The Night Girl: The Complete Series Page 9

  "Are you okay?" I ask eventually, my heart pounding. I shift my chair back a little, but to my shock she slowly steps forward and follows me.

  Although my first instinct is to run for help, I feel as if I need to prove to my co-worker that I can handle the situation. Getting up from the chair, I cautiously step away from her, and this time she turns her head to watch me but she doesn't actually follow. I pause for a moment and take a deep breath, trying to work out what to do. There's no way she's supposed to be able to get out of bed, and the look of fierce determination in her eyes is kind of creepy.

  "My name's Juliet," I say, my voice quivering a little. "Juliet Collier".

  She just continues to stare at me. From what I've been told, Ruth Brown hasn't responded to anyone for a few months now, so the fact that she suddenly seems interested in me is... weird, and unnerving. I want to go and find Jonathan and tell him to get his ass in here, but if I did that, it'd be like I'm admitting I can't handle a difficult situation.

  "If you want something," I stammer, "you'll have to give me a clue. I can't..." My voice trails off, and I realize I'm being a total bitch. This old lady is possibly in her final moments of life, and I'm acting as if she's some kind of monster. Taking a deep breath, I try to get my thoughts back under control. "My name's Juliet Collier," I say again, hoping to somehow get her to start talking. "I'm not a nurse. I'm just the night girl. I don't know much about what you need, but I'm happy to help with anything. You just have to tell me, that's all".

  She stares at me.

  "Please," I continue. "Just give me some kind of clue. I don't think I can work it out". I take my phone out of my pocket and start looking for Lizzie's number. "I'm going to get a nurse to come along, okay?" I continue. "She'll know what to do. Whatever you need, she'll be able to help. I'm not... I'm not a nurse. You understand that, right?" I try to call Lizzie, but suddenly I have no signal. I don't know what's going on in this place, but my phone has a suspicious tendency to stop working just when I need it the most. "Ruth Brown," I say eventually, putting my phone away as I walk to the door, with her eyes following me across the room. "Your name is Ruth Brown. I'm just going to go and get a nurse, okay? She'll know exactly how to help you".

  Slowly, Ruth Brown shakes her head.

  "You don't want a nurse?" I ask, my heart pounding in my chest. "What do you want?"

  Her bones creaking, she steps forward, heading straight for me. I back slowly out of the room until finally she follows me into the corridor. Whatever she wants, it seems to involve coming straight toward me, but I keep trying to remind myself that there's nothing dangerous about this situation: whatever Ruth Brown wants, she can't hurt me.

  "You," she says suddenly, her voice cracking as she stumbles and falls to the ground with a horrifying cracking sound, as if several of her bones have broken.

  "Fuck!" I say, stepping back. For a moment, I just stand there, watching as she tries and fails to get back on her feet. Eventually, she reaches up toward me, as if she wants me to help her.

  "You're hurt," I say, desperate to not let her touch me. My heart's pounding, and I feel totally unable to deal with this situation. If I try to help her up, I might cause even more damage. "I need to get someone who can help you properly. I'm just the night girl. I'm just an assistant".

  "Take me home," she groans, grabbing my leg and pulling at me. I try to slip free, but her grip is surprisingly strong and I really don't want to hurt her. She stares up at me with milky white eyes. "I don't want to be here," she says, straining to raise her voice. "Take me home!"

  Chapter Six

  Eleven years ago

  "You remember Martina, don't you?" my father says as the door opens.

  I nod, staring up at the manager of the funeral home. Apparently, we're here so my father can drop off some documents now that the funeral is over, but I can't help feeling that he's not telling me the whole truth. For one thing, he could just mail the documents, and for another he seems to have put on his best clothes in order to come here. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was trying to impress this woman. He's always been something of a ladies man; it was his affair with a girl from his school that led my mother to divorce him a few years ago, and he's had plenty of girlfriends ever since.

  "How are you doing, honey?" Martina asks as she ushers us inside. "What's in your backpack?"

