For Gods sake, who actually talks like that?
Theyll have to give us more staff. Decent equipment. Cleaners that actually clean things instead of moving the filth around. And Im not going to give up until they do.
He nods. Poses for a second more. Id better get back. These sick people arent going to heal themselves. He turns and struts away into the shadows, shoulders swinging like John Travolta.
Brilliant. Oscar-winning stuff.
Laura jiggles the keys in the ignition and cranks the Renaults engine into life. Then she pulls on her seatbelt, checks the rear-view mirror and-
She screams.
A pair of dark eyes glitter back at her from the rear seat, staring.
Its a big blue teddy bear, wearing a red bow around its neck, cradling an oversized card with HAPPY 6TH BIRTHDAY! on it.
The air hisses out of her as she slumps back in her seat, arms loose in her lap.
Jumping like a frightened schoolgirl; its a sodding teddy bear, not Jack the Ripper.
Idiot.
Then someone knocks on the car roof and the pale blue of a nurses scrubs fills the drivers side window. Probably Steve, back to mangle some more dialogue.
She presses the button and lowers her window. Can I help-
A fist slams into the camera and the screen goes dark.
Alice hit pause. Im going to make another pot of tea, do you want some, or theres juice, and I got biscuits too, do you like custard creams or jammie dodgers, stupid question really, who doesnt love jammie-
Surprise me.
She nodded, collected the teapot and headed off to the kitchen.
The DVD case lay on the makeshift coffee table, beside her laptop: WRAPPED IN DARKNESS ~ ONE WOMANS JOURNEY TO HELL AND BACK! The subtitle was about as melodramatic as the reconstruction.
Obviously the director really wanted to make a feature film of the story, but didnt have the budget, or talent, to pull it off.
OK, so hed got the idea more or less right, but the details? If Laura Strachan and her mate Steve had actually talked like that the day she went missing Id eat my chair.
I fast-forwarded through some beardy type talking in front of a whiteboard while the kettle rumbled in the kitchen. Never trust a man with a beard sinister devious bastards the lot of them.
Army ants marched in a line around the top of my left sock.
Bloody thing. I pulled my trouser leg up and raked my nails back and forward along the lip of the ankle monitor, scrabbling at the plastic edge. Blessed relief.
Alice emerged from the kitchen with the teapot and a plate of assorted biscuits. You shouldnt scratch it, I mean what if you break the skin and it gets all infected and then-
Its itchy. I pressed play again.
Laura Strachan the real one, not the actress playing her in the reconstruction has her hands dug deep into her pockets, the wind whipping her curly auburn hair out behind her, ruffling the ankle-length coat as she picks her way along the battlements of the castle. She pauses, looking down the cliff, across Kings River towards Montgomery Park and Blackwall Hill beyond. Sunlight glints on the broad curve of water, turns the firework trees into explosions of amber and scarlet.
Her voice comes in over the background music, even though her lips dont move.
From the moment I was attacked, to the moment I woke up in Intensive Care, everything was a blur. Some fragments are clearer than others, some just it was like peering into the bottom of a well, with something sharp glinting at the bottom. Sharp and dangerous.
She leans on the battlement peering down. Then the camera switches so its looking back up at her.
The scene jumps to a bright white room, lined with what looks like clear plastic sheeting. Its hard to tell theyve sodded about with the picture, making the highlights stretch vertically across the screen, as if everythings in the process of being beamed up. The room throbs in and out, then lurches to one side until a large stainless-steel trolley sits in the middle of the shot, with the younger, prettier, actress version of Laura lying on it. Her hands and feet are tied to the trolleys legs, two more bands of rope one across her chest, under her armpits, the other across her thighs hold her tight. Naked, except for a pair of strategically placed towels.
I remember the smell, more than anything else. It was like detergent and bleach, and something a bit like hot plastic? And there was classical music playing.
Beethovens Moonlight Sonata fades up.
And he Her voice breaks. A pause. He was wearing a white apron, on over Over It might have been surgical scrubs. I cant It was all so blurred.
A man walks into shot, dressed exactly like Laura described him. His mouth is hidden behind a surgical mask, the rest of his face blurred reduced to an unrecognizable mess by the video effect.
Then a close-up of a syringe, the needle huge as it moves towards the camera. Fade to black. Then were in what looks like a private hospital room.
The next thing I know, its four days later and Im lying on a bed in intensive care. And Im choking on the ventilator, and Im wired up to half-a-dozen monitors, and this nurse is running around screaming that Im awake.
Alice poured the tea.
All my life, ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to have babies. A family of my own to love and cherish the way my father never did for me.
