by Cathy Glass
‘Yes, but I was told to keep it quiet.’
‘Why? What’s going on?’
‘I’m sure it’s just that Mary is confused after her fall, but she told a nurse that she didn’t fall but someone hit her. The hospital notified the police and an officer interviewed her at the hospital. She said she thought she was hit, although she couldn’t tell them anything about her attacker as it was dark. The police have spoken to Suzy’s family and Suzy confirmed there was no sign of a break-in, that the door was locked and she had to use the key to get in. I’m sure it’s nothing.’
‘But the police seem to be taking it quite seriously.’
‘They have to really, don’t they? Supposing something had happened and they’d ignored it.’
‘Yes, you’re right. I wonder if I should tell Mary they’re here?’
‘Only if she mentions it. She might have forgotten all about it by now. They told me they’d check the place over and leave everything as they found it.’
‘Good, thanks, Sid.’ Somewhat reassured, Elizabeth headed for the hospital in town. As she drove she thought back to Saturday evening; she’d seen Mary around six o’clock when she’d taken her dinner before she and Andrew had gone out to eat. Was she the last person to see her that day? If so perhaps she should tell the police? She was sure she’d locked the door and put the key under the mat. But then Julie had probably gone in after her. Julie had been popping in around eight most evenings since Mary had been ill to make sure she had everything she needed for the night. And Suzy had said the door hadn’t been open and she’d had to use the key so Julie must have locked it. She was sure it was as Sid said – that Mary was still confused from her fall. She’d probably forgotten she’d even made the claim about an intruder by now. Aged 92 you were entitled to be a bit confused, especially after a nasty fall, even if it did waste police time.
Arriving at the hospital Elizabeth parked in a bay, bought a pay-and-display ticket and stuck it in the windscreen of her car. She checked her phone and left her jacket on the passenger seat before crossing to the main entrance. Maple Ward was on the second floor; Elizabeth knew it from visiting a patient there previously. It cared mainly for the elderly until they could return home or were moved into a nursing home. As she climbed the flight of stairs Elizabeth thought there was no reason why Mary shouldn’t be able to return home in time, although lying in bed wouldn’t help: a long spell in bed often made it more difficult for the elderly to regain sufficient mobility to live independently again.
She saw Mary as soon as she entered the ward, propped on pillows in a corner bed of the six-bedded ward. Her eyes were closed and her mouth sagged open in sleep. A large crepe bandage covered the wound on her head. Elizabeth took one of the visitor’s chairs from the stack at the end of the ward and quietly set it beside Mary’s bed. When she visited the elderly and found them dozing she never knew whether to wake them or let them sleep, with the possibility of them missing her visit. She put the bag of mints she’d brought for Mary on the bedside cabinet, then sat back and glanced around the ward. Two of the patients had visitors while the others slept. She found this type of ward an unwelcome and depressing reminder of how one’s own advancing years might end: propped in bed, helped to the toilet by a nurse, soft food, and that musty smell of the elderly combining with disinfectant that lingered long after you left.
Mary stirred, the pressure relief mattresses reinflated around her and her jaw closed. Her hand went instinctively to the bandage on her head.
‘Mary, love, it’s Elizabeth,’ she whispered, and placed her hand lightly on her arm. ‘How are you feeling today?’
She groaned slightly, and turning her head in the direction of Elizabeth’s voice, began to open her eyes.
‘I’ve brought you some of your favourite mints,’ Elizabeth said, pointing to the cabinet. Mary screwed up her eyes, trying to focus.
‘Glasses,’ she mumbled.
‘I’ll find them,’ Elizabeth said, and checked the top of the cabinet and then its drawer. ‘I can’t see them here.’ There was a fresh nightdress, a wash bag and a set of day clothes, but no sign of her glasses or their case.
‘They’re not there,’ Mary said, still groggy with sleep. ‘They’re at home.’
‘OK, don’t worry, I’ll find them and bring them in.’
‘I couldn’t find them. I was looking for them.’ Then she peered at Elizabeth as though only just realizing who she was. ‘Elizabeth?’