  "Juliet's just been to school," my father says. "Haven't you, Juliet?"

  I nod again.

  "Well that's just great," Martina says, reaching out and ruffling my hair. I don't know why so many people do that to me, but I wish they'd stop. I guess it's because I'm so small and they think I'm cute.

  "We just came to drop off some forms," my father tells her. "You remember those forms you were telling me about the other day?" It's pretty obvious that he's talking in some kind of stupid code, trying to get Martina to understand why he's really here.

  "Of course," she says, seeming a little on edge. "Why don't you come through to the... form-filling room... and we can talk about what we need to... talk about". She smiles, though I can see from the look in her eyes that she's thinking about something else.

  "Juliet," my father says, "why don't you just wait here for a few minutes, okay? Just be really, really good and I'll be done soon, and then we can go for ice cream, would you like that?"

  I stare at him. How much ice cream does he think I need?

  "You lucky girl," Martina says, grinning from ear to ear. "I love ice cream!"

  "You only get ice cream if you're good, though," my father adds, taking me by the arm and gently steering me over to a bench near the door. "So you have to sit here and be extra good for just two or three minutes, and then we'll get going. I'll take you to that place you like, and you can even have pancakes.

  "Ooh," Martina coos, "ice cream and pancakes! What a treat!"

  I stare at her. Does she think I'm a baby?

  "Do we have a deal?" my father continues.

  "Yes," I say reluctantly as I sit down on the hard wooden bench.

  "Back soon," he replies, hurrying over to join Martina as she goes into a room at the back. "She's a little down," I hear him explaining, "but that's to be expected".

  Sitting alone, I just kind of stare straight ahead for a few seconds before getting off the bench and walking quietly over to the other side of the room. Approaching the door through which my father and Martina just passed, I pause as I hear muffled voices. I creep a little closer, and finally I can hear them properly.

  "Look," my father is saying, "I know this might seem a little weird, but I was wondering if you'd thought about... what we discussed the other day".

  There's a pause. "Of course I have," she says eventually, "and I guess it'd be kind of fun. If you're sure there wouldn't be any kind of problem".

  "Of course not," he says. "Like I told you, Amanda and I were divorced two years ago. I'm not going to deny that we were very close when we were together, but in all honesty, over the past couple of years we only stayed in touch because of Juliet".

  "So it's not like I'm going on a date with a recent widower?" she asks, sounding as if she's smiling.

  "God, no. It's an unusual situation, but I hope you can see past that, because I'd really like to see you again".

  "I think I can," she replies. "What about Juliet?"

  "I'll get a babysitter," he says.

  "That's not what I mean," she says. "What about her perception of the situation? Her mother just died. Don't you think she might react badly if -"

  "She'll be fine," he replies, interrupting her.

  "She's a child," Martina says, "and she might get upset".

  "I'd rather keep this kind of thing back from her for now," he says, "but she's a smart girl. Let's just see how things go before we start thinking about all that".

  Another pause. "You want to pick the restaurant?"

  As they continue talking, I sigh and walk across the hallway. At least when my mother was alive, I didn't have to
spend too much time around my father; I saw him twice a week, and his girlfriends were just these random women who seemed to float into our lives for a few weeks at a time. Now that I'm living with him, I guess I'm going to be more directly exposed to his misadventures, which means I'll have to come up with some way to not get annoyed.

  I head to a door marked 'Private' and try the handle, but it's locked. Hearing a purring sound nearby, I walk to the door that leads to Martina's office, and I see her cat Gizmo still sitting in his fruit bowl.

  "Hey," I say.

  The cat stares at me.

  "You okay?"

  No reply. He just stares at me. From the concentrated look in his eyes, I get the feeling he'd eat me if he was big enough to attack.

  After glancing back to make sure no-one's following me, I walk into the office and head over to the cat. He's a fat old thing, and he looks to have barely moved since I met him the other day. I go over to Martina's desk and pick up a pair of scissors, before going back to the cat and stares at him some more. He seems so sedate, almost as if he's half-dead already. In fact, I can't help thinking that in some way he wants me to kill him, so his suffering can end. It can't be much of a life, sitting in a fruit bowl at a funeral home, just watching a bunch of sad people come in and out, and being ridiculed for your size and your habits.

