by C. L. Taylor
‘Did um … did someone die?’ he ventured. He knew that wasn’t exactly unusual in critical care and they’d spoken about it before, the types of deaths that particularly upset her and those that didn’t cut as deeply.
‘No,’ she said lightly. ‘Nothing like that.’
‘So …’ He reached for his own glass and took a large mouthful. He might have to rethink whether to continue dating Becca if they were going to struggle like this every time she had a hard day at work. Her conversational reticence reminded him of Anna. Why couldn’t she just spit out what was bothering her instead of making him guess?
‘So why was it a bad day?’ He was like a dog with a bone now. He wasn’t going to let it drop until she told him what was wrong, then he’d help her to find a solution and they could get on with having fun.
Becca took another swig of her wine. ‘There’s some kind of investigation going on at work.’
‘What kind of—’
‘I don’t know. That’s why it’s so worrying. Management have been wandering around the wards and huddling in corners. No one knows what’s going on.’
Alex shrugged. ‘Why are you so bothered? Have you done something wrong?’
She fixed him with a look that said did you really just ask me that then rolled her eyes to the ceiling, giving him a glimpse of white eyeball above her heavily lined lashes.
‘Did you ask them what was going on?’ Alex ventured.
‘No, but the ward sister did. She was told we’d find out soon enough.’
‘Was she worried?’
‘Well, obviously. If there’s some kind of issue with the work we’re doing it’ll reflect badly on her. Jesus, Alex, are you normally this dense or are you completely lacking the empathy gene?’
He started at the ferocity of her tone. This was new.
‘Sorry.’ She reached across the table and took his hand. ‘I’m awful when I’m in a bad mood. I knew I should have cancelled tonight but I really did want to see you.’ Her tone softened. ‘I’m not normally such a bitch, I promise.’
‘No, no,’ Alex lied. ‘It’s fine.’
But it wasn’t. Doubt had hooked itself into his mind like a burr and it remained there all the way through the meal. There was something about Becca that was making him uncomfortable. On their second date, just yesterday, she’d spent a good part of the evening asking him about Anna: how long had they been together? How had they met? Why had they split up? When had he realised he no longer wanted to be with her? She’d moved on to asking him how he felt about her: when had he first realised he fancied her? Was the uniform a turn-on? Did he feel different about her now they were spending time together outside the hospital? There was something vaguely unattractive about her lack of self-confidence and he’d never been into needy women but he’d tried to push away his prickle of unease. Maybe she was struggling to come up with topics of conversation. Or perhaps it was nerves.
But now this, a spikey side to her personality that she hadn’t shown him before. Maybe he’d have to rethink the way he saw her; perhaps she wasn’t girlfriend material after all. But she was incredibly attractive, with the loveliest little bottom and … his mind had wandered over dinner as he imagined what she looked like naked, with her blue skinny jeans and low-cut top stripped away. If Becca had noticed a change in his attitude she didn’t let on. The more they drank, the more relaxed and joyful she became, and as they lingered outside the restaurant at the end of the night it was Becca who leaned in for a kiss then whispered, ‘I don’t have to go home, you know.’
Alex wipes a hand over his brow, then slides out of the bed he used to share with Anna and pads out of the bedroom to get a drink of water. As he reaches the door, Becca makes a noise that makes him turn back.
‘No,’ she mumbles in her sleep. ‘No, I promise. I didn’t do anything wrong.’
You probably didn’t, Alex thinks as he reaches into the cupboard for a glass. But I did.
Chapter 25
Anna
Katie?
She’s standing in the doorway to my room, one side of her face in shadow, the other lit by the orange glow of the emergency exit light. My breath catches in my throat as I shuffle backwards on the bed, my heels slipping on the sheet before I slam up against the headboard. She looks so small in the doorway, so thin and fragile in her oversized nightdress. Her eyes are open but her face is expressionless, her skin slack, her lips slightly parted.
‘Katie?’ My voice is a rasping whisper. ‘Are you okay?’
