by Kate Bulpitt
‘Alright, sis?’
‘Yep, you?’
There was a brief silence.
‘Have there been any signs of anything? Even tiny movements?’ Eve asked.
‘I wish there had been, but not that any of us have seen.’
‘Have the doctors got any idea of what will happen? Is there any kind of pattern to these… situations?’
‘They’ve said we just have to wait and see. It could be days, weeks…’ Linda whispered, as though Vince might hear.
‘Well, here we all are,’ she addressed Vince, smoothing the blanket around him. ‘Eve’s come back from New York to see you.’
‘La di dah,’ muttered Simon, almost inaudibly, but Eve could hear.
Really? Eve thought, even now? and gave him the withering look that she’d perfected years ago.
‘Have you told your dad what you’ve been up to?’
‘Yeah, Eve, tell Dad some funny animal stories. That will wake him up,’ said Simon, with a pseudo-smile.
‘Oh yes,’ said Linda. ‘Let’s hear some of those.’
‘Or some of your hilarious dating stories. Found a bloke yet?’
Linda patted Vince’s hand, and said, ‘Can you hear the chatter from these two? All of us together, it’s just like old times, isn’t it?’
The door opened and another nurse, wearing rather squeaky shoes, leant in.
‘Sorry to interrupt. We just had a call from the police. They wanted to let you know that they’ve arrested the man who attacked Mr Baxter.’
‘Thank God,’ said Linda. ‘I wonder what he’ll have to say for himself.’
Quite, thought Eve, as she and Simon exchanged an unusually un-hostile glance.
Then, as the nurse was about to leave the room, she added, ‘Oh, and because he’s confessed, and they’re definitely certain it’s him, he’s going to be turned Purple! Can you imagine?’
‘Insanity,’ said Linda.
Intriguing, thought Eve.
‘What do you make of that, Vince?’ Linda said. ‘Who’d have thought of such a thing.’
Even under these circumstances her mother’s fussing over Vince made Eve tetchy, and she slipped out of the room. Simon followed her.
‘Going for a fag,’ he said, slouching away.
Eve stood in the corridor, feeling tired and untethered. She moved to the ward’s waiting area and sat on the floor, leaning against a chair with her legs stretched out. Remembering the newspapers, she pulled one from her bag, studying the front page, which featured a photo of Theo Fletcher and Lee, taken at the press conference. The headline read: ‘NOWHERE TO HIDE’. The picture jogged something in her memory, a misplaced reminder her foggy, jet-lagged brain couldn’t quite reach.
Eve sensed someone standing close by, and glanced up, worried that she was about to be declared a safety hazard, nestled on the floor. It was Nurse Attride.
‘Should I move?’ Eve asked.
‘No, it’s fine,’ said the nurse.
‘Is he okay?’
‘Yes, no change.’
With a lingering glance towards Eve’s newspaper, Nurse Attride hovered for a moment, then moved towards the reception desk. Eve watched as she tidied some scattered pens and a half-eaten tube of fruit pastilles, before leafing through a pile of paperwork. The phone bleeped, but had stopped again before the nurse could lift the receiver, the caller obviously having been grasped by something more pressing. Returning her attention to the newspaper, Eve’s brain snapped back into action: she recalled the phone call about the Purpled man brought into A&E. Hadn’t Nurse Attride said her girlfriend worked there?
With a tiny groan as she prised herself upright, Eve went over to the front desk. Nurse Attride watched as she approached.
When Eve reached the desk, she placed the paper in front of her. Lowering her voice, she said, ‘I think there was a Purple man brought here, into A&E?’
Holding Eve’s gaze, Nurse Attride nodded slowly.
‘I’m guessing you can’t talk about it, but—’
‘You want to find out how they’re Purpling people.’
‘Yes,’ said Eve, surprised.
‘I couldn’t help overhearing… you were talking to your dad about it.’
‘Oh, of course. As a medical professional, how do you think they could be doing it – actually changing people’s colour, I mean?’