  "Sorry about this," I say quietly.

  "It's okay," he replies, his voice sounding like a soft, purr. I guess I was right: he is tired of being alive.

  Smiling, I hold the scissors directly above his head. I'm going to have to do this quickly and firmly, otherwise there'll be a noise and I'll attract attention. I definitely can't afford any kind of struggle, so I have to kill the cat with one strong strike. Realizing I have no time to spare, I ram the scissors straight down, instantly piercing his skull and cutting into the brain. He lets out a single mewl before slumping down in the bowl. Rather than removing the scissors and risking having lots of blood come spurting out of the wound, I place my backpack on the nearby chair and then lift Gizmo out of the bowl and place him inside. I zip the bag up and double-check that there's no blood in the fruit bowl, before hurrying out of the office just as my father and Martina come through from the next room.

  "Hey," my father says. "I thought I told you to wait over by the door. Have you been snooping around?"

  I shake my head.

  "Have you been good?"

  I pause for a moment, and then I nod again.

  "Good enough to deserve an ice cream?"

  I nod yet again. Sometimes, I get really sick of nodding.

  "It was lovely to see you again," Martina says, smiling a false smile.

  I smile back at her.

  "Juliet can be a little shy sometimes," my father says, reaching out and ruffling my hair. "Can't you, honey?"

  "Of course she's shy," Martina replies. "There's nothing wrong with being shy. I was shy when I was a little girl".

  I smile again, feeling the extra weight of the dead cat in my backpack. All I want to do is get home and start preparing the body for the process, but I have to be careful so I don't seem too eager to get out of here. As I loiter by the door, my father pretends to be discussing some business matters with Martina. It's kind of funny to see the way they're putting on this charade for me, and it's clear that they've got no idea that I overheard them. After a moment, Martina rushes into her office to get some forms. When she comes out, she looks a little distracted.

  "Well, how about that?" she says as she hands the forms to my father. "Gizmo's actually hauled his lazy ass out of the bowl for once". She turns to me. "Have you seen my cat, honey?"

  I shake my head.

  "Hopefully he's chasing mice," she continues. "Anything to get a bit of weight off. I swear to God, I only give him regular cat food, but he just gains weight all the time. It's been a while since he acted like a normal cat".

  With that, my father says goodbye and leads me out the front of the building, into the bright afternoon sunlight. There's a part of me that really wants to pull the dead cat out of my backpack and shock everyone, but I force myself to stay focused on my real aim: I'm going to observe the slow decomposition of Gizmo, and I'm going to try to imagine the same things happening to my mother's body if my father hadn't made the crazy decision to burn her. It's not an ideal situation, and I'll have to be careful so that my father doesn't find out, but at least my curiosity will be satisfied and I'll finally get to see the face of death.

  Chapter Seven

  Today

  "Lizzie!" I call out, running into the reception area. She's nowhere to be found, so I head straight to the next ward, desperately hoping to find her. The last thing I need is to get stuck alone in this place again, especially after my very first shift ended up in near-disaster while I was searching for Mr. Jenkins. "Lizzie!" I say, lowering my voice a little in an attempt to make sure that I don't wake up any of the residents. "Lizzie!" I check in the office, but there's no sign of her.

  "What?" she hisses, suddenly coming up behind me.

  "I need help!" I say, spinning around to face her. "It's Ruth Brown. She's awake".

  Lizzie stares at me, clearly dubious. "Awake?"

  "She got out of bed," I continue, trying not to sound too much like a rambling lunatic. "She started talking. She's on the floor right now".

  "What?" She pauses for a moment. "Okay, Juliet, calm down. Tell me what happened".

  "She got out of bed," I say again. "She's moving about. It's like she wants something, but I don't know how to help her. She fell over, but I don't think she's hurt too badly".

