Cath Staincliffe - Go Not Gently

‘They won’t swallow that,’ he scoffed.

‘Ken, I don’t know what to do.’ The fight had gone from her. ‘I’m scared, come home-’

He cut her off. He took another of his tablets. Then he thumped the steering wheel several times.

At last we reached the main road. He swung on to it, accelerated too fast and had to brake sharply to avoid a cyclist. ‘Get off the fucking road,’ he cursed. The phone bleeped again, he poked it.

‘Ken,’ she pleaded, ‘don’t be like this.’

‘Don’t be like this.’ His mimicry was savage.

‘You used me,’ she complained.

‘Hah!’ he snorted. ‘That’s rich. I used you. You were up to your eyeballs in it, darling, and don’t pretend you weren’t. You could see Malden’s up there with the big boys, couldn’t you? Patents left, right and centre. When we found the lesions on this last one you were over the bloody moon. You couldn’t wait to get your hands on those tissue samples.’ He swerved violently again to avoid a bollard and fell back behind a bus. ‘Couldn’t wait to get those under your microscope, could you? Well, it’s all over now, sweetie -just when we seemed to be getting somewhere, finito.’ He cut her off again, gunned the engine and overtook the bus. He caught the wing mirror on the orange and white paint, it bounced back but didn’t shatter. I could see Agnes’ hand, white knuckles gripping the edge of her seat.

I was uncomfortably aware that we’d been privy to the conversation, as if he didn’t care, as if we’d never get the chance to tell anyone about it. I tried to steady my breathing. The worst thing of all would be to panic.

The hospital entrance was in sight. He parked in a reserved bay in the car park near to the entrance. ‘You,’ he turned to face me, ‘you walk beside us. I’ll keep this handy.’ He showed the knife. Would he have the guts to use it? He had a temper, all right, and he’d not hesitated to smack my head against the door, but would he stab Agnes? It wouldn’t be that easy through her clothes. I didn’t dare call his bluff yet but it might come to that.

He manoeuvred Agnes in front of him, then let me out. I shivered. I’d been sweating in the car and the cool air chilled me. We went straight in the main entrance, past a security guard who was enjoying a joke with a cleaner. I was praying that our awkward gait and the aura of fear around us might provoke some interest. Nothing. This guard was not the intuitive type. I could sense trouble before I saw or heard it, pheromones, sixth sense whatever. I thought it was a fairly universal trait. Obviously it hadn’t been on his job description.

‘Excuse me,’ I called out at exactly the same moment as the two of them erupted with laughter. My voice went unheard. Goulden grabbed my wrist and thrust the knife point into Agnes’ clothing. She stiffened.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘Please, don’t hurt her.’

Surely we’d meet other people on our way. I was taut with anticipation, waiting for another opportunity. The corridor, so busy by day, echoed with emptiness.

I cast my eyes up to anything resembling a security camera as we made our way down the corridor. Careful to move only my eyes, not my head, so as not to alert Goulden. I tried to reproduce in my eyes the fear that was ricocheting round my belly. Was anyone watching? Were they actually cameras? Was I staring petrified at nothing more than ventilation ducts and junction boxes?

We left the main corridor, turning just past a mosaic depicting a fountain, and headed through some double doors, then another set, into a sort of lobby, low chairs around a table, doors at the far end.

Goulden stopped abruptly at one of the doors. ‘Mr Simcock, FRCS’ the sign said. He opened the door and snapped on the light. So much for hospital security.

‘In here.’ He directed Agnes to the far side of the room beyond the large desk. I hovered at the doorway, glancing left and right, memorising the surroundings. ‘And you,’ he snapped. I stepped into the room.

‘Shut the door.’

He picked up the phone on the desk and got through to someone, identified himself and asked whether Mr Simcock were still in the hospital. The reply riled him. ‘In theatre? When will he be through?.. Well, how long has he been in there? Listen, as soon as he’s through I need to see him, matter of urgency. I’m in his rooms. Make sure he gets the message, will you?’ They must have agreed, Goulden grunted thanks and replaced the receiver.

‘Sit down,’ he said to Agnes, pointed at a chair with the knife. Began to dial again.

I was trying to recall the layout outside the room. The lobby with its waiting area had been two sets of double doors from the main corridor. The other way I’d seen another set of swing doors and a fire exit sign. Off the lobby were three or four doors, probably leading to small rooms like this, all on the same side. The best chance would be to head back for the main corridor where there were more likely to be people about. If we went in two different directions Goulden wouldn’t know who to chase. But he still had the knife. He was leaning, half sitting on the desk now and pressing the blade of the knife against the edge, cutting little lines in the wood.

I looked over at Agnes and smiled, be brave. She returned a small smile.

‘Douglas? Ken. I’m at the hospital waiting for Matthew. Listen, Angela’s had the police over. They’ve found out about the medication…Eh?…Yes, she died yesterday. Bloody bad luck…No, it was pneumonia, nothing to do with the experiment. But the coroner’s requesting a post mortem. I rang pathology earlier to see when we could collect and they’ve been told not to release anything. You better get yourself over here…’

He’d sounded fairly collected so far but Douglas obviously wasn’t playing ball. ‘Lay low? Christ, they won’t leave it now, you know…I don’t know what it might “accomplish”, maybe bugger all.’

I caught Agnes’ attention and with tiny movements of my eyes, fingers and head tried to brief her – you that way, me this. She nodded slowly once. She was game. Now all we needed was a chance.

Disgusted, Goulden began to barrack his brother-in-law. He slid off the desk – it was easier to argue standing up.

‘You were more than willing to use the Unit. You supervised the medication there, referred them for scans, lined them up for Matthew. Don’t play the innocent. You’re up to your ears in this shit, Douglas, and we’re all going down together…Of course I can’t pull the bloody records…If you get your arse over here maybe between us we can try a bit of damage limitation.’ Douglas Montgomery’s reply didn’t please him. He broke the connection. He paced round between Agnes and the window, still keeping an eye on me.

As he turned back and stepped behind the desk I mouthed to Agnes, ‘Now!’ She was up and out of the chair swiftly. As she moved to the right I lunged for the desk, tipping it right over on to Goulden. I didn’t wait to see where he ended up. I scarpered. There was an almighty crash, followed by a roar of outrage. Agnes was heading back towards the main corridor. I went the other way, through the double doors to the fire exit. At the end of the short passageway there was a plain door to the left and the fire door to the right. I hit the bar hard, it shook but the door didn’t open. I hit again with the heels of both my hands. It flew open and I lurched forward. There was a rush of cold, damp air, the smell of wet tarmac.

Agnes screamed. My belly jolted in fear. I ran back the way I’d come. Goulden was yanking her back into the office, one arm round her, under her arms, knife in the other fist, kicking at her legs as if she were a life-size puppet.