Authors: Amy Cross
Alice - Ten years ago
“I'm coming!” I call out, hurrying up the stairs as Father continues to slam his cane against the floor. “I heard you! I'm coming!”
He doesn't stop, though, not even as I reach the room and rush over to his bed. Taking the cane from his trembling, swollen hands, I lean it back against the wall.
“What's wrong?” I ask, switching on the lamp. “It's three in the morning.”
“I need to pee!” he hisses.
I can't help sighing. “Your pan is -”
“You need to do it for me.”
“But -”
“You're supposed to help me, aren't you?” he snaps. “I need to pee! I can't do it by myself!”
Realizing that he's not going to even try, I grab the metal pan from the table and slip it under the duvet. I've tried so many times to teach him how to do this, but he seems completely unable or unwilling to learn.
“Pull your pajama bottoms down,” I tell him.
“I can't. You'll have to do it.”
I already knew he'd say that. Still, it was worth a shot. Reaching under the duvet, I pull his pants down and then take a moment to maneuver the pan into place. Then I flinch as I gently tuck his penis into place.
“Okay,” I tell him, “you can -”
Before I'm able to finish, I hear that he's started to pee.
“I was banging for ages!” he mutters grumpily. “What's wrong with you? Are you deaf?”
“I'm sorry,” I whisper under my breath.
“You can't just ignore me when I need something,” he stammers. “Do you want me to wet the bed? Is that it? Do you hate me so much, you want me to suffer indignity after indignity?”
“Of course not. I came as fast as I could.”
“You're pathetic,” he continues, wincing with pain. “God knows how you even lasted a year as a nurse. I'm surprised you didn't kill someone sooner.”
I swallow hard, resisting the urge to scream. A moment later, I hear that he's finished.
“I'm done!” he barks. “What are you waiting for? Get it out of here!”
I pull the bedpan out and see dark, slightly bloody urine sloshing at the bottom. The smell is striking, too, and it's clear that his kidneys are still struggling.
“What are you looking at it for?” he asks. “There's nothing to see! Dopey little bitch!”
“I just -”
“I want to go to sleep now!” he yells, swinging his cane at me. “Get out!”
I pull back just in time, but I accidentally tip the bedpan and spill its contents all over the floor.
“What did you do that for?” he sneers. “Clean it up! I'm not sleeping in a room with piss all over the place! What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Of course, I -”
Suddenly he grabs me by the collar, and he pulls me closer before I even have a chance to break free. As I struggle to stay up, I shift my weight a little and feel my right knee dipping into the puddle of warm urine on the floor.
“You need to buck your bloody ideas up, girl,” he says firmly, leaning close enough for me to smell his foul breath. “The way you're treating me at the moment is basically abuse, do you realize that? It's like you don't care at all! Is this what you were like with that poor little boy you killed? Were you so busy daydreaming, you couldn't even be bothered to give him the right medicine?”
“Father -”
“Get out of here!” he adds, pushing me away. “Clean up that mess and let me sleep. I've had enough of you for one night! I hope the boy shows up tonight. I hope he haunts you for the rest of your goddamn life!””
For the next few minutes, I work to quickly wipe up the urine and clean the floor. I know he's watching me, and he's probably waiting for me to make a mistake, so I take extra care to get everything right. Finally, once I'm done, I hurry out of the room and pull the door shut, and then I stop and take a deep breath on the landing. My father's words are still ringing through my head, but I know I just have to stay calm. He's in a lot of pain, and he doesn't mean most of what he says.
Spotting a hint of light over at the window, I turn and see that the sun has already begun to rise. Morning is coming, bringing another day to be spent working in the house, looking after my dying father. Sometimes I think I shall never get out of here. Perhaps I'll even haunt the place one day, long after I'm dead.
Still, the night has passed without the boy making another appearance. I felt him, though. He was right next to me while I was cleaning Father.
Rachel - Today
“I was fine all night,” I tell Mum as she finishes fixing breakfast. “Seriously. I just checked some stuff on my laptop and then I went to sleep.”
That's a lie, of course.
What actually happened is that after the sounds of the piano and the banging stopped, I spent several hours sitting completely still on my bed, gripping my baseball bat, terrified in case there was a burglar. I damn near called the police, and I only held back because I figured they'd think I was just some scared little kid. Besides, what kind of burglar goes around smacking the floor and tinkling on a non-existent piano? It's pretty clear that either I imagined the whole thing or, more likely, the sounds came from my laptop.
Either way, the house stayed quiet for the rest of the night and eventually I drifted off into a light, nervy sleep until I heard Mum coming home. I've never been so glad to hear her key in the door.
“So you didn't mention the crazy nurse who used to live here,” I say after a moment.
“The what?”
I can immediately hear the concern in her voice.
“I checked online,” I continue, with a faint smile. “I found a news article about some nurse named Alice Bradshaw who lived here twenty years ago. Apparently she accidentally gave some kid the wrong medicine on a hospital ward, and he ended up dying. I mean, as mistakes go, that's a pretty huge one.”
I wait for a reply.
“Mum?”
“What else?” she asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Did you read anything else about her?”
“No, why?”
Again, I wait.
“What else
is
there?” I continue.
“Nothing,” she replies, but she definitely sounds flustered. “I just didn't want to tell you, that's all. I thought it might freak you out.”
“So what happened to her?” I ask.
“I don't know, why does it -”
“I'll find out eventually,” I continue. “I mean, searching online takes forever using voice commands, but you know full well that I'm persistent. Come on, you might as well just save me the effort and tell me the truth right now. And don't tell me you don't know, because that's blatantly a lie.”
