This fear of the hospital had resulted in a full on panic attack when I was ten years old and had been brought in due to falling and hitting my chin on a pavement.
I still remember the look on my dad’s face in the A&E; he’d been as white as a sheet as I’d sat on the bed screaming, with blood pouring out of my mangled chin. I’d tried hard with every subsequent visit to be ever so slightly less psychotic any time a nurse or doctor approached me.
This hospital visit, however, was the worst of them all.
It started the same as always; the bitter air hit me as soon as I entered through the automatic door, the foul smell of sickness almost bowling me over. I gave my name and details at the desk, but this time it was Will propping me up in case I fainted (I’d come close on the ride over), rather than my parents. He’d made me hold a hand towel to the deepest of the cuts before coming to the hospital, and the plain cream cotton was now almost completely red. It was looking at this that had almost caused me to faint.
The receptionist finished entering my details into the computer and, catching sight of the crimson towel, hurriedly asked a passing nurse to take me to a cubicle. A short, plump woman with dark hair and even darker eyes came over and grabbed the towel off me. She started leading me away down the corridor and when Will tried to follow, she turned and almost hissed at him, “Please stay in the waiting room.”
He stopped mid-stride and looked at me for help. I nodded and he turned back to the seating area, shoulders slumped in defeat. I didn’t feel like being alone with this woman, but if she made me take my top off or get changed into a gown, I’d be exceptionally grateful if Will wasn’t there to see it.
And not just because of my scar.
She took me to a small cubicle and told me to sit on the padded examination table. I sat down and she started looking at my arm, carefully taking out the pieces of glass that were still embedded in my skin. She noticed the cut by my wrist and looked up at me, staring straight into my eyes.
“How did this happen?” Her tone was harsh. It didn’t really need to be; her condescending eyes said it all.
“I knocked over a glass next to my bed, and woke up to find shards of glass all over the covers. And in my arm.”
She didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? Was that your boyfriend out there?”
I glared at her. Did she always treat her patients like children? “Yes, I’m sure. I’d be grateful if you could stop implying things as well. He’s not my boyfriend and neither of us did this to my arm. OK?”
The nurse looked startled, but kind of respectful, too; she obviously wasn’t used to backtalk from her patients. “OK.”
I tried not to look as she got the rest of the glass out and cleaned the wounds; I couldn’t face fainting in front of her.
She didn’t say anything else and didn’t even look at me until she’d finished. “Right, wait here. Most of the cuts aren’t too deep but the bigger one will need stitches, I’ll be right back.” She turned and left the cubicle, pulling the curtain across before walking off, the soft thump of her shoes floating away down the corridor.
Staring at the blue and white stripy curtain, I listened to the sounds of the hospital around me. For an Accident & Emergency department it seemed pretty quiet, and the fact I’d been seen to straight away demonstrated just how calm it was this morning.
I sighed and leaned back against the wall, looking up at the white, slightly cracked ceiling. This had definitely been one of the weirdest nights I’d ever had, but stuck under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital, the events of the early hours seemed like an incredibly long time ago.
I sat still for a few minutes - trying to avoid looking at my arm - until I heard footsteps approaching. Then I propped myself up to be ready for the nurse.
The footsteps had now stopped but no one had appeared to see me; whoever it was must have gone into another cubicle. I sat back again and groaned quietly.
A split second later, the curtain twitched.
There was someone standing outside the entrance to the cubicle; I could now make out a vague shadow behind the curtain.
I waited for the nurse to come in but the shadow didn’t move, and I traced the outline with my eyes: it was definitely a person, but it was a hell of a lot bigger than the nurse.
As soon as I’d had that thought, the shadow moved, and at the same time the curtain rippled as if someone had just touched it. I held my breath without really realising I was doing it.
I went to grab my bag with my phone in and then cursed myself for leaving it with Will. If it hadn’t been for last night I would have got up off the seat and gone and confronted the person, but as it was, I couldn’t even bring myself to move.
What if it was the same person from my garden? I couldn’t even take comfort in the fact that we were in a busy A&E department surrounded by people; this part of the hospital seemed dead. I listened and could only make out some phones ringing in a distant part of the ward, possibly at the reception where Will was waiting.
I was still figuring out what to do when the man - it was definitely a man - put his hands to the edges of the curtain. I could see his fingertips feeling down the edge of the frayed blue and white material, as if getting ready to sneak into the cubicle.
I desperately wished that Will was there, and I kicked myself for letting the nurse tell him he couldn’t come with me; I shouldn’t have let her boss us around.
Bracing myself against the wall, I wasn’t sure what else I could do. I did, however, feel a slight surge of excitement weave itself through my overwhelming fear - at least now I’d know for sure who this man was.
I didn’t find out.
The hands stopped fumbling with the curtains and a couple of seconds later I knew why; I could hear more footsteps coming towards the cubicle, and this time they were heavier and quicker than before. The nurse was coming back.
In a few seconds the hand had disappeared, the shadow with it, and the nurse had opened the curtain and entered the cubicle. She had a clipboard in her hands and was reading whatever was on it intently.
