The Nurse (5 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Rachel - Today

“Are you the new neighbor?”

Turning to my left, I listen to the sound of footsteps coming closer.

“Sorry,” he continues, “I didn't mean to bother you. I just saw you sitting on the porch and I thought...”

His voice trails off.

“It's fine,” I tell him, realizing that since I'm wearing sunglasses, he might not even realize that I'm blind. I should take them off and let him see, but then he'll act differently toward me. I want to have a normal conversation, even if it only lasts for a few more seconds. After all, first impressions are important, and the whole blindness thing can wait. “I was just sitting here watching the world go past.”

Watching
the world go past? Listening to it, more like.

“I'm Aidan,” he says. He sounds young, and confident too. Happy. Relaxed. “I live next door with my mother. You might have seen me out in the driveway, tinkering with my bike.”

“My name's Rachel,” I tell him, wondering whether I can hide the fact that I'm blind for a little longer. Then again, what's the point? He'll find out soon enough. “Mum and I just moved in yesterday.”

“Cool.”

“And I'm...”

I pause.

How do I explain this? It's pathetic to keep the truth hidden, and I refuse to be pathetic.

“The glasses,” I continue, reaching up and tapping the bridge. “I guess maybe you figured out that I'm blind.”

“Oh. No, I didn't really...”

Again, his voice trails off.

“It's no big deal,” I continue. “I'm just waiting for my other senses to step up and take the strain, you know? I'm working on the whole Matt Murdock, Daredevil thing, but it's not been long enough yet. How long did it take him to get those super-senses, anyway? Am I just being impatient?”

I wait, hoping that he might laugh, but all I hear is the sound of a car passing.

“Are you still there?” I ask finally.

“Yeah! I just...”

“You've never met a blind girl before?”

“Oh, well... Yeah, I guess I have, I just...”

He seems embarrassed. Suddenly his confidence is gone, and perhaps his interest too. That's my fault. Whereas a moment ago he seemed keen to chat, now he just sounds awkward, as if he wants to leave. Hardly a shock. Even if he hasn't spotted the edges of my scars as they poke out from beneath the sunglasses, he probably thinks blind girls aren't much fun. I don't blame him at all.

“Are you still there?” I ask again.

“Yes! Absolutely!”

“So do you know anything about this house?” I ask, figuring that it might be best to change the subject. “Mum isn't really telling me much, but I'm getting the feeling that something might have happened here. I know there was a nurse who got into trouble for killing a patient, but there has to be more to the story than that.”

“Well...”

I wait, but now he seems uncomfortable.

“Are you sure you're still there?” I ask, hoping to make a little joke.

“Yes! Absolutely!!”

I force a smile. “Sorry, it's just hard to tell sometimes.”

“No, I was just...” He pauses. “Well, I mean, I guess you know about the whole Alice Bradshaw story, right?”

“The nurse who killed a kid?”

“There's a little more to it than that,” he continues, although he sounds pretty awkward. “I don't really know where to start, but it's kind of a local legend. Do you know about the stuff with her father?”

“What stuff with her father?”

“Well, it's pretty crazy. I mean, it all happened way before we moved here, so I don't know the details at all.”

“Please tell me it's something gross,” I continue. “Am I living in a haunted house? That'd be kinda cool, seeing as how I can't see anything. I'll just be able to hear all the spooky noises.”

“It's just... There was the whole thing where she went kinda crazy.”

“Go on.”

“I don't know the specifics, not exactly. Just what I heard.”

“Was she an ax-murderer?”

“It's more like she lived in the house with her father,” he explains, “and it was just the two of them, and he was pretty sick. I think they didn't have much contact with the rest of the world, at least not near the end of it all. Anyway, the story goes that she just, like, totally flipped one day and killed the old man. And her brother too, I think. And I think some other stuff went down too.”

“Did she kill them with an ax?”

“I don't know. I guess it's possible.”

“So two people were murdered in this house by a complete psycho?” I ask, unable to keep from smiling. “Seriously?”

“I don't know the exact details, but... I guess I could find out.”