She doesn’t respond but she keeps her strange, vacant eyes fixed on mine. Her hands clench and unclench at her sides and a slow smile creeps onto her lips.
‘Katie, can you hear me?’ I shift off the bed and cross the room. Katie doesn’t move; she barely blinks. As I approach her she looks straight through me. She’s sleepwalking.
I deliberate: do I leave her here and go and get Melanie or do I help her back to her room? If I leave her here and she wanders off and falls down the stairs I’d never forgive myself, but I haven’t got the first clue how to get her back downstairs. You’re not supposed to touch sleepwalkers, are you? My mind flits to David, still and silent in the room beside mine. He’d know what to do. He wouldn’t stand here dithering and worrying.
‘Katie,’ I say, making a decision, ‘it’s Anna. I’m going to help you back into your own bed.’
She continues to look straight through me but her mouth slackens and her smile fades.
‘I’m going to touch your arm now, Katie. And I’m going to help you down the stairs.’
Tentatively I graze the bare skin of her arm with my fingers. When she doesn’t flinch or scream I slip my arm through hers.
‘Okay?’ I take a breath. ‘We’re going downstairs now. Let’s get you back in bed.’
I have to tap on Melanie and Malcolm’s door several times before I hear a low groan and the creak of a bed. The door opens a crack and Melanie peers out at me, her hair sleep-ruffled and her eyes small and squinty without her glasses.
‘What time is it?’ she croaks.
‘A little after three. Sorry to wake you but Katie just sleepwalked into my room.’
‘What?’ She blinks and rubs a hand over her eyes.
‘Katie. She was in my room. I managed to get her back into her bed and she seems to be sleeping now, but I thought I should tell you.’
‘Really? Oh my gosh! I didn’t know she did that. Thank you. I’ll go and check on her.’
As Melanie heads over to Katie’s room, another door opens and Joe raises a hand in my direction.
‘Everything okay?’ he asks as I draw closer. ‘I heard voices and—’
‘Katie was sleepwalking.’ I keep my voice low. ‘She came up to my room.’
‘Up the stairs?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Jesus.’ He raises his eyebrows. ‘She all right?’
‘Yeah, she’s in bed now.’
‘Cool. Night then, Anna.’ He moves to close his door then pauses. ‘Is everything okay with you? How come you’re dressed?’
‘I passed out like this.’ I glance at my watch: 3.21 a.m. I might get another two hours if I go back to bed now. ‘I’ll see you for breakfast. Goodnight, Joe.’
For the second time, I climb the stairs to the staff quarters on weary legs. I step into my room then walk back out again, a vague feeling of unease stirring in my stomach. There’s a key sticking out of the lock on the outside of my door. But it’s not mine.
‘Joe?’ I tap gently on his door, desperately hoping he hasn’t gone back to sleep. ‘Joe, are you awake?’
The door opens and he stares at me in surprise.
‘Sorry,’ I say, ‘to disturb you again.’
‘No, no. It’s fine. I was reading …’ He tails off, a frown forming between his brows. ‘What’s up?’
I glance over my shoulder. All the bedroom doors are closed but that doesn’t mean no one’s listening. ‘Do you mind if we talk in your room?’
‘Co
urse not, come in.’ He steps back into his room, apologising for the mess, then scoops a pile of clothes off the armchair near the door and gestures for me to sit down. ‘What’s going on?’ he asks as he perches on the end of his bed.
‘I found this in my door.’ I hand him the key.
He looks at it then shrugs.
‘It’s the spare master key. It opens all the rooms in the hotel. It went missing yesterday.’
‘I …’ He shakes his head. ‘I don’t get it, sorry.’
‘I locked my bedroom door when I went to bed last night. When I woke up, Katie was standing in the doorway. The only way she could have got in is if she’d used this.’ I gesture at the key in his hand.
‘You think she stole it?’
‘It would explain how she got into my room, but can you even unlock doors when you’re sleepwalking?’
He shrugs. ‘I don’t see why not. When I was a kid I sleepwalked down the stairs. I had my bin in my hand, my mum said. When she asked me what I was doing, I told her I was going to empty it. She watched me walk into the kitchen, empty the bin and then walk back up to my room again.’
