Alice Isn't Well (Death Herself Book 1) (7 page)

Chapter Ten

1941

The air raid sirens sounded early that night, howling across the city before the sun had set. People scurried along the streets, keen to get home, while the few remaining cars seemed to be going just that little bit faster. London was getting darker, too, with even the street-lamps having been switched off, and soon Wendy found herself walking through darkness, her limping footsteps sounding louder and more clipped on the cold, wet cobbles.

After several hours, she still had no idea where to go. It was as if her moorings had been cut loose and she was just drifting from street to street, a lost child.

Finally, as if out of nowhere, she saw a ripple of moonlight catching on the surface of the Thames. The Thames? She hadn't realized she was anywhere near the river, and yet after just a few more steps through the shadows, she reached a small patch of grassland that led down to a brick wall and then, beyond that, to the water. After checking around to make sure that there was no-one nearby, she hurried across the grass and then leaned over the wall, looking down into the oily blackness of the river. She could hear water lapping at the wall below, and for a moment she felt almost as if something was staring back up at her.

“The river's not safe at night,” she remembered her mother telling her. “Only scoundrels go down there after dark. You must promise me, Wendy, that for as long as you live, you'll never go anywhere near the river at night.”

“I promise,” she'd replied, and she said it now too, just because it made her feel better to pretend her mother could still hear her.

Below, something seemed to rock the water a little more, causing nearby boats to tug slightly on their moorings.

Suddenly, she heard voices shouting in the distance. She turned, but as she looked across the dark patch of land, she couldn't see another soul. She could still hear them, though: a man and a woman were shouting at one another, using words that Wendy knew no-one should use, not if they'd been brought up properly, words her mother had told her were bad and wrong.

“Alright there?” a male voice suddenly asked, much closer, as a hand touched her shoulder.

Almost leaping out of her skin, Wendy spun around and saw a dark figure looming over her, silhouetted against the starry night sky.

“Don't worry about those two,” he continued. It sounded as if he was smiling. “They're always cursing at each other, it's something of a tradition in these parts. They start each night as long-lost lovers, but pretty soon they get to fighting. Some people are just like that. Still, you'd already know that if you were from around here.” He paused. “
Are
you from around here?”

“I...” She paused, before turning to hurry away. She only managed a half pace before she felt the man's hand grabbing her arm with a firm, insistent grip.

“Listen -”

“I don't want to go back,” she shouted, trying to twist free. “You can't make me!”

“No-one's trying to make you go anywhere,” the man told her, with a friendly tone. “I just wondered if you wanted to come and sit with a few of us. We've got food and shelter for the night, and if -” Suddenly he screamed as Wendy sank her teeth into his arm. He immediately let go, but she held on for a moment longer before tasting blood and letting go, at which point she stumbled back, tripped, and landed hard on the ground.

Looking up at him, she realized that the man's silhouette didn't include any sign of a policeman's uniform or a nun's habit. A moment later, the man stepped slightly to one side, allowing the moonlight to pick out a kind, middle-aged face with big dark eyes and black hair. Still, her mother had told her not to trust faces, too, and now more than ever she wanted to live by her mother's advice. It made her feel as if she wasn't alone.

“You're a tough one, huh?” he asked, clutching his wrist. “So that's the thanks I get for trying to help.”

“You can't make me go back!” she shouted.

“Back where?”

“To the -” Catching herself just in time, she realized it might not be wise to give him too much information. “I want to go home.”

“Where's home?”

“I don't know,” she replied, with tears in her eyes. “It got burned and destroyed.”

“I saw a Spitfire going down a few nights ago,” he told her. “There was a big fire too.”

“My house is gone,” she said cautiously. “My mother's gone too.”

“Gone? Do you mean...” He paused, and then he sighed. “And now you've got nowhere to go, huh?”

“I want to go home,” she said again, but the words felt even more hopeless than before.

“Maybe I can help you tomorrow,” the man replied, “but for now, if you promise not to bite me again, I'll take you somewhere safe for tonight. You can't be out wandering alone like this.”

As if to prove the man's point, an air-raid siren began to sound in the distance, followed a moment later by another much closer.

“We can't have a fire going,” the man continued, “not out in the open, but over there...” He pointed across the grassland, into the darkness. “A few of us have got something, just enough for warmth, but we keep it in the old tunnels so we don't give the Germans anything to aim at. Doing our bit for the war effort, you could say.” He looked up at the sky, as sirens continued to sound in the distance. “On a night like this, they might just come anyway. The moon's so bright, it's like a spotlight trained on the city, lighting us up for the Germans' pleasure.”