  "Are you serious?" Lizzie asks, raising an eyebrow. "The old bird's a vegetable, Juliet, she can't -"

  "Come and see," I reply, grabbing her arm and trying to pull her along the corridor.

  "I don't have time for this," she replies, slipping free from my grasp. "I like you, Juliet, but you can't go pulling pranks like this. This is a professional environment and we have responsibilities to all the residents. Any time I spend on a stupid joke is time that's taken away from the others".

  "I'm not lying!" I say, desperate to get her to come with me. "Why would I make this stuff up? Just come and see. I swear to God, if it turns out I'm lying, you can fire me on the spot!"

  She sighs. "Fine," she says, marching along the corridor. "You'd better not be bullshitting, Juliet. The sad truth is, I can't fire you, not without causing myself some serious inconvenience. You're a good worker, or at least you were until tonight".

  "I swear it's true," I say, hurrying after her.

  "It can't be true," she replies. "People don't just slip out of vegetative states when they're this close to death. What you're saying is physically and practically impossible".

  "It's true," I insist. "Just wait and see". We head along a series of corridors until finally we reach the spot outside Ruth Brown's room. To my shock, she's no longer on the floor, and the first thought that crosses my mind is that perhaps I've somehow been tricked; perhaps she's gone back to bed and I'm going to be made to look like a complete fool.

  "Where exactly is she supposed to be?" Lizzie asks as she walks to the door and looks into Lizzie's room. "Is she -" She pauses, and when I catch up to her, I see that Ruth Brown's bed is empty. "Where the fuck is she?" Lizzie asks, turning to me with a shocked look on her face.

  "I told you she was up," I reply.

  "Okay," Lizzie says, grabbing my arms and staring at me. "This is deadly fucking serious, Juliet. We're entrusted with the care of these residents, and we absolutely cannot have them wandering off. Where is she?"

  "She was right outside her room when I came to find you," I say, starting to panic. "She was trying to crawl, but she couldn't manage it".

  Letting go of me, Lizzie rushes to the end of the corridor and glances in both directions. "How long?" she asks, looking back at me. "How long did it take you to find me?"

  "Five minutes," I say. "Ten, tops".

  "She can't have got far," she replies. "Okay, J
uliet, here's the deal. If Charles Taylor finds out about this, we're both fucked, do you understand? Our only option is to find her, and find her fast, and get her back to bed". She checks her watch. "It's 4am, so we've got two hours before we have to start the morning routines. Two hours is more than enough time to check every damn inch of this place twice over, so that's what we're going to do. When we..." She pauses for a moment. "Why didn't you phone me? Why did you leave her and come running off to find me?"

  "I didn't have any signal," I say, pulling my phone out of my pocket. To my surprise, I see that I've now got four bars' worth of signal. "It looks fine now".

  "When you find her," Lizzie continues with a sigh, "you call me. You don't leave her again. You fucking call me, you tell me exactly where you are, and I'll come. If I find her, I'll call you. Do you understand these very simple instructions, Juliet?"

  I nod.

  "You go that way," she says, nodding toward the other end of the corridor, "and I'll go this way. And remember, our jobs are on the line here". With that, she turns and hurries away, muttering something inaudible as she goes. I'm left standing alone in the corridor, totally shocked by the latest developments. I just don't understand how someone as old and frail as Ruth Brown could possibly have managed to haul herself along the floor, but I figure I just have to keep calm and make sure I find her. Turning and hurrying along the corridor, I glance both ways at the junction before walking quickly toward the rec room. With no sign of her, I head along the next corridor, and then the next, and then the next until finally I see a figure crawling along the floor.

  "Hey!" I call out, running over to her. "What are you doing here?"

  Without answering, Ruth Brown continues to inch forward, dragging her withered body along the polished floor.

  "Where are you going?" I ask, kneeling next to her. It's so tragic to see the look of absolute determination on her face, and the intent, concentrated stare in her milky white eyes. "You can't be out here," I say, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I have to get you back to your room".