by Liz Lawler
The tension eased and she gave him a sorry look. ‘Where the bloody hell is she, Eric? That’s what I want to know. Dr Green has given me no confidence that she is safe.’
She had spoken to him an hour ago and his concern was that Emily may be having thoughts of taking her own life. He’d filled her in about why Emily was taken to A&E in the first place. The psychiatrist was of the firm opinion that she had deliberately put herself in harm’s way by goading another patient to attack her. That she elicited the reaction intentionally. Eric hadn’t offered an opinion when she relayed this to him. She pressed him nor one now. ‘What was she hoping for, Eric? Letting herself get beaten up like that? To feel more pain, as if she hasn’t suffered enough?’
Eric lowered his head, slowly shaking it as if he had no answer. His voice, though, when he did reply, was leaden. ‘Maybe to be punished,’ he said.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Gary shoved a marshmallow in his mouth, wishing he’d never bought the damned things. He prided himself on keeping fit, but eating all this junk food while sitting down all day was bound to be adding chunk to his sides. The main reason he liked night shifts was so he could go to the gym during the day. It wasn’t the same when finishing a day shift; by then he was knackered and just wanted to sit in front of the box.
At least this morning and this afternoon had been interesting, watching the police come and go. Seeing nurses and doctors go into an office with a closed door for questioning. The news of the murdered ward sister had been aired on the radio and telly. She’d been a misery guts as far as he was concerned. Not that he voiced that opinion when questioned. They’d talked to him for five minutes. It had been straightforward. In and out. Job done. Imagine if he’d told them he was on a surveillance job waiting for another crime to take place. They’d have looked at him with a bit more interest then, he reckoned, and not just seen him as a security guard. He’d tried to get on to the force a few years back but hadn’t got past first base. There was no reason given. He stretched his arms above his head, trying to loosen his back. He should have brought in his weights; he could have given himself a proper workout while he watched the screen.
He shoved another marshmallow in and chewed it quickly as he saw Mrs Jeffries coming along the corridor. He watched her on the hospital camera until she disappeared into the room, then he switched his gaze to his own monitor.
In her husband’s room, he saw her lean over to peck her husband on the cheek. No proper kiss then, he thought. On the two other occasions he’d seen her visit he’d seen no sign of this soup. She mostly sat looking at her mobile. A smile appeared on her face every so often at something she was looking at. She opened her large bag and brought out a newspaper and handed it to Mr Jeffries. She pulled out a bottle of juice and placed it on his locker. Then she sat down and crossed shapely legs. It was a hot day and she was wearing above-the-knee culottes.
A nurse popped her head in the room. On the other screen Gary could see the food trolley out in the corridor. Mr Jeffries shook his head at the nurse. The nurse carried on pushing the trolley to the next room and Mrs Jeffries stood up. Gary watched her reach in her bag again and saw a blue flask emerge in her hand. He grabbed his phone and speed-dialled Dalloway.
*
Emily swallowed some water to wash away the aftertaste of the tablets. The bottle was nearly empty and she would have no chance to buy more. She had bussed it out to the village, not risking using her car, and was reassured when the driver said, ‘Good lad,’ for giving him the right money. She’d bought two bottles of water from the local shop and a whole cooked chicken, and under a tree at the edge of a field, out of sight, she’d sat and eaten and watched the house. The hours dragged by and twice she’d fallen asleep, the pain in her body made less by lying still, and she’d missed any comings or goings to the house. Two cars were now parked beside the Alfa Romeo, so she worked out that while she slept, the Dalloways had received visitors.
She gazed up the hill, following the grey stone wall. It was lined with trees and she saw one that was leafless and dying, its bigger neighbours denying it sunshine and room to grow. It was the way of the world. The stronger always survive. She was getting weaker lying there, and she still hadn’t made a decision on whether to just go up and knock on the door or bide her time and keep watching.