I hear her coming over to the table, and a moment later she places something in front of me.
“Here's your cereal, Rachel.”
“Tell me!”
“Would you like some bread and jam too?”
“Tell me!”
“I'm so tired,” she replies. “I think I have to go and sleep, just for a few hours.”
“And you're not going to -”
“Can we drop it, Rachel?” she continues. “Please? Yes, a nurse lived here twenty years ago, and yes there was something about a child at a hospital, and there might have been some other trouble too, but I really don't want to talk about it right now. It all happened a long time ago and it doesn't affect us at all. End of story.”
“None of that explains why we're living here,” I point out. “A crazy nurse wouldn't have lowered the value of the property to the extent that we can afford to move in.”
“Suddenly you're an expert, are you?”
“It's simple economic logic. Mum, I just...”
I pause for a moment.
“Do you believe in ghosts?” I ask finally.
“Of course not. And neither do you.”
“But if -”
“You're far too sensible and intelligent for that rubbish,” she adds. “Please, Rachel, don't start making drama.”
“I'm not, it's just that last night I -”
“Where do you want to sit while I'm napping?” she asks, and from her tone of voice I can tell that she really doesn't want to continue the discussion. “Upstairs? Downstairs?”
I pause for a moment, before figuring that I should wait until she's a little less tired.
“What kind of day is it?” I ask cautiously.
“It's quite nice out there. Sunny.”
“Maybe you can park me on the porch, then,” I continue. “I can listen to the sound of the world as it passes me by.”
Alice - Twenty years ago
As soon as I someone coming down the stairs, I get to my feet, and a moment later Mrs. Lewis comes through to the kitchen. She's smiling as she removes a pair of green plastic gloves from her hands.
“Well?” I ask cautiously. “How did he seem?”
“Your father is...”
She hesitates for a moment.
“He's basically the same as last week,” she continues. “There's no notable deterioration of his condition, although obviously it's difficult to be certain. I tried to persuade him to take a trip to hospital, but he insists he's not leaving the house.”
“He's been saying that for a while now,” I tell her.
“It'd be useful to get a scan of his torso. Have you tried to change his mind?”
I nod. “He's got it into his head that if he goes in, he won't be able to come out again. He wants to spend his final months here in this house, and he's convinced that people are trying to trick him into leaving.”
She pauses, and I can tell she's concerned.
“Your father's tumor isn't going to be getting any smaller,” she says finally. “It's still pressing on his gallbladder, which is most likely why he's so constipated. Plus, the hernia isn't exactly helping. If he'd agree to come to the hospital, there are certain things we could try. A stent, for example, would relieve the pressure, even if it's only temporary, and we could work to clear the blockages that are keeping him from going to the toilet properly. He'd be so much more comfortable, at least.”
“I know.”
“Is he still refusing to take pain-killers?”
I nod. “He says they make him confused.”
“He's in agony.”
I nod again.
“And how are
you
coping, Alice?”
I bristle slightly. “I'm fine, I just -”
“You're not fine,” she continues, taking a step closer. “I've known you for a long time, Alice. I remember the day you arrived on our ward, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to work. I hope you don't mind if I'm candid about this, but right now you look like you're about to drop. You're clearly exhausted, and having your father at home like this is -”
“It's what he wants,” I point out, interrupting her.
“Is it what
you
want?”
“He's my father,” I continue. “What am I supposed to do, walk away?”
“If he insists on being at home, a nurse could -”
“He won't allow it,” I add. “He says that since I'm trained as a nurse, I can do everything for him.”
“But that's an awful lot of pressure on you.”
“I'm fine,” I tell her, although I'm aware that I might be blinking a little too fast. That's something that happens sometimes when I'm under particular pressure. “Honestly. He's my father, and I'm the only real family he has left, so it's only right that I should be the one who looks after him. That's what family is for, isn't it?”
She stares at me for a moment.
“Are you sure you're not punishing yourself, Alice?”
“Why would -”
“Because of Anthony Harper.”
I shake my head. Why did she have to bring the boy up?
“The review board hasn't reported its findings yet,” she continues. “You poor thing, you must be terrified about Thursday. Even if it was your fault, that kind of thing happens to all of us and -”
“Have you ever killed someone by giving them the wrong medication?” I ask.
“No, but -”
“It was more than a mistake. It was much worse.”
She sighs. “When the review board reports on Thursday, it's perfectly possible that you'll be -”
“Is there anything else you need to do here today?” I ask, interrupting her before she can go into detail.
“Alice -”
“I'm fully aware of the procedure,” I continue. “Believe me, the whole thing has been explained to me in great detail. Right now, however, I'm fully focused on looking after my father during his final months. I'm his daughter, and I have a duty to provide the best possible care. And that's a duty I would never dream of ignoring.”
I wait for her to reply, but she's watching me with an expression of pure pity.
“You really don't need to come every week,” I tell her. “Everything is under control here. My father is doing as well as can be expected. If he needs anything, I can always call.”
“I don't
just
come because I'm worried about your father,” she replies. “I also come because I'm worried about
you
, Alice. The strain must be unbearable, and this house...” She pauses. “I can feel the tension in the air. It's all around. This isn't a home anymore, it's more like a medical facility. How can you possibly -”
“I have things to do,” I add, interrupting her again, “so really, if you're done for today...” My voice trails off for a moment, and I wait for her to take the hint.
Suddenly there's a loud bump from upstairs, followed by several more, and I realize that Father is trying to get my attention again.
“He needs me,” I explain, forcing a smile in an attempt to reassure her, “so if you'll excuse me, I must go to him. I'm afraid you'll have to show yourself out.”