Caught in the Web - Chapter 43

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Chapter Forty-three

A faint drumming sound competed with the thumping of the blood pumping through her head. Karen opened her eyes. The light in the room was grey - washed out. The air was stale, thick and hot as she struggled to sit up. It seemed that her head was too heavy to lift from the pillow. She was in her bed but memories of recent events were blurred. And what was that drumming sound - getting louder as she became more alert? The rain. Rain thundering against the roof and hammering on the window-pane, forcing Karen to remember that she was trapped in a nightmare.

The peace of forgetfulness was swept away as reality hit her hard in the stomach, twisting and churning the fear back into its place.

She listened. Craned her neck to hear whether she was alone in the house. She glanced at the clock wondering whether it was morning or evening. Neither. It was nearly midday.

She couldn’t work out how long she’d been asleep. The dreams had been many, she sensed but all had shifted out of reach as soon as she’d woken. Listening again she could hear the sound of someone moving about in the kitchen. Peter, she guessed.

The thud of the door knocker lifted her spirits. She struggled out of bed and stumbled to the window. She could just see the top of a man’s head. Dr. Wright.

Karen made her way to the bedroom door and opened it. She knew she had to make a good impression on him. This could be the way out for her. But as she reached to top of the stairs she saw Peter standing in the hall below. He was standing quietly, making no attempt to open the door. Karen froze, then crept back along the passageway and let herself back into the bedroom, closing the door gently behind her. She went to the window, now wide awake and lifting the net curtains, tapped on the glass, hoping that she could attract the doctor’s attention without Peter hearing from below.

Dr. Wright knocked on the door again but didn’t look up. The noise of the storm was too much. Karen banged on the window, louder this time, praying that he would hear. He turned to walk away.

Karen knocked again and screamed out in panic, ‘Doctor, please, I’m up here! Please look up!’ She sobbed in frustration as he continued walking down the street, the rain dripping from his sleek, black hair.

‘Karen, you’re awake.’ Peter stood watching her from the doorway.

‘That was Dr. Wright at the door,’ Karen sobbed. ‘Why didn’t you let him in?’

‘Was it? I didn’t hear anything. Are you sure you weren’t dreaming it?’

‘I saw him. From the window.’ She stared at him. ‘What are you trying to do?’

‘I’m just trying to look after you.’ He smiled. ‘Now come on, back to bed with you.’

He took her arm and steered her towards the bed. She sat on the edge knowing that the best thing to do would be to go along with what he wanted. She was locked in the house and he had the only keys.

She felt so tired.

‘Just stay there and rest,’ he was saying. ‘I’ll be downstairs if you want anything. Now be sure you call me.’ He left her alone again.

Karen’s thoughts raced. She could hear him moving about downstairs and wondered what he was doing and what her next move could be. It seemed so hopeless.

She was still wondering how to get out of this mess when she heard the front door again. Hoping that it was the doctor coming back she pulled herself up from the bed and across the floor to the window. She craned her neck to see who it was. Margaret.

‘Thank God,’ she thought, banging on the window furiously. Something made Margaret look up. Karen waved in desperation.

‘Please,’ she mouthed. ‘Make Peter let you in.’

Margaret turned back to the door and knocked again. She was shouting through the door at Peter.

‘Will you let me in?’ she called. ‘Peter. It’s Mum. Let me in - please.’

Karen moved to the bedroom door and went out into the hallway. She stood at the top of the stairs, watching Peter below.

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked. ‘Stop Margaret from coming in too? You can’t keep me a prisoner for ever, you know.’

‘I’m not keeping you a prisoner,’ he spat back. ‘I am letting her in, you silly girl.’ He went to the door, took the key from his pocket and turned it in the lock.

Margaret pushed past Peter and rushed towards Karen who had made her way down the stairs. She took Karen’s hands and looked into her face.