‘And you didn’t remember doing it?’
‘Nope.’ He laughs softly. ‘And it’s not like I have neat-freak tendencies.’
‘But if Katie did take the key it also means she let herself into Trevor’s room and stole something.’
Joe raises his eyebrows. ‘What did she steal?’
‘I don’t know. He refused to tell me.’
‘Wow.’ He stretches his arms above his head, then apologises as he stifles a yawn. ‘Sorry. I guess you should talk to Mel and Malc about it.’
‘I don’t want to get Katie into trouble though. She doesn’t seem very happy as it is.’
‘I’ve noticed that too.’ He shrugs. ‘Talk to her first thing maybe? See what she says.’
‘Yeah.’ I stand up. ‘I think you’re right. Anyway, I’ll let you get some sleep.’
‘Thanks, Anna.’
‘Goodnight then, again.’ I open the bedroom door and I’m just about to step out into the corridor, when Joe touches the back of my arm. I turn sharply and smack straight into him.
‘Careful.’ He puts a steadying hand on my shoulder but he doesn’t pull away. His abdomen presses against my chest, rising and falling with each breath as he looks down at me, his gaze steady. The atmosphere changes, suddenly loaded with expectation and tension. His lips part. He’s going to kiss me.
‘Don’t forget your key.’ He presses it into my hand. ‘Goodnight, Anna. Sleep well.’
In Memoriam
In Memoriam
Steven ‘Curly’ Morris
It’s been a year since you passed, Curly. It still feels wrong whenever anyone else sits at the bar on ‘your stool’. We’ll be raising a pint of mild in your memory tonight. With best wishes, John, landlord at the Dog and Duck.
I left you a little message, Anna. I know you saw it but I’m wondering now whether I was a bit too obtuse, if perhaps I should have left you a note with the full speech instead of a small extract.
‘To die, to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub, for in this sleep of death what dreams may come …’
You’re a clever girl. You know that’s from Hamlet and he’s asking himself if it is better to give up and die rather than face his troubles. He’s scared, dear Anna, just like you are, that he’ll dream when he’s dead and never get any peace from his earthly woes.
You are both wrong to worry. Death is a dreamless sleep. It’s an end to pain.
I’m going to have to be a little less subtle. It seems my little hints aren’t enough. I’ve left you a gift, Anna, and a decision to make. It’ll be like Alice in Wonderland, my favourite childhood book. Only you won’t shrink or grow. You’ll die.
Chapter 26
Anna
Wednesday 6th June
Day 5 of the storm
I’m woken by a soft tapping at my door. For a second I think it’s David, but then a soft feminine voice calls my name and reality settles in my chest like a rock.
‘One second, Christine.’ I swing my legs out of bed then jump to my feet when I see the time. It’s nearly eight o’clock. I should have been up hours ago.
Christine takes one look at my face as I unlock the door and laughs. ‘Oh, Anna, there’s no need to look so panicked. I just wanted to let you know that breakfast is ready.’
‘Breakfast?’
‘Yes. When you didn’t come down we decided the least we could do was give you a lie-in. There’s a bacon sandwich and a cup of coffee with your name on it when you’re ready. Malcolm did a fabulous job.’
‘Malcolm cooked breakfast?’
She laughs lightly. ‘He commandeered the kitchen. None of us could get a look-in.’
An hour later, with a stomach full of warm food, I get up from the dining room table to start servicing the rooms. As I head for the door, Melanie pops out from the kitchen wearing one of David’s favourite aprons and a pair of rubber gloves.
‘I hope you’re not planning on doing any work.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘The rooms. We had a little chat before you got up and none of us need our rooms cleaning or changing. We can cope with the same sheets and towels for two days.’
‘But …’ I stifle a yawn.
‘Anna,’ her face softens, ‘you had a hell of a day yesterday with … with what happened to David. We want you to take it easy today. I know you’re in charge and we’re the guests but we’re all human. You need time to grieve. And sleep.’
