She was surprised he still had the picture, even more surprised to find it here. Did that mean he still cared for her? Did he use the photograph like a map, finding a way back to sanity, an anchor connecting him to the real world?
She lay down on the makeshift bed, held the photograph to her chest and cried herself to sleep.
CHAPTER 23
Mandy woke up to find herself lying on the living room floor. She felt sore and there was a large bruise on her arm that made her wince when she touched it. She had no idea how it got there. The last thing she remembered was ... what? She couldn’t remember.
A knock at the door brought her to her feet and she stepped into the hallway and peered out of the glass panels that ran up the side of the door. She recognised Adam White and smiled. She liked the doctor.
“Mandy, I was starting to worry about you,” Adam said as she opened the door. “You were meant to be at the surgery over an hour ago for your appointment.”
“Was I?” She looked down sheepishly.
“Not to worry. I’m here now. Do you mind if I come in?”
Mandy stepped back from the door and Adam entered the house, following her through to the living room, where he dropped his leather bag down on the living room table.
“You see how I spoil you with these home visits,” Adam said, smiling warmly.
Mandy chuckled.
“Now I just need to do a few routine checks. If you can just put this thermometer underneath your tongue.” He opened his bag and took a thermometer out before placing it in her mouth. “And I’ll just take your pulse.” He took hold of her wrist and frowned. “Where did you get this bruise?”
Mandy shrugged.
Nodding his head, Adam continued taking her pulse while consulting his watch. “That’s fine. Now let me take that thermometer out. There we go. Let me see, thirty-seven degrees, perfect.” Next he checked her blood pressure. “And how are you feeling? Any problems lately? Have you had any sickness, diarrhoea, upset stomach?”
Mandy shrugged. “Well ...”
Adam waited patiently.
“Well, I still keep forgetting things.”
“Such as?”
“Anything. Everything. I can’t remember.” She started crying.
“That’s all right, take your time. I’ll take a blood sample and then why don’t you tell me about these forgetful episodes you’re experiencing, and perhaps we can work out where you got that bruise.”
Mandy winced as Adam drew her blood.
“Mandy, are you OK?”
Mandy nodded as she watched Candle Wax pad silently across the carpet. “Yes, I’m fine,” she whispered, smiling at the cat.
***
Chase woke feeling disorientated until she remembered that she was in the cellar of the derelict farmhouse. The photograph was still clutched to her chest, a bit more crumpled than it was before. Flattening it as best she could, she slipped it into her bag before tucking into a gooseberry jam and pickled onion breakfast. It was only when she finished eating that she realised her ankle no longer hurt. She was thankful for that, as it would make it easier to flee.
Wan light filtered into the cellar through cracks in the floorboards, helping her see her surroundings slightly better. The far end of the cellar remained in darkness. Apart from the food supplies, the cellar seemed to be fairly barren. Water dripped down one of the walls and judging by the pans stationed at the foot of the wall, it looked as though Mat had collected the water to drink. Cobwebs proliferated in the rafters supporting the floor above, although from the amount of dust trapped in the webs, she doubted there were any spiders in residence. She couldn’t believe Mat had been living in these dismal surrounds; couldn’t believe she had found him here.
Venturing toward the dark recess at the back of the cellar, she found an old wooden bureau covered by a few old mouldy newspapers. A ragged coat and a pair of walking boots hung from a rusty nail on the wall. Ignoring the mouldy looking coat, she took the boots down to inspect them. The laces broke straight away as she tested them, and although the boots were slightly too big for her, they seemed in good condition and better for the terrain than the trainers she was wearing. Removing the laces from her shoes, she re-laced the walking boots, tapped them on the floor to make sure there were no creepy crawlies in them and put them on.
Next she pulled open one of the bureau drawers, only to find a few rusty old nails. She closed the drawer and opened the next one down to find a can of oil and a few hard rags wrapped around a rusty hammer. Shaking her head, she opened another drawer. Inside she found a rotten old map that disintegrated when she picked it up, an old calor gas stove, a few tent pegs and a length of fishing line with a few hooks. There was also a tobacco tin. Taking it out, she prised open the lid, the scent of old tobacco still evident. Inside she found a small penknife and a circular compass. She surmised that whoever previously lived in the house must have been a keen camper. She pocketed the compass. Opening the penknife, she ran her finger along the blade. It felt sharp and she put the penknife and the fishing tackle in the tin before putting them in her bag.
She waited a while before venturing out of the cellar, listening for movement in the house above. Finally satisfied the men had gone, she carefully pushed open the trapdoor, peering out at a room more ramshackle than the one she remembered. Bits of broken furniture littered the floor and the doors had been smashed.