‘Are you alright?’ she asked then turned to Peter without waiting for an answer. ‘What on earth is going on?’ She glared at him, waiting for an answer.

‘Nothing’s going on,’ Peter said at last. ‘Karen’s not been well and I’ve been looking after her, that’s all.’

Margaret looked back at Karen. ‘Well?’ she asked again.

Tears were filling Karen’s eyes. She stood, unable to say anything whilst Peter was there, watching her. ‘I’m alright,’ she said finally.

Margaret gave her a long hard look and sighed. She let go of Karen and began peeling off her coat. She turned to Peter.

‘Well are you going to ask me in properly?’ she asked. ‘What about making me a coffee?’

‘Come into the lounge,’ Karen said, leading the way into the front room.

Peter stood for a while, then went into the kitchen to make the coffee.

Karen and Margaret sat together on the sofa, alone for a few precious moments.

‘Now, Karen,’ said Margaret quietly. ‘How are you really?’

Karen glanced towards the door leading into the hall. ‘I’m alright,’ she whispered. ‘But Peter’s making me out to be an invalid. He won’t listen to me when I say I’m OK. I am OK - really.’

Margaret sighed.

‘You don’t believe me either.’ Karen’s heart dipped.

‘I do,’ Margaret assured her. She went on quickly. ‘Listen Karen, I came round to talk to you about finding your real mother but maybe it’s not the right time to talk about it.’ She looked towards the door.

‘You don’t think Peter will approve.’

‘You seem to have enough on your plate at the moment,’ said Margaret. ‘What with this baby and everything.’

Before Karen could answer, Peter was back with three steaming mugs of coffee on a tray.

‘There you are Mum.’ He handed Margaret a mug.

‘Thank you.’ She took the mug and sipped the coffee.

He handed a mug to Karen. ‘Here you are darling,’ he smiled at her.

Karen hesitated, then she took the mug from him and held it in her hands.

Peter sat back in the armchair. ‘What have you two been talking about,’ he asked.

Margaret looked at Karen, then back at him before speaking. She took a breath.

‘I’ve been trying to find out about Karen’s real mother,’ she said. ‘I went to the Social Workers in Fareham.' She looked at Karen. ‘They weren’t very helpful really but I found out that if you write to them they’ll be able to give you all the information they have on file. They may not have much more than we already know, so it’s best not to get your hopes up too much.’

She looked back at Peter. He was glaring at her.

‘I hope you have no objections to this, Peter? I think it will help Karen through this - difficult time.’

‘I have no objections,’ Peter said. ‘Why should I object? I don’t know why you think I would.’ He smiled sweetly at her.

‘Good,’ said Margaret. She turned back to Karen. ‘Would you like me to help you with the letter?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Karen faltered. ‘I mean, I don’t know what I want any more.’

It was the sneer on Peter’s face that made up her mind.

‘OK. Yes, I would like that,’ she said. She looked at Peter. ‘If you don’t mind?’ She was hoping that he’d leave them alone to work on the letter together, giving her precious time with Margaret without him breathing down her neck.

‘Like I said, why should I mind?’ he repeated.

‘Aren’t you going to work today?’ Margaret asked. ‘I could sit with Karen. Keep her company.’

Karen felt the anger rising again. ‘I don’t need looking after. And please stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here! I am not an invalid, or stupid!’

‘No of course you’re not,’ said Margaret. She looked at Peter. ‘So you don’t need to stay here. Perhaps you should get off to work.’

‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’ he laughed.

‘No. But I would like some time alone with Karen.’

‘Well, for your information, I’m not going to work this week,’ he said. ‘I’ve taken some time off so I won’t be going far.’ He got up. ‘But I know when I’m in the way. I’ll be upstairs if you want me.’

Peter was half way up the stairs before he called down as an afterthought, ‘Just remember whose mother you are.’