“Have you really got food?” Wendy asked cautiously as she got to her feet. She was still scared, but the thought of even a single mouthful was enough to keep her from running, enough even to override her mother's warnings. She hadn't realized how hungry she was, not until a moment ago, but now she felt as if there was a bottomless pit in her belly.

“Don't get too excited,” the man replied, turning and limping away. “It's not gourmet cooking or anything like that, but it's not a rat on a stick, either. You don't look old enough to be out here on your own, so unless you've got a nice warm home to get to, why don't you come and at least meet the others, eh? I promise we're all friendly. I'm not forcing you, though. It's your choice.”

“Be careful around strangers,” she remembered her mother telling her. “Most people are okay, but there are some bad people around. Really bad, Wendy. Types of bad that you're too young to know about.”

“Hear that?” the man asked, turning to look along the river. “Reckon I hear engines. Probably our lot heading over to bomb France, but it could be Gerry getting an early raid in.” He turned back to her. “It's not safe to be out tonight, kid. If you can't go home, you need somewhere to take shelter. My name's Harry, and I promise you, you'll be alright down in the tunnels with us. It's your choice, though, and -” He stopped and looked up, as the engines became louder in the sky above. “That's our lot,” he added, turning and limping away. “Off to give Gerry a taste of it.”

Wendy waited as he limped away. Finally, just as he disappeared from view into the darkness all around, she realized she had to make a decision.

***

“How many people are down here?” Wendy asked a few minutes later as Harry led her down the steps, into the old ticket hall of a tube station that had long ago been abandoned. People were sitting all around, with their backs against the walls, but despite the cramped conditions and the sound of sirens in the distance, the overall atmosphere seemed strong, as if everyone was making do in difficult circumstances.

“Dunno,” Harry replied, “but we usually fill the place up pretty quick when there's an air-raid in the offing. Most of it, anyway. Street-sleepers, people who've lost their houses... Whatever your reason for not having somewhere to go, we don't ask. It's none of our business. We just try to help people out.”

She followed him across the ticket hall and along a tunnel that sloped gradually downward, leading further underground. Spotting a woman sitting nearby, warming her hands on a small fire in a tin can, Wendy realized the woman's eyes looked dead and hollow. Just as she was starting to think that the woman
was
dead, however, there was a hint of movement, just enough to show that she was alive.

“This place used to be a pretty busy station,” Harry continued. “Got shut down just before the war, but there's no point letting it go to waste. There should be -”

He stopped and turned as a distant boom rattled a nearby door, causing a rush of air that briefly agitated a few fires burning in nearby cans.

“Why do they keep bombing us?” Wendy asked, feeling a catch of fear in her belly. “The war's in France, not here.”

“The war's everywhere,” he replied, turning and continuing to make his way along the tunnel. “Don't worry, though, I'm sure our lads'll give 'em more than -”

He stopped again as there was another boom, and this time the whole tunnel shook slightly, causing a drizzle of dust to fall from the ceiling.

“We're perfectly safe under here,” Harry continued, although he sounded slightly less confident. “These tunnels were built to last. We'd have a chance even if there was a direct hit.”

“You said people come here when they haven't got anywhere else to go,” Wendy replied, keeping close to him as they walked past another small, flickering fire on the floor. Although her whole body still hurt, she was determined not to show any weakness. “Does that mean my mother might be here?”

“She might be, but -”

“Can you ask?”

“What's her name?”

“Florence. Florence Hegatty.”

“Well, I'll ask around,” he replied with a sigh, “but you mustn't get your hopes up, okay? This isn't a place where miracles happen, it's a place where people huddle together when the miracles have all run out. We help each other.” As they reached a spot where several people were sleeping on the floor, he had to carefully climb over the slumbering limbs, before reaching back to help Wendy over. “Sorry, kid, but space is at a premium down here. You just have to slot in where you can find a space, but there are plenty of other children around. Are you good at making friends?”

“Okay, I suppose.”

“Then you'll have to see if -”

Another boom, closer this time, and the walls shook more than before. Looking back, Wendy saw that a few of the sleeping figures had begun to sit up, blinking in the low light cast by nearby fires. A few of them looked around with vacant expressions, before slowly settling back down one by one, some of them grumbling in the process. Some of them looked dead already, and Wendy couldn't help thinking about the catacombs she'd read about in school, where the dead lined the walls. She'd never been to such a place, of course, but she imagined it was much like this: cold, echoey and dark, with the promise of death around every corner. She felt guilty, but at the same time she couldn't help but feel a little afraid, especially when she noticed one old woman watching her through a half-closed eye that glistened in the light of a nearby fire.