‘I just don’t know,’ said Nurse Attride. ‘I’d think it’s probably ingested, or injected, but for colour like that, a strong change, all over, lasting a longer period of time, I would’ve thought it would need to be administered repeatedly, that there’d need to be a build-up to affect the skin cells. But that doesn’t fit with people being Purpled overnight.’
‘And your girlfriend works on the ward where the Purple man is?’
Another nod.
Eve was about to ask her next question when Nurse Attride said, ‘All the things she sees and… she cried when she saw him. She said it felt cruel to inflict such a thing on anyone. A heartless punishment, she called it.’
What a tangled web it was, this Purpleness, thought Eve.
‘I’m sure it’s tricky, with patient confidentiality—’
‘It’s our job to protect patients,’ the nurse said, ‘but if you were trying to help, to find out what had happened to him, to all of them, maybe he would speak to you.’ The nurse bit her lip. ‘I don’t know. Maybe this is a bad idea.’ She was silent for a moment, looked down at the picture of Lee. ‘Let me see. But I can’t promise anything.’
‘Of course. And thank you,’ said Eve, adding, ‘Was he brought here because of turning Purple? Was it having a side effect, or something?’
The nurse looked uneasy. ‘Not quite.’
From her expression, Eve knew the truth was going to be loaded.
‘Nurse Attride—’
The nurse turned to see a doctor approaching, blonde ponytail swinging as she walked. Her professional disposition would make her less prone to panic, but Eve saw the nurse’s chest rise as she took a discreet, deep breath.
‘Nurse, could I speak to you about Mrs Wu in bed twelve?’
‘Ah, yes,’ Nurse Attride gently exhaled.
With the doctor now within earshot, Eve said, ‘Thanks so much for your advice. I’ll wait to hear more.’
Nurse Attride gave a cautious nod, and walked away.
Eve had never been so keen to find herself in A&E.
Chapter Five
A plan was afoot. Mere hours after arriving in Blighty, Eve was due to meet a Purple person. She was cross-eyed with tiredness, and delirious with excitement. What would this lilac lad, Luke, have to say about the Purpleness, and, specifically, how he’d become this polemical shade of plum? Eve could barely contain herself.
In the meantime she had sat in her dad’s room, flipping, transfixed, through the day’s papers, searching for clues. With the scheme no longer a secret, a small number of the first ‘batch’ of Purpled people – the ones who’d been held at the secure facility that Sweatshirt and pals had escaped from – had been returned home, though none had yet agreed to be interviewed. With such all-round tight-lippery, tips as to the Turning were not to be found, but there were stories from some unlikely angles regarding the offending flesh.
In one article a dermatologist claimed indigo skin would require specialist moisturiser, but a disclaimer in exceedingly small print noted that he had not yet met, let alone examined, a Purple person, and in what appeared to be a first in anticipating a new commercial demographic, one of the recommended creams was from the doctor’s own skincare brand. Meanwhile, presumably guessing that they wouldn’t receive an objective hearing, with the truly Purpled people approached by the Daily Dispatch declining to be interviewed, the paper had ‘plummed up’ a model and sent him out onto the streets to be photographed. The result was a series of pictures of a clean-shaven chap in ripped Levi’s (showing a keen attention to detail, even his knees were damson), pouting as those nearby scowled at him; in one
photo, a woman swung her handbag towards him, and in another a teenage girl gazed flirtatiously in his direction, the lilac effect no match for his Elvis lips and cheekbones.
At the end of Nurse Attride’s shift, Eve had followed her to the ladies’ bathrooms, where they’d gone into neighbouring cubicles, and undressed; as agreed, Eve passed her own frock under the partition, and in return appeared the nurse’s uniform, complete with mint imperials in the pocket. Once changed, they reconvened by the sinks.
‘Lucky it fits,’ said Eve.
Nurse Attride nodded, nervously smoothing the fabric of the dress she was now wearing. ‘This isn’t the kind of thing I do,’ she said. ‘Kelly’s the daring one.’
‘Tell me about it,’ said Eve. ‘I hate the idea of getting into trouble for anything. I think I’m allergic even to the thought of it.’