I’m so touched by her gentle tone and the kindness in her voice that my eyes fill with tears.
‘Anna …’ She takes a step towards me, her arms spread wide, and I ready myself for a hug but then she stops and looks at her rubber-gloved hands. ‘You probably don’t want these all over your jumper, do you?’
I shake my head, still too moved to speak.
‘Go and rest,’ Mel says. ‘We’ll call you down when it’s time for lunch.’
As I step into the lobby, Katie comes out of the toilet. She visibly jumps then drops her chin and seems to fold into herself. It takes me a second to register what she’s embarrassed about, but then I realise: Melanie must have told her what she did last night.
‘Katie.’ I move towards her then stop, reading her body language. ‘You’re not in trouble. I just wanted to have a chat with you. See how you’re doing.’
‘I’m fine,’ she says from beneath the long dark hair that hangs over one eye like a pirate’s patch.
‘Can we talk?’ I gesture towards the lounge but she shakes her head.
‘Malcolm’s in there.’
I imagine she probably doesn’t want to talk in the dining room with Melanie within earshot either, so ask if she’d like to chat in the porch.
‘It’s raining,’ she mumbles.
‘We could put our coats and boots on. We won’t get wet in the porch, it’ll just be a bit cold.’
I take her shrug as agreement and when I hand her coat to her she pulls it on then slips her feet into her boots and follows me out of the front door.
We stand in the porch, Katie pressed up against the wood so there’s as much space between us as possible, and stare out at the rain. Her eyes light up as a gull wheels around in the wind.
‘Amazing, isn’t it,’ I say, ‘the way they surf the air currents?’
She shrugs and turns to stare at the sea instead, as though my comment just ruined her fun. So much for small talk. I cut to the chase instead.
‘What can you remember about last night, Katie?’
She shrugs again. ‘Nothing.’ Her small voice is almost carried away by the wind.
‘Do you often sleepwalk?’
There’s a pause, then: ‘Sometimes. When I’m stressed.’
She looks stressed now, standing outside with me. Her body’s so rigid there may as well be a flashing neon sign above her head that reads ‘I WOULD RATHER B
E ANYWHERE ELSE THAN HERE’.
‘I imagine it was upsetting for you, seeing David … seeing what happened to him.’ When she doesn’t respond I add, ‘I’m sorry if I upset you in the lounge yesterday. I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I was just trying to understand why someone wrote on the window.’
She moves her head minutely, as though she’s about to look at me, then seems to think better of it and turns back to the sea.
‘Melanie’s your auntie, isn’t she?’ I venture. ‘And Malcolm’s your uncle.’
‘Yeah.’
I think back to the conversation I overheard on the stairs on the guests’ third day: Melanie and Malcolm talking in hushed voices about how worried they were about her.
‘Is your dad not around?’
She sighs heavily, but whether it’s through frustration or sadness I can’t tell. I can sense that this line of questioning isn’t going to be helpful so I change tack.
‘Katie, did you take the master key from reception?’
She swings round to face me, her eyes small and dark beneath the shadow of her parka hood. ‘What?’
‘When you opened the door to my room last night, you left the key in the lock.’
‘What?’
‘You unlocked my room in your sleep.’
‘No I didn’t.’
‘You didn’t unlock my room?’
‘I didn’t take a key.’ She stares defiantly up at me. ‘Why would I? I’ve got my own key.’
‘So you didn’t let yourself into Trevor’s room?’
‘What?!’ She steps out of the porch and into the driving rain, a look of incredulity on her face. ‘Who said that? Who told you I did that?’
‘No one. But the key went missing, Katie, and it didn’t reappear until last night.’
‘Well, I didn’t take it! I can’t believe you’re accusing me of something I didn’t do again!’
‘I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just trying to understand what happened.’
I want to believe her. Her reaction seems genuine. She’d have to be a hell of an actress otherwise. But I don’t know what to believe. Trevor wouldn’t say what was stolen from his room so there are no clues there. And if she didn’t take the key, how else would it end up in my door?