A Class Apart
Chapter 8 – New Tricks
Dr Soames rushed to Nurse Winter’s side. Within seconds she opened her eyes and stood up, feeling embarrassed.
“Are you all right, Nurse?” asked Dr Soames. She nodded.
“Yes, of course. Sorry, Doctor. I think it must be the heat. Don’t know what happened.”
“Chief Superintendent,” Dr Soames addressed Harden. “I just want to make sure Nurse Winter is ok, then I’ll come and join you in Emma Venton’s ward. You can find it, can’t you?”
Harden nodded and watched as Stannard firmly but politely escorted Jasmin and Dave from the ward – and from his life, he hoped. It was a pity he couldn’t just throw them in jail.
He looked back at the Randersons. They were sitting silently beside their son’s bed. They’d barely raised an eyebrow when the nurse fainted. Odd people. Occasionally Mrs Randerson would look suspiciously around at the rest of the ward, like a dog protecting its litter from potential predators.
“Mr and Mrs Randerson,” boomed Harden. They looked at him mutinously. “Do not talk to the media please. It could be very dangerous for your son and for the other patients in here. Thank you for your co-operation.” With that, he left the ward.
James and Sam were in a quandary. They were alone in Sam’s room and they faced a decision over whether to tell their parents the bits they had left out of the story of last night. When recounting the facts in front of the doctors and the police Sam didn’t mention how the vase had broken and James had skipped over the part where he appeared in the lift.
Their parents had been taken outside by Dr Okocha for a private talk, which annoyed Sam. She hated being talked about.
She had made James switch the TV off when 24/7 moved on to sports news.
“Something weird happened in the lift,” said James, tentatively, not quite meeting his sister’s eye.
“You think?” replied Sam, trying to make a joke.
“Seriously. Something funny is going on with me.”
“Like your attack of the munchies in McDonalds yesterday?” asked Sam. James nodded.
“I was drifting off to sleep, thinking about that McDonalds. I ate there last time you came into hospital for your appendix. The next thing I know, I’m there. Freaked me out.”
“That’s mega weird. It’s like you just sort of emailed yourself down there or something.”
James nodded.
“And I wasn’t even at the front of the queue. I was right at the back behind some doctors. They should know better than to eat there.”
Sam smiled.
“I think something is mental with me too. You know in the lift when my bed caught fire? That seemed to sort of come from my hand. I was screaming at those patients, and I could see you, and when the lift doors closed and shut you out I was just so scared and I felt really, really hot. I banged my hand on the bed and it caught fire, but the really freaky thing is it didn’t hurt. Not at all.”
“And then I just sort of appeared in the lift. Like I’d jumped into it through thin air.”
They sat in silence, trying to contemplate the significance of these facts. The question that was on both of their minds was, should they tell Mum and Dad? How would they even bring the subject up? It was awful. Sam almost wished she had something less bad to tell them, like she was pregnant or something.
“Perhaps you should write it in a diary and let Mum find it?” suggested James.
Sam pulled a face. “Ha, ha.”
“Is that a packet of Maltesers?” asked James, spying a red bag poking out from under the sheets of Sam’s bed.
“No.”
“It is!” stormed James. “How did you get Maltesers?!” James tried reaching across Sam’s bed to grab the packet, but she swatted back his good arm.
“I’m starving,” he protested.
“Me too, get your own,” said Sam, defending her stash of chocolates. James reached over again but Sam gave him a shove and surprised herself with her own strength. James fell onto his chair and toppled backwards. Sam was instantly sorry but, before she could speak, something very strange happened. As James was falling back his good hand reached out and the Malteser packet dislodged itself from Sam’s bed and flew into James’s outstretched hand. He caught it as he hit the floor, tipping Maltesers onto him as he lay, flat on his back, legs up in the air with chocolates rolling over his face.
Sam’s first fear was that her brother might have caused further injury to his arm and collarbone, but she quickly realised that he was lying on his back, laughing. When she was reassured he was ok, she started laughing too. He remained on the floor as small, round chocolates rolled away from him across the floor, like they were ants fleeing a nest.
“I can’t get up,” laughed James. He was flailing his legs around trying to escape the chair. “It’s this stupid cast on my arm. I can’t get my balance.”
Sam’s ribs were now hurting with laughter, but she couldn’t get up to help because of her own legs, encased in plaster.
“Arrrgh” came the noise from the floor as James exhibited genuine frustration through his laughter. There was a cracking sound and, for a terrible moment, Sam feared that James had broken another bone. Instead he managed to pick himself up from the floor and struggle to his feet as the remains of his plaster cast hung uselessly from his body.
James steadied himself and looked at her like he’d just performed an escapology routine.
Before Sam could speak, Roger, Yvonne and Dr Okocha returned to the room and stood in the doorway with faces that, from left to right, comprised bemusement, concern and shock.
Dr Okocha strode over to James and tentatively checked his arm and collarbone.
“What happened here? What happened to your cast?”
James allowed the doctor to examine him. He was slightly surprised to realise that he wasn’t in any kind of pain or even discomfort. His mum fussed around him, while his dad watched with a thoughtful, slightly detached look.
“How is his arm, Doctor?” asked Roger Blake.
Dr Okocha looked sideways at Roger, as if catching some kind of hidden note in his voice.
“I’m not sure,” she murmured.
“Can you flex your arm, Son?” asked Roger.
James proceeded to wave his arm around. Dr Okocha stood back and looked at him, trying to mask the incredulity on her face.
She tackled James with a series of questions about his arm and asked him to attempt some simple exercises, all of which he performed effortlessly.
