Enemy at the Window
A.J. Waines
Contents
Also By A.J. Waines
Untitled
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
About the Author
Copyright © 2019 A.J. Waines
The right of A.J. Waines to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2019 by Bloodhound Books
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
www.bloodhoundbooks.com
Also By A.J. Waines
Standalones:
The Evil Beneath
Girl on a Train
Dark Place to Hide
No Longer Safe
Don’t you Dare
The Samantha Willerby Mystery Series:
Inside the Whispers
Lost in the Lake
Perfect Bones
Writing as Alison Waines:
The Self-Esteem Journal
Making Relationships Work
‘No more tears now; I will think upon revenge.’
Mary, Queen of Scots
Chapter 1
15 February 2018
When Sophie opened her eyes everything was wrong. Someone had tucked her into bed, but it wasn’t hers. She wasn’t in the right place. This wasn’t home.
The last thing she remembered was the sound of a police siren. Someone further up the street must have had an accident or maybe it was coming from the television. She wasn’t sure. Before that, the childminder had let herself in and was holding her phone, looking horror-stricken. Then there had been a woman wearing green pulling at her arm. She looked like she’d just hopped out of a helicopter or been sky-diving.
What was Daniel doing lying there on the floor under the kitchen table like he’d fallen asleep? And who had spilt all the red paint?
She needed to get out of here; to start clearing it all up.
She struggled against the crisp white sheets. They were too tight. As if she was strapped down. Looking over to her right there was another bed, and then another next to that. Wait a minute – there are other people here. What’s going on?
The curtain on her left was pulled aside; the rings rattling along the pole like coins spilling from a fruit machine. A woman dressed in a blue uniform looked down on her.
‘How are you, Sophie?’
‘Where am I?’
The nurse smiled and held Sophie’s wrist as she focused on her watch. ‘Do I know you?’
Sophie read the name ‘Rose’ on her name tag, but it didn’t mean anything to her.
‘You’re in hospital – you’re safe.’
Rose leant over to plump up her pillows and Sophie flinched. ‘Don’t worry… no one is going to hurt you.’
‘This isn’t right. I’m not…’
‘Rest for now. There’s some juice on the table if you want it.’
Sophie narrowed her eyes. There was a persistent throbbing sound. Too loud. Trapped inside her head. Clanging and banging. She jerked from side to side to try to find the source. They’re trying to electrocute me. They’re trying to kill me. Her bones felt like they were on fire beneath her skin. She called out.
‘Help… help me!’
The same nurse returned to her side, looking inconvenienced.
‘What’s the matter?’ she said, her hands on her hips.
‘That noise? What are you doing to me?’
The nurse glanced at something above Sophie’s head and gave her the kind of smile reserved for someone who has already made too many claims on one’s patience.
‘It’s your heartbeat,’ she said. ‘It’s nothing to worry about.’
‘My heartbeat?’
‘Yes. You’re hearing the blood pumping inside your head, that’s all. It’s normal.’ The nurse turned, her soft soles squeaking on the linoleum.
It was starting to become clear. Daniel had told lies to make these people keep her here, so he could shack up with that slut he’s been seeing behind her back. She tried to rear up again, but her head hurt and things started to swim out of focus.
Her body shook uncontrollably and a burning sweat encased her, followed by a chill that made her teeth rattle. Oh God, I’m dying.
For a moment she wondered if she was in fact already dead and her body was making its journey towards an everlasting black hole. She tried to call out again, but nothing happened. No sound came out. She was locked inside the tomb of her own body. Then suddenly, as if a switch in her brain clicked off, she started to drift into a hazy calm.
Don’t panic… it’s only a dream… you’ll wake up in a minute.
Chapter 2
Only it wasn’t a dream. When she woke again the room was lighter and there were more nurses busying about. Sophie had no idea what day it was or how long she’d been there, but at least the banging in her head had calmed down.