‘Yes, it’s me, dear. How are you?’
‘Jacob?’
‘No, he’s not here. He had a big operation. Do you remember? He’ll visit you as soon as he can.’ She was clearly still very confused.
Mary’s brow creased and Elizabeth could see pain in her eyes. ‘It’s all right,’ she reassured her. ‘He’s getting better. There’s nothing for you to worry about.’
‘No, you don’t understand.’ Her bony hand clawed at the sleeve of Elizabeth’s blouse. ‘He was in my cottage.’
‘No love, he hasn’t seen you since before his operation, but he will visit you as soon as he can.’
‘No. It was him. I heard him, but Elizabeth, why did he hit me?’
‘Hit you!’ Elizabeth exclaimed, aghast. ‘Of course Jacob didn’t hit you. He hasn’t been near you. He’s been ill.’
‘I heard his voice. I’m sure it was him.’
‘When?’
‘Saturday night.’
Elizabeth stared at her, shaken and confused. ‘Jacob was away at the weekend. You had a fall and banged your head on Saturday night. You’re still confused. I brought you dinner. Do you remember that?’
Mary nodded. ‘Then Julie came in, but later I couldn’t find my glasses. I went to look for them in the living room. Someone was there. I heard them say, “Jesus!” like I’d startled them. It all happened so quickly but I’m sure it was him.’
‘Oh Mary, don’t say that please. It wasn’t Jacob. It couldn’t possibly have been him. He was away and he wouldn’t do something like that. He thinks the world of you, as we all do. You didn’t tell the police it was him, did you?’
‘No. I’ve only just remembered.’
‘Thank goodness,’ Elizabeth sighed. ‘Look, Mary, the police are at your cottage now, checking it over. I’m sure they’ll be able to reassure you before long that no one broke in and you fell. You had a very nasty bang on your head and concussion can make us think all sorts of weird things.’
Mary’s hand instinctively went to her forehead again. ‘It all happened so quickly. Sorry. He probably visited me another day and I’m mixing it up. I had so many visitors.’
‘Yes, that’ll be it. Jacob said he was going to visit you like he used to.’
Mary nodded wearily and looked away.
‘So tell me, what did you have for lunch?’ Elizabeth asked, changing the subject.
‘I can’t remember,’ Mary said.
‘I’m sure it was something nice. Would you like a mint now?’
‘No thank you, dear, but it was good of you to bring them. How’s your dear husband? Busy as usual?’
‘Yes. I left him working. He sends his love and will visit you in a day or so. Although hopefully you’ll be home soon.’
The pain returned to Mary’s eyes. ‘I’m worried about going home. Supposing he comes back?’ Clearly she really did believe there’d been an intruder.
‘We’ll make sure you’re safe. Try not to worry. But you know Suzy said your front door was locked and she had to use the key to get in. There was no sign of a broken window so it’s highly unlikely you were burgled, but the police are checking just in case.’ Elizabeth hoped this would help reassure her.
Mary nodded half-heartedly. ‘I told the police where I kept my money so they can check it’s still there.’
‘You haven’t even told me that!’ Elizabeth joked, trying to lighten her mood.
‘It’s a secret,’ Mary said, with a wry smile.
But Elizabeth knew it wouldn’t be much a
s Mary lived quite frugally. ‘So is there anything else you need from home? I’ll find your glasses, and also bring in your mail. Do you want a book or magazine to read?’ Although there were already some untouched magazines on the cabinet.
‘No thank you, dear. It’s difficult to concentrate in here, and I need my glasses to read.’
‘Yes, of course. If you think of anything else let one of us know.’
‘I will. Thank you for coming.’ Her eyes began closing and a few minutes later she was asleep.
Elizabeth waited to see if she would wake again, but when she didn’t she returned her chair to the stack and left the ward.