“That'd be great,” I reply. “I
knew
Mum was keeping something from me. Maybe those Daredevil senses are starting to come online after all. I mean, I don't want to act like some kind of psychic, but I swear I could kind of feel something weird about the place. Like, I don't know, maybe when something really bad happens, somehow part of it gets left behind. Do you think that's possible?”

“Huh,” he mutters. “Well... Maybe.”

“And the house has been empty ever since?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I mean, we moved here a few years ago and no-one's lived in it until you guys showed up. I'd kind of gotten used to it looking so rundown. I work on my bike a lot, and sometimes I look over at this place but... Until yesterday, it just seemed to be totally abandoned.”

“I guess the landlord finally managed to get all the blood cleared up,” I mutter.

“Maybe it's something like that. Like I said, I'd have to check up on the details some time, but I could do that for you.”

I wait for him to continue, but now he's fallen silent.

“I'm still here,” he adds finally.

“We have soda and stuff in the fridge,” I tell him, worried that he might leave. After all, he's the first person I've spoken to for several weeks. Apart from Mum, obviously. She's great, but it
would
be nice to grab even five minutes with someone else.
Anyone
else. “I mean, if you want to hang out for a while...”

“Oh...”

Silence.

“Maybe some other time,” he continues, and now he sounds nervous, and more awkward than before. “Thanks for the offer, though. I just... I have to fix a few things on my bike.”

“No worries,” I reply, suddenly feeling dumb for having even asked. I mean, he sounds pretty hot and cool, so why the hell would he want to waste his time getting to know some stupid blind girl? I'm not being self-pitying; I'm just being realistic. “It was just an idea,” I tell him, “but I bet you've got stuff to do and places to be, right?”

“Kinda,” he mutters. “Um, so I should get going. I'll see you around, though. And if I find out anything else about the nurse who lived in your house, I'll definitely let you know.”

“That'd be great,” I reply, despite the fact that he's clearly just being polite. I'll probably never speak to him again. “Thank you.”

Once he's gone, I lean back and take a series of deep breaths. I can't believe I actually invited Aidan to come and hang out for a while. He must think I'm a complete idiot, but I guess for a moment there I kind of forgot that I don't have a chance. Still, it's going to take time for me to get used to how things are, and to remember that the rules are different for me now. I just hope I didn't scare Aidan off forever. After all, I could really,
really
use someone to talk to, someone apart from Mum. I guess I just let my desperation get the better of me for a moment.

“Dumb,” I whisper under my breath, as I realize that Aidan probably wants to avoid me now. “Dumb, dumb, dumb...”

Chapter Fourteen

Alice - Twenty years ago

“No, she'll be fine,” Malcolm is saying as I reach the door and look through into Father's room. “You know what kids are like. She just needs to adjust to a new school.”

“She's a good girl,” Father replies with a faint smile. “Tell her to stick up for herself, though. And make sure she knows that her Grandpa is proud of her. She's a smart kid. Maybe she'll even grow up to be a doctor, like you and Judy.”

Just as I'm about to step back and leave the two of them alone, a floorboard creaks beneath my right foot and they both turn to me. Immediately, Father's smile fades a little, as if he's disappointed that I've interrupted his time alone with my brother.

“What is it?” he asks. “What's wrong?”

“I just thought I'd see if you wanted more tea,” I reply, as the board creaks again.

Father peers into his cup, before holding it out toward me. “Might as well make yourself useful. But put more milk in this time.”

“How're things going, Sis?” Malcolm asks as I head over to take the cup. “Is the old bugger keeping you on your toes?”

I smile politely. If only he knew the half of it, but he only drops by for an hour once a week. I know he's busy, and that he has a career and a family to deal with, but at the same time it can be frustrating when he shows up and acts like everything's okay. He's not the one who has to clean Father's diaper, or change his bags, or deal with the many little problems that arise each and every day. And yet, Father is always so pleased to see him, whereas I'm treated like nothing more than an annoyance. Malcolm is a doctor, and I'm just a nurse.