Chapter 42 - Caught in the Web

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Chapter Forty-two

Peter waited until he was sure Karen was fast asleep before he moved. Finally he stood up and gathered up the remnants of her breakfast, taking the tray back downstairs into the kitchen. He carefully washed up the mug and plate and set them on the draining board to dry.

Smiling to himself, he slipped on his light summer jacket and checked in the pockets for his door keys. He ran up the stairs, looking into the bedroom once more. Karen was still asleep as he closed the door gently behind him. He hesitated, wondering if he should have put a bolt on the outside of the door, then shrugged to himself.

‘She won’t be going far,’ he thought. ‘That’s a job for later on.’

Still, he left the house as quietly as he could, making sure that the front door didn’t slam behind him, holding the key in the lock as he closed it. He soon reached the phone box and dialled the number for the hospital ward that Karen had left on the pad in the kitchen.

‘It’s Peter Edwards here,’ he said as soon as he was put through to the ward. ‘I’m ringing to let you know how Karen is.’

‘Oh, thanks for ringing,’ said the male nurse who answered. ‘This is Mike, the Charge Nurse, speaking. I was going to drop by and see how she was.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Peter bristled.

‘When will she be coming back to work? Any idea how long?’

‘She won’t be back for another week, at least,’ said Peter. ‘The doctor has said she shouldn’t be working in that sort of place until she’s well.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Mike. ‘What’s the matter with her?’

‘I’m afraid she’s having a bit of a breakdown. I think working there has made her ill, actually.’

‘Really?’ Mike remarked. ‘I’m surprised at that. Karen seems such a steady kind of a person.’

‘Well, you don’t know her then, do you?’ Peter was feeling slightly annoyed at this man who thought he knew Karen.

‘Maybe not,’ Mike said. ‘I only know that she’s a good nurse. She’s reliable and has a good head on her shoulders.’

‘And I’m telling you that she’s ill, OK?’

‘Yeah, alright mate,’ said Mike. ‘Tell her we’re all thinking of her, won’t you?’

‘Of course. Goodbye then.’

‘Get her to ring in when she’s better,’ Mike said.

Peter hung up without replying. ‘You’ve got to be joking,’ he said to himself as he dialled the number for the doctor’s surgery.

‘It’s Peter Edwards here. I need to see Dr. Wright,’ he said firmly. ‘He said I could come in if things got worse with my wife.’

The receptionist asked him to hold the line. He waited.

‘Hello Mr. Edwards.’ The receptionist’s voice was soon back. ‘That’s fine. Dr. Wright will see you in half an hour at the end of surgery if you’d like to come in then.’

Peter put the phone down and stepped outside the booth. He lit a cigarette and walked in the sunshine towards the surgery.

‘What a lovely day,’ he thought, pleased that all was going well.

Soon he was sitting in front of Dr. Wright.

‘She’s getting worse Doctor.’ He frowned. ‘She accused me of trying to poison her, and came at me with a kitchen knife yesterday. I really don’t think she’s stable enough to have this baby.’ He paused. ‘I was thinking either a termination or maybe it would be best to take the baby away for adoption once it’s born.’

‘Are you absolutely sure? That seems rather, er, extreme.’ Dr. Wright sounded shocked. ‘Have you talked to your wife about this?’

‘Of course I have,’ said Peter. ‘She’s in full agreement with me that she’s not well enough to look after a baby at the moment.’ He looked around the room for inspiration. ‘The thing is,’ he went on, ‘she’s so weird at the moment, I don’t think she can remember what she’s said from one minute to the next. To be honest, Doctor, I believe she’s a danger to herself. She’s certainly a danger to me, and she would definitely not be able to care for a child.’ He paused. ‘I know having a baby is what we’ve always wanted - and it’s heart-breaking - but... I love my wife and her well-being must come first. I’m very worried about her.’

‘Well, she didn’t seem as bad as that when I saw her.’ Dr. Wright hesitated.

