Nine Elms (Kate Marshall #1)(24)

Kate looked into her eyes and saw so much pain.

“Yes, I’ll help you,” she said.





10

Ninety miles outside London, Enid Conway arrived in a taxi outside Great Barwell Psychiatric Hospital. She gave the taxi driver the exact money—she didn’t believe in tipping—and slammed the door with more energy than her elderly looks belied. She was a small, thin, beady-eyed woman, with a helmet of jet-black hair and a hard face accentuated by heavy makeup. She wore a long houndstooth coat and had a pink Chanel handbag hooked over her shoulder. She took a moment to admire her reflection in the taxi window before it pulled away.

The hospital grounds backed onto a line of smart residential houses, and on the other side of the road there was a twenty-foot-high fence topped with razor wire. At the front gate there was a small visitors’ check-in building. Enid went to the window, where a hard-faced older woman sat behind a bank of television monitors.

“Morning, Shirley,” said Enid. “How are you?”

“This weather ain’t good for my joints,” said Shirley, holding out her hand.

“It’s the damp. You need to get yourself some thermals . . . I’m here to see Peter.”

“I need your visiting order,” she said, her hand still outstretched.

Enid put her new bag on the counter between them, making sure the metal embossed Chanel logo was facing Shirley, and she made a show of rummaging around inside. Shirley didn’t look impressed.

“Here you go,” she said, handing over the order. Shirley checked it, then pushed a visitor’s pass through the hatch. Enid slipped it into her coat pocket.

“You know the rules. All visitors must clip their visitor’s pass to their person.”

“This coat is brand-new, from Jaeger. You might not have heard of Jaeger, Shirley; it’s a very expensive brand,” said Enid.

“Clip it on your belt, then.”

Enid gave her a nasty smile and walked away.

“Someone’s come into some money. You can’t polish a turd, though,” Shirley muttered as Enid stalked up the driveway.

The hospital was a vast sprawl of Victorian redbrick buildings, with a new futuristic-looking visitors’ wing tacked onto the front. Enid came into the first security checkpoint and unbuttoned the coat.

“You one of the new ones?” she said to a small, skinny lad who waited by the airport-style scanner. He had a cross-eye on his left side and a shock of very thin black hair barely clinging on to his oversize head.

“Yeah. My first day,” he said nervously. He watched as Enid took off her coat, revealing smart slacks and a crisp white blouse. He held up a tray for her, and she took off her high heels, a gold bracelet, and earrings and placed them inside. She placed the Chanel bag and a carrier bag full of sweets in another tray. She went through the scanner, only for it to beep.

“Bloody hell. I’ve taken everything off. Surely you don’t need me to take out my bloody hearing aid?” she said, tilting her head to show it in her left ear.

“No, that’s fine. Have you got a metal plate in your head or any bones pinned? Sorry we have to ask.”

Enid glanced over at her things as they moved along the conveyor belt toward the X-ray machine. Through a hatch in the wall, she could see the control room, where two officers sat behind a bank of screens.

“No. It’s probably the underwire in my bra that set it off,” she said.

The conveyer belt had stopped, and the tray containing her Chanel bag and the carrier bag was going back through the scanner. Two officers in the control room were peering at the X-ray image, one pointing out something. She reached out and grabbed the young lad’s hand, pressing it to her breasts.

“Here! Check it, have a feel,” she said, raising her voice. He tried to pull away. She then moved his hand down and pushed his fingers between her legs.

“Madam! Please!” he cried.

“Can you feel that? That’s me, nothing but me,” she said, leaning her face close to his. She looked over at the control room and saw she had the officers’ attention. They were now staring with wry amusement. The tray with her bags continued through the scanner, and she released the young lad’s hand. The scanner beeped again as she went through.

“See. My underwire,” she said.

“Yes. That’s fine,” said the lad, his voice shaking. Enid collected her coat and bags and went to a thick glass door, giving the two older men in the control room a wink as she passed. After a moment, she was buzzed through the door and into a small square room with mirrored glass, where a sign read:

STAND WITH FEET APART

AND LOOK UP AT CAMERA

There was a yellow square painted on the floor containing faded footprints. She stood in the square and looked up at the camera. There was a faint whirring as the lens twitched and focused in on her. The door opposite beeped and popped open a few inches. This led through to another checkpoint, where her bag was searched again by a tall black officer, who Enid didn’t like. He then looked in the plastic bag and pulled out packets of sweets and chocolate.

“You know, I always bring in sweets for Peter,” she said as he looked at each packet of sweets. She was nervous that he might open one of the bags. “You think you’ve got X-ray eyes? They’ve been through the bloody scanner!” He gave her a look and nodded, waiting as she repacked the sweets into the carrier bag.