Nurse Attride let out a slow, meditative breath. ‘But here we are. So. Just follow the signs to A&E, and Kelly will be waiting by the coffee machine. She’ll be there in –’ Nurse Attride checked the time – ‘six minutes. It’s a bit of a maze, but hopefully you’ll find it easily.’
There was a creak as the main door to the bathrooms opened and a woman clasping a bunch of roses entered. She hovered, unsure what to do with the flowers, eventually resting them on the counter behind a sink before disappearing into a cubicle. Nurse Attride busied herself with washing her hands, and Eve mopped her own clammy mitts with a paper towel. They exchanged a glance in the mirror, then Eve made her way out into the corridor. Exhilarated, but terrified.
Attempting to appear confident in where she was going, Eve tried to remember the route the nurse had advised. This would have been a great time to have a PortAble, she thought – to seem distracted by that while most other people she passed would have been engrossed in their own. Whatever you do, she told herself, do not make eye contact with anyone; inviting interaction was bound to blow her cover.
As instructed, Eve was about to take a right turn at the sexual health poster, which in block capitals declared ‘BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY’. She was wondering about the message it sent to imminent parents en route to the neighbouring maternity ward when she felt a hand on her arm.
‘Excuse me, nurse,’ said an elderly gentleman. ‘I’m looking for my wife, she’s on the Sanderson Ward. How do I get there?’
Eve turned, feeling hot, and faint. What would the penalty be for impersonating a member of medical staff? With alarm, she wondered if she would be Purpled.
‘The Sanderson Ward?’ Eve had no idea where it was. She needed to stall for time. ‘I’m so sorry, I—’
‘There you are, Dad!’ A woman rushed up behind the elderly man. ‘We had a nightmare in the car park. Those ticket machines, they drive you mad.’ Acknowledging Eve with a smile, she added, ‘I hope he wasn’t holding you up, nurse,’ and to her dad, said, ‘Now I think we need to go this way…’
Eve nodded and, before they could ask anything else, hurried away.
Approaching A&E, she could see a tall nurse beside a coffee machine. Five foot ten, with dark, wavy hair, Nurse Attride had said, and a wristwatch that has a bright red strap. This seemed to be her – but she was deeply engrossed in conversation with a police officer, the two of them subdued. Eve loitered, attempting to cover her fish-out-of-water nervousness by studying a whiteboard covered in wipe-clean notes, and dearly hoping no one spoke to her. Eventually the tall nurse looked over, and Eve touched the top button of her uniform, the signal she’d been told to give. The tall nurse excused herself and walked towards Eve.
‘Nurse Murray?’
‘Call me Kelly. You must be Eve.’
‘Thank you for this, I do appreciate it.’
‘I’m afraid there’s not much to thank me for,’ said Kelly. ‘Luke passed away ten minutes ago.’
Eve was aghast.
‘If he hadn’t been turned bloody Purple…’
‘Are you saying he actually died from being Purpled? It was a side effect?’
‘You could say that.’ Kelly shook her head and sighed, clearly angry. ‘If I smoked, I’d have a bloody cigarette about now. We spend our days trying to save people’s lives…’
‘Of course…’
‘And this is just… so unnecessary. So preventable.’
‘I suppose it is. They didn’t need to do something so barmy.’
Fixing Eve with an unwavering stare, Kelly said, ‘Luke was so distraught about being turned Purple’ – at these words, she grimaced – ‘that he wanted to kill himself. I thought he was pulling through, but with what was in his system…’
‘How awful… that he felt so desperate,’ said Eve. ‘And his poor family.’
Kelly nodded. ‘It beggars belief, it really does. I’d better get back. Sorry there wasn’t more we could do. I would have liked to help him. I hope you’re still going to try.’
‘Of course. Perhaps…’ Eve retrieved the business card she’d intended to give Luke, featuring the biroed addition of Womble and Helena’s telephone number. ‘They may not want to, but if his family feel like talking, maybe you could give them this.’
Kelly looked at the card, adorned with the squiggle of Pam Fox-Jones’s hand-drawn face and a picture of a koala holding a phone. Nothing says intrepid news reporter quite like a koala, thought Eve.
‘Sure.’ Kelly raised her eyebrows, put the card in her pocket, and walked away.
