The Nurse Page 2

  Alice - Twenty years ago

  “Four and four,” I mutter to myself as I finish arranging the new supplies, “so that makes... sixteen in total. And that takes us through to the start of next month.”

  I pause, running the numbers in my head.

  “So I need to order more on the twenty-fourth,” I whisper, before making a note. “That should be fine.”

  Stepping back, I take a moment to admire the neat rows of bags, tubes and other items that I'll be using to keep Father alive for another month. This used to be the dining room, back when Mum was still with us, but now she's gone and the room is used solely to store medical equipment. There are boxes of fresh colostomy bags, and huge cartons filled with pads and fluids, and all sorts of equipment ranging from the vital to the rather unnecessary. Still, I like to keep all the bases covered, and to have whatever I might need in any eventuality.

  Over in the far corner, twenty packets of fresh bandages are piled almost to the ceiling; behind them, there's the piano I used to play as a child, although I haven't actually seen the thing for six months now. I'd like to play it again one day.

  For now, however, the whole house has become one big monument to my father's many illnesses.

  “Alice!” he yells from upstairs, hitting the floor again with his cane. “Where's that bag? What the hell are you doing down there?”

  “Coming,” I whisper, taking a moment longer to make sure that all the boxes are neatly arranged, before grabbing a fresh bag and heading to the hallway.

  Even before I've started making my way upstairs, I can hear Father cursing and muttering under his breath. When I get to the top, however, I freeze for a moment. I feel certain that someone is watching me, and I look around, just in case I see the boy again.

  My heart is pounding, but there's no sign of him.

  “What do you want?” I whisper.

  Silence.

  I open my mouth again, to ask for his forgiveness, but I quickly tell myself to focus on the task at hand. I can't let my nerves get the better of me, not now.

  “No wonder you were fired from every hospital you ever worked at,” he sneers as I enter the room. “At this rate, it's hard to tell whether you're trying to help me or kill me! What kind of nurse do you think you are, anyway?”

  “I'm trying to help you,” I tell him, forcing a smile. “How can you even ask such a thing?”

  ***

  “You're doing it wrong!” he hisses, and his voice is positively dripping with impatience now. “It hurts! Why are you making it hurt?”

  “Just give me a moment,” I whisper, turning the bag's connecting ring in an attempt to detach it from the opening on the side of his belly. “It's slightly -”

  “The nurse at the hospital was much quicker.”

  “It's a little -”

  “Ow!”

  He pushes me back.

  “You're like a goddamn barbarian!” he yells. “Don't you have a delicate bone in your body? If you're this rough with your own father, what the hell were you like with your patients?” He sighs. “Then again, maybe you think I don't deserve proper care and attention. Maybe you don't really give a damn at all. That'd certainly explain your carelessness.”

  I take a deep breath, reminding myself that I have to stay calm. He's in a great deal of pain, and it's quite understandable that he's taking it out on me.

  “I'm sorry,” I tell him, “but the connector is ever so slightly stuck. I just need to twist it so I can remove the bag. I'm trying to be gentle, but... It might hurt a little, there's nothing I can do about that.” I wait for him to complain again, but he simply turns away and sighs. Figuring that this is a signal for me to get back to work, I step closer to the bed and take hold of the bag, turning it carefully until I hear the tell-tale click of the connector. “There,” I continue, easing the bag away to reveal the bright red, moist opening, “now I can -”

  “Now you can get on with it!” he snaps, grabbing the bag from my hands and tossing it across the room. “I'm tired and you're making me feel worse! And by the way, it did hurt just now, but I didn't bother to say anything. What's the point, anyway? You probably enjoy it when I suffer!”

  I look over at the thrown bag and see that some of the fecal matter splattered across the boards when it landed. I'll have to wipe that up later.