‘Take it from me, Doctor,’ Peter asserted. ‘She is bad, very bad. You know, I think that being pregnant may be making her worse. Tipping her over the edge, I mean.’

‘Perhaps I should call and see her again. It may be best to take her into hospital for a while.’

‘No!’ Peter’s voice was sharp. ‘I wouldn’t want her to go into a place like that. I can look after her at home.’ He stood up. ‘I should go. Don’t worry about it Doctor - I can manage.’

‘But it sounds like she needs more than you can offer,’ Dr. Wright said. ‘I will come and visit her again and see for myself what she’s like, if you don’t mind. Say tomorrow morning after surgery. Do you think you could manage until then?’

‘I really don’t think you need to come and visit at all,’ Peter blustered. He wondered whether he’d made the wrong move involving the doctor again so soon. The last thing he wanted was for Karen to be taken out of his care. He just wanted to make sure that the baby was dealt with as soon as possible. All he wanted was his old wife back and for things to carry on as before. That wasn’t too much to wish for, was it?

‘Look. I know it must be very difficult for you,’ Dr. Wright’s voice interrupted his thoughts. ‘No-one likes to admit that their loved-one may be mentally ill but the treatments these days are very good. Patients are often only in for a few weeks then with regular appointments with the psychiatrist many live full, normal lives again before long. Taking away your baby is a very drastic thing to do and probably totally unnecessary.’

‘You don’t understand.’

‘I understand that you’re very distressed and maybe not thinking very clearly.’

‘It’s alright, really,’ said Peter. ‘I shouldn’t have come.’

‘Well - I shall visit tomorrow morning. Your wife is my patient and my responsibility.’ He smiled. ‘After eleven then. Tell her to expect me.’

Peter shook his hand and left the room.

His head was reeling. ‘Now what?’ he thought.

Caught in the Web - Chapter 41

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Chapter Forty-one

Karen drifted in and out of a timeless sleep.

The house was quiet when she finally woke. The light was in the sky but the sun hadn’t yet risen. She could hear the faint sound of the birds in the street outside as she crept from her bed, trying not to wake Peter who was snoring beside her. She glanced at him in the dim grey light, realising the depth of her feelings for him had not waned. She paused a moment before pushing away the regret which was trying to overwhelm her resolve to break free from his power.

Quietly gathering up her clothes, she eased open the bedroom door, freezing for a long moment as Peter turned over in his sleep. Eventually she closed the door behind her and tip-toed to the bathroom where she hurriedly dressed herself.

Karen had no plan - she just knew she had to get away. Going to Margaret would be of no use as she would just send her back home again. She couldn’t even think beyond getting out of the house. Her mind was flooding with thoughts she didn’t want to think. Getting away from Peter was the only answer to her safety.

Without flushing the toilet, she opened the bathroom door and listened. No sound came from the rest of the house. The bedroom door was still firmly closed. She stood at the top of the stairs and looked around. The feeling of remorse was hanging heavily over her as she realised that she might not come back here again. But where would she go? Without trying to find the answer she made her way to the bottom of the stairs and the front door. Her bag was slung over the back of a chair in the hall. She clutched it to her and turned the front door knob. It was locked. Trying to unlatch the lock, she realised that it was already unlatched. She panicked, wondering what had happened. Then she looked up and noticed that the door had an extra lock fitted at the top of the door. Her fear drew to a new level.

She ran to the back door suspecting even before she reached it that it would be the same story there. She rattled the handle, whilst wondering as she did what she thought she could achieve. She sobbed in frustration, leaned against the door and slid down the glass panel to the floor. She sat hunched over her knees, wailing inwardly in frustration.

‘Now what are you doing?’ Peter stood in the doorway, glaring down at her. She looked up and his glare turned to a smile.

‘Poor Karen. You really are in a state aren’t you?’ He reached down and took her by the elbow. ‘Come along, let’s get you back to bed. I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.’ He pulled her up roughly, almost wrenching her arm out of its socket.