After closing the trapdoor, she cautiously stepped through the debris to the front room and approached the front door where she peered outside, her eyes alert for any movement. Confident there was no one around, she started to walk back toward the hill. She could have followed the lane, but she thought it too risky. Despite everything, she needed to find Mat and Jane. She couldn’t leave them.
Chase knew she was risking her life, but without Mat, she knew she didn’t have a life. When he had disappeared, she had been devastated. Her world didn’t just deteriorate, it collapsed. It was only because of Jane that she managed to hold herself together. Jane had been there for her, now she had to be there for Jane, too. It was her fault Jane was in this mess. Too many people had suffered because of her. She knew Moon must have powerful allies. If they could make a village disappear, what was one person? The thought made her shiver.
Even though she’d had a bad ankle coming down the hill, walking back up seemed harder. She stopped halfway up to catch her breath and to rub her thighs, which had started to ache. The boots she had donned handled the precarious ground better than her trainers had, but they were heavier than her previous footwear, which added to the exertion.
Like a portent, dark clouds were gathering in the sky and she shivered.
At the top of the hill, she made her way to the hollow, crawling up the bank to peer out over the village. Everything seemed quiet but she proceeded with caution, scrambling over the top and darting between bushes and tree trunks. The ground was muddy and slippery in places, but the grip on the boots helped keep her upright. She decided to circumnavigate High Top Cottage in case someone was waiting in hiding for her, and she kept to the gardens and fields behind the hedge that lined the lane. She kept herself low, trying to hide as much as possible behind foliage. As she ducked behind a large red rhododendron bush at the bottom of a garden, a spot of rain hit her cheek and she cursed.
“Who’s that?” a voice demanded.
Startled, Chase almost fell over as Belinda appeared from around the side of the rhododendron, a pair of menacing secateurs in one hand and deadheaded flowers in the other. She was wearing a floral print dress and Wellington boots; her grey hair tied up in a ragged bun that looked like a spider on her head.
“What are you doing in my garden?” Belinda asked, waving the secateurs in the air.
Chase heard a wind chime ringing in the distance, but it did little to soothe her with it sonorous tones as she tried to think what to say. She nervously eyed the secateurs. “I, erm ...”
“Oh, it’s you.” Belinda glared down at Chase.
“What are you doing hiding in my garden?”
“Oh, I ... I came for those cakes.” Chase didn’t know what to say and she didn’t want to antagonise Belinda, not when she had secateurs in her hand.
“Cakes?”
“Yes, you invited me for tea and cakes.”
Belinda frowned. “I don’t remember that.”
“Well, if it’s inconvenient ...”
“No, no, if I invited you for tea and cakes, then tea and cakes you’ll have. But you won’t find them down the bottom of my garden, you silly girl.”
Shaking her head at her misfortune, Chase followed Belinda up the garden toward the house. She didn’t want to refuse in case Belinda changed.
“Wipe your feet before you come in,” Belinda said, not heeding her own advice and leaving a muddy trail across the kitchen floor.
Chase wiped her feet on a mat and tried to avoid Belinda’s muddy route when she entered. The large kitchen felt warm and inviting. Saucepans hanging from hooks in the low-beamed ceiling knocked gently together as a breeze blew through the open door. The dried herbs hanging among the pans emitted a pleasant aroma.
“Well, sit down, sit down,” Belinda said, putting the secateurs and the deadheaded flowers on the table in the middle of the room.
Chase sat as Belinda went to the sink and filled a kettle with water.
As the wind picked up, a window banged somewhere in the house. Chase bit her lip as she watched Belinda take a large tin of cakes out of a cupboard, arranging them on a plate before putting them on the table.
“Help yourself.” Belinda put a small plate on the table and stared down at Chase with her arms folded across her chest.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll wait for my tea.” Chase said, trying to buy herself a bit of time. No way was she going to eat anything this mad woman had made, especially not when she knew the ingredients were genetically modified.
Belinda shrugged and turned to the kettle, which had come to the boil and switched itself off. While Belinda wasn’t looking, Chase took two of the cakes and quickly broke some crumbs onto the plate before dropping the cakes in her bag.
When Belinda turned back with two cups of tea, Chase licked her lips and ran the back of her hand across her mouth. “Very nice.”
“I thought you were going to wait for your tea?”
“They looked too nice to wait.” Chase smiled, hoping that Belinda believed her.
Belinda put the drinks on the table and fetched a bowl of sugar. Somewhere in the house, the window banged again.
“You’d better shut that window if you don’t want it to break.” Chase picked up her drink, letting it warm her hands.
Belinda sat down.
“The wind’s picking up,” Chase said.
Taking a sip of her tea, Belinda eyed Chase from above the rim of the cup.
“If the window breaks, it could be expensive.”
Begrudgingly, Belinda nodded her head and stood up. When she left the room, Chase quickly poured her drink down the sink and sat back down.