  “I'll attach a new one,” I say after a moment, grabbing the replacement bag from the table and fumbling to remove the covering. “You know, it really doesn't -”

  “You see,” he continues, “this is why that accident happened and you got fired. You're too goddamn slow all the time. I'm starting to wonder about you, girl. Maybe you're not right in the head. One thing's certain, you're a bloody awful nurse.”

  He turns and glares at me with yellowing, bloodshot eyes, and for a moment he seems filled with absolute hatred. I'm used to that expression, of course, but it still hurts.

  “Or do you enjoy watching me suffer?” he spits. “Is that it? Are you sick and filthy? Is this your way of paying me back for raising you with a few rules?”

  “Of course not,” I reply. My fingers are trembling slightly with nerves. “I just want to help you.”

  “What was his name, anyway?”

  “Who?”

  “The boy. The one you killed.”

  I flinch slightly, but I know he's only trying to provoke a reaction. He must be in more pain than usual.

  “His name was Andrew,” I remind him, as I prepare to attach the new bag, “and I...”

  My voice trails off, and for a moment I freeze as I think back to that awful moment when I saw the boy's body trembling violently in a hospital bed.

  “When does the review board report its findings?” Father asks.

  I turn to him.

  “Later this week. Thursday.”

  He grins. “Not long now,” he sneers. “They're gonna throw the book at you. Your mistake killed that boy, and you'll be lucky if they don't have you prosecuted for manslaughter!”

  “This'll only take a moment,” I explain, holding back tears as I start sliding the new connector into place. I take extra care not to hurt him, even though my hands are trembling. “Just hold tight.”

  “So you haven't seen him yet today?”

  “Father -”

  “Then I guess that pleasure is still to come, huh?” he continues, grinning again. “Poor little lad. It's criminal what happened to him. Criminal! You deserve to get locked away for the rest of your goddamn miserable life!”

  Chapter Five

  Rachel - Today

  The phone buzzes again.

  “Take the shift,” I mutter, before slipping a forkful of pasta into my mouth.

  “I can't, I just -”

  Another buzz.

  “You can't not take it,” I continue. “Come on, Mum, we both know how this goes. Sturridge asks you to take a last-minute night-shift, and you say you can't. He asks again, and you turn it down again. This goes on for a few hours, and then finally he tells you he'll fire you if you refuse, and you end up rushing off at the last minute.”

  I wait for her to reply, but she knows I'm right.

  “I'll be fine,” I remind her. “I've been alone during the night before.”

  “Not when we've just moved into a new house.”

  “I'll just stay in bed. I promise I won't go wandering around in the dark.” I pause for a moment, as I struggle to find some more pasta on my plate. “I'm always in the dark anyway,” I add, although that's not strictly accurate. There's no light and no dark these days, just an absence.

  The phone buzzes.

  “Take the shift,” I tell her again. “Please, Mum. He actually will fire you if you don't. It's not like he'd have trouble finding someone else to clean offices overnight for minimum wage. And I don't think I'm gonna be in a position to contribute to the household budget any time soon.”

  I wait for her to accept the inevitable.

  “I'm not scared,” I add. “If that's what you
're thinking, I'm honestly okay. I'm old enough to handle a night alone in a new house.”

  “But it's so unfair on you,” she replies. “Maybe if I call him and try to explain, he'll have to -”

  “You could always make it up to me by telling me what happened in this house,” I continue, interrupting her again. I've been doing that more and more since I lost my sight, and I know it's a bad habit, but I can't help myself. I want people to talk faster, and more succinctly, and to stop with all the filler and gaps. I want conversations to be snappy and efficient. “Go on, Mum, feed my imagination. Hell, imagination's pretty much all I've got left these days.”

  I wait, but all I hear is the sound of her tapping the phone.

  “Was it that bad?” I ask finally.

  “Was what that bad?”

  “Whatever happened here. Was it so bad, you're worried it'll warp my innocent little mind?”

  “Rachel -”

  “I'll find out eventually,” I tell her. “I might be blind, but I have resources. My laptop's got voice recognition software, remember? It might be a little buggy, but I can still search online for information. So don't you think it'd be better if I heard the horrific, grizzly truth from you?”