Karen screamed at him. ‘Let me go! Please let me go! Why are you doing this to me?’

He held her arm in a tight grip and pulled her face close to his.

‘Now just shut up!’ he spat. ‘You’re not well and you need to get some sleep.’

‘I’m not ill,’ Karen shouted back. ‘You just can’t stand me being my own person. You can’t get away with this.’

‘Just watch me.’ His voice was quieter now. ‘No-one will believe you. Why should they?’ He laughed. ‘I only have to give the word and they’ll lock you up, just like one of your patients.’

‘That sort of thing doesn’t happen any more,’ Karen retorted. ‘You can’t just lock people up without good reason.’

‘But we have good reason, don’t we?’ Peter stroked her face. ‘Dr. Wright has seen how you’ve been and my own dear Mother too.’

Karen gasped.

‘Oh yes,’ he went on. ‘You thought she was on your side didn’t you? Well it didn’t take much to convince her that you’re completely unstable. And the doctor? That was even easier. Because it’s true, you really are going mad and it wouldn’t take much more to tip you completely over the edge. I really am worried about you Karen. I don’t know what you might do next to harm yourself. And then there’s the little problem of you hurting other people.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Karen was horrified at the depths of his fantasies.

‘The kitchen knife you attacked me with of course.’ He paused, releasing his grip on her slightly. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t remember the kitchen knife? It was lucky I managed to wrestle it from you in time.’

‘You’re insane!’ Karen said. ‘None of those things have happened. No-one would believe you.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong. You see, dear Karen, they already do believe me. Why would they not? Now then, let’s get you back up those stairs.’

He steered her towards the hallway. Karen knew that she couldn’t fight him. He led her up the stairs and watched as she lay back down on the bed.

‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘Just rest there and you’ll be well again before you know it.’ He smiled. ‘I’m going to make you some breakfast now.’

Karen said nothing. He shrugged his shoulders and left the room. She could hear him in the kitchen, making tea. The smell of toast wafted up the stairs. Her stomach churned with hunger.

He was back in a short while with a tray of tea and toast, cut up into triangles and spread with marmalade. He placed the tray on her lap and stood back.

‘Just how you like it,’ he said. ‘Now be a good girl and eat up.’

Karen sat and looked at the tray. She was frightened to eat or drink anything he offered her, knowing that somehow he’d been drugging her.

‘Now come along.’ Peter sat on the bed beside her and picked up the plate of toast. ‘I’m not leaving this room until you’ve eaten something,’ he said. ‘Come along darling - eat.’

Without looking at him, she took a slice from the plate, hoping that he’d back-off and leave her in peace.

‘Go on,’ he urged. ‘Eat up. There’s plenty more.’

Karen nibbled the edge of the slice nervously.

‘Come on, Karen,’ Peter said impatiently. ‘What do you think I’ve done, poisoned the marmalade?’

‘Of course not. I’m just not that hungry.’

‘Nonsense,’ he insisted. ‘You must eat. In your condition it’s important to eat well.’

‘I thought you wanted me to get rid of the baby. Why are you suddenly concerned for it. You don’t care.’ Karen was angry now.

‘Of course I care.’ His voice was mocking. ‘You know, Karen, your imagination is getting beyond a joke. Do you really think I could do you any harm?’

‘I don’t know,’ Karen said.

‘I just want you to be how you used to be. You were alright before you started to get these weird ideas in your head.’ He put down the plate and took her free hand. ‘I know I was upset when you told me you were pregnant with this baby, which isn’t mine, by the way. I just thought I’d remind you of that little fact.’ He sighed, then went on. ‘I was upset but I can understand you don’t want to get rid of the baby. I’ve just had to come to terms with it, haven’t I?’

‘So you think I should have the baby now, then?’ Karen’s hopes lifted a little.

‘No choice is there?’ he replied. ‘Now eat something before you make yourself ill.’

