There, at the back of the attic, lurked a huge tarantula spider. The massive arachnid, with its hairy body and legs, slowly and deliberately slithered towards a terrified Vana. The fangs started to rub together, creating the scratching noise that Vana had heard earlier. Suddenly, the spider shot out a very fine strand of silk from its spinnerets, which spun around and around Vana, trapping her and dragging her towards its fangs. She struggled and wrestled to break the silk thread, but to no avail. The fangs were just about to slash her into pieces when Vana awoke – drenched in sweat and gasping for breath.
4
As Zoe slept, her thoughts turned subconsciously to Helen and her gang. Memories were being dragged up from the darkest recesses of Zoe’s brain. It was lunchtime and she was in the school canteen, along with a number of other pupils from her year and the year above. Zoe joined the queue of hungry teenagers. She was on her own as Chickenpox had temporarily wiped-out her friends, Vana included. Zoe had already had the disease the previous year when she developed telltale spots two weeks after her birthday bash – an after party gift from one of the guests.
Zoe looked at the food on offer – a tempting array lay in front of her – fish and chips, lasagne, tuna and pasta bake, followed by chocolate pudding, or sponge pudding topped with syrup. Of course, the school also put on healthy options; there were plenty of salads, jacket potatoes with a variety of nutritious fillings or fresh fruit, but today Zoe just wanted comfort food.
She collected her crispy cod and chips and chocolate pudding, and found an empty table in the corner, where she quietly enjoyed her lunch – until Helen and her gang arrived. They each carried a tray holding small portions of salads and fruit. Zoe’s heart sank as the bullies sat down.
“I really, like, can’t believe you’re eating all that,” smirked Helen. “That’s right, you finish it all off like a good Little Miss Piggy.” The tormentors started to laugh.
Zoe’s appetite left her, and she hastily got up from the table, the girls’ sniggering ringing in her ears. As tears ran down her face, she dashed to the toilets, found an empty cubicle, and locked herself in.
Zoe made herself sick; her long hair dangled in the water as she hovered over the toilet. And when she’d no more to bring up, she sat on the floor and cried. Those four bitches had destroyed her. They had changed a once fun-loving teenager into a nervous wreck.
36: Back to square one
1
The next morning, Vana was still asleep when Zoe woke up. She rubbed her eyes, stretched, and lay there for a moment, thinking about the events of yesterday. She sighed, got out of bed, and headed up to the bathroom.
As she wandered up the stairs, her thoughts went back to when she woke up after last night’s nightmare. She hated herself for what she had done. She had felt so confident that she was going to beat this horrible Anorexia after her session with Barbara – but, that was before she’d had the dream about Helen and her gang. Just the mere mention of her name seemed to trigger things off, and Zoe could not control the urge to make herself sick.
After a long, hot shower, she dressed and went down to the kitchen where she was eating a small slice of buttered toast when Vana surfaced.
“I’m lovin’ the red eyes,” said Zoe.
“Don’t; didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Bad nightmare?”
“I was trapped in the attic, being eaten by a...”
“Let me guess. A spider?”
“Yeah, again; another scary dream about being eaten by a spider.” She sat down at the table and poured some cereal into a bowl. “Do you fancy a short run this morning? It might help clear my fuzzy head.”
“You’re on.”
“Is that all you’re having for breakfast?” Vana asked, as she pointed at the toast. “I just feel so bloated with all that pizza,” lied Zoe.
2
Some time later, the girls were running through Elm Park Gardens, iPhones duly plugged in. Vana was listening to Kasabian, with the track Underdog currently playing. Zoe favoured Adele, and was humming along to Set Fire...
It was a brilliant morning for a run through London; the sun shone but there was a light breeze, just enough to keep them cool. Vana was full of energy and soon started to set quite a strong pace, but Zoe struggled and was soon out of breath.
The girls were just running down Onslow Gardens, and had turned into Foulis Terrace when Zoe started to feel dizzy and, as she was part-way along the street, she collapsed onto the pavement. Vana was quite unaware of her friend’s predicament as she was ahead of Zoe, and only realised when a young couple, on the other side of the street, stopped and pointed at Zoe, by now sprawled semi-conscious, with her face in the gutter.