“She should be a bricklayer,” Father mutters. “She doesn't exactly have a gentle touch.”

He lifts the duvet and then pulls his pajama top aside.

“See that bruise?” he asks. “That's what I get from her!”

I can't help sighing. “You were trying to -”

“Excuses!” he snaps, pulling the duvet back up. “More excuses!”

“Come on,” Malcolm continues, “I'm sure she's doing her best. You're not exactly an easy patient, Dad.”

“She'll probably end up giving me the wrong pills,” Father says with a sigh, “and finishing me off, just like she finished off that poor little boy. She sees him about the place, you know. The little shit haunts her!”

Malcolm smiles.

“I'll bring more tea,” I tell them, turning and heading to the door.

“Tell your brother!” Father calls after me. “Tell him how you see the kid's ghost!”

“Leave her alone, Dad,” Malcolm says, but I can tell he's amused.

“It's what she deserves,” Father continues. “After what she did to him...”

They're still chatting away as I make my way downstairs. My hands are trembling so much, the cups are rattling, but I know I have to stay strong. Still, there are tears in my eyes and by the time I get to the kitchen I feel as if I'm going to collapse. After setting the kettle on to boil, I sit at the kitchen table and listen to the muffled sound of voices from upstairs. I want to scream, but instead I force all the thoughts from my mind and focus on trying to find some scrap of inner peace.

Upstairs, Father and Malcolm are laughing.

Chapter Fifteen

Rachel - Today

“Are you still on the sofa?” Mum calls through from the kitchen, where she's making lunch.

“Yes!” I lie.

“I thought I heard you moving about, that's all.”

“Of course not,” I reply, reaching out and feeling my way along the wall. “I said I'd stay put, didn't I? So -”

Suddenly my hands bump against something that seems to have been left against the wall. I feel the edge, and it quickly becomes apparent that this is more than just another cabinet. Running my hands down the side, I discover that there's some kind of ledge on the front, and then I lift a small lid. Sure enough, my suspicions are confirmed when I feel a keyboard under my fingers.

As soon as I press down, a C# rings out through the house. It's a little out of tune, sure, but it's definitely supposed to be a C#.

“Rachel?”

I hear Mum running through, but I'm already hitting several other keys.

“What are you doing?” she asks, sounding a little worried. “I thought -”

“Since when do we have a piano?”

“Rachel -”

“We have a piano!” I continue, testing the keys as I try to remember
Heart and Soul
. I can barely believe that this is happening. “Seriously?”

“It was here when we moved in.”

“A piano?”

“It needs tuning.”

“No kidding. But when you said the place was fully furnished, I thought you meant tables and chairs, stuff like that. You never mentioned a piano.”

“I guess it never came up.”

I take a moment to pick out some more notes, and to my surprise I find that I can more or less make the damn thing sound pretty good. Lack of proper tuning notwithstanding, of course.

“Do you have to do that now?” Mum asks.

“It's like the one thing I
can
do right now,” I point out. “I can't believe you kept this from me. So, like, did it belong to the people who lived here before us?”

“I guess so.”

Reaching down, I find that there's even a stool. I ease myself into place, and then I start playing again.

“I didn't think you'd be interested,” Mum says after a moment. She sounds tense.

“I could practice,” I reply. “I could get good at this.”

“But -”

“Blind people can play the piano,” I continue. “Like, Stevie Wonder's blind, right? Maybe this could be my new calling.”

I play for a moment longer, and although I hit a few wrong notes, I'm surprised to find that I can actually pick out part of a tune. I have vague memories of having played a piano when I was much younger, and I guess the muscle memories are kicking in again.

“This is awesome,” I whisper, feeling a rush of enthusiasm as I realize that I've finally found a way to fill my long, dull days. “I can -”

“Stop!”

Suddenly Mum pulls my hands away, and I hear the lid bumping down.

“Why?” I ask. “Mum -”

“I have a headache,” she continues. “Please, Rachel, it's hopelessly out of tune. It sounds absolutely hideous.”

“So let's get it tuned!”

