by CS Savage
Beth swung her head from side to side. 'I'm not mad any more, you know. There's no one following me. I know that now.' She deliberately pushed the thought of the darkly clad figure from her mind.
Before long, they were all deep in conversation.
'I can't believe they say there's not enough evidence to charge him. What more do they need? It's ridiculous,' Beth said.
'I know, really irritating. But at least they are going to arrest him and warn him off. Hopefully, then, he'll leave me alone.'
After the meal, Beth and Rowan moved into the lounge, took up their usual positions. They could hear plates clattering in the background as Clancy put some verve into the clearing up.
'So glad he should be off your back. How's it going with Fariq?'
Rowan was immediately alert, looked furtively over her shoulder, put her finger to her lips. 'Quiet. I've still not said anything to Mum. I know she wouldn't like him, she'll think he's too old. But he's awesome, so sexy. He's asked me over to his house for the first time next weekend. It means he really likes me. He said he only takes girls home when he knows they are special.'
Beth could see Rowan lighting up with pleasure. She literally wriggled with the excitement.
'I'm going to stay the weekend. I've told mum I'm staying at Amy's. She'll never check so it should be fine.'
Beth felt her stomach contract, she hated to be party to secrets from Clancy. The uncertainty must have shown on her face as Rowan continued, 'I am eighteen. It's only because she would worry. You know how she's been since all this Vic stuff came out.'
Beth felt her face flush at the memory of how that Vic stuff had come out.
Rowan reached out to her, touched her on the arm. 'Sorry wasn't trying to get at you. Anyway, I'll give you his address so you'll know where I am. And I'll keep my phone on all weekend, promise. What can go wrong?'
The girls smiled at each other and then carried on chatting. Soon, it was ten pm. Beth made her excuses, went into the kitchen to say goodbye to Clancy and made her way to the bus stop. She was already focused on her day tomorrow – she didn't think again of Rowan and her date.
61
I think everything is in place, prepared. I stand and survey your bedroom. I move to the wardrobe, open the doors and carefully check the equipment that is laid there. Mother has told me I've done well, and I can't stop the pleasure running through my veins at the praise. I have bags of fluid, needles and butterflies, adhesive tape. In a glass bottle, phenobarbitone. Amazing what you can get on the internet nowadays. On the shelf below, I have clean towels, a bedpan, sheets. The bottles of Genelyn arterial and cavity fluid sit below that, next to the pump and two large plastic jars. And I have some large plastic sheets, just in case it gets messy. I really hope it doesn't. I want to keep you looking perfect, as in life. I have even managed to get some makeup, as suggested, so that I can return the colour to your cheeks. How wonderful to have you here with me for life. I am going to call you Angel.
62
Clancy
The office was buzzing, small groups of staff talked animatedly – there had been an incident. Clancy threw her bag on her seat and went off in search of the gossip. As she walked into the team hot-desk room, she saw all the desks were empty though a few team members stood around one desktop reading a briefing report. Murmurs of conversation reached her before she could read the report for herself, and her heart sank as she realised a member of staff had been assaulted on the hospital site the previous evening. Clancy shuddered, immediately remembering her own experience the week before – not that she had spoken about that with the team. And as she read down the report, she could see she had got off lightly. A man had followed a nurse as she left the central office, down one of the more dimly-lit paths near the listed buildings. He had managed to grab her and then dragged her down a dark alleyway behind one of the unused Victorian buildings. The report didn't go into details about the nature of the sexual assault.
Clancy felt herself go pale – it could have been her. Thank God she had been with it at the time, had managed to fight him off. The report didn't name the member of staff, but Sharon, one of the nurses, told her that she had heard on the grapevine that it was a nurse from the eating disorder unit. Clancy knew her. She reached out for one of the wheelie office chairs, sat down with a thump. She felt sorry for the woman, but she couldn't halt the feeling of relief that flowed through her.