“You'll get used to it down here,” Harry told her. “I can promise you one thing, Wendy, and that's that no-one will hurt you, not if you stick close to the others. There's strength in numbers, you know.” He smiled as he heard her belly starting to rumble. “Hungry? Would you like some stew?”

She paused for a moment, still watching the old woman, before turning to look up at him. Finally, she nodded, before spotting another corridor that led off from the one they'd been following. Unlike the others, however, this one was completely empty, and a lack of lights meant that all she could see at the other end was darkness.

“What's along there?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he replied, taking her hand. “Just remember what I told you. There's strength in numbers. Never, ever go wandering off alone down here.”

“But -”

“It's really nothing,” he added, “just don't allow anyone to trick you into going along one of the corridors that isn't being used. There isn't anything along there that you need to see. Sometimes there are just...” He paused, as if there was something else to say, but after a moment he forced an uneasy smile. “Just take my advice, kid. Stay with the crowd.”

With that, he began to lead her away, although she couldn't help glancing over her shoulder. With so many people crammed into the main corridors, it made no sense for other areas of the station to be left empty, but she figured there had to be a good reason.

Suddenly there was another boom above, and the ceiling shook again.

Chapter Eleven

Today

“Balmedon Lane,” the automated voice announced. “Next stop, Balmedon Lane.”

Opening her eyes suddenly, Alice realized she must have fallen asleep at the back of the bus. She looked up at the indicator and saw to her relief that she hadn't missed her stop, but as she looked out the window at the dark city streets, she realized she should have found a few hours to sleep during the day. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out one of the caffeine drinks she'd been saving for the night-shift and decided to drink it early.

As she tore the foil off the top, she looked at the bus ticket in her hand. Just one. She glanced at the seat next to her, and then along toward the front of the bus. There was no-one else on-board, not at almost 10pm on a Tuesday night, and definitely not so far south of the river.

“You can do this,” she whispered to herself. “Millions of people do this every day. There's nothing special about you. Just get on with it. You're not sick anymore.”

***

“Donald?”

Pulling the porta-cabin's door shut, she was surprised to find that there was no sign of Donald anywhere. She hung her coat on the rack and then slipped her Tesco bag into one of the lockers, before heading over to the desk. There were a few manuals and training books strewn about, along with a small notepad with a rough sketch of a woman in a nun's habit. Looking around again, she saw the bank of monitors at the far end and made her way over to look for any sign of Donald in the main building. Although she was ten minutes early for her shift, she figured he might have headed off to do the first inspection alone.

He seemed like that kind of guy.

Watching the monitors for a moment, she waited for some sign of movement on one of the screens. Her gaze switched from monitor to monitor, but all she saw were grainy, static images of the corridors and balconies inside the shopping mall. Every few minutes, one of the images switched to the view from another camera, but there was still no sign of Donald. Finally, she had to remind herself that although she'd formed a very clear opinion of him during the previous night, she still knew next to nothing about the man, so it was probably a little early to worry about him acting out of character.

Grabbing a radio from the counter, she flicked the switch on the side.

“Donald, it's -” she began, before correcting herself. “Base to Echo-2, base to Echo-2, come in please, Echo-2. Are you receiving me? Over.”

She waited, listening to the static for a moment.

“I guess not,” she muttered, setting the radio down before heading back to the door and leaning out. The porta-cabin was on one side of the shopping mall's empty parking lot, with the main Barton's Cross building lit up by floodlights a good hundred meters or so further along. She squinted, looking for any hint of movement in the few scattered pools of light, but there was still no sign of Donald. Glancing back at the desk, she saw his scruffy old coat hanging off the back of the chair, and she knew that he must have shown up already since the day-shift team had left.

Sighing, she pulled the door shut and stepped down to the parking lot, before stuffing her hands into her pockets and making her way across the cold space. As she reached the main building, she looked up and saw dark, dusty windows lining the wall, and for a moment she felt as if someone might be inside, staring out at her. Forcing herself to ignore such concerns, she reached the main door and pulled her keys from her pocket, using them to open the padlock so she could slip inside. Once she'd secured the door again, she switched on her flashlight and shone a beam of light across the foyer that led to the atrium, and she waited for some hint of movement in the distance.

Nothing.

Silence.

“Donald?”

She waited again.

“Great,” she muttered, making her way forward until she reached the edge of the atrium, at which point she shone her flashlight up and around, running the beam of light across the balconies. Still not finding any sign of Donald, she made her way along one of the corridors that ran away from the atrium, passing various boarded-up stores until she reached another, smaller open space with an old food court at one end. On a nearby wall, there was an old price-list that had been left in place, and she couldn't help but smile for a moment as she looked at the various hot-dogs, burgers and other items that had once been available.