“Do you have any idea how much that would cost?”

“It's the one thing I want in all the world,” I tell her. “I won't ask for anything more, not ever, but I really want to learn to play the piano!”

I wait for a reply, but silence means she must at least be considering the idea.

“What would you rather I spend my days doing?” I ask. “Most parents would be overjoyed if their kid wanted to get into something like this.”

Again, I wait.

“Or I could just go find a gang,” I continue, “and start drinking on street corners. Then I could spiral into drugs, the soft stuff at first but eventually heroin and stuff like that, and I could go live in a crack house and end up turning tricks for money. It's a slippery slope.”

This time, when she doesn't answer, I open the lid and start gently hitting the keys again.

“What if I promise to only play it when you're at work?” I ask. “That way, it won't even bother you!”

“Rachel, let's just take things one step at a time,” she replies, and once again she sounds exhausted. “We've been here for pretty much exactly twenty-four hours. There's plenty of time to -”

Suddenly there's a loud bump from upstairs, followed by a couple more. I stop playing for a moment and instinctively look up, although obviously I can't see a goddamn thing.

“What was that?” I ask cautiously.

“I'm sure it was -”

“Nothing? As if. I heard the same thing last night, too.”

“Why didn't you -”

“Tell you? It didn't seem relevant. Just like you didn't tell me about the piano.”

I hit another note, and almost immediately there's another bump from above.

“Maybe the ghost doesn't like it when I play,” I suggest with a smile.

“What ghost?” she asks. “Never mind. Rachel, there's no ghost, but could you please knock it off with the piano playing for a moment? My head is splitting and I just need peace and quiet.”

“But I can play it when you're out, can't I?”

She sighs.

“Why do you care?” I ask. “If you're out, you won't even hear it. Therefore, it literally
can't
bother you, can it?”

I wait for her to reply, but she seems to have finally given up.

“Are you still here?” I say after a moment.

Silence.

“Did you leave the room without telling me?”

Again, silence.

“Huh. How rude.”

Reaching forward, I lift the lid again and place my fingers on the keys, before slowly starting to pick out some notes. It's kind of not that difficult to come up with a basic melody, although the piano is definitely out of tune, and after a few seconds I find myself wondering whether this could actually be something worth pursuing. After all, a blind pianist isn't exactly -

“That's enough!”

Suddenly Mum slams the lid down, hitting my fingers.

“Hey!” I shout. “I was only -”

“Come on, we're done here!”

Grabbing my arm, she forces me up from the stool. I could pull back and try to stay, but I'm a little too shocked. Mum has never been this forceful before.

“What's the big deal?” I ask.

“The big deal is that I told you to stop playing that thing, and you disobeyed me!”

“But I was -”

“And I'm not in the mood for you to start answering back!”

She leads me across the room and then through to the lounge, where she roughly shoves me onto the sofa. Something seems different about her suddenly, as if the piano set off some change in her demeanor.

“I'll make something for us to eat,” she snaps, her voice trembling with anger. Or is it shock? “Just wait here. Don't get up, Rachel. I mean it!”

“What's the problem?” I ask, but she's already heading out of the room. “Why are you getting so weird about a goddamn piano?”

A moment later, I hear her phone buzzing on the table, and I realize I'm probably going to be left alone again in the house tonight.

At least I'll be able to play the piano while she's out. It's not like she can stop me. Although why she'd even
want
to stop me is anyone's guess. Apparently I just opened up some kind of hornet's nest. Maybe she has some kind of hidden piano-related trauma from her childhood, and
that's
why she's acting so weird.

Honestly, I feel like I just saw a whole new side of her personality.

I open my mouth to ask her about the piano again, but suddenly I remember the sound I heard last night. Along with the banging, there was a piano, but that has to be a coincidence. A faint shiver runs up my spine, and I have to admit that for a moment I feel a little freaked out, although I quickly remind myself to stay rational. Besides, the piano in the living room is totally out of tune, whereas the music I heard last night was absolutely beautiful.

So it can't have been the same piano at all.