“It seems to be healed,” said Roger. He realised there was an unintentional note of pride in his voice. His wife caught it too and gave him a reproving look.
Dr Okocha had decided not to voice an opinion on this to the parents. Instead, she informed them that she was going to arrange for James to have an immediate X-ray to clarify his condition.
When she was gone, Roger told James to sit on the bed with his sister. Yvonne pulled a chair closer to her daughter. Roger closed the door so nobody would be able to eavesdrop.
“Your mother and I have something important to talk to you about,” said Roger, treading on a Malteser. He looked at his shoe irritably and had to ask Yvonne for a tissue to scrape it off his sole with.
“How come James’s arm has healed so quickly?” asked Sam. “I thought they said it would take weeks.”
“It should,” confirmed her dad. “Sweetheart, have you felt any... different, recently? Any... changes, in your body?”
“Aw Dad,” said Sam, flushing red.
“What your father means,” added her mum, stroking her hand, “is since the accident, have you felt any different, or has anything odd happened to you?”
Sam didn’t speak, but then she didn’t have to. Her eyes told them all they needed to know.
“We were sort of talking about this earlier,” James admitted, looking at Sam.
“Honey,” said Yvonne, looking at Sam. “I’m just going to take a look under your bandages.”
Yvonne had been a nurse for many years, until she left the profession when she had the twins. Sam let her expertly unwrap the bandages around her stomach. The doctors had warned her that there would be some scarring from the burns she had received and they had told her there was also a lot of bruising from the broken rib. Yvonne peeled back the last of the bandages and stood back so her husband and James could see. Sam herself managed to prop herself up on the bed so she could get a better look at her stomach. All of the bruises had gone. There were no burns. There were no marks of any kind. Her skin was flawless.
Chief Superintendent Harden and Detective Inspector Jennifer Stannard were marching towards Southall Ward to see Emma Venton. Stannard was trying to brief Harden on the way, but Harden was in a very bad mood and taking it out on her.
“You look terrible, Stannard. The last time I saw a face like that it was on a pirate flag. Did we interrupt your beauty sleep?”
“If I’d known you’d be here, Sir, I’d have made more effort,” said Stannard, who never took offence at anything Harden said.
Harden smiled. Stannard was good material. A very competent detective, easy to work with and totally reliable. At 5ft 11 she was an inch taller than him and with high heels on she dwarfed him. She was pretty, in a severe kind of way, but she was always happy to engage in comedic banter with him.
Stannard smiled inwardly. She knew she’d managed to take the edge off Harden’s bad mood. Like most bosses he needed careful managing. The incident with the news crew had left a black cloud hovering over his head. Stannard made sure that she’d got her biggest, most bad-tempered sergeant to eject the crew from the hospital. Harden would like that.
“I’ve been through the CCTV footage from last night. It happened exactly as James Blake said,” she reported. “You see the boy wandering down the corridor on his own; he tries to speak to the duty nurse on the desk and she ignores him. He looks up and sees something down the corridor, then three nurses pop out of another ward and bar his way. He manages to slip past them. It’s weird. Afterwards, the nurses just stand there for almost five minutes. Like they’re asleep. Then they just carry on with their work.”
“Have you spoken to them?”
Stannard nodded. “Yep. They swear they can’t remember. I believe them. They all seem like decent, normal people, who temporarily turned into zombies.”
“Yes, thank you, Stannard. Spare us the horror-movie stuff. What about the children who took Samantha Blake?”
“Sam Blake’s room isn’t covered by CCTV. Nor is the ward that the kids came from. But you do see the kids pushing her in her bed and she’s obviously screaming.”
“What the hell is going on here?” said Harden, angrily. “First the bomb, now this.”
“Proves you were right to be cautious about the children’s safety, Sir,” said Stannard.
Slightly mollified by the compliment, Harden nodded. But he was forced to acknowledge that this was not quite the scenario he had imagined.
“What about the Venton girl? Is she on the CCTV?”
Stannard shook her head.
“Doesn’t show up in the footage.”
“What’s her condition?”
“Awake, but seriously injured. Burns, broken limbs, some internal injuries. Bandaged up to the eyes, poor kid. I went and saw her earlier. She was in bed. Can’t see her going for a midnight stroll.”
“Maybe Samantha Blake dreamed that bit? Medication... trauma... she could easily have been having a nightmare. Still, we’d better check.”
They entered Southall Ward. There were six beds in the ward, three on either side of the room. Stannard pointed to the middle bed on the right-hand side of the ward. The curtains were drawn around it. A nurse looked up as they came in. She obviously recognised Stannard.
“Hello, Detective Inspector. Back to see Emma again?”
Stannard nodded and introduced Harden to the nurse. Her name was Susan Kelper.
“We’d like to talk to Emma, if that’s possible,” said Harden, politely. “Or is she receiving treatment?”
The nurse seemed momentarily confused.
“Excuse me?”
“The curtains,” prompted Harden, a little less politely. “Is Miss Venton receiving some treatment at the moment? I’d like to speak to her if at all possible, but I could come back later if it is more convenient.”
Nurse Kelper blinked. The poor cow has been working too hard, thought Harden. It’s amazing more nurses don’t have breakdowns.
Nurse Kelper looked at the curtains surrounding Emma’s bed.
“Um. Do you know, I can’t actually remember doing that? Excuse me.” She walked over to the curtains and looked through them. She stood motionless for almost a minute as she peered inside. Stannard and Harden exchanged glances. The nurse drew back the curtains. The bed was empty. Emma Venton was gone.