'Do you think he's one of ours?' Kate, a nursing student, posed.
The general opinion was that he was, but Clancy knew that it could just as easily have been a member of the public. The site was large and many used it as a cut through. She managed to make eye contact with Hamish and beckoned him into her office. He followed her hesitantly, clearly reluctant to miss the office excitement. But when he looked up and caught her expression, his face creased with anxiety, and he moved quickly after her. As soon as the door shut behind him, she burst into tears. He looked shocked, stepped towards her.
'What on earth’s wrong?'
'I never got round to telling you – didn't think it was important. I was followed to my car last week. The guy came up behind me, tried to grab me. I was quick, managed to kick out at him and got away…but this could have been me, couldn't it?
Hamish ran his hand through his hair, paused for a second. 'Look, Clance, it could have been, but it wasn't. Mainly because you thought on your feet and managed to get away. You can’t feel guilty, for God’s sake–'
'They'll have to step up security.'
'You won’t walk round the grounds on your own now, though?'
She could see the concern in his eyes as he fixed her in his stare. Reluctantly, she nodded – although it would be a bloody nuisance. 'Well, not after dark, anyway,' she added.
Silence sat between them before she moved back onto the more comfortable topic of work. 'Talking of trouble, how have things been going with Hussein? Have you heard from him recently?'
'No, actually, I've been wanting to have a word with you about him. He isn't answering my calls or texts. I think maybe he's voting with his feet, decided he's not going to play ball anymore. After you told him about that personality stuff, there was a change in him. He seemed to think he could do what he wanted.'
'Great,' she said sarcastically before clenching her fist, determined not to let her hand rise to the back of her head. The scab was coming on nicely. 'We'll have to go round there and try and track him down. I can't just let him discharge himself.'
She looked at her diary. As it was Friday, there was no way of doing much until next week, although it probably wasn't going to make much difference anyway. She had little hope he was going to listen to anything they had to say. They were just discussing when would be a good time to catch him in when her door burst open. One of the junior doctors rushed in. He stopped short when he saw Clancy and Hamish in conversation. He was young, his face flushed.
'Sorry, Dr Mclean. I wanted to catch you about a patient I saw in the 136 suite last night.' The police had the power to arrest people under section 136 of the Mental Health Act if they appeared to be mentally disordered and bring them to this suite for assessment.
Clancy looked across at Hamish. What now? 'Who was it?'
'A Mr Lowe? The police bought him in. They picked him up in Sutton high street, he'd walked out of Boots without paying for something. But when they arrested him, he was agitated, kept saying he had to get back, he had instructions to follow. I managed to get to talk to him for a bit, but he wasn't making much sense. He kept saying he had tasks to complete, but wouldn't elaborate on what they were. He did mention your name. Kept saying you knew about it. By the time the assessment team got to see him, he was calm again, denying everything – said he had just forgotten to pay. They couldn't find grounds to detain him, so they let him go.'
Clancy pinched her nose. Shit.
'And you offered to admit him, for him to wait to see me?'
'I did, but he just laughed, said he wasn't that stupid.
Sorry. Anyway, I couldn't persuade him to stay, so he left. There was just something about him, made me feel unsettled. Thought I would drop by and let you know.'
'Thanks. That's really helpful. I'll follow him up.'
The junior doctor nodded and then reversed out of her office.
She caught Hamish's eye. 'We're going to have to do a Mental Health Assessment. I'll call the AMPH, try and set it up.' She immediately picked up the handset of her desk phone, checked the telephone list on the wall for the AMPH desk and dialled.
'Hi, it’s Dr Mclean.' She explained what she wanted.
The person on the end of the line was distinctly frosty. 'Patient’s name and address?'
Clancy gave the details, drumming her fingers on the desk as she waited for them to write them down.
'And why is this urgent?'