‘I don’t know if I can believe you. You’ve changed your mind so suddenly.’

‘I haven’t,’ he denied. ‘I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.’

Karen was unsure of what to believe any more. She was tired of fighting and just wanted to feel safe again.

‘Come on darling,’ he coaxed. He stroked her cheek and smiled softly at her. ‘Just eat a little bit.’

‘Alright,’ Karen conceded and bit into the toast. It tasted as it always did and she began to doubt her suspicions. Hunger was getting the better of her and before long she’d finished the first slice. Soon the plate was empty. Peter passed her the mug of tea that had been placed on the bedside table.

‘Good girl,’ he said. 'Now a nice cup of tea to wash it all down.’ He sat watching her as she drank the contents of the mug.

She could still see his smiling face as she drifted into oblivion.

Caught in the Web - Chapter 40

Caught in the Web is available from all good book stores, and on the internet.  It is available from Amazon either in paperback or as a Kindle ebook.

Chapter Forty

It was raining when Grace got off the bus outside the hospital gate. She wore a blanket of numbness masking the emotions that were still buried deep inside. During the journey she had stared from the bus window as it rumbled through the winding country lanes and tried to forget the years that had passed since she’d travelled this route as a weekly pilgrimage in all weathers. Today the rain had sheeted against the window, cutting through her painful past. The bus had paused for a passenger to get off at the abattoir, reminding Grace of the noises that had come from within this grisly place in the past. Today, there was only the silence of a Sunday afternoon bringing back thoughts of Grace’s own losses.

Now standing beside the bus under the shelter of the main hospital gate, she paused. The gates were no longer locked although the porter still sat in the little glass-fronted office at the side. The bell-tower still stood watch over the centre of the main building, telling all-comers of the time, the bell now silent but still a memory of the days when it would ring a warning of some poor creature escaping from within the miserable walls.

Grace paused a moment longer, then walked through the gateway, stopping at the open hatch where the porter waited.

‘I’m visiting someone on Camberley Ward,’ she said. ‘Could you direct me, please.’

‘Through the door across the yard, straight down the left-hand corridor,’ he pointed. ‘When you get to the end, you have to go up the stairs. Ring the bell on the door at the top.’

‘Thank you.’

It had all come back to her as the man spoke. How could she ever forget that journey down the corridor of doom? She’d taken it so many times before.

Her footsteps echoed as she walked. She wished she’d not worn the new shoes with the leather soles which clipped as she walked. She wasn’t alone in the corridor. Other visitors headed in the same direction but she felt alone. There was only a flicker of hope which kept her going. Hope that she could make things better again.

Plodding up the stairs as part of a group of visitors helped keep the fear at bay. She stood outside the door with the small group of seemingly lost souls all waiting to pay their respects to their own guilty past secrets.

The door opened and the smell of the ward hit her in the face, forcing the memories of past visits to the forefront of her mind. She swallowed and shuffled through the door behind the others as they began the long walk down the gallery to the ward office. She tried not to look at the faces in the windows of the rooms which stretched all along one side, knowing that Evelyn would be in one of them.

A nurse stood at the office door waiting to greet them.

All of the other visitors seemed to know what to do, nodding to the nurse before continuing on to the open space beyond the office. Grace could see several patients sitting waiting - dressed, she presumed, in their Sunday Best cotton dresses, crisp and not yet faded with age and over-washing.

Grace smiled at the nurse. ‘I’ve come to see Evelyn Chapman. I’m her Mother.’

‘Of course. I’m Sheila. Evelyn’s in her room but if you’d like to sit here I’ll go and get her for you.’ She led Grace to some low chairs set around a coffee table near a tall window in the gallery. ‘I expect you’d like some time alone with her,’ she added.