I helped myself to a custard cream.
But the doctors said it wasnt possible any more. The Inside Man took it away from me when he When he ripped me open.
Cut to a posh-looking office, lined in wood, with a heap of framed certificates on the wall. A thin balding man sits behind a big oak desk. Hes wearing a dark-blue suit and a bright-red tie. A caption scrolls across the bottom of the screen: CHARLES DALLAS-MACALPINE, SENIOR CONSULTANT SURGEON, CASTLE HILL INFIRMARY.
His voice is all public school pomp and barely concealed sneer. Of course, when Laura came to me her insides were a mess. Its a miracle she didnt exsanguinate in the ambulance. A tight-lipped smile. That means, bleed to death.
Really? Wow, hark at him with his posh-boy big words.
Luckily, shed had the good fortune to be on my operating table. Otherwise-
Three short thumps broke in on Dr Patronizings monologue.
Front door.
Alice flinched. Are you expecting someone, because I dont-
Ill get it.
-shudder to think. You see, her uterus was-
I closed the lounge door behind me. Limped across the halls stained floorboards, walking stick clunking with every other step. Peered out through the peephole.
A bald head filled the lens with a swathe of pink and grey.
I undid the four security locks and opened the door. Shifty.
Hed obviously not shaved his head for a bit: a fringe of gunmetal stubble stuck out above his ears. More stubble shaded his collection of chins. Folds of skin drooped beneath watery bloodshot eyes. A bruise rode high on his left cheek. The smell of aftershave oozed out of him, mingling with the rotten oniony whiff of the days sweat.
A couple of orange carrier-bags sat on the floor by his feet.
Shifty blinked at me a couple of times, then a massive grin split across his face and he lunged, wrapped his arms around me, pinning my arms to my sides, and squeezed. Laughed. About bloody time! He leaned back, lifting my feet off the floor. Howve you been? Im gasping here. Any chance of a drink?
Couldnt help but smile. Get off me, you big Jessie.
Oh, dont be so repressed. One more squeeze, then he let go. Thought wed never get you out of there. You look like crap, by the way.
Did you get it?
He reached into his crumpled jacket and came out with an envelope. Handed it over.
OK. Unexpected.
I tried again, nice and slow. Did you get the gun?
8
Shifty dragged a hand down his face, pulling it out of shape. Alec wouldnt sell it to me, said itd be bad karma.
I opened the envelope. It was stuffed with creased tenners and twenties. Had to be at least three, maybe four hundred quid. Not bad at all. Shiftys shoulder wobbled when I patted it. Thats a lot of walking around money. Youre-
Dont be a divot. Its for the gun. Alec wont sell it to me, but hell sell it to you. Hes got bloody weird since he came down with Buddhism. One podgy hand went back in Shiftys jacket and came out with a yellow Post-it note. He stuck it to my chest. A mobile phone number in scratchy red biro. But its going to have to be tomorrow. Now are we having that drink or not?
Tomorrow? I wanted-
I know. Its not that easy finding someone wholl sell a gun to a cop, OK? Alecs a pain, but hes discreet. Shifty pulled his shoulders up to his ears. Let them fall again. Well do her tomorrow. I promise.
Well, after two years was one more night really going to make that much difference? So she got another twenty-four hours, so what? Shed still end up dead.
Fair enough.
I nodded back towards the flat. Tea?
Youre kidding, right? Tea? When youve just got out of the nick? A wink. Then he dipped into one of the carrier-bags at his feet and came out with two bottles. Champagne!
He followed me into the flat, standing in the hallway while I snibbed all the locks again then showed him into the living room.
Alice was out of her chair, standing like a fencepost, all pulled in and straight. She smiled. David, how nice to see you again. Is Andrew well?
I know we said tomorrow, but I couldnt wait. He loomed over her, leaned in, and gave her a peck on the cheek. Then plonked one of the champagne bottles down beside the laptop and started picking the foil cap off the other. You dont have any decent glasses, do you?
Ah, yes, right, Ill see what I can dig up, sure theres something lurking in the cupboards She pointed at the kitchen, then disappeared through the door.
Shifty worked the wire cage off the cork, pacing as he did it. Never standing still. The floorboards creaking and groaning away beneath his feet.
Silence.
He stared at the laptop screen, where Laura Strachan was frozen halfway down a flight of stone steps, the pause icon overlapping her feet. I went round to see Michelle.
Did you now? Two years, and not a single visit from her. Not so much as a letter.
She came to the door and she was all He wiggled one hand beside his head. You know? Hair all over the place, really pale and thin, bags under her eyes. Been drinking.