  Again I wait, but she's still tapping away, as if she's trying to persuade her boss to give her a break and let her stay home tonight. Fat chance.

  “I can feel it, you know,” I continue.

  “Feel what, honey?”

  I pause for a moment, listening to the silence of the house.

  “This place has a different kind of energy,” I explain. “Maybe you're not picking up on it, but I feel it somehow. It's like the air is alive, it's almost humming. I can tell that something really bad happened within these walls, it's almost a kind of sixth sense.” I pause, trying to think of a better way to explain the sensation. “It's as if the entire house is keeping a secret, and it's holding its breath because it's really bad at keeping secrets, and it's trying not to blurt it all out. Can't you feel that? The house wants us to talk about its past.”

  That's all a lie, of course.

  I mean, I'd love to be able to sense that kind of thing, but I can't. Not right now, anyway.

  The whole idea is nonsense.

  “Mum?”

  “What, honey?”

  I can't help sighing. “What happened in this house? Please, you have to tell me!”

  “Hang on.”

  She taps the screen again.

  “I'm going to have to take this shift,” she says finally. “I've tried to explain, but Sturridge says he can't get anyone else and -”

  “No kidding. Let me guess, you have to leave soon?”

  “I have to leave soon. Damn it, I really thought he'd understand this time.”

  “Whatever,” I mutter, suddenly realizing that I really am going to get left all alone here in the new house on our first night. Despite everything I said just now, I actually don't like the idea very much, but there's no way I can admit that now. I'm no chicken. “I'll be fine. I'll just chill out in bed like a good little girl.”

  “I'm so, so sorry, Rachel.”

  “Relax. I'm cool. I'll barely even notice you're gone.”

  I hear the sound of her chair scraping against the floor, and then she hurries around the table. I wait, expecting her to hug me, but instead she goes to the sink and starts cleaning the plates. Having tried to avoid the shift for so long, now she's in a massive hurry. We might be in a new house, but some things never change.

  “So are you really not going to fill me in on this house's history before you leave?” I ask finally. “Don't you think it's my right to know?”

  “Another time,” she replies, already sounding distracted and stressed. “Just let me do these dishes, and then we can get you settled in your new bedroom.”

  “Yay,” I mutter under my breath. “Can't wait.”

  Chapter Six

  Alice - Twenty years ago

  Sitting alone in the dark kitchen, I listen to the silence and realize that he's finally asleep.

  It's late, and the woman from the hospital is due early tomorrow. I should go to bed and get some rest, but I'm wide awake and my mind is racing. If I try to sleep in this state, one of two things will happen. Either I'll toss and turn all night, or I'll end up having the same nightmares as usual. At least if I stay awake, there's no danger that I'll cry out.

  If I cry out, Father will hear, and then he'll make fun of me again. Or worse. Nights with him in this house are much, much worse than days. But even while he's asleep, his voice is echoing through my mind.

  “Your mistake killed that boy! Everyone knows it's your fault he died!”

  “It's my fault,” I whisper. “I -”

  Before I can finish, I hear the faintest creaking sound from the hallway. I sit completely still, but I know what I'll see if I turn and look over my shoulder. I'll see the child's dead eyes staring back at me.

  Chapter Seven

  Rachel - Today

  “One more time, Rachel.”

  “Mum, I -”

  “One more time. Just so I know you've got it straight.”

  I can't help sighing as I sit on my bed.

  “Three steps to the door,” I tell her, “and then turn left, and -”

  “Not right.”

  “Right.”

  “No, not right.”

  “That's what I meant. Left.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Got it. Right.”

  “No, Rachel -”

  “That was a joke,” I continue, realizing that it probably wasn't very funny. “Never mind. I know to turn left.”

  “Because if you turn right, you might fall down the stairs.”