Outside she couldn’t shake off the acrid taste in her mouth, not so much from the smell of the ward but from what Mary had said. How on earth could Mary believe that Jacob would do such a thing? Break into her home and hit her? Yet a small part of her admitted that Jacob was capable of this and worse, and she hated herself for even thinking it. He was her son.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Andrew sat in the front pew of his church looking up at the stained-glass window above the altar, illuminated by the bright sun behind it. Christ, clad in a loincloth, nailed to the wooden cross, head lolling forward, with blood dripping from the nails in his hands, feet and the crown of thorns on his head. Christ dying in agony. A gruesome image but it represented what Christians believed, and served as a grim reminder that the Lord gave His only son to save humankind, although Andrew would be the first to admit it was questionable how much good His sacrifice had done. In many respects the earth was a crueller place now than it had been before. The human race was more intelligent and should know better. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth, Christ had taught. Be kind and generous, and love thy neighbour. But evil proliferated. Many people seemed drawn to it. He knew, as a minister he’d seen the best and worst that people could do.
His thoughts went again to the material he’d found in his son’s bedroom, and his stomach knotted to a tight ball. He’d gone up to see Jacob earlier with the intention of talking to him and suggesting that the three of them took up Dr Shah’s offer of counselling. But as he’d entered the bedroom the smell of cannabis had hit him despite the window being wide open. Andrew had instantly lost his cool and had lectured him on the damage he was doing to his body and mind, how selfish he was. He’d been given the wondrous gift of a new heart – a new life – and he was abusing it, throwing it away! A young person had died to save him and he should respect that.
‘I didn’t fucking ask them to die!’ Jacob had retorted, then he’d pushed his father out of his room.
Andrew was the same build as his son and knew he could have physically stopped him, but he’d taken the meeker, more Christian approach and hadn’t put up any resistance. Then he’d stood outside the door shaken and annoyed with himself for having handled it so badly. He’d tried knocking and asking if they could talk, but Jacob had ignored him. Eventually he’d gone downstairs.
Fifteen minutes later, a cab pulled up outside. Jacob had come downstairs and without speaking or looking at him had left, slamming the front door behind him. Andrew had waited until the cab was out of sight and then done something he’d never done before. He’d gone upstairs to his son’s room with the intention of searching it. It had become a no-go zone for him and Elizabeth, and while they’d always respected Jacob’s privacy (as he hoped Jacob respected theirs) he now felt justified in trying to find anything that might give him a clue to Jacob’s dreadful behaviour – perhaps hard drugs, mind-altering ones that had unhinged him and made him psychotic. He’d seen it when he’d visited hospitals for the mentally ill and prisons – many of those he’d counselled had very sad life stories which included hard drugs.
But as soon as he’d stepped into Jacob’s room he’d seen the filth. Pages and pages of photographs printed from the internet and arranged in lines over the bed as if Jacob had intended him to see. Shocking images of women, some of them very young, subjected to the most appalling, degrading acts of sadomasochistic sex. Chained, bound, gagged, on leads, some with muzzles over their mouths with a hole just big enough to fit in a man’s penis. Disgusting, sickening pictures of women being beaten, gang-raped, on all fours and forced to have anal sex. Every depravity Satan could think of was there, hard porn that could only be accessed by paying for it. He’d turned away in utter revulsion, his stomach churning and unable to believe the extent of his son’s depravity.
Angry, angrier than he’d ever been before in his life, Andrew wrenched open the wardrobe doors and rummaged through but the only things inside were Jacob’s clothes. He opened the drawers but, again, there was nothing obvious. In the bedside cabinet drawer he found a lighter and packet of cigarette papers beside the Dosette box containing Jacob’s medication which he’d insisted on taking charge of. Keeping his gaze from the photographs on the bed, Andrew then opened the laptop on the desk. He started as the screen loaded. A close-up picture of Jacob with the devil’s face filled the screen. Photoshopped to make Jacob look like the devil himself, with blazing red eyes and horns set in a face contorted by hate and rage. With it came a voice message: ‘Fuck off! You don’t know the password.’ And a hideous laugh that could have come from the devil himself.
Closing the lid on the laptop, Andrew hurried from the room, sweating and sick to the core. The room felt like hell itself. The hot pungent air, the sickening display of photographs, and the message on the laptop that could only have been meant for him or Elizabeth. He prayed she hadn’t seen it. He ran downstairs with the need to get away. Mitsy came out from under the table, wagging her tail expectantly as he pushed his feet into his outdoor shoes. With his hand trembling he opened the door and Mitsy followed him out.