The menu certainly beat all the gruel and porridge she'd eaten at the hospital.

Turning, she suddenly realized she could hear a noise in the distance. There was a faint, constant whispering coming from further along the corridor, and as she took a few steps forward she realized someone was talking, albeit with a very low, deliberately quiet voice. She opened her mouth to call out, but something about the tone and cadence of the voice reminded her of Donald, and she was fairly sure it must be him. It was almost as if he was hiding away, trying not to be overheard.

Figuring that she wanted to find out what he was up to, she turned her flashlight off, leaving her standing in just a patch of moonlight, before making her way carefully through the darkness, heading toward the next corridor.

“Listen, I don't have time for this,” she heard Donald hissing as she reached the next turn, “I have to get back to the office, she's probably there by now, but I want to register in no uncertain terms my absolute outrage that this decision was taken without me! I should be informed of these matters!”

Frowning, Alice hung back for a moment to listen some more.

“I know all that,” Donald continued, evidently talking to someone on his phone and clearly extremely annoyed, “but that's my point entirely. I should have been involved in the decision-making process right from the start, and I certainly should have been informed about the situation with this woman. You can't just drop me into something like this without letting me know I might be in serious danger!”

Danger? She could feel her heart racing, and although she had a feeling in the back of the mind that she knew what was wrong, she hoped that it might yet turn out to be something else.

“That's beside the point,” Donald hissed.

A pause, as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“Totally beside the point,” he continued, “and you know it. There's no way to predict how someone is going to react in that kind of situation. I'm sure Alice is a perfectly lovely young woman and in other circumstances, I'd have absolutely no problem working with her. You know me, I get along with everyone, it's just her background and -”

He stopped suddenly.

Alice waited.

“Hello?” he called out. “Is anyone there?”

Alice paused, before stepping back into the shadows, keen to make sure that she wasn't spotted.

“Nothing,” he continued after a moment. “It's just not right that I'm expected to work in these conditions. How am I expected to turn my back on her? After what happened to her, she shouldn't be out in society like this, it's absurd! You can't use me as a baby-sitter for some psycho.”

Feeling a shiver pass through her chest, she realized her worst fears were coming true.

He knew.

How much, she couldn't be sure, but he knew.

Even a little was enough.

“Then there's the rule-breaking she's already demonstrated,” Donald continued. “On her very first shift just last night, I saw her -”

He stopped again.

“Hang on,” he hissed, before his footsteps could be heard getting closer.

Instinctively, Alice ducked behind the food court's counter and crouched down, waiting as she saw Donald's shadow crossing a patch of moonlight nearby.

“This is insane,” he continued. “I have to get back to the office, but I'm not working with her. You need to do something about the mess you've caused, or I'll... I'll...” He paused again. “I don't know what I'll do, but I won't let this stand, Aaron, do you understand? I look forward to hearing how you plan to rectify your mistake.”

With that, she heard the call being cut. She realized he must have been talking to Aaron Hawkins, the boss of the security firm, the man who'd agreed to hire her after lengthy consultations with Doctor Carrington and the hospital. Companies could get up to half an employee's wage bill covered by the health authority if they were willing to take on someone who had recently been released from one of the nearby psychiatric hospitals, and plenty of managers were willing to overlook their natural concerns if it meant cutting the payroll costs. She knew that was the only reason she'd been given the job.

“Hello?” Donald called out. “Is anyone here? Alice, is that you?”

She held her breath, waiting.

A moment later, she heard his footsteps heading away, back toward the atrium. Rather than getting to her feet, however, she waited a moment longer, in case he was trying to trick her. After a few seconds, she heard a faint shuffling sound, and she realized she'd been right: he'd clearly made plenty of noise while leaving, and then he'd quietly doubled-back to see if she emerged from some hiding place. A moment later, she realized she could hear a kind of sniffing sound coming closer, and she felt certain for a fraction of a second that she'd been discovered. She opened her mouth to apologize, but suddenly the sniffing sound began to recede, and she realized that maybe she'd been granted a miraculous reprieve. She continued to hold her breath until she heard footsteps heading away again, and finally she exhaled.

“I can't hide from the truth,” she remembered telling Doctor Carrington a few weeks earlier. “People will find out about me.”

“You're going to be fine,” he'd replied. “Stop worrying so much, Alice. No-one's going to hold the past over your head. This job is a chance for you to turn your life around, and I promise you, no-one is going to go delving into your past.”

“Sure,” she muttered, taking a deep breath as she finally got to her feet and looked across the dark space. “That didn't last long, did it?”