Eve stood, dejected. She felt tired, sad – and guilty that she should claim disappointment at not meeting poor, Purple Luke. Rueful, too, about feeling such fascination for the Purpleness, given this devastating consequence. Yet she remained determined to find out more.
For now, though, she thought, best get back to Dad. And Nurse Attride, with her uniform. About to retrace her steps, Eve noticed that the policeman whom Kelly had been talking to was now getting himself a coffee; he watched as brown liquid squirted in fits and starts into a tin mug. I could certainly use some caffeine, she thought, sidling up to the machine. Standing behind the officer, she said, ‘Such terrible news.’
The officer turned, sniffing suspiciously at the contents of the cup in his hand. He had a grey-flecked bushy moustache which, Eve noted, would make him a prime candidate for a Mills Brothers trimmer.
‘Poor lad,’ Eve continued. ‘Imagine feeling so devastated about being Purpled…’
‘That’s one way of looking at it,’ said the officer. He peered towards the machine. ‘Do you know where the sugar is with this thing?’
‘I think there should be a button…’
‘Oh, right.’
‘What’s the other way?’
‘Eh?’
‘Of looking at it. The young man being Purpled.’
‘Look. I know it’s your job to try and patch everyone up, regardless. You don’t judge. But I don’t suppose you were working here when the boy came in who’d had his ear near bitten off by that Luke?’
‘I wasn’t—’
‘Or when he bit another bloke’s nose? That was messy. He needed a lot of stitches.’
Eve pulled a face, feeling queasy, before remembering she was supposed to be a nurse and wouldn’t be squeamish.
‘Or the people he’s attacked with, variously – ’ at this, the police officer began a finger count to underscore the weapon tally – ‘his fists, a baseball bat, a cricket bat, a concrete bird bath, and – ingenious this – a piece of skirting board, with nails in?’ The officer took a sip of his coffee. ‘That’s a lot of sugar,’ he said, approvingly. ‘So, while it is sad that he topped himself, and I do appreciate that we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, quite honestly, he won’t be missed. Many, many people will now avoid a battering from him. So I’m sorry to say, I don’t find the news that terrible.’
Eve wondered if she looked as cross-eyed and conflicted as she felt.
‘What would you do,’ she asked, sincerely, ‘to try and stop the anti-social behaviour? Why do you think people like Luke behave the way they do?’
‘The
re,’ said the officer, ‘is the million-dollar question. For a lot of them, when I’m seeing them for the fiftieth time, I think: here we go again, all going through the motions. Should we just lock ’em up, and throw away the key? But that’s a canny thing with this Purpling, isn’t it?’
‘What’s that?’
‘Don’t even have to pay to keep them locked up! They have to isolate themselves. Curfew. Pretty much house arrest. That’ll save a few quid. Genius.’
He raised his cup in a farewell gesture, and Eve watched as he made his exit through a revolving door; spinning slowly, it sent the officer outside into the sunshine, and, as incoming deliveries, spun out a hobbling man and a small child with a saucepan on his head. Turning away, a weary, bleary Eve made her way back to the other side of the hospital before any passing accidents or emergencies could detain her.
*
Eve had dozed off on the way to Womble and Helena’s, once again dressed in her own frock, nestled on the back seat with the bag of newspapers beside her, her head lolling and rolling with the car’s movements. She had been told by the on-duty nurse that she should get some rest, assured that they would call if there was any change to her dad’s condition. Simon had already gone home, but Eve had left Linda asleep beside Vince’s bed, one hand resting on his blue blanket.
They pulled up outside Womble and Helena’s home, in a small town not far from the big one where Eve had grown up. As Helena turned her key in the lock, barking began indoors.
‘Hi, Mr Bailey,’ she said, as a shiny Golden Retriever bounded to the door. A scruffy terrier continued to yap. ‘And hello, Sven.’ Helena scratched the terrier’s ears and he stopped barking, now licking her hand instead. ‘Come on in,’ she said to Eve.
‘Wait ’til you see what we’ve resurrected in your honour,’ said Womble.
‘Though it’s only there temporarily,’ Helena told him.