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

‘Hello, DI Greenwood.’

‘Good morning, Mr Hazel. Just to let you know that you are now free to go and visit Rose Marlowe. Although as I’m sure you’re aware, she will not be in prison for much longer.’

‘It would seem so. Miles Marlowe came forward?’

‘I think you know that, Mr Hazel. He did, and he has been arrested. He’s in custody. I am sure Rose will fill you in when you see her.’

‘How is Rose?’

‘I saw her this morning. She is devastated.’

‘What have the Deanes said?’

‘I can’t discuss that with you. I’m only calling you now out of courtesy.’ Silence. ‘I appreciate your information.’

And with that, DI Alison Greenwood disconnects.

58

Rose

10 May 2016

It’s Cathy I seek out after Alison Greenwood’s visit. My head throbs and hammers and focus in both eyes is affected as I make my way to her cell, and I wonder if it’s the result of Alison’s news, or my illness, or a toxic composition of both.

A son. I had a son.

Alison’s words, although confirming my darkest suspicion, have nevertheless still eviscerated me. My insides have been ripped apart and laid out in separate mental and physical spaces. I didn’t think things could get any worse, because deep down I hoped beyond hope that my intuition on the day Abe died was wrong. I remember my question to Cathy. Did she know that things could get worse? Did she somehow know that Abe was my son? My mind revisits that day at Queen’s Hospital, but I can’t stay there long. I knew. Afterwards. After Abe died.

Alison sat on my bed as I vomited into the small sink in my cell. She handed me a handkerchief from her handbag and did not avert her eyes from mine. I admired that. I admire Alison Greenwood. She did her job, asking me why I’d lied and admitted to a murder I had not committed. She is patient but also astute. There was nothing she could say to me, and she didn’t even try, telling me what she had to and only mentioning Theo’s ex-wife and stepchildren to encourage me to talk. I couldn’t talk, though; I don’t want too many questions, too many obstacles. I don’t want to muddy the waters.

That day in the unit is so fragmented within my mind now, I’m unsure what really happened. I could not tell the detective the entire truth because I’m not sure of that truth.

Ed Madden. Daniel Deane. His wife’s name I cannot say, even inside my head.

I’m nearly at Cathy’s cell door. It’s free association time, although I know that even if it hadn’t been, the custody officers would still have let me visit Cathy in her cell. They are giving me a lot of latitude. The other prisoners are too. The grapevine in here is breath-taking. God knows how any of them know, but I can see by their dipped looks and their lack of eye contact that they do.

I am broken, and my devastation is so visceral it is impossible to comfort me. So no one tries, as if they have taken their cue from Alison. My horror and isolation will surround me forever. But despite the blackness, because of Mia and, I admit, Theo too, I must now seek treatment. If it’s not too late. I must give Theo the key, but despite what I feel about him, I am unsure. Can I tell him?

I nudge open Cathy’s door.

She’s sitting on her bed, her expression as it always is. Until she looks up and sees me, and then, for the first time since knowing her, I see what I decipher as seamless sympathy etched onto her extraordinarily pretty face. She lies down and pats the bed. I lie down too, my feet at her head, her feet at mine. Top-and-tailing.

‘I’m so sorry, Rose.’

I don’t answer. I find her foot and stroke the smooth skin around her ankle.

And then she tells me that she loves her children still, and loved the daughter who died.

‘I can’t explain, Rose,’ she says, ‘but I hope just a little bit of you can understand some of me.’

I think I can. She’s never spoken so lucidly, and I know it’s just this one time. But it’s enough yarn for me to weave a more three-dimensional picture of Cathy on my mental loom, and I know I can ask her.

I tell her what I need. ‘Will you do this for me? Will you write a story for Theo?’

She nods.

We lie in silence. My friend is a detached entity, and for a short time on the high dependency unit, alone with Abe, I was a separate entity too. Cathy’s moral compass is absent, although her self-awareness is honed enough to at least recognise this fact. And I question whether I am more like Cathy than I want to admit.

After free association, I’m booked in to see Don. I don’t want to see him, but the director insisted, plus my barrister suggested it was a good thing to do. I am to leave this place soon. It’s Miles who will be putting up my bail.

Don is Don, delving but knowing he’ll get nowhere. It’s a short session. I wonder if he will be speaking to Miles; if he works in other prison institutions. I’ve never asked him what he does the two days he’s not here. Miles will not talk to someone like Don.

My husband was allowed to see me directly after Alison Greenwood’s visit; I think they planned it that way. We didn’t have to meet in the visits hall and were allowed to speak in my cell. He held me and I sensed he was trying not to cry. He never wanted me to be in here. I foresee that this is the part of the story that will be hardest for Theo to grapple with: Miles’s easy acquiescence to my plan, and the reason for that acquiescence.

After Miles left, I cried. The first time I’d cried so hard