Her mind now felt like a vast expansive landscape, with fluffy clouds and misty mountain tops filling up the space. It was as if someone was playing a children’s Disney cartoon inside her brain; serene, gentle, sweet
.
Then she heard a woman beside her moan and she shook herself back to reality. She was in bed, in a ward somewhere, with no idea what had happened or what was wrong with her. Had she been taken ill? Had she been involved in an accident?
‘Nurse, nurse…’
A face she hadn’t seen before came to her bedside. ‘Why am I here? What’s happened?’
‘You’ll see the psychiatrist soon. He’ll explain everything.’
The nurse had gone before Sophie could take in what she’d said. Psychiatrist? Why would I need a psychiatrist? Aren’t they meant for deranged people?
She tried to sit a little higher in the bed to see more of what was going on around her. The mound under the bedclothes next to her was writhing, buckling the sheets, bubbles forming at her mouth. Another figure was curled up in a foetal position, another crying out, using words that were unintelligible.
I’m in a ward with crazy people. There must be some terrible mistake.
Then she remembered what the nurse had just said to her. He’ll explain everything – the psychiatrist will explain everything. So there was an ‘everything’ was there? What did that mean? Everything. She repeated the word under her breath, saying it over and over as if her saying it enough times would reveal its secret. But nothing came into her head – it was blank, floating. Empty.
She started to panic. What has happened? I need to know. I can’t remember. She called out, but no one came. Nurses went by, but none bothered to stop. She huddled under the covers, her fingers in her mouth, frightened, alone. Waiting.
Sophie dragged herself into a slumped sitting position when a man in a white coat came to her side. He shone a light into her eyes, asked her to follow the path of his finger, then pressed and prodded her as if she was an avocado at a market he was thinking of buying.
‘What’s happened? What am I doing here?’ Her mouth was dry. She was fighting to make the words come out in the right order.
‘Don’t distress yourself. Try to get some sleep.’
Sleep?!
‘I need to know what’s going on. I can’t sleep!’
The doctor turned away and was gone.
What is wrong with these people? Why can’t I get a straight answer?
She drifted in and out of a shallow unsatisfactory doze until a few hours later, when Rose came to help her out of bed.
‘Can you walk or do you need a wheelchair?’
Sophie got unsteadily to her feet, determined to walk. It took her an age to get her arms into the sleeves of her dressing gown and while she struggled, the nurse gathered her things together. It took Sophie that long for her brain to grasp that she was leaving the ward and being taken somewhere else. Her heartbeat was thudding inside her ears again. Someone must have come to take her home. Thank you, thank you!
After they’d traipsed along several corridors it became clear that they were burrowing deeper into the heart of the hospital, not making their way towards an exit.
‘Where are you taking me? What’s going on?’
‘You’ve been under observation for a while. Now we need to take you to a new unit where you can get better,’ said Rose.
‘Get better? I don’t understand. I want to go home.’ Her legs felt like they were made of paper; every step was like wading through jelly.
Entering a large room, she saw other women sitting in high-backed chairs staring vacantly out of the window. It was like an old people’s home except not one of them had grey hair. Rose indicated an armchair by the window and helped Sophie to sit on the edge of the seat. She shivered. The place stank of urine; it seemed to be embedded in the carpet and in the cushions.
‘You’re not leaving me here…’ cried Sophie.
A drawn out moan behind them was punctuated by jolly chatter from a game show on the television.
‘Someone will come for you in a minute,’ replied Rose. ‘You won’t be on the ward any more – it’ll be much better.’
Sophie blinked and when she looked up a new stranger had appeared, holding out her arms ready to lift her to her feet again.
When Sophie reached her room it was already occupied by a younger mixed-race woman, who had hair cropped so short that patches of her scalp showed through. Her skinny arms were a blue tangle of serpent tattoos. She watched Sophie furtively from her bed.
‘Shareen, this is your new room-mate, Sophie,’ said the nurse.
