband just left,” I said. “You must have se
en him. Did he speak to you?”
“No.”
Scared as I was, I needed confirmation. I moistened my lips. “You know about the corridor, don’t you?” I said.
Her eyes held a questioning look.
“Please don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, Hester. The door that appears sometimes and not others and when it does it takes you into an older building. A different time….”
“There have been many buildings on this site over the centuries. Some have left their mark.”
“The workhouse. The last building to be here. There’s some sort of portal outside this room.”
“There are many portals.”
“I believe you know what’s going on. I believe I have seen you there and you keep telling me I’m next. What am I next for? Why are these things happening to me and what’s your involvement?”
“I have already told you all I can. For now. Has the little girl been back? Agnes?”
“Yes. You told me she wanted to help but I’m not sure that’s true.”
Hester smiled. “She has…let’s say she has her own agenda. I think that’s the correct term. Yes. Her own agenda.”
“I’m not going back there. Not after last time. I couldn’t get out of that place. And you threatened me. I’ll ask you again. What did you mean by ‘you’re next’?”
Hester smiled but it was a smile that could freeze boiling water. “You can always come back. There’s always a way, you simply have to find it. As for threatening you…. No, I didn’t threaten you. I merely stated the truth. You are next. Time is a strange medium. The past, present, future, all exist simultaneously. You only have to know where to look and sometimes your destiny finds you. Sometimes others help you find your destiny, and sometimes others are sent to bring you to your destiny.” She picked up my book and the folded sheet of paper containing the poem fluttered to the floor. She bent and retrieved it, opened and read it.
A wave of anger dissolved my fears as it swept through me. “What the hell are you talking about?”
A slow smile spread across her face as she refolded the paper and tucked it back into the book, noting its author. “John Grisham. I am unfamiliar with his work. Is he any good?”
“Yes. He writes great suspense novels.” Surely even a non-reader must have heard of one of the world’s bestselling authors? Apparently not this one. “Are you going to answer my question?”
“The poem. Where did you get it?”
“It fell out of another book. I got it from the hospital library.”
She nodded. “You should heed the words.”
“Heed them? In what way?”
“Because they apply to you.”
“I don’t understand. Will you please stop talking in riddles and explain yourself?”
“It will all become clear, but I must go now.”
“But hang on a minute. Wait—”
The door closed behind her only to be opened a few seconds later by a nurse I hadn’t met before.
“Hello, I’m Nancy. I’m on duty this evening.”
“Hello, Nancy. Did you see a woman come out of my room?”
“When? Now?”
I nodded.
She shook her head. “I probably missed her. I was with another patient next door until a few seconds ago.”
I let it go. She took my temperature, blood pressure, enquired after the state of my bowel movements, fluffed my pillows and left, promising a dose of Movicol the next morning unless I had managed to ‘perform’. Movicol always did the trick all right. The problem was it did it too well and every time I went to the bathroom I had to douche my lower parts afterward to ward off any chance of infection. Maryam was strict about that. Last time I had ‘performed’ five times in as many hours. That’s an awful lot of douching. It would certainly keep me out of mischief the next day because I wouldn’t dare stray too far from my bathroom.
I fought to keep Hester and my experience down that corridor out of my mind. I made myself as comfortable as possible with the television on. I caught the last half of Back to the Future. I had lost count of the number of times I’d seen all three of the series, but it was what I needed that night. Forcing myself to become absorbed in it gradually relaxed tense muscles. By the time the credits rolled, I had almost convinced myself that Hester was a crazy eccentric who enjoyed playing mind games. Almost. But a weird feeling in my head wouldn’t go away. A sort of probing sensation. My eyes grew heavier and I may even have drifted off.
The scream blasted through my semi-conscious state. I struggled out of bed and grabbed my dressing gown. From outside I heard the sound of running feet, a gabble of voices, a woman sobbing hysterically.
I pulled the door open and saw a fellow patient – a young woman in her twenties, I guessed. I had seen her before. Her face had looked troubled then and she had seemed wrapped up in dark thoughts. She was lying on the floor in a heap, her feet under her, clutching at her hair while two nurses and a couple of patients tried to calm her. There were pale reddish marks around her wrists as if they had been bound for some reason.