When she’d finished, she put the board down on the little table next to the seat and looked up at me, her face blank. After a few moments she frowned and came over to look at my arm.
“You look much paler than when I left. How bad is the pain?”
I shook my head. “There was a man just outside the curtain, did you see who it was?”
The nurse looked back towards the corridor. “No I didn’t…” She turned back to me, her brow still furrowed. “Now, are you OK for me to continue?”
I nodded and sat up, looking over her shoulder at the stripy curtain, which was now as still and silent as the rest of the ward.
“Look… I’m sorry about before.” The nurse smiled at me, immediately seeming more human. “It’s just that I see a lot of girls come in who’ve been in the wars, and they’d defend their boyfriends to the death. It’s so sad.”
I nodded.
“You know, I used to work on the maternity ward before I came to A&E.” She was smiling again.
“Oh, yes?” I feigned polite interest while trying to block out the pain in my arm.
“How’s your sister? Do you see her much?”
Suddenly the pain stopped. The stitches, the Garden Man, the curtain twitcher, all ceased to exist. I looked up at the nurse blankly. “What did you say?”
The woman’s smile faltered, her eyes drifting off to her right, the colour draining from her face. “I’m sorry, I’m thinking of someone else. I’ve helped out with so many births…” She flashed a quick, nervous-looking grin at me before going back to my arm.
“What did you mean, do I see my sister?”
“I told you, I was mistaken…”
I cut her off. “Yes, you said. But… well, why wouldn’t someone get to see her sister?”
The nurse just shrugged, still smiling. “Oh, you know, if you’d… they’d… moved out of home.” She shrugged again. “Or somethi
ng.”
Yes. Or something.
Neither of us spoke again until it was time for me to leave.
***
I’d just finished telling Will what the nurse had said (he thought it was weird but that was about it), when he pulled me - by my non-painful left arm - towards the revolving exit doors.
I stopped, gesturing to the normal automatic door we’d come in through. “Why don’t we just use that one?”
He laughed. “Because everyone knows that revolving doors are more fun! Apart from, you know, the occasional people who get crushed to death in them.” He started pulling me towards it again. “I’m only joking, come on…”
“No! Get off me!” I didn’t care that I was making a bit of a scene; it’s not like there were that many people around to witness me losing it.
Will stopped abruptly, confusion etched on his face, and I ran out the side door into the much-needed fresh air.
“Beth! I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had a fear of… revolving doors?” A playful smile was tugging on his lips.
“I’m not scared of revolving doors, Will.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“It’s the space… or lack of it.”
“Like claustrophobia?”
Like being locked in a dark crypt? “Something like that. I just…” I paused, taking a nice big, non-hospital breath of fresh air. “I like knowing I can get out of small spaces if I need to. And revolving doors can get stuck.”
Will seemed satisfied with my answer and put his arm around me as we started walking towards the taxi rank. “Didn’t peg you for a weirdo, Powers.”
I felt like punching him in the arm again, but with my own arm still incapacitated, I settled for kicking him in the shin instead.
***
I told Will about the curtain incident on the way back, and when we got to my house I stuck to his side as he checked every room and then every inch of both the back and front gardens. I felt beyond pathetic in the light of day but Will didn’t seem to mind.
I couldn’t face another day at home alone before my parents got back, so I made Will wait while I showered, and then we walked to Main Street. I’d decided to hang around some of the shops killing time while Will went home and had his shower; we’d arranged to meet at the pub in an hour.
I’d just come out of Robinson’s Records when I saw Connor. Stopping mid-stride, I thought about turning and walking the other way (at least then I’d be going in the direction of the police station if he got angry again), but I hesitated when I saw who he was with.
Connor himself was hunched over, looking through the window of ‘Ready to Read’, the local second-hand bookshop. Standing next to him and watching him intently was a tall man with dark hair, similar in colour and style to Connor’s. He also had a similar shaped nose and mouth, and a kind of despairing sadness in his eyes. He had a prominent scar under his left eye.
He looked vaguely familiar, but not enough to be a Little Forest resident, and I realised with a jolt that not only was he wearing a long, black coat, but he was holding a large, black umbrella at his side, too.
I stood frozen to the spot as I watched the two of them, standing so close to each other they were almost touching. Broken images from my dream bombarded my busy mind, the whole cinema nightmare looming up in front of me.
I was desperately trying to think who this man could be - and why on earth Connor would hire him to stand in my garden and freak me out - when Connor suddenly moved. He straightened up and took a step to his right, almost knocking the Garden Man over and making him step out of the way before a full on collision occurred.
Connor didn’t look up, or apologise to the man, or make any kind of acknowledgement that he was there. It was as if…
He couldn’t see him.
At that realisation, my heart started beating rapidly and I let out an involuntary gasp.
Connor immediately looked my way and, seeing it was me, rushed over.
“Beth.”
I tried to keep my voice level. “Hi Connor.” I glanced at him briefly, trying to keep one eye on the Garden Man over his shoulder. He was still standing next to the window and was now staring at us both.
“Did you get my text?”
I nodded, wishing I’d gone straight to Will’s to wait there.
