‘
Yes.’
He
looked at the others. ‘Typical filth. Can’t recognize real villains. Right. Listen, Sister, I want the names of the people you think were rubbed out; when they died, everythin’. An’ your stastistycall whatsit. Got that? An’ then I want the names of all the staff an’ what hours they work. An’ I want you to think
hard
about who did it — right?’
‘
I tell you, I’ve no idea,’ I said tiredly.
‘
Well, you’d better get some ideas, fast. Either someone killed her, like you said, or, like I said, it was incompetence.
Your
incompetence.’ He paused to let this sink in, then said, ‘How long will it take you? To get the names together?’
‘
A day. Two days.’
‘
You got a day. What time d’you get back here in the morning?’
‘
It depends. About nine.’
‘
Polo’ — he indicated the black knifeape — ‘will collect it tomorrow morning at nine-thirty. An’ when I’ve seen it, I’ll be asking you some more questions. An’, Sister, one more thing. Look at me …’
Unwillingly,
I raised my eyes to his …
‘
Don’t
go to the filth about me — right? For two reasons. First’ — he touched a finger — ‘it’ll be the word of the three of us against you. An’ secondly, ’cos Polo here won’t like it.’
Polo
flourished the knife and grinned down at me. Sutton turned and walked to the door. The white ape scurried over to open it for him.
‘
An’, Sister …’ he said tiredly, looking round at me, ‘get some clothes on.’ Then the door closed and they were gone. I sat, frozen.
Time
passed.
I
stood, robot-like, and made for the stairs. Get some clothes on, he’d said. To hear is to obey.
I
found some jeans and a sweater and stumbled back downstairs. Stared at the whisky bottle awhile, then slowly rose from the sofa and poured myself one. Then another. Found my cigarettes.
Stephen
… he’d still be on duty, but I had to speak to him.
I
lifted the receiver, dialled. Had him paged.
‘
Dr Wall speaking.’
‘
Stephen, it’s Jo …’
‘
Jo! I said I was going to phone you — you needn’t have bleeped me.’
‘
Stephen —’
‘
Listen’ — he lowered his voice — ‘you’ve no need to worry any more about Mrs Sutton. I’ve spoken to Debbie and she says there was absolutely nothing untoward about her death. Tragic, but nothing sinister …’
‘
Stephen —’
‘
She also told me what a shock you had last night. It was probably that that gave you the idea. We’ll talk about it later.’
‘
But, Stephen, he was here, at my house.’
‘
Who was?’
‘
Sutton, with two thugs. He threatened me.’
Pause.
‘Why?’
‘
Well … I let something slip last night. I was shocked, as you said, and …’
‘
Let something slip about what?’ he demanded.
I
swallowed. ‘The murders.’
Tiredly:
‘Oh, my God! Jo, there haven’t
been
any murders.’ Pause. ‘Listen to me carefully. I think you will have to go to the police now, but the only chance you’ve got for them to take you seriously is to admit from the outset that you made a mistake.’
You
go to the police, not
we
, I noticed through my misery. ‘Have you got that, Jo? Then, maybe they’ll be able to get Sutton off your back.’
‘
But I can’t go to the police, Stephen. Sutton’ll deny it and it’s three to one …’
I
heard him talking to someone at the other end, then: ‘I’m sorry, Jo, I’ve got to go now. I’ll be in touch. Go to the police and tell them you made a mistake.’
I
sat, frozen.
Time
passed.
What
could I do?
I
lit another cigarette.
Go
to my parents?
But
what could they do? They wouldn’t understand. It wouldn’t be fair on them. And Sutton would simply find me and threaten them, too …
Stephen
was right, it had to be the police, or at any rate, Anslow. I found the number of the station and keyed it in.
‘
Latchvale Police, can I help you?’ It was the fat slob behind the desk.
‘
Inspector Anslow, please.’
‘
He’s not on duty at the moment, I’m afraid.’
‘
When will he be? On duty.’
‘
Not until Monday, I’m afraid. He’s away on leave tomorrow.’
I
closed my eyes.
‘
Perhaps I can help you. It is Miss Farewell, isn’t it?’
‘
That’s right. Could you possibly give me his home number, please? This is rather important.’
‘
I’m sorry, but we’re not allowed to do that,’ he said, not sorry at all. ‘Perhaps if you were to tell me what the problem is …’
‘
No, thank you.’ I banged the receiver back and fumbled for another cigarette.
Time
passed.
Mary
… but she was ill.
I
rang her anyway, but knew somehow after the first ring that she wasn’t going to answer it.
Too
ill? Or otherwise occupied with one of her toy boys … Irresponsible Mary — could I really have confided in her?
Yes
! Yes … the receiver slipped from my fingers into its cradle.
Time
passed.
Who
could I talk to?