Clancy bit her tongue, bit back the retort she wanted to spit out. Because I bloody say it is! She knew getting annoyed wasn't going to help the situation. She took deep breaths and then gave Mr Lowe's history, finishing up with his presentation the night before, the fact that now he was going to put his plan into action. She could hear the woman on the end of the phone rustling papers.
'I'll pass this in to the lead AMPH. Someone will be in contact with you shortly.'
Before Clancy could argue, the line went dead. She turned to Hamish. 'God save us from officious receptionists. Sorry about that. Now, where were we. Home visit for Hussein next week. When were you saying he's likely to be in?'
'He works funny hours, so it's a bit hit and miss. I usually see him in the morning? Perhaps if we go mid-afternoon. I know he's often out in the evening.'
'Great, we'll aim to leave here at three. That ok with you?'
Hamish nodded, before rising from his chair and walking to the door. 'Hope you get some joy with that mental health assessment. See you Monday.' He shut the door quietly behind him.
Clancy tried to concentrate on answering her emails, but she was distracted, couldn't concentrate. When her desk phone rang, she answered it before the second ring tone.
'Dr Mclean? It’s Sarah, the duty AMPH. I hear you're looking for an assessment.'
Clancy tried to take deep breaths and keep calm as she recounted Mr Lowe's history for what seemed like the tenth time.
'Hmm. Well, you know there's no chance of an assessment today?' Sarah said. 'The police need at least forty-eight hours’ notice – won't be able to do anything until Monday, at a push, may even be later in the week.'
Clancy had been expecting this, had prepared her argument. Mr Lowe was a real risk, he had presented the night before saying he was going to put his plan into action, something had to be done today.
But Sarah was resolute. 'I can understand your concern, but I'm really sorry, there's nothing I can do. There's no way I'll get the police to this assessment today, and I'm not going without them, not with his risk history. I'll be in contact on Monday, thanks.' The line went dead.
Clancy slammed the handset down with such force, the table juddered. She held her face in her hands for a few seconds, took deep breaths. She thought about driving round there – maybe Hamish would come with her? She leapt up from her chair, flung open her office door and raced down the corridor. But there was no sign of him, he'd gone. Fuck it. She grabbed her coat and bag, picked up her car keys and ran to her car. No time like the present.
When she pulled up outside Mr Lowe's estate, the streets were quiet. The seventies grey concrete build looked as grim as ever under the overcast sky. The same thought always popped to her mind when she arrived. Thank God I don't have to live here. Even on the sunniest day, it looked dismal. When she got out of the car, she stood back and surveyed the flats from a distance – as Salim had said, the maisonette had been smartened up, the blinds at the windows were drawn. The tiny front garden was tidy but strangely empty. No pots of plants, just a concrete path and a small patch of thin grass. A wheelie bin stood neatly to the side of the front door, there was no debris around.
Thoughts raced through Clancy's mind. She knew she shouldn't knock on the door, that she should never visit risky people without back up. But she so wanted to know if he was there, to see if she could persuade him to come into hospital, avoid whatever disaster he had planned. Having stood for what seemed like an hour, she took a deep breath and crossed the road.
When she reached the path leading up to his door, she stopped briefly before walking up it and giving a sharp rap on the fake brass knocker. She stood, head tilted to the side, listening for any signs of movement. She thought she heard a quiet click of a door inside, leant forward and gave another sharp knock. She jumped back as she heard a rattle of keys in a lock, then a click. The door opened a fraction and she saw a glimpse of dark hair and eyes. It was Lowe. He didn't look pleased to see her.
'Hi, I heard you were brought into the hospital yesterday. I thought I'd pop and see you, check you're okay.' She spoke with far more confidence than she felt.
He glared at her. 'Who said you could come round here?'
She immediately felt intimidated. Why the fuck did I come round on my own? What the hell was I thinking? She stood back, started to reverse down the drive. 'Sorry, I don't want to hassle. I just want to check you're okay.' She could see he was not wearing shoes, was shocked when he started to step out onto his doorstep to follow her,
'You bitch.' His face was screwed up, he spat the words at her.