“I really am sorry about the other night,” he continued. “The police had been windin’ me up for hours and I just… lost it. I don’t blame you, you were doin’ what you had to do.”
I was barely listening.
Standing a few feet behind Connor was… what, exactly? Another hallucination? A trick of the light? Or proof of something I’d been avoiding for years?
I’d never been this close before. Not knowingly, anyway.
“You alright? You look a bit… strung out.”
I took a deep breath, prized my eyes off the Garden Man, and tried to act normal. Or as normal as I could act in front of a possible murderer.
“I’m fine, I just didn’t get much sleep last night.” I gestured to the bandage that could just be seen sticking out of my jacket sleeve.
“Ah, I hope all’s OK?”
“I was just…” I looked back at Connor, who seemed to be acting all concerned. Was he? Or was it all an act? I said the first thing that came into my mind. “I was just in the woods until late, being my usual clumsy self.”
His smile faded. “How late?”
“Oh I dunno, one, half one.” The Garden Man had taken a couple of steps towards us and was now looking at me with wide, doubting eyes.
Connor glanced down at the ground, either trying to think or wanting to hide his expression. “Why?”
I was amazed that my brain was even still working - considering who was currently in my close vicinity - but again I quickly made something up. “My dad’s been noticing someone hanging around the castle late at night, he gets quite a lot of vandals. I was trying to investigate.”
Connor’s expression turned to one of anger. “You shouldn’t be doin’ that, Beth. The woods are a dangerous place.”
I glanced again at the Garden Man, who was edging ever closer. My eyes flickered briefly back to Connor. “So you keep telling me.”
He shook his head furiously. “You don’t know what you’re gettin’ into; all kinds of things happen in those woods.”
The Garden Man was now right behind Connor.
I took a deep breath. “Like what?”
“Like…” he trailed off, evidently not sure how to respond. “Just… things. Beth, why do you keep lookin’ over my shoulder?”
At that, he turned round to look behind him, ending up face to face with the Garden Man, who looked surprised at the sudden movement. Their noses were an inch apart, if that.
I held my breath. A couple of seconds passed before Connor turned back to me, shrugging.
I looked at the Garden Man as his eyes locked with mine, understanding filtering through his face. He started stepping around Connor, obviously on his way to walk right up to me and…
Well, I had no idea what he was planning to do. All I knew was that if I didn’t get out of there immediately, I was in severe danger of fainting. Or screaming. Or both.
“Beth?”
I switched my eyes to a still confused-looking Connor. “Sorry, I’m late to meet Will at the Inn… I’d better run.”
I stepped around the other side of Connor and started walking off quickly, urgently wanting to get away from them both.
Wanting to get away from whatever the hell had just happened.
I heard nothing for a couple of seconds, then just as I turned the corner, Connor shouted something at my back.
“Hope you feel better, glad you got sorted out at the hospital!”
The hospital?
I’d never mentioned the hospital to him. I could just as easily have put a bandage on myself or gone to the doctors this morning.
As I got nearer to the pub, my mind was racing. He must have just assumed the hospita
l thing himself.
Either that, or he knew of my less-than-mundane visit to Willowton A&E. I shivered as I took the last few steps towards the Inn.
***
I sat down with Will at the corner table of the Inn, and while drinking ridiculously sugary tea and eating an enormous scone, filled him in on what Connor had said - I’d decided before I’d opened the doors to the pub that I wasn’t going to mention the Garden Man part of the run-in; the last thing I needed was Will staring at me like I was mad again.
He looked deep in thought - which was odd for Will - and his usual joking on the subject had subsided.
Sitting back, I drank my tea and scanned the pub. It was still quite early in the afternoon, but that hadn’t stopped some of the Inn’s regulars from starting on the hard stuff.
I was just straining my eyes to see what was written on the ‘Events’ board for the upcoming week when a pale face with a blue rinse stepped in my line of vision. Mrs Teasdale. Great.
She hobbled over to me and sat down on the empty chair without so much as an invitational nod from me.
The sound of her sitting down brought Will back to the present and he raised his eyebrows at me.
Shrugging, I turned to shout at Mrs Teasdale (this wasn’t me being rude, by the way, she had trouble hearing and was usually self-conscious about wearing her hearing aid out and about… not that its presence would have really made any difference; her ears were long lost underneath all her grey, wiry hair).
“What brings you here, Mrs Teasdale?”
She flinched away from me, her smile turning into a grimace. “Alright, alright, I can hear you.”
I apologised as Will started sniggering under his breath. OK, so maybe she wasn’t as self-conscious about her hearing aid as I’d thought.
“I’m having new carpets put in, Dearie. My nephew’s doing it for me and he told me I was getting in the way. So, of course, I left immediately. I know when I’m not wanted; you don’t have to tell me twice.”
If only. I cut in before she started telling me every detail of her nephew’s life.
“I meant what brings you here, to this table?”
OK, so that might have been a bit rude, but I thought it was a valid question. Mrs Teasdale didn’t usually lower her standards enough to talk to the ‘youth’ of today. In fact, I didn’t even know what her first name was. Friendly terms were something we definitely weren’t on.