I
tried a cousin in Birmingham I was close to once, but her husband, whom I didn’t like much, told me she wouldn’t be back until late …
All
my friends had moved away, in spirit as well as place … but that hadn’t really mattered while I had my career …
Without
warning, I burst into tears. I could feel them coursing down my face, stinging my cheeks; I could feel my body convulsing with the sobs until it felt as though I had stomach cramps …
That
was the curious thing. I couldn’t stop crying, and yet another part of me seemed to be looking on, measuring, thinking:
So
this
is
what
despair
is
really
like
…
It
can’t be happening, not to me … but it is …
After
a while, I stopped crying, but through exhaustion, not because it had made me feel any better.
I
looked at my watch, it was nearly seven — only five hours before I was on duty again. I felt so exhausted I thought I might sleep, but when I tried, everything just went round and round in my head …
I
got up and made some more tea, then had a bath, hoping it would relax me. It seemed to, but the moment I was in bed again, everything came back …
The
alarm went — I must have dozed off after all. I felt awful — unrefreshed, dull headache — and it occurred to me to ring in sick, like Mary …
But
what good would it do? Besides, I had to collect the information for Sutton — oh, yes — there was no way I could avoid doing that now …
I
pulled on my uniform and dragged myself to the hospital.
I
could never do justice to the next eight hours. I made mistakes, a lot of mistakes. Walked into things, knocked things over. A couple of times I felt so dizzy, I had to go and sit down.
Deborah
asked me if I was all right.
‘
Just tired,’ I said. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’
‘
After last night, I’m not really surprised.’
She
sounded sympathetic, and for a moment, I was tempted to confide in her to relieve my heavy heart, but then she continued in a sharper tone, ‘Stephen tells me you were unhappy about Mrs Sutton’s death?’
‘
Well, yes, I was a bit. Didn’t you think —?’
‘
We did all we could, you know.’ She was defensive, hostile almost — what had Stephen been saying to her? ‘There was nothing anybody could do about it. It was nobody’s fault.’
‘
No,’ I said dully.
I
was too exhausted to give much thought to getting the information together for Sutton, although I realized I’d have to find something for him. There were the notes about the dead patients I’d originally made and shown to Miss Whittington, together with the statistical analysis — they were both still at home.
I
couldn’t face trying to sort through all the recent work rotas, so at the end of the shift, I simply photocopied the list of all the staff in ITU and their grades. After that, I dragged myself home.
When
I got to my door, I couldn’t find my keys. They weren’t in my bag, nor in the car. I must have left them at work.
There
’s no back way into the terraces as such, a factory building forms the wall at the end of the garden, but there’s a gate from my neighbour’s. I knocked at their door and they let me through. I kept a spare key to the back door in my shed.
Once
inside, I felt dizzy and just wanted to lie down. When was it Polo was coming? Nine-thirty, wasn’t it? I made a coffee and sat on the sofa to wait.
Doorbell
ringing … I’d dozed off. I picked up the envelope with the information and took it to the door, so that he wouldn’t have an excuse to come in. Opened it on to the chain.
Not
Polo.
A
smaller man — white, rather hard looking.
‘
Sister Farewell?’
Another
of Sutton’s men …?
‘
Yes?’
‘
My name’s Jones, I’m from the Department of Health. You made a rather disturbing allegation to the police a couple of weeks ago and I wondered if we might talk about it …’
‘You’d better come in.’ I undid the chain. I hadn’t really taken in what he’d said.
He
came in almost hesitantly, holding something out. ‘Don’t you want to see my identification?’
‘
If you like.’ I shut the door, then gazed at the plastic card he was holding.
I
felt him staring at me. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘
Of course I’m all right,’ I shouted back at him. ‘People are being murdered in my ward and no one’ll believe it except a Birmingham gangster who’s threatened to knife me unless I … I thought you were him.’
‘
Unless what?’ he said quickly.
‘
Unless I give him this’ — I held up the envelope — ‘information about the patients who’ve died, and the staff on the ward … he thinks he can find out who …’
‘
And you’re expecting him now?’
‘
His sidekick, Polo … I thought you were him.’
‘
What time’s he coming?’
‘
Nine-thirty, he said.’
He
looked at his watch. ‘Twenty-past … stay here a moment, would you?’ He made for the door.
‘
Where are you going?’ I cried.
‘
Just to my car to get something.’
I
waited in the open doorway — couldn’t bear the thought of him driving away … A car door slammed and he reappeared.
‘
Tell me how this gangster got involved,’ he said, when he was back inside. ‘What’s his name?’
‘
Sutton. Leonard Sutton.’ I tried to gather my wits. ‘His wife, she died in my ward, he attacked me and I told him she’d been murdered. Then he came round here with a couple of thugs …’
‘
Here, to this house?’
‘
Yes …’
‘
When was this?’
‘
Yesterday. He threatened me; ordered me to get him the information about the patients and staff; told me one of his thugs — Polo — would come here this morning and collect it.’
‘
Is that it?’ He pointed to the envelope. ‘The information?’
‘
Yes.’
‘
Let me have it. D’you have a phone?’