She had heard enough, wanted out of there, turned and ran back to her car, opened the door and leapt in. As she slammed the car door, she looked over her shoulder, was washed with relief when she saw he hadn't followed her. She knew she'd had a lucky escape, could kick herself for taking a risk like that. He was clearly ill, and for some reason, she was Miss Unpopular. There was nothing for it but to wait until she could return with the police and AMPH on Monday.
Pulling into the hospital car park thirty minutes later, her heart sank at the thought of all the notes she had to write up, emails still unopened. She grabbed a black coffee from the kitchen, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the smell of dirty dishes in stagnant water, and then headed to her office. She wasn't looking forward to the weekend. Ro had told her she was going away to some party with Amy, and she hadn't got anything planned. It was nine pm before she logged off, called security to escort her and made her way through towards the exit. She wasn't going to sleep well, anyway. She was too wound up about Mr Lowe. It would be a long weekend.
63
Beth
Darkness was just falling. Beth waited patiently in the bus queue. Her bus was late, the bus stop crammed. She was tired, her feet ached, but work had been good. She was so glad to be back. She checked her watch. Bloody bus should have been here ten minutes ago. She watched it finally approach, glistening red under the street lamps. And at least, for once, it wasn't raining.
The bus was almost full downstairs, so she hauled herself up the stairs to the top deck, congratulating herself on her bravery. She took a seat near the front, placed her bag next to her and leant back, closing her eyes briefly. She was so tired she could have dropped off, but knew it would be a bad idea – she might miss her stop. She was just making herself comfortable when she heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. It made her turn round. She looked up into the eyes of a man, thirties, dark hair tucked beneath a cap, intense dark blue eyes. For a moment, she clutched her bag to her chest, felt panic run through her. But then, she saw he was smiling at her, seemed friendly. Surely, there’s nothing sinister about him? He was just a man on a bus. She must stop thinking everyone was out to harm her. She had enough insight now, knew when that it was her illness that made her see trouble in every shadow, think everyone meant her harm. She was well now, she had to get over it and give people a chance.
'Okay if I take this seat?' The man’s voice was gravelly, sexy.
'Sure,' she replied, sliding as close to the window as she could, holding her bag tight to her. She couldn't help it; her chest was thumping.
She hoped he couldn't feel it vibrating the chair.
'Thanks. I hate standing on these things.'
As the bus moved off, they swayed into each other. Beth was aware of the warmth of body contact and was amazed that it felt good, made her want more. She couldn't remember the last time she had close physical contact with another human being. She could pick up a faint fresh odour. Soap? Deodorant? It was very male, and she couldn't stop the brief buzz that rose through her. It had been a long time. As the bus progressed through slow traffic past Amen Corner and towards Mitcham, she felt herself hoping that the traffic wouldn't clear – and that was definitely a first.
'Got far to go?' he asked.
'Sutton. It will take an age if this lot doesn't start moving.' She indicated the queuing cars with her forehead and pulled her face into a comic frown. As he laughed in response, his face lit up with a smile. Beth felt her groin twitch, was embarrassed to her feel her face tingling, knew from experience that she would go bright red. And she was more than happy to take the hand he offered her.
'Kieran. And you are?'
Beth tried to ignore the warmth in her face as she replied with her name.
'What brings you on the bus at this time of the evening?'
'Just finished work. I'm a nurse. I work at the hospital.'
'Really? That must be hard. I've been up there before, but as a patient, not staff.'
Beth couldn't believe it – this was too good to be true. She had met someone who would understand her, her illness. 'Oh, I've been a patient, too. I've been on both sides of it.'
She thought she saw his smile deepen. It was great to have some common ground. They continued chatting breezily as the bus inched through Mitcham and up to Rosehill. Before she knew it, the bus was approaching her stop. She picked up her bag and prepared to stand. Before he stood to let her pass, he touched her on the arm.