‘Thank you.’ Grace sat in one of the chairs, nervously glancing out of the window at the rain which was still falling relentlessly from the summer sky. Black clouds scudded across the rooftops of the nearby wards. She wondered if you could see across to the Isle-of-Wight on a clear day. It was a disturbing thought that Evelyn had often looked out on this view. All those years wasted whilst outside life went on through its daily turmoil, leaving her behind in a world which would never return.

Evelyn’s voice brought her back to the present.

‘Mum.’

Grace stood up. ‘Hello Evelyn.’ She reached to embrace Evelyn with a quick hug.

‘I’ll just leave you to it then,’ the nurse turned to go. ‘I’ll bring you a cup of tea in a while if you like.’

‘Thank you,’ said Grace. ‘That’s very kind.’

‘We don’t usually make tea for visitors. But as it’s your first time, I think it would be best for Evelyn to stay on the ward. The next time you come, you could take Evelyn to the Patient’s Cafeteria - get her off the ward.’ She turned to Evelyn. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you Evelyn?’

‘I want to stay here,’ Evelyn said firmly.

‘Yes, of course we will,’ Grace assured her. ‘Don’t worry.’

They sat in silence listening to Sheila’s footsteps echoing in the distance as she stomped off to the kitchen to make tea. Grace tried to find the right words to start a conversation with this daughter who was a stranger to her.

It was Evelyn who finally broke the silence.

‘Karen’s gone,’ she said.

‘Oh, I saw her again,’ Grace said. ‘She came to see me after your visit.’

‘She’s not been here. I miss her.’

‘She’s a nice girl,’ agreed Grace. ‘But you know, she has her own problems. I expect she’s taken some time off for a holiday.’

Evelyn picked at her fingers, looking at the space between her and her mother.

‘How have you been?’ Grace asked.

‘Alright.’

‘Good.’ Grace wondered what else she could say. ‘Well,’ she continued, ‘We’ve got a lot of years to catch up on. I don’t know where to start really.’

So many thoughts were rushing into her head - things she wanted to say but each one she rejected as being too contentious or somehow inappropriate. ‘How do you make small-talk in such a situation?’ she wondered. The years spent apart stretched between them like an impassable canyon.

It was with a smothered sigh of relief that Grace welcomed Sheila back with the tray of tea. She looked at the nurse gratefully as the tray was placed on the table bridging the distance between herself and Evelyn.

‘I thought this might help,’ said Sheila. ‘It’s never easy the first time.’ She smiled at them both. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot.‘ She turned to Grace. ‘Could you come to the office before you leave? The Charge Nurse would like to have a quick word, if that’s all right.’

‘Of course,’ Grace nodded. ‘I’d like to speak to him anyway.’ She smiled at Evelyn. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

Evelyn shook her head.

‘Good,’ said Sheila. ‘Right. I must get on.’ She walked away, leaving them alone once more.

‘Evelyn,’ Grace began, ‘I don’t know how you feel about this, but I wanted to talk to the Charge Nurse about you coming to see me at home again. What do you think?’

‘I can’t come on the bus on my own!’

‘You wouldn’t have to come on your own,’ Grace assured her. ‘I’m sure a nurse could bring you and make sure you were alright. I was going to ask but wanted to speak to you about it first.’

‘Not Marion,’ was all that Evelyn said.

‘Marion? Is she a nurse here?’ Grace asked.

‘Yes. I don’t like her. Can I have Karen?’ Evelyn spoke firmly.

‘I don’t know. We could ask but if Karen’s off duty then you could have a different nurse. Karen can’t be here all the time can she? What about that nice nurse who made the tea? Sheila.’ Grace looked at Evelyn expectantly.

Evelyn nodded.

‘Good.’ Grace breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I’ll talk to the Charge Nurse then.’

Caught in the web Chapter 39

Chapter Thirty-nine

Grace sat for a long time beside the empty fireplace before she pulled herself to her feet and made her way upstairs to bed, passing the closed door of Evelyn’s old room as she went. She paused for a moment by the door, sighed and went on into her own neat room. She clambered into the old high bed, pulling the crisp white cotton sheets up to her neck as she rested her head on the pillow.