‘Welcome to hell, darlin’,’ said Shareen with a leering grin. She looked down. ‘Nice bag.’
Sophie thought she looked like a ‘Shareen’; her name falling somewhere in that working class wasteland between Sharon and Eileen. Then she cursed herself for being so mean.
Rose pointed out the shower and toilet in the connecting cubicle. There was a case on the second bed.
‘Someone brought some things in for you,’ said the nurse. ‘It’s locked so you can’t unpack just yet,’ she added, before pulling the door closed.
Sophie hovered over the case, trying to ignore the figure behind her. She then realised that keeping her back turned wasn’t going to be possible in this narrow space for long. She turned round and sat down on the mattress. It was all wrong. Shareen looked like she’d come straight from cardboard city under Waterloo station. What am I doing in a room with this… down and out?
Shareen was picking her toenails. ‘What you in for?’
‘I’ve no idea. There must have been a mistake.’ The top blanket was coarse under her fingertips. She still had no sense of how long she’d been there or why she’d been dumped there in the first place. She didn’t feel safe. This had to be Daniel’s idea – to get her out of the way. So he could be with that… bitch.
‘You’re posh. They’re gonna eat you up alive when you get to prison.’
Sophie shot upright. ‘Prison?’ she yelped, almost choking on the word. ‘I’m not going to prison. I told you. There’s been some dreadful mix-up.’
Shareen snorted.
Sophie noticed a pair of socks floating in water in the sink.
‘Why are you here?’ she asked.
‘My dad’s flat caught fire and the corner shop where I worked went up. And other places… got burnt down.’ She was now checking her fingernails and sounded like she was describing a boring weekend. ‘Some people died.’
Sophie’s mouth fell open and she tried to hide a shudder. Why have they put me here… with this crazy lunatic? She glanced at her suitcase and imagined all her designer clothes going up in flames, the room filling with choking smoke.
‘I haven’t done it for a while, so don’t worry,’ Shareen added.
Clusters of posters and photographs were stuck to the wall above Shareen’s bed with sticky tape. ‘How long have you been here?’ Sophie asked.
‘Dunno. I’ve been here and in prison and back in here again.’ She turned her wrists towards Sophie, exposing the criss-crossing of old and recent scars that were competing with the swirls of her tattoos. ‘I do… other stuff, as well.’
Sophie felt her head begin to spin and leant back against the wall as Shareen continued, ‘It’s not bad in here, though. You can play pool. I’ll give you a game.’
‘What day is it?’ said Sophie.
‘You have been on a blinder, sugar,’ said Shareen. ‘It’s Friday, February the sixteenth. That’s 2018, in case you’re wondering.’
Sophie tried to backtrack to the time before she found herself here. There had been some kind of incident in the street near the house. Daniel had been lying on the floor in the kitchen. She knew that much. But linking up the events with what was happening now was impossible. It was like looking out over a sea of fog. There were swirling shapes, faces, people in white coats, but no sense of time passing and no solid memories. Then she felt something tugging inside her mind, trying to get through; something important.
‘Ben! Where’s Ben?’ she said, clawing her way to the edge of the bed. ‘Where’s my son?’
Oh my God – why hadn’t I thought of him sooner? H
as something happened to him? Is he hurt?
Shareen shrugged. ‘Dunno, darlin’. He’s not in here, that’s for sure.’
Sophie put her hand over her open mouth.
‘He needs me. He’s only three and a half. He needs to know where I am.’ She began pacing up and down, turning every three steps because the space was so small.
‘Sit down, you’re giving me a headache.’
‘I don’t know why I’m here.’
Shareen laughed. ‘It must be something bad. They don’t put you in here for minor offences.’
She tossed the final word around in her mouth.
‘Offences? What do you mean?’
‘You really have been out of it, sunshine. This, here, is a secure psychiatric unit.’ She sniffed loudly. ‘You’re here because you’re too nuts to go to prison. This is rehab, sugar. You must have heard of that.’