She heard the window slam shut, and a moment later, Belinda appeared at the door. She looked at the floor, and her face slowly flushed with colour.
“Mud!” Belinda frowned. “Where’s all that mud come from?”
“It was on your boots.”
As if she hadn’t realised Chase was there, Belinda looked up from the mess on the floor and glared at her. “You’ve walked mud into my house. Do I walk mud into your house? No respect. That’s the trouble today ...”
“No, it wasn’t me, you did it. Look at your boots!”
“Muddy bugger. Who are you anyway? And what are you doing in my kitchen?”
Chase stood up and pushed the chair back. The wooden legs squeaked across the tiled floor.
Belinda stepped into the kitchen and picked up the secateurs. “Muddy bitch. Mess my floor. I’ll show you.” She lunged across the table, snipping the blades inches from Chase’s nose.
Chase stumbled back. “I didn’t do anything,” she protested.
“Didn’t do anything. Didn’t do anything. Look at my floor. Filthy. Muddy mud.”
“You walked it into the kitchen, look.” Chase lifted her foot up to show that her boot was clean. “There’s no mud on my boot, see.”
“That’s because it’s all over my bloody floor. Muddy bugger. I’ll show you.” She charged around the table, knocking the deadheaded flowers to the ground.
Terrified, Chase fled for the door. She could hear Belinda running behind her, her footfalls loud on the tiles.
“Muddy bitch. I’ll show you.”
Heavy rain lashed down outside, distorting the view, as though it was all an illusion. Chase ran across the patio with Belinda screaming at her heel. Across the garden and she was at the gate leading to the lane. The latch felt stiff, but it moved and Chase flung the gate open and ran out of the garden, slamming the gate shut behind her to try and slow Belinda up. Although soaked, the rain was the least of her worries as she heard the gate bang open behind her.
“I’ll teach you,” Belinda screeched. “Breaking into my house and muddying the floor.”
As she ran down the lane, Chase forgot all about keeping out of sight. Her legs ached, but she couldn’t stop. After a moment, she recognised she was on the road where Mandy lived. Despite her age, Belinda kept pace, screaming obscenities as Chase ran up Mandy’s drive.
Just before she reached the house, the front door swung open and Mandy appeared. Adam stepped out behind her.
“Chase, what—” Adam began.
“It’s Belinda ...” Chase gasped. “She’s gone mad. She wants to kill me, she—”
Before Chase had time to finish her sentence, Belinda appeared in the drive, snipping the secateurs like a crab’s pincers. She ran up the drive, her bedraggled hair plastered to her face by the rain. Her floral print dress looked soaked, sticking to her like a second skin but it was her face that alarmed Chase. A mad glint twinkled in her eyes and tendons stuck out on her neck like taut steel wires. For a brief moment it looked as though her features changed, a subtle realignment of the flesh that made her look different, made her look sinister.
“The change,” Mandy said, her voice shaking.
A gunshot punctured the air and from the corner of her eye, Chase saw a flash of light. Belinda’s features contorted from madness to shock as the bullet entered her chest. She stopped running and frowned, lifting away her sodden dress and slipping her finger through the bullet hole in the material as though wondering what it was.
Mandy wailed.
“My dress,” Belinda screeched. “My bloody dress.” The mad glint returned to her eyes and she rapidly opened and closed the secateurs, snip, snip, snip, metal on metal, like huge incisors gnashing together.
Then she lunged at Chase.
Another shot rang out, hitting Belinda in the shoulder and spinning her round like a dervish. The exit hole was larger than the entry hole and Chase could see glistening shards of bone. Belinda turned back to face the house and raised her head with protracted slowness, her teeth bared in a feral snarl until a bullet entered her skull. There was no watermelon-like explosion as Chase might have expected, just a neat little hole in her cheek. She fell to the floor, still snipping the secateurs as her body twitched.
A deafening ringing echoed in Chase’s ears. She turned, shocked to see Adam with a pistol in his hand. Hardly able to hear herself speak, she said, “I don’t understand.”
“Sorry, Chase.” Adam shrugged apologetically.
Chase took a step back. ”You’re working with them.”
Adam held his hands up. “Calm down. Come inside out of the rain. Let’s talk this through.”
Mandy lay slumped in the doorway, her head in her hands.
Chase shook her head. “Do you think I’m stupid? Aren’t doctors supposed to save lives, not take them?”
Adam pursed his lips. “I did it to save you.”
“Bollocks.”
“Chase
, you’ve got to believe me.”
Shaking her head, Chase backed further away.
“Look, you’re right. I do know what’s going on, but it’s not what you think. This experiment is for the benefit of mankind. Imagine it. A world without disease. How could I refuse to be a part of that after Nigel explained it to me?”
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