Vana rushed back to her friend, and started to slap her face in an effort to bring her round. No response. “Zoe, please wake up! Please,” said Vana, who was distraught. “HELP! I NEED HELP!” In a state of panic whilst trying to dial 999, Vana accidently took a photograph of Zoe, capturing in the background a four-storey house which had a round, blue disc on the wall. Despite Vana’s best efforts, constant hugs and words of encouragement, Zoe was still unconscious. A small crowd soon gathered, and a young man offered assistance and quickly put Zoe into the recovery position. Fortunately, Vana could hear the ambulance’s sirens, and, within a few minutes the paramedics had arrived. Jumping out of the vehicle, two men ran to Zoe’s aid whilst the female driver parked the ambulance. “We’ll take it from here, son. You’ve done good,” said a paramedic. “What’s her name?”
“Zoe,” said Vana, wiping tears from her face. As she sat beside her friend, memories of the fateful day on the school netball court came flooding back into her mind. History had repeated itself on a sun-baked Friday morning in Chelsea.
“Zoe, can you hear me?” asked the paramedic.
3
Zoe had been admitted to a side ward, and was hooked up to a drip and heart monitor. The paramedics had managed to bring her round on the journey to the hospital, and now, after being checked over by the doctors, she was exhausted and resting in bed. Vana sat on a bench outside the hospital, her eyes swollen with tears. She could not help but blame herself for Zoe’s current situation.
“Vana?”
Vana looked up to see a smartly dressed man approaching the bench. Her red eyes acknowledged him. “I’m sorry Carl, but I didn’t know who else to call.” Carl sat beside Vana and gave her a comforting hug.
“Don’t be; how is she?”
“They’ve got her attached to all kinds of things in there.”
“What are they saying it is?”
“Malnutrition – and we both know what that means. And it’s entirely my fault,” she said. Tears ran down her face. “You shouldn’t blame yourself,” he said, as he handed Vana a tissue out of his pocket.
“But I insisted we go running.”
“Vana, it would’ve happened either way.”
“You’re not going to tell Jim and Mary, are you?”
“Let’s just see what the doctors say. We might not have to ruin their holiday. Come on, lass, let’s go and see if she’s awake.” Carl put a sympathetic arm around Vana’s shoulders as they walked into the hospital and along to Zoe’s room, where she was still asleep. Vana sat on a chair next to the bed, and took hold of Zoe’s cold hand.
“I won’t be long,” said Carl, “I’m just nipping out to speak with the doctors.” He walked out of the room and headed towards the nearby Nurses’ Station. “How can I help you, sir?” a nurse asked, pleasantly. “Hello. Yes, can I speak to the doctor looking after my niece, Zoe Johnson?” The nurse smiled and typed into her computer. “I’ve just paged Dr Reilly. He’s the doctor overseeing your niece. He’ll be in to see you shortly.” With that, Carl thanked the nurse, and went back to the room.
“What did they say?” asked Vana.
“Dr Reilly’s on his way. Hopefully he shouldn’t be too long.”
4
“Where the heck is Dr Reilly?” said Carl, a
s he checked his watch again for the third time. “I won’t be a minute; I’m going to find out what’s happened to him.” As Carl left the room, he was met by a white-coated man in his early 50s.
“Dr Reilly?”
“Yes.”
“Zoe’s uncle. How is she, doc?”
“Walk with me.”
Carl followed Dr Reilly into an empty room further down the corridor. The whole family had been horrified by Zoe’s diagnosis four years ago, and he knew his sister would be devastated if it happened all over again. “I’ve spent the last hour browsing over her medical history,” started Dr Reilly, “and, I’m sorry to say, she’s showing signs of a relapse.” This was not what Carl wanted to hear. “We all believed she was well and truly over it.”
“And, yes, that had been the case up ‘til now, but something in her life has re-sparked her depression.”
“What do you mean?”
“A sudden change – it could be anything, for example a death in the family, or a shock to her system.”
