Heller's Regret (12 page)

I wasn’t allowed any visitors, my time
dedicated to medical checks, showering, ignoring the food brought
to me, and drilling down into my subconscious with the doctor.
Various professionals probed my sleep patterns, stress levels,
feelings towards my parents and siblings, relationships with my
workmates. I gave them the same responses I’d provided from the
beginning. While I believed I answered calmly, it was hard to miss
their exchanged glances and busy note taking.

“I’m being released today, right?” I asked
the new doctor when we were alone again. “I was only admitted here
for overnight observation, and it’s now been days. You’ve had your
chance to observe me. I want to leave so I can return to the house
and make sure Samuel is all right.”

“Tilly –”

I interrupted. “What’s your name again? I’ve
forgotten.”

“I’m Dr Reid,” he said patiently. “You can
call me Gavin if you like. I’m your consulting psychiatrist.”

I didn’t want to call him anything. I just
wanted to get back to Samuel. “So you’re going to release me
today?”

“We’ve decided it would be best for you to
stay here a few more days.”

“But I was told it was just an overnight
observation.”

“A few more days,” he said gently.

I flopped back on the pillow and started
crying. “Why won’t anyone tell me how Samuel is doing? Can’t you
see I’m worried sick about him? What’s the matter with you
people?”

“Tilly, I know you’ve been told this, but I
just want to repeat it. There is no Samuel Grimsley. He doesn’t
exist. You do understand that?”

“No, I don’t. Samuel is
real
. I saw
him. I touched him. I talked to him and watched him play the piano
and with his toys. He is
real
and you’re happy to let a
little boy stay by himself in a huge, old house. It’s cruel. It’s
illegal.”

I rolled over, turning my back on him. I
wasn’t interested in discussing the matter for one more second.

“There is no Samuel Grimsley,” he repeated
quietly, before leaving, locking the door behind him.

I didn’t care what any of them said.
They
were the crazy ones, not me. Samuel was real and
nothing anybody said to me would change my mind about that.

I spent the rest of the day lying in bed, too
tired and depressed to move, doing nothing but staring at the wall,
or the ceiling, or out the window. Why wouldn’t anybody tell me if
Samuel was okay? I was so distressed over him being abandoned that
I couldn’t relax and I couldn’t sleep.

An idea gripped my mind that explained
everything. Nobody would tell me where Samuel was because They had
taken him away. It made perfect sense. Shame washed over me. I’d
promised Mrs Grimsley I’d look after Samuel, and I’d let Them take
him away. She would be devastated by my failure.

Though upset by my realisation of the truth,
I eventually surrendered to sleep. My last conscious thought was
that I had to
do
something to rescue Samuel and I had to do
it fast.

Chapter 9

When I woke the next morning, my depression
still hung like a dark cloud around my head, though my mind itself
felt clearer. My breakfast stayed untouched, the porridge
congealing into an unappetising grey blob. Consumed by thoughts of
Samuel, I passively let the nurse take my blood pressure, pulse and
temperature, and change my dressings, delivering one-word responses
to all his questions.

Dr Reid visited me mid-morning, a couple of
other people who were never introduced standing behind him, writing
in their file folders, but not contributing to the conversation. He
greeted me with upbeat cheeriness. I hated him. We spent another
pointless hour going over the same things again. At the end of his
questioning, he wrote in his file folder for a while.

When he looked up at me, he smiled in
satisfaction. “Tilly, I’m not sure if you realised it, but the
responses you gave me this time were more lucid than your previous
ones. And importantly, you acknowledged several times that some of
the things you’d done during your time in that house were
irrational.”

“So?”

“So it means I’m more optimistic about your
complete recovery. You’ve made great progress since the night you
were admitted.”

“Then can I be released today?”

“You’re not quite at that stage.”

“I need to go back to the house. I’m pretty
sure now I know what happened to Samuel, but I want to check for
myself.”

That buoyed him for a moment. He leaned
forward. “What do you think happened to him?”

“I don’t
think
it, I
know
it.
They took him away.”