The heat of the day was building now at the start of summer and he would have liked to run, forced the air into his lungs and exorcized the evilness of that room. But Mitsy was struggling to keep up and he slowed his pace as they crossed the common, his eyes fixed straight ahead and focused on the church. The village was deserted in the late afternoon and he saw no one. Arriving at the church he left Mitsy sitting obediently in the vestibule while he went through the inner door and breathed in the cold, slightly dank air of the solid stone walls and floor, familiar and comforting. He was relieved to find the church empty. He bowed to the cross, hurried down the centre aisle and dropped to his knees just in front of the altar. With his hands folded, his head respectfully lowered, and his eyes closed he prayed fervently – for guidance, deliverance, the strength and wisdom he needed to be able to deal with this.
He prayed for direction, a solution, anything that would help his family. He spoke to his God as his friend and mentor, a highly respected leader who was omniscient and would understand and know what to do. He asked Him to show him the way.
‘You gave my son the gift of a new life, dear Heavenly Father, please show him how to use it and tell me what to do. I’m struggling.’ He finished with the Lord’s Prayer.
Andrew now sat in the front pew in quiet contemplation, hoping the answer might come to him in the peace and serenity of his church. How far away Jacob’s room was now with its perversion and immorality. It almost seemed unreal and his thoughts began to calm and become more objective. What had happened to Jacob? Could it be the side effects of his medication? But Elizabeth had already raised that with the doctor. And in any event the side effects surely wouldn’t produce the evil he’d just witnessed. The image of Jacob on the laptop flashed into his mind. It had been photoshopped but the picture was such a good blend, so realistic, you couldn’t tell where his son ended and the devil began. He thought back to the son he’d had, and the last time he’d been in the church asking for God’s help, when Jacob’s life had hung in the balance, ebbing away as they waited for a new heart. God had answered his prayers then almost immediately. Elizabeth had rushed into the church, crying with joy that a donor had been found. His son as he was then had been kind, loving, respectful, playing the organ in church, an
d he prayed he would be returned to them very quickly.
With a final prayer of thanks he left the pew, and after bowing to the altar began down the aisle towards the door. Elizabeth would be home soon and he wanted to be with her before he had to leave again on parish business. Just to see her face, hear her voice, feel the normality of their relationship which was strong and good would give him a boost. As he neared the end of the aisle his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text message from Jacob. His spirits rose. God had answered his prayers again and everything would be all right. ‘Thank you,’ he said out loud and opened the text. Then he read the message. Hi Dad, did you get off on the photos? You dirty old bugger! What would Mum say? Beneath was a picture similar to one of the pornographic photographs he’d seen on Jacob’s bed.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
‘I told you you wouldn’t get the quality stuff any cheaper,’ Chez gloated, a self-satisfied grin on his face. He was standing right in front of Jacob, arrogant and tall.
‘Because your fucking boss controls the whole fucking area,’ Jacob hissed angrily.
‘That’s how it goes, man,’ Chez said nonchalantly, holding and returning his stare. ‘He was fucking pissed off with you, man, short-changing him. And I got the fucking blame. Had to give him the twenty quid out of my cut. Dickhead.’
‘Like I care,’ Jacob sneered. Chez was cockier than before, more self-assured. He fought the urge to punch the little skunk in the face, but he needed the stuff he’d brought with him.
‘I think you should apologize to me, man,’ Chez said. ‘Say you’re sorry to me for all the trouble you caused.’
‘Go fuck yourself,’ Jacob snapped.
Chez began to walk away.
‘No. Wait!’ he called after him.
Chez stopped, slowly turned, and surveyed him from the distance between them. He knew he had the upper hand. This creep was well and truly hooked, thanks to him, and he was getting through it quickly now. He was clean out and desperate, which was very good for business. Chez knew no one would supply him, not on this patch, so he could make him pay and grovel a bit. Get his own back.