What was she hoping for by being here? If she was seen, Dalloway would call the police. Was she hoping to catch sight of Maria? According to Dalloway, the woman had gone back home. Was she hoping to prove this a lie? She would have gone to see Barrows if she knew where the woman lived. She daren’t camp outside the hospital just waiting for her to materialise in case she was caught. Which is why she’d come to Dalloway first. She had nowhere else to go to get answers. If he was innocent, and it was a big if, she could appeal to him to hear her out and see for himself the video of this missing patient standing in the corridor of his hospital. He would realise for himself that she hadn’t imagined her. If it was Maria’s niece and if he was innocent, he would want to know. But until she knew for sure which, Dalloway or Barrows, was involved, she could trust neither and was on her own. She needed proof of innocence or guilt before she made her next move. All she could do in the meantime was watch and wait in the hope she would see something that would lead her to the truth.
Emily ducked quickly, even though it would be impossible to spot her where she lay. Jemma Dalloway had come out of her home wearing a long turquoise evening gown, her red hair curled loose over one bare shoulder. In her hand she carried a black suit bag, held high to prevent it trailing the ground, and placed it in the boot of the Alfa Romeo. She waved at the house and Emily wondered if Isobel was at a window. She climbed in the car and a short while later drove past close to where Emily hid, close enough for Emily to see her immaculate makeup, and then she was gone. Somewhere dressy, clearly.
She checked the little alarm clock she’d borrowed from Jerry’s and saw that it was twenty to seven in the evening. Without it she would have been unable to tell the time, having neither wristwatch nor mobile with her. She could imagine, having spent a day without technology, in a village far from the hustle and bustle of city life, under different circumstances, it to be calming. If she ever got out of this mess she vowed to be uncontactable and at one with nature more often.
She thought of Jemma, dressed up in her finery and now possibly heading for the city. It gave her pause for thought. Was Dalloway joining her for the evening? Were his clothes in the suit bag that Jemma had been carrying? If so, it meant that Isobel was at home with a minder, possibly a temporary nanny. This was an opportunity to have a proper look inside the house, to determine for sure that Maria wasn’t there. Maybe Isobel might know something. Isobel had already met her, so Emily wasn’t a complete stranger. She could say she’d come to see Maria and go from there. It was a long shot, but one worth taking. She popped a third tablet from the blister pack and swallowed it dry. She would wait just a little longer to give these pain killers a chance to work. Otherwise they’d be calling her an ambulance when they saw the pain she was in.
*
Dalloway sprinted along the corridor with a mobile pressed to his ear and two preloaded syringes in his hospital jacket pocket. If he was too late it might be necessary to treat the man.
‘What’s going on, Gary?’ he asked for the umpteenth time, his mind preparing for what he would face.
‘She’s putting a towel across his chest. He seems reluctant as he’s making no effort to sit up. She’s stroking his cheek and talking to him. Oh shit, he’s just nodded and she’s turning to the flask. She’s got the lid off. You need to hurry because she’s poured some in the cup and she’s got a spoon in her hand.’
Dalloway sped past the lift, almost crashing into a nurse pushing a treatments trolley, and nearly knocked himself down as he bounced his shoulder off a wall. He righted himself and took off down the corridor, his eyes fixed on the room ahead. He took the open doorway at a speed near impossible to break, an
d fairly flew across the room just in time to knock the full spoon of soup flying out of Mrs Jeffries’ hand. Panting and barely able to get his words out, he pointed at her. ‘Not again, Mrs Jeffries. There’s no second chance, I’m afraid.’
He could see in her eyes that Meredith was right. She was panicking, but not to the point where she was ready to give up and admit what she’d done. She was pouring the liquid back into the flask, screwing the lid on it and trying to jam it in her bag. She glanced towards the doorway.
‘Not so fast,’ he said as she tried to brush past him. ‘The police will want that flask.’
She stared at him mutinously and he’d already decided that if she tried to run, he’d let her. So long as he kept the flask, the police could deal with the rest.
Neil Jeffries was in shock. He seemed unable to read what was happening, his eyes darting from Dalloway to his wife, back and forth like a tennis umpire, trying to join all the dots.