She looked directly at me, her eyes red with crying. “They hurt me. They’re using me like a guinea pig….”
One of the nurses called to a colleague who was hurrying up the corridor. “Page the doctor on call. Get him here now.”
The young student nurse needed no further telling.
“What happened to her?” I asked.
One of the patients replied, “I don’t really know. Maybe she was sleepwalking.”
“Wasn’t…sleepwalking. She told me…to come with her.” The woman on the floor continued to direct her responses directly to me. “You know, don’t you? You’ve seen her too. You’ve been there. I can tell by the look on your face.” A patient handed her a tissue and she blew her nose and attempted to sit up. All eyes turned to me.
“The little girl or the woman with the bald head?” I asked. The women glanced at each other. I must have sounded crazy to them. But not to the patient on the floor.
“The woman. Hester.”
I nodded.
The woman pointed at the wall. “You’ve been there too, haven’t you? To the other place.”
Inwardly I thanked every being I could imagine. I wasn’t alone now. Even though I knew Paul was prepared to give me the benefit of the doubt, not to mention Margie, it wasn’t the same as meeting someone who had shared my experience and been frightened by it.
“What’s she on about?” one of the other patients asked. The other one shrugged, while the nurses looked from one to the other of us, their faces incredulous.
“Did she hurt you?” I asked.
The woman shook her head. “Not her. Not Hester. Arabella Marsden, and Dr. Franklyn. They’re evil. They’re experimenting on people. They drilled a hole in my head…. And they tied my legs and wrists. You can see.” She shifted her position, the effort etched in her face. At the sight of her ankles, even the nurses looked shocked.
Suppurating reddish-purple weals showed clear evidence of bonds that had been tied too tightly.
The doctor hurried up the corridor. “What’s going on here?” He bent down to the patient on the floor. “That looks nasty, Carol,” he said, gently touching one ankle.
The girl winced.
“How did you do that?” the doctor asked.
“You wouldn’t believe me. No one would. Except her.” She pointed at me. “She knows because she’s been there too.”
“She’s not lying,” I said. All around me, disbelief led to shaking heads, even a muffled giggle from one of the patients.
The doctor stood up. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I think it’s best if we get Carol down for an X-ray on those ankles to make sure nothing’s broken. They’re both quite swollen, but I think it’s soft tissue damage. The rest of you, bac
k to bed.”
The nurses nodded and the other two patients reluctantly dispersed.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” I said to Carol, who nodded.
The student nurse reappeared with a wheelchair and Carol cast a glance back at me as she was taken away. “In darkness, shadows breathe,” she mouthed.
That poem. Shocked, I nodded and gave a little wave. I went back to bed but couldn’t sleep. What had Carol seen and experienced on the other side? Whatever this was, it seemed to be stepping up its actions and who knew what it would do next?
* * *
I had showered, breakfasted, taken my Movicol and was preparing to make my way down the corridor to see Carol when the door opened to admit Maryam, accompanied by Joyce.
“Hello, Nessa. You’ve been having some adventures I hear.”
I grimaced. “I’m not the only one.”
“So I’ve been told. All very mysterious.”
“You could say that.”
Maryam gave me a curious look before plowing on. “I have some news. We have had two lots of results back. Firstly, the histology has come back on the tissues we sent following your operation. It showed primary vaginal cancer but only at a microscopic level. The good news is there is no evidence it has spread and everything points to us having caught it early enough, but the next course of action is radiotherapy when you’ve recovered. This cancer isn’t known for traveling too far but we need to make sure it hasn’t wandered into the lymph nodes.”
I squirmed. “I still have to have radiotherapy even though you’ve caught it all?”
“It’s advisable. I mentioned during our consultations that we needed to allow a surgical margin around the affected area and that led us to have to remove part of your urethra, but in that area it was difficult to ensure the safest margin, so radiotherapy is the best way to ensure we catch anything that might be lurking there. The thing to focus on is that it is curative in your case, Nessa. We’ve caught it early enough.”
“So the burning vulva was a good thing then?” I managed a smile.
In Darkness, Shadows Breathe Page 18