Thoughts raced through her mind, pushing away the more recent conversation with young Karen to the background, whilst Grace’s own worries fought for her attention.

She reached to the bedside table - took up the old photograph she kept in the silver frame and held it to her breast for a moment. A tear slid from her cheek and dripped onto the cold metal. Using the back of her hand to wipe her face, Grace looked at the picture and smiled at Evelyn’s innocent eyes staring back at her.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered as she ran her finger over the unfeeling glass in the frame. After a moment she placed the picture carefully back in its place, turned off the light, and lay down to sleep with a new determination in her heart.

Evelyn was worried. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Karen. The more she tried to work out how many days ago it was, the more muddled she became.

‘Doctors come on Monday,’ she thought. No doctor had been since she went to Fareham. ‘It wasn’t market day. That’s Monday, too.’ She wondered what day it was today. The smell of fish wafting from the ward kitchen told her it was Friday. So she hadn’t seen Karen for at least four days. She stood in the doorway of her room and tried to gather the courage to walk to the office.

The heat of the morning sunlight poured through the long windows opposite her room as she stepped into the wide gallery and tentatively made her way towards the open office door.

‘Evelyn?’ Mike was sitting at his desk. He looked up at her inquiringly.

She couldn’t find the words.

‘Come in.’ Mike patted the chair at the side of his desk. ‘Come and have a chat.’

She pushed down the fear and stepped into the office.

‘What can I do for you?’ Mike asked as she sat on the edge of the chair.

‘Karen.’ It was blurted out before she could lose her nerve.

‘She’s not here today.’ Mike smiled at her. ‘Did you want to talk to her?’

Evelyn nodded.

‘Can you talk to me instead?’ he asked.

‘Where is she?’ Evelyn asked.

‘She’s just taking a few days off. She’ll be back on the ward before you know it.’ He paused. ‘Do you miss her?’

Evelyn nodded again.

‘She’s a good nurse,’ Mike said.

Evelyn smiled.

‘I’m glad you came to the office, Evelyn,’ Mike went on. ‘I was going to ask you something.’

‘What?’ Evelyn jumped.

‘It’s alright. It’s good news.’ He paused, smiling at her. ‘You saw your mother the other day, didn’t you?’ he asked.

‘Yes. With Karen.’

‘How did it go?’ he asked.

‘Alright.’ Evelyn examined her nails. ‘She’s old.’

‘It’s been a long time since you saw her, I suppose,’ he said. ‘You were ill for a long time.’

‘Am I ill now?’ she wondered.

‘You’re better now. You’re just not used to the world outside. You’ve been cooped up in here for too long.’

‘Chickens.’ Evelyn interrupted him.

‘What?’

‘Chickens live in coops,’ Evelyn went on. ‘We had chickens once. The fox got them all.’

‘Oh, yes. Chickens - cooped up. I see.’ He chuckled. ‘Anyway, we’d like to get you used to going out a bit at a time, like when you went to Fareham the other day with Karen. And maybe seeing your family. Your Mum?’

‘I didn’t like it in Fareham.’ Evelyn could feel herself shaking inside. ‘Marion scared me.’

‘Well when you’re ready, maybe you could try it again,’ he said. ‘But with nurses you feel happier with.’

‘Karen.’

‘Maybe,’ Mike agreed. ‘Who else do you trust here?’

‘Not Marion.’

‘No, not Marion,’ he said.

‘Not Marion,’ Evelyn repeated.

‘What about your Mum visiting?’

‘I told her she could.’ Evelyn stood up and turned towards the door. ‘When’s she coming?’

‘She wants to come this Sunday,’ he said. But if you don’t want to see her yet, I can drop a note in her door on my way home tonight. What do you think?’

Evelyn nodded.

‘Good. This Sunday then, at two.’

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