His wife glanced at him desperately. ‘Neil, tell this man to get out of my way. I’m taking you out of here. This place is a disgrace!’
Something shifted in the man’s eyes. His gaze went from the flask in the surgeon’s hands to his wife’s face. He stared at each for several seconds. ‘But it’s just soup,’ he said, looking to his surgeon for an answer. ‘Tomato soup.’
Dalloway held the man’s eyes. ‘We think it has seafood in it.’
An anguished cry came from Neil Jeffries, and Dalloway saw a different person to the patient he cared for; the businessman he’d first met who built a multimillion-pound empire and had faced his illness head-on. The man looked stricken.
‘You did this to me,’ he cried wretchedly, looking at his wife in disbelief. ‘How could you? How could you?’ he asked.
Anna Jeffries stared at her husband with bitterness in her eyes. She patted the air once, twice, as if swatting away a fly. ‘It’s not what I signed up for,’ she said simply.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Geraldine was perturbed that another name linked to Emily’s was now under investigation. It seemed preposterous that another incident connected to The Windsor Bridge Hospital had happened. Tony Martin, the sergeant on duty for the evening, had gone there to arrest a patient’s wife, Mrs Jeffries, on suspicion of attempted murder. The weapon, a flask of soup, was now police evidence and was sitting in an ordinary fridge downstairs in his office waiting to be collected and taken to a laboratory for testing. Geraldine had seen this woman on Friday shouting at Emily in the ward corridor, accusing her of giving something to her husband that had almost killed him. Yet it now seemed that it was she who had done something to her husband. Geraldine was unsettled by this revelation, the fact that Emily had been accused outright of doing some harm to this man and was at large when this further incident had occurred didn’t sit well with her. She would ask Sergeant Martin what evidence he had against Mrs Jeffries, and if she was honest, was hoping it was concrete enough to cast suspicion away from Emily. She was in enough trouble. The investigation into the death of Nina Barrows was going slowly, according to Crawley. He’d been irritable on the phone when he’d called earlier. The woman, he said, was unmarried and had a career in nursing. She had lived alone, and never had visitors, based on the fingerprint evidence found in her home. So far they had found nothing in her history to suggest a motive for her murder, and without other evidence or even the weapon to lead him a different route, Crawley was now pinning his hopes on the murderer being either a random stranger or Emily Jacobs. Geraldine’s ‘sure’ that Emily didn’t do it was a far cry from his opinion. A full search party had been out all day, a watch had been put on her parents’ home, Emily’s home and the hospital. Her photograph was stuck up all over the city for the public to see, and there were still no clues as to her whereabouts.
Geraldine mused on how sad it was that Emily’s face was now pinned up in the same places as her sister’s – both missing, but for entirely different reasons. She yawned and stretched. It was nearly nine o’clock and she had been there since just gone six this morning. She should go home and see her family and try and get rid of the bags from under her eyes with slices of cucumber. She was going to look a sight at her friend’s wedding tomorrow. All the things she intended to have done beforehand: hair coloured and cut, a manicure and pedicure, had all gone out the window. And even tomorrow’s booked annual leave could go south if George Crawley had his way. His manner had become a tad prickly for her liking. He seemed to think that she was more likely than anyone else to know Emily’s whereabouts. As if she had a fucking crystal ball to tell her these things. She was being harsh, she knew; he would be under enormous pressure to get results and was just taking out his frustration on anyone connected to the case. She would of course come in to work, if she had to, and already planned to drink only orange juice at the wedding, but it would be nice to have a day off from work and not have to think about Emily for once.
To not have to worry about how much trouble she could be in.
*
Emily woke up, startled. The light under the trees had changed colour, and while still plentiful, it had taken on a dusky hue as night began to fall. She had no idea of the time and reached for Jerry’s clock. She was shocked to see that it was ten past nine at night. She had a raging thirst and felt the heat against her hands as she touched her face. Her breast was pulsating and felt heavy; an infection had set in. She had foolishly forgotten to take the antibiotics and now scrabbled in the plastic carrier bag for some. Groaning inwardly when she couldn’t see them, she guessed she’d left them at Jerry’s. She sucked the last drop of water from her bottle instead and placed it in the carrier. She would ask for more when she got to the house and could only pray that Isobel was not now in bed.