He allowed a fleeting touch of frustration to
show on his face. “Tilly, we’re not going to move forward until you
acknowledge that there is no Samuel Grimsley. Last night, I checked
birth records. The only Samuel Grimsley disappeared in 1905 from
the same house. There was a short article about it in the newspaper
at the time.” He pulled out a piece of paper. “I printed it off for
you.”

I read the news article, handing it back to
him when I’d finished. “The Samuel I spent a week with must be a
descendant of this Samuel. Mrs Grimsley told me the family has
lived in that house for a long time.” I was struck by a thought. “I
suppose next you’re going to tell me that Mrs Grimsley doesn’t
exist either.”

“She’s real, but she’s Miss Grimsley, not
Mrs. She’s still in hospital, this hospital actually, as her stay
has been extended. It’s taken longer for her to recover from her
operation than expected.”

“Can I see her?”

“I’m sorry, you can’t leave this ward at the
moment.”

“Why are you keeping me prisoner in here? You
don’t want me to return to the house.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You’re trying to stop me finding Samuel, but
you’ll never stop me.”

“We merely want to help you recover.” He
hesitated as if he was debating in his mind whether to continue
with what he was about to say. “Tilly, what precisely is your
relationship to that giant blond man? He’s very bossy and has
turned up trying to enter the ward several times. He’s also been
ringing the nurses several times a day wanting to visit.”

“Really? He told me that he cared about me a
lot.”

“You don’t believe him?”

“I don’t know. I realised in the house that I
knew him, but I don’t know how.”

“That’s a start. At least he’s a slightly
familiar face. Would you like it if I allowed him to visit for
thirty minutes this afternoon?”

“I don’t really care.”

“I think it could be very beneficial to you
to talk to someone you know. I’ll go ring him now.”

I lay on my side, staring out the window
again and thinking about Samuel and Mrs Grimsley. I would have
liked to visit her in hospital and explain what had happened to the
little boy. She would be angry with me, but I knew I deserved
it.

My lunch tray arrived and I didn’t
acknowledge the person bringing it in. I just lay in bed, wishing
more than anything that I could be released right now. I had to
find Samuel, but in order to do that, I had to get out of here. I
couldn’t figure out a way to escape. My door was always locked
except when I had medical staff in the room.

I ignored the door opening again. It didn’t
matter to me who it was.

“Matilda,” said an accented voice.

I sat up and glanced over to the big man who
entered my room. He wore the black uniform all of the men in the
house had worn.

When I saw him, a rush of memory swamped me,
leaving me breathless. “I work for you, don’t I? With all those
men. I was wrong. You’re not Them.”

He shook his head and came over to sit on my
bed, taking my hand in his. “No, we’re not them. And you do work
for me in my business.”

“Your name’s Heller.”

“Yes.”

“Why was I at the Grimsley house?”

“You were on a job for me.”

“You’re the one who rang me that time and I
didn’t recognise your voice.”

“Yes. I was so worried about you. It’s not
like you at all not to be in regular contact on a job.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened to me
while I was there.” We held each other’s gaze. “I’m not insane.” I
couldn’t help the almost begging tenor of my voice. I
needed
someone to believe that about me.

“I know you’re not.” He brought my hand to
his mouth and kissed it softly.

That little statement lifted my spirits more
than I thought possible. This man, who said he knew me well didn’t
believe I was crazy.

He looked at the lunch tray. “Matilda, you
haven’t opened any of the food. You must eat, my sweet.”

I showed him my bandaged hands. I was so
embarrassed that I hadn’t noticed how raw and blistered they were
from those hours of digging. And because I’d been covered in dirt,
a good many of the blisters had burst and become infected. I
believed one of the tablets I was given each day was an
antibiotic.

He opened the containers of food for me and
pushed the tray closer. I made an effort to nibble on the edge of a
sandwich, but soon put it back on the tray.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Matilda, you must eat. You’re very frail at
the moment. You won’t recover if you don’t eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Dr Reid came into the room and beckoned
Heller over to the far corner. I watched them shake hands. Dr Reid
spoke to him at length in a low voice and Heller responded. They
both glanced in my direction a few times, but I was becoming used
to people talking about me.