“The only thing I can think of is that the family have just moved down to London from Leeds. Could that be it?” frowned Carl. “Possibly. But I understood that she was already living down here whilst studying at Oxford.”
“Her friend, Vana, would no doubt have a better understanding of what might be going on.”
“She might be able to enlighten us, but the problem we’re facing is that patients with Anorexia are very good at hiding their emotions.”
“What’s the best way forward?”
“We will have to keep her in, definitely tonight, to re-hydrate her and to monitor the situation. I have already started her on a medication regime of Fluoxetine...”
“Prozac?” interrupted Carl.
“Yes. According to her notes it helped last time, so we will see how she responds to it now. I’ll prescribe a two-week course.” Carl thanked the doctor, and returned to Zoe’s room, where Vana waited desperately for news.
“What did he say?”
Carl relayed the conversation to Vana, and asked if she had any idea what could have caused Zoe’s relapse. Vana knew that Hagatha had something to do with it, but was unsure as to how Carl would react to that. In the end, they both agreed that only Zoe could answer the question.
37: A police visit from hell
1
Carl left the girls and went back to work, but only after Vana promised to ring him if Zoe’s situation changed. She was still resting, with Vana trying her best to make her laugh. “You know once you’ve slept with a vicar?”
“Go on – explain,” replied Zoe. Vana grinned. “Is that what you call a holy fuck!”
Suddenly, a knock on the door interrupted their laughter, and a nurse brought in a man and a woman. “Zoe, these are two police detectives, and they would like to ask you some questions.” She looked at the detectives. “You’ve got five minutes – that’s all.” With that the nurse left the room. Zoe and Vana exchanged glances. What was this all about?
“Good afternoon. My name is Detective Fairway, and this is my colleague, Detective Grain. We would like to speak to Zoe alone, please.” Peter Fairway was a thick set man, with a florid complexion and jet-black hair; he was wearing a dark suit, pale red shirt and striped tie. His companion, Elizabeth Grain, was thin featured, auburn haired, and wore a grey trouser suit and white shirt. Neither of them beamed a smile.
“What’s this about? Why are you here?”
“I’d prefer to speak to you alone,” replied Detective Fairway, brusquely.
“Vana is my best friend, and I want her to stay.”
“Alright, as you please,” responded Fairway, and he stood at the bottom of the bed. Grain positioned herself opposite Vana.
“How did you know I was here?” asked Zoe, curiously.
“We called at your house and your grandmother told us that you had just been admitted,” replied Grain. The two girls looked at each other in bewilderment, and paled visibly. “Did I say something wrong?” asked Grain, “you seem surprised.” Zoe shook her head. Fairway continued. “Barbara Wilson is your psychologist, correct?”
“Yes,” replied Zoe, “is she... is she in some kind of trouble?”
“There’s no easy way of saying this,” he briefly looked at Zoe’s monitors, “and given your current situation...”
“Please just tell me.”
“Ms Wilson is dead.”
“What? Dead?” repeated Zoe, shaking her head, “are you sure it’s her? It doesn’t make any sense. I only saw her yesterday.”
“She was found murdered in her hotel room this morning.”
“Murdered?” Zoe was unable to take all this in. Vana got up from her chair and moved to take Zoe’s hand. “You guys – surely you can’t think that Zoe had anything to do with this?” Fairway ignored Vana’s question. “We believe that the time of death was approximately 9.30 am.”
“The time when I fell.”
“Yes. Now, we know that you visited her yesterday afternoon as we saw your appointment in her diary. This makes you the last person to see her alive, apart from the people in the hotel. We just need to ask you if she mentioned any special plans for last night. Was she meeting anyone?”
Tears streamed down Zoe’s face. “No, she didn’t mention anything, only conference stuff.”
2
Barbara had led a Question and Answer session earlier on during the evening, and this had been followed by dinner. She sat on a table of eight, surrounded by her peers from around the country. Conversation flowed freely, along with speciality wines which accompanied the delicious five-course meal. It had been a long day, and Barbara was ready for bed, but, before that, she decided she just needed some quiet time. She made her excuses, and headed off to the piano bar where a young pianist played a selection of music from popular West End musicals – ABBA’s song, Mamma Mia, was certainly the highlight of the evening. She slowly sank down into a soft, richly upholstered Brocade sofa and ordered a Bacardi and Coke, which the barman brought over immediately.
