The Nurse by J. Corrigan (list of ebook readers txt) 📕

the States, he made it his mission to find out more about his condition, which had become less severe and more manageable as he got older. He would never have been a top athlete, but he was stable, and probably healthier than most.

Theo swivels around in his chair, wipes his blackboard clean, and writes in pink chalk.

Ed, Rose, Abe

What is the connection? Daniel Deane

What did Bella want to tell Rose?

What does Hugo know?

Taking a swig of tea, he opens up a Word document. He has a creative writing class at the prison in the morning and is seeing Rose immediately afterwards. He loses himself in preparing, but eventually his mind jerks back to her. Her life, and Abe’s, is embedded beneath his skin.

He wolfs down three slices of cheese on toast doused in Worcester sauce, then goes to the bathroom, which still has three boxes piled up in the corner, taking up at least a quarter of the floor space. Once he has brushed his teeth, he makes his way back to his study, where his mobile is alerting to him to a text from Sophie.

Hope your new project’s going well. Think about our offer. You gave me everything when we divorced. X

He did give her everything. Because he had no wish to keep any of it. Does he regret it? No, he does not. Money, possessions mean nothing to him, never have, never will. His mind flips to Marion Trahern, and Daniel Deane. Yep, he’s a different creature to Marion and, he thinks, Daniel too.

To them, he suspects, money means everything.

36

26 April 2016

Theo leaves his flat at 7 a.m. to get to Peterborough prison for his 11 a.m. class. He stops off at a service station halfway to fill up with petrol.

In the shop, he uses the wrong credit card. It’s declined. The woman behind the counter is staring at him with a vacant expression. As he fumbles inside his wallet for credit card number three, he feels an awkward lopsided smile form on his face. Finally he manages to pay.

‘You need a VAT receipt?’ she asks, her expression not cracking a fraction.

He nods, hoping he looks like a man who pays VAT.

Less than two hours later, after driving through incessant bulbs of rain for the entire journey, he arrives at the prison. Finally knowing the routine, he sails through security, but not before witnessing the confiscation of a folder containing a wad of innocuous-looking blank paper. He watches the security officer ripping a piece off and putting it in his mouth. The officer grimaces. Theo guesses that it’s permeated with either spice or LSD.

Another officer says to him, ‘Mr Hazel, you’re in the canteen today for the class. Then at two, I have you down for a visit to Rose Marlowe.’

‘That’s right. The canteen?’

‘There’s no other room available. The staff have promised they’ll be quiet, but they’ll have to turf you out around twelve thirty to be able to serve the lovely fare.’ He grins.

Theo nods, knowing there’s no point in arguing. He’d better get a move on.

When he arrives, a kitchen worker is silently setting up the serving station. She inclines her head towards him and puts a finger to her lips, indicating that she’ll try to keep the noise down. He smiles at her.

A group of women are already sitting around a large table. Everyone from his first session is here, and he notices a couple of new faces too. He ensures that his smile encompasses every one of them, remembering the writing course he signed up for when finally, more years ago than he wants to acknowledge, he decided to ditch journalism to write books. The tutor who ran the course seemed to get great satisfaction from playing off each desperate student against the others. Theo hated that course, a waste of a good grand, and at a time when he and Sophie needed the money. Elliot had only been four. Sophie’s income wasn’t supporting them, and Theo had just given up his day job. Bad move.

‘Ladies, good to see you all again, and some new faces too.’

He moves towards the table and heads to sit next to Cathy. She was in his first class and he tagged her as the natural leader. A good-looking woman in her late twenties with a mane of jet-black hair – not dyed, no roots – who’s been in here three years. She pulls out a chair for him. Theo retrieves her crime from his memory bank. She abandoned her three children for a four-week holiday in southern France. Her youngest child, who was only four, died whilst she was away – an underlying heart condition that Cathy knew nothing about. Her opening piece of creative writing in that first class was an excellent one thousand words on the death of her child, and the architecture of a rural village in France.

Theo likes Cathy, but she is utterly without remorse for what she did, or didn’t do. There’s something missing inside her brain that means she has no sense of right and wrong. And yet she’s able to write quite beautiful prose. This has given him a lot to think about when he isn’t thinking about Rose.

‘What’s on the cards today, Theo?’ Cathy asks.

‘Yeah,’ says the woman sitting next to her. She’s small, anxious-looking. Thin grey hair but with skin texture that tells him she’s only in her thirties. Theo can’t remember her name, but she was at the last session too. ‘We all going to start writing a novel today?’ she says a little too loudly.

‘Sorry, remind me of your name?’ he asks her.

Her narrow face falls into an expression of disappointment, and Theo hates himself.

‘Emma,’ she replies in a tone that reflects her hurt.

‘I have a terrible memory for names, Emma, but a great one for faces. You were in the last session. I liked your work, I remember it.’

She gives him a dazzling smile and he tries not to notice the missing incisor on her