If only I could knock the syringe out of her hand. I could scream, and then the person at the door might hear, even if I am three floors up.
‘You go,’ he says, in a low voice. He indicates me with a tilt of his head. ‘She could overpower you.’
Marielle glances at me and grimaces. Then, wordlessly, she stands up, hands Henry the syringe and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
My heart is beating so fast I feel dizzy. I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. Henry stands awkwardly by the bed and I think how right I was about them all along.
He turns to me. ‘I am sorry about all this,’ he says, and the way he says it is almost comical, like he’s apologizing for opening my post by mistake. ‘I did try to make you stay away. I thought Marielle might change her mind, realize it was useless and that you knew nothing.’
‘What …’ I gulp ‘… what did you do to Simone? Did you kill her?’
He glares at me, his eyes hard. ‘Marielle didn’t mean to. She just wanted answers and to keep Simone sedated so she wouldn’t run. She might have been pretending to be a nurse, but she isn’t one. She gave her too much.’
‘Too much?’
He holds up the syringe. Pins and needles begin at my feet and travel up my whole body. I dread to think what concoction he’s got in that syringe. He’s a doctor. He’ll know just what to put in it to kill me.
‘I’m afraid my wife is mentally ill. It’s very sad, but we did lose a baby and she wants to find someone to blame. She needs to find a reason for it, do you see? She has never come to terms with the fact he was, sadly, stillborn. She believes that her baby was taken from her.’ He shakes his head sorrowfully but, to me, his emotions aren’t authentic. A wooden actor in a play. ‘When she read about Hugh Warrington’s death in the paper last year she remembered he had delivered our baby, and when she read about all the illegal activities he was involved in she began to suspect he’d taken our son.’
‘But that’s … Hugh wouldn’t do that …’ I trail off. I have no idea if that’s even true. I hardly knew Hugh Warrington, but I do know he was morally corrupt.
‘I know that,’ he replies, crisply. ‘As I’ve said, my wife is not of sound mind. I’m very sorry about all this, Lena.’
I need to divide and conquer. Henry knows this is madness. ‘Please help me. I won’t tell anyone about this.’
He arranges his features into a neutral expression, hiseyes on me again. ‘You misunderstand me, Lena,’ he replies coolly. ‘I’m sorry you’re in this situation, but I can’t save you. I have to let Marielle take you. And then, hopefully, that will be the end of it.’
‘What? You’re just going to let her kill me like she did Simone? Why would she do that if she wants answers about her son?’
‘Because it’s obvious you have no answers,’ he says. ‘I just want this to be over. I tried to keep you away, Lena. I tried.’ His words chill me. He’s so cold. So pragmatic. How can he let this happen? Doesn’t he have a conscience? He stands up, his hand with the syringe now at his side. ‘I need to see what’s taking her so long.’
‘Was it you in my garden that night?’ I ask, as he goes to the door.
He turns to look at me over his shoulder. ‘I saw you’d recorded us. I couldn’t be certain how much you’d overheard. I wanted to get my hands on that equipment.’ He leaves the room and I hear the key in the lock.
This is my only chance. They’re both as psychotic as each other and I don’t doubt for one moment that they will kill me. My eye goes to the nail in the floorboards. It’s the only thing I can think of. I scrabble from the bed, go to it and try frantically to prise it from the wood, but it’s old, rusty and won’t budge. ‘Come on, come on,’ I mutter. I need to act fast, before they come back. It takes all my force to pull it out and when I do I fall back on my heels, the nail in my hand. It’s big and sharp. I rack my brains, trying to remember the class about human anatomy when I was a student nurse. The jugular. Piercing that with theend of this nail will do the most damage. I fold it in my hand and get back onto the bed. I feel as if I might vomit but I have no choice. It’s either me or them.
I wait, poised on the bed with the nail in my hand. Where are they? They’re taking a while to get rid of whoever is at their front door. Could the person be in the house? Maybe it’s worth me banging and screaming. I get up and go to the door, pressing my ear to it. I can hear the low mumble of voices coming from somewhere in the bowels of the house.
I muster all my energy to bang my fists against the door. ‘HELP ME!’ I yell. ‘HELP! I’M UP HERE! HELP!’ I keep banging and yelling. Finally I hear footsteps on the stairs and the key in the lock. I step back. Marielle’s furious face appears in the doorway.
‘I should fucking kill you now,’ she hisses. She shoves me further into the room and closes the door behind her. ‘It was just old Mr Cannick from number seventy-two wanting to borrow something from Henry, so don’t get excited you’re about to be saved, because he’s gone.’
My heart falls. I can feel the nail digging into the palm of my hand, but I hide it in the folds of my dress.
‘Get back on the bed.’
I do as she asks.
Henry bursts into the room looking hot and bothered. He wipes a hand across his brow. I notice he doesn’t have the syringe.
Marielle notices too. ‘Henry!’
He looks down at his empty hands. ‘Right. Yes, sorry. I’ll be back.’ He disappears out through the door again.
Marielle starts pacing the room, agitated.
‘Marielle … please. I really don’t know anything about your son. I –’