Her drink finished, Barbara got up, smiled her appreciation at the pianist, and walked back through the Reception Hall to the lift. As she arrived at her suite, Barbara unlocked the door, walked in, and locked the door behind her. She had a quick freshen up, removed her make-up, and went straight to bed.
The next day dawned, and Barbara awoke to bright sunshine which lit up the room. Quickly showering, she dressed, and then looked at the conference programme for the morning’s schedule. She decided that she could not face chit-chat with her fellow professionals, so ordered breakfast from room service. As she waited for the food to arrive, she thought about Zoe’s visit the previous afternoon, and made a mental note to text her after she had eaten.
Room service duly arrived, and the porter carried in a large tray containing two silver serving dishes. He set up the plates on the coffee table in front of Barbara, and left.
“Pure luxury – this place is certainly spoiling me!”
She tucked into a delicious breakfast of fresh fruit, orange juice, scrambled eggs and bacon, toast and marmalade, and plenty of good, strong, coffee. “I’ll have to ask for the name of this coffee, it’s divine!”
3
As she was putting the finishing touches to her make-up and collecting all her papers together, there was a loud thump on the door. “I’ll be there in a moment,” she called, putting her lipstick back into her handbag. The person thumped on the door again. “Alright, I heard you the first time,” she shouted crossly, thinking it was one of the other delegates who had latched on to her the previous day.
Thump on the door again. “Bloody peers,” muttered an exasperated Barbara, grabbing her Mulberry handbag and laptop. As she opened the door she found, not Simon, but an elderly, shabbily dressed lady.
“And you are?” said Barbara.
“Expecting someone else?” said the old woman, huskily. Barbara looked quizzically at her. “Can I help you?” she asked. The dirty, unkempt old woman j
ust looked her up and down.
“I’m sorry. I’m a tad confused. Who are you, again?” repeated Barbara.
The old woman still said nothing, but just took a step closer to Barbara. As she did so, Barbara backed up a pace, and tried to close the door, but Hagatha stopped her. Barbara started to panic. What should she do? She thought about the pepper spray she carried in her handbag since she had been plagued by a stalker who had broken into her home some time previously. Could she get it out in time? Her heart raced as she anxiously tried to open the bag. Her fingers soon grasped the small, black spray can. She flicked the safety switch...
“It won’t work on me,” echoed around the room.
38: Pinch me
1
Hagatha pushed Barbara down the corridor and into the lounge, where she crashed against the table. The remains of Barbara’s breakfast smashed to the floor, the dark brown coffee making an ugly stain on the luxurious cream carpet. The old crone pointed at the door. It closed. Still on the floor, Barbara felt the back of her head. No blood. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”
The woman sneered, and started towards her, menacingly. Barbara shuffled towards the window, her whole body shaking with fear. Hagatha stood over her, and glared with black, penetrating eyes. “She confided in you, but you didn’t believe her, did you?” A frown crossed Barbara’s face.
“Who? Zoe?”
“At last, the farthing drops.”
“I’m somewhat confused.”
Hagatha cackled. “So, I’m not real? And this is all a dream?” she laughed. “People have been pinching themselves for years, and I still didn’t leave. Pinch yourself – are you dreaming?”
Barbara frantically pinched her forearm. Nothing happened. “Guess I’m real then.”
2
Simon was ready for the Conference. He came out of his room which was just down the corridor from Barbara’s, paused to straighten his tie, then tapped casually on her door. Barbara looked desperately towards the door. Was someone coming to save her? She took a deep breath, ready to scream for help. Hagatha smugly smiled at Barbara, and pointed one of her long, dirty fingers at the terrified woman’s throat. Instantly Barbara felt her windpipe tighten; she tried to yell Simon, I need help! but no words came out – instead, she mimicked a fish. Meanwhile, the lights in the suite, and in the corridor outside, started to flicker; the old crone was drawing energy from the electrical source.
The Rattler (Rattler Trilogy Book 1) Page 15