  “I'm not going to turn right,” I remind her, “so I'm not going to fall down the stairs. I'm going to turn left and walk straight ahead until I reach the door, and then I'm at the bathroom, and then I can do my tinkle like a good little girl. And even though I'm blind, I think I might be able to wipe myself too! Ain't I smart?”

  “Okay.” She pauses. “Maybe one more time, just to -”

  “It's not a goddamn maze!” I hiss. “I can find my way to the toilet! Why are you treating me like a baby?”

  I feel the bed shift slightly as she sits next to me. Once again, I've allowed my frustration to boil over. I hate it when I start acting all sarcastic, but sometimes I just can't help myself. The worst part is, Mum is only trying to help me, and this whole situation is really tough for her. Maybe tougher than it is for me. I can already hear the strain and worry in her voice.

  “Rachel -”

  “Aren't you going to be late for work?” I ask. “Where'd you say you were going again? The old phone exchange building? That's on the other side of town, you should get going.”

  “My bus leaves in five minutes, but the stop's almost right outside. I just... Rachel, I want you to know that I wouldn't be going out to work tonight if it wasn't vital. I love you so much, and -”

  “I get that,” I tell her. “Please, don't bore me with another of your guilt-laden apologies.” I flinch, realizing that I've been too harsh again. “I didn't mean that,” I add. “I'm sorry, I just feel absolutely fine here. I've got everything I need, and I'll still be right here in the morning when you get back. Plus...”

  Leaning across the bed, I fumble for a moment until I feel the familiar handle of my baseball bat.

  “I've got Batty, remember?”

  “And you promise you won't go exploring?”

  For some reason, those five words send a shudder through my chest and bring tears to my eyes. “No,” I reply, “I won't go exploring. You won't get back at 6am and find me at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck.”

  I wait, and a moment later she leans closer, kissing my forehead.

  “I'm a bad mother,” she whispers.

  “No, you're not,” I tell her. “It's not your fault you have to work, and it's not your fault you have a daughter who -”

  “It's
okay, Rachel.”

  “I know you blame me.”

  “Honey -”

  “It's my fault I'm blind,” I continue. “I can't blame anyone else. The accident would never have happened if -”

  Suddenly she places a finger against my lips, and I fall silent.

  “The past is the past,” she says softly, and I can hear from her tone of voice that she's close to tears. “Remember what I told you at the hospital? If you dwell on things that happened earlier, you'll end up in a bad place. Believe me, I know from experience what it's like to let regrets fester in your mind. You need to focus on the future.”

  I want to point out that I don't have much of a future, but this time – miraculously – I manage to keep my goddamn smart-ass mouth shut. I guess that's progress.

  “I'll be back at six,” she continues, kissing me again before getting to her feet. “Stay out of trouble.”

  “I'm sorry,” I tell her.

  “For what?”

  “For being a complete and utter bitch.”

  “Rachel -”

  “I know I've been a bitch to you today,” I continue, feeling close to tears. “I guess it's my way of coping, but I want you to know that I don't mean it. I'm really gonna try not to let it happen again, but if it does, you should just slap me. Okay?”

  Silence, and then she steps closer. A moment later, she kisses me on the forehead.

  “I really appreciate everything you do for me,” I add, still holding back tears. “I'll stop being ratty. I promise.”

  “Don't be so hard on yourself,” she replies, kissing the top of my head before taking a step back. “You've been through so much, Rachel.”

  “That's no excuse for being mean to you. I'm really sorry, Mum.”

  “Forget it. I don't think I even noticed, anyway.”

  “Have fun cleaning empty offices,” I mutter as I hear her heading to the door. Suddenly I want her to stay, but I know I can't put her under that kind of pressure. Instead, I need to sound brave and carefree. After all, if I fake bravery for a while, eventually I'll be brave. That's the theory I've been running with since I left the hospital, and it's worth sticking to for a while yet. “I'm gonna have a ball while you're out!” I call after her. “Really, it's me who feels sorry for you!”