Standing up, she settled Jerry’s cap on her head, picked up the carrier bag and began the arduous walk up the hill. The two other cars were still parked, so at least she could guarantee someone was at home. Her eyes scanned the windows as she got to the top, but she saw no one looking out at her. At the front door she listened for sounds coming from inside, and was cheered at hearing Isobel’s laugh. The child was not in bed so she could still go with Plan A.
She rang the bell and waited. Isobel opened the door as before and stared out at her curiously, not recognising her until Emily removed her cap. ‘You’ve got a sore head,’ she said. ‘Did you fall over?’
Emily smiled. ‘Hello, Isobel. Yes, I have a sore head and I did fall over.’
‘I’ve got a sore knee,’ she announced, pointing to a tiny dry scab.
‘Poor you. Can I come in and see Maria?’ Emily asked.
The child shook her head. ‘You can’t. She’s not here. She—’
‘Jesus, Isobel, how many times have I gotta tell you not to open that door?’ The voice was so unexpected and so recognisable, Emily had to grab hold of the door frame. What was she doing here? What was going on? Was her mind playing tricks? Had she imagined hearing that voice?
The door went to shut in her face and she quickly put her foot out to stop it.
‘What the—’ Emily heard, before the door swung back and she saw Shelly standing there, large as life.
‘What are you doing here?’ Shelly asked, astounded. There was no friendliness in her face. Her hand fell on Isobel’s shoulder protectively.
‘I could ask you the same,’ Emily said back.
Isobel pushed off the weight of the hand and dashed back inside the house, leaving the two of them alone.
‘Do you realise that with one phone call the police will be here? They’re searching for you, Emily, and have been since last night.’
‘You didn’t answer my question, Shelly. What are you doing here?’
Shelly folded her arms. ‘What do you think I’m doing here? The Dalloways have gone out for the evening and I’m babysitting.’
Emily pulled back in surprise. Her answer made sense. Sort of. Without Maria, the Dalloways were without a babysitter. Dalloway must have asked Shelly at the hosp
ital if she’d mind his child.
‘Oh, I see.’
‘You don’t look well, Emily. You need to go back to hospital.’ Her voice was marginally less hostile, but no more welcoming.
Emily leaned against the door frame and reached into the carrier bag for the empty water bottle. ‘Would you mind if I fill this? I ran out of water.’
Shelly eyed her cautiously. ‘I’ll do it. But I don’t think I should let you in. Stay there and don’t move.’ She took the bottle from Emily’s hand and rushed away.
When she returned with it, Emily would leave. She could see she would get no help from Shelly and wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t already calling the police.
Emily would chance her luck, and find a pay phone, if the village had one, and call a taxi. She would get away from here, maybe to Bristol where she could find a room that cost a lot less than thirty-six pounds a night, the sum total left from the money Jerry gave her. Shelly returned quicker than expected and gave her the filled bottle. Perhaps she hadn’t called the police after all.
‘Thank you,’ she said before gulping half of it down. ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you.’
Shelly pulled the door more closed. ‘You need to run, Emily. They’re not just coming after you to take you back to that hospital. They think you killed her.’
‘Who?’ she asked, shocked at what Shelly had said.
‘Sister Barrows.’
Emily nearly tripped over her feet as she stepped back stunned. ‘Barrows is dead?’ she uttered in disbelief.
‘Murdered,’ said Shelly.
Emily lurched side to side as if drunk, her hands reaching out to hold onto something. The shock was making her giddy. ‘It wasn’t me. I didn’t kill her,’ she said desperately, wondering why someone had killed the woman. Was it connected to what Emily had uncovered? Had she discovered that Emily was telling the truth about a patient being in the room? Was she wrong in thinking Barrows had been involved? She had to get Shelly to believe she wasn’t the murderer.