They came closer.

“Tilly, you have to eat. You’re very tired
and underweight at the moment. You’re almost skeletal and I
understand that you were battling to regain weight when you first
arrived at the Grimsley house. You won’t recover from your
infections without nutrition. And you’re also very dehydrated. I
hoped that you would remedy that yourself by eating and drinking
what we gave you. The hospital dieticians helped us choose menus
for you that provide maximum nutrition and hydration. But they can
only be of assistance if you eat.”

“Matilda, I explained to Dr Reid about your
previous traumatic assignment where you lost a lot of weight. Now
you’ve lost more that you couldn’t afford to lose.”

“Tilly, if you don’t start eating, I’m going
to put you on another IV.”

“I’m not hungry. I can’t force myself to eat
if I’m not hungry.”

“In that case, I’m left with no choice.” He
left the room.

“You have to eat, my sweet. We’re all worried
about you.” He sat on the bed and took my hand again.

“I want to leave.”

“We all want you to come home, but that’s not
going to happen if you need to remain on these IVs.”

“I want to go back to the house. I think
Samuel’s been taken.”

I couldn’t even describe the expression of
despair that crossed his face when I said that.

“Matilda,” he began gently. “There is no
Samuel Grimsley. I’ve explained that to you.”

“You didn’t see him. None of you did. He was
real. I
talked
to him.”

“Matilda, we searched that house thoroughly –
top to bottom. We didn’t see any signs of a child.”

“He hid from you. He’s lived in that house
all his life. He probably knows lots of hiding places. I want to go
back to the house.”

“Matilda.”

“We were doing something very important when
you took me away. I need to return so I can finish it for him.”

Dr Reid returned with a different nurse. She
added a huge IV bag to the other ones I was already hooked up
to.

“Could I please have a mug of tea?” I
asked.

“Certainly,” said Dr Reid, pleased I showed
some interest in consuming something. “The nurse will organise one
for you now.”

I looked forward to a mug of Mrs Grimsley’s
tea again – it would be like an old friend, a comfort blanket.

“Dr Reid, I think it might be good for
Matilda if she could have the television on.”

“Certainly. That’s an excellent idea. I’ll
arrange it before I leave the hospital today.”

Heller spent the remainder of his allocated
thirty minutes holding my hand and talking about the Warehouse,
Daniel and Niq and the men. Some of what he told me was familiar to
me and I remembered the Warehouse clearly. Images of Daniel and Niq
burst clearly into my mind as Heller spoke. I was mortified
thinking of what I’d done in the house to remember them. I should
never have forgotten them in the first place.

The nurse popped her head in the room to tell
Heller his time was up. He argued with her, but her threats of not
allowing him to visit me again forced his hand.

He kissed my forehead, casting me a
lingering, last backwards glance. He may have left instructions for
the nursing staff, because about five minutes after he left, the TV
came on. One of the nurses brought me a remote control for it, a
small, lightweight, simple one with buttons only to turn it on and
off, adjust the volume and change channels. She also placed a hot
mug on my table, a tough plastic cup with a lid I couldn’t remove.
It was a bitter reminder that I couldn’t be trusted with boiling
water.

I eagerly took a sip, but was disappointed.
It was black tea with milk.

When the nurse came back for routine checks,
I said, “This wasn’t the tea I wanted. I wanted a different
one.”

“Sorry, love. The hospital only stocks black
tea. If you want one of those fancy herbal things, you’ll have to
wait until you’re released.”

That news crushed me. I’d been looking
forward to that tea so much. I tried to be polite and drink it, as
I’d asked for it especially, but I only made it halfway through
before abandoning it. I wanted
my
tea.

I flicked through the channels, settling on a
cooking show.
That would do
, I thought. Time passed much
more quickly when I had something to occupy my mind. And before I
knew it, the news was on. Though I was now receiving nutrition via
the IV bag, a dinner tray was delivered. I lifted the cloche, took
a sniff and replaced it without tasting. If you weren’t hungry, you
weren’t hungry – it was as simple as that.