Upon A Dark Night Read online

  ‘When I saw you lying there, I thought you might be asleep. With all the homeless young people there are, you can come across them sleeping almost anywhere in broad daylight sometimes. Only when I got closer, it was obvious to me that you weren’t in a proper sleeping position. I can’t say why exactly, but it looked extremely uncomfortable. I thought you might be dead. I was profoundly relieved to discover that you were breathing.’

  ‘I suppose I was dumped there.’

  ‘That’s the way it looked.’

  ‘Thank God they left me here and not in the path of the cars where I could have been run over.’

  ‘Yes, it shows some concern for your safety,’ said Mrs Thornton.

  ‘And after you found me you came up to the ward and told someone?’

  ‘That’s right. The first person I saw was one of the nurses I know and she soon got organised. They’re very efficient here.’

  ‘What time was it?’

  ‘When I got help? Some time after seven for sure. At least ten minutes past. My bus gets in at five past the hour, which suits me perfectly. Visiting is open here, but they tell you they prefer you to come after the evening meal, which is from six to seven. I think most visitors co-operate.’

  Rose stood and stared at the place where she’d lain unconscious. ‘It’s fairly conspicuous.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘I mean, you’d think somebody else must have noticed, if people were driving in for the seven o’ clock visit.’

  ‘Well, you would,’ Mrs Thornton agreed.

  ‘I can only suppose I wasn’t there very long.’

  Mrs Thornton said, ‘Can we go back to the ward now? I don’t suppose David knows if I’m there or not, but I like to be with him and I don’t think there’s anything else I can tell you, my dear.’

  Rose couldn’t think of anything else to ask. She felt guilty she’d brought the old lady out here for so little result. ‘Of course. Let’s go back.’

  Mrs Thornton offered to let Rose walk ahead, allowing her to follow at her own slow pace, but Rose insisted on taking her arm. In the last few minutes the light had faded. ‘You want to be careful,’ Rose advised. She’d become fond of the old lady. ‘You won’t be all that easy to see in your dark clothes. They don’t all drive under the speed limit, especially if they’re late.’

  ‘Don’t I know it!’ said Mrs Thornton. ‘The other evening I was almost knocked down by some people in a white car just as I came through the main gate. I’d only just left the bus. I had to dodge out of the way like a bullfighter. Perhaps I was partly to blame for not being alert, but you don’t expect anyone to be driving so quickly in hospital grounds, unless it’s an ambulance.’

  ‘When was this?’ Rose asked eagerly.

  ‘Two or three nights ago.’

  ‘Could it have been the night you found me?’

  ‘Don’t ask. I come every evening,’ Mrs Thornton said with exasperating uncertainty.

  ‘Would you try and remember?’

  ‘One day is very like another to me.’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘Well, it certainly wasn’t last night, and I don’t think it was the night before, because I met someone on the bus who came in with me, the wife of one of the patients. It must have been Monday, mustn’t it?’

  ‘This white car. Was it coming into the hospital?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Mrs Thornton. ‘That was why I was caught off guard. The car was on the way out. You don’t expect a car to be leaving when everyone is arriving.’

  ‘You know why I’m asking?’ said Rose. ‘It may have been the car that brought me here. I can’t have been lying here very long, or someone else would have noticed me before you did. If this car was being driven away in a hurry, you may have seen the people who dumped me here. You did say there were some people in the car. More than just the driver.’

  ‘Well, I think so, my dear. I got the impression of a man and a woman.’

  ‘Anything you remember about them? Young? Middle-aged?’

  ‘My dear, everyone looks young to me. I think I’m right in saying that the man was thin on top – well, bald -so he was probably middle-aged. I didn’t see much of the woman, except to register that she was female. Dark-haired, I think. They simply raced through the gate and away. You could hear the car’s noise long after it vanished up the street. Do you know, it didn’t occur to me until this minute that they might have had something to do with you.’

  ‘Do you remember anything else about them? Or about the car? You said it was white. White all over?’

  ‘I think so. I’m sorry. A car is a car to me. I can’t tell you the make or anything and I certainly didn’t notice the number.’

  ‘Was it large? You mentioned the engine-note.’

  ‘I suppose it must have been.’

  ‘A sports car? Like, em…’ Rose cast around the rows of parked cars, ‘… like the green one over there, in shape, I mean?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. It was higher off the ground than that. More substantial, somehow.’ Now Mrs Thornton took stock. ‘Not particularly modern, but elegant. Have you ever seen Inspector Morse on television?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘His car-’

  ‘Yes! A Jag. Was it like that?’

  ‘No, dear. His car is red, isn’t it? Well, maroon.’

  ‘But the shape was similar?’

  ‘Not in the least. What I’m trying to say is that on the front of Inspector Morse’s car there’s a sort of emblem.’

  ‘The jaguar, yes.’

  ‘Well, this one had something mounted on the bonnet, but it wasn’t an animal.’

  ‘The figure of a woman?’

  ‘Oh, no. Definitely not a woman. A fish.’

  ‘A fish?’ Rose could think of no motor manufacturer who used a fish as a trademark. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘That’s what it appeared to be. I only caught a glimpse.’

  ‘What kind of fish?’

  ‘I’m sure I couldn’t tell you. I’m no expert on the subject. A fish is just a fish to me.’

  This was infuriating. ‘Like a shark? A dolphin?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Not so exotic as those.’

  ‘What colour?’

  ‘Silver, I fancy. But don’t hold me to that, will you?’

  ‘You couldn’t have confused it with something else?’

  ‘Quite possibly,’ Mrs Thornton blithely said. ‘I’m just an old woman who knows nothing at all about cars or fish.’

  ‘It’s so bloody frustrating, Ada,’ Rose told her companion on the way to the bus-stop. ‘There’s a fair chance that this white car was the one I was driven to the hospital in, but she can’t tell me anything about it except that she thinks it had a fish mounted on the bonnet. A fish.’

  ‘What’s wrong with that, petal? A fish on a car is pretty unusual.’

  ‘I’d say it is. Have you ever seen one?’

  ‘Since you ask, no.’

  ‘She’s very vague about it and she only caught a glimpse, anyway.’

  ‘Look on the bright side, ducky,’ said Ada. ‘Suppose she’d been a car expert and told you she saw a BMW five-series. You’d be no wiser, really. You could find hundreds of cars like that. If we can find a white car with a fish on it, we’re really getting warm.’

  Seven

  Back at the hostel a message was handed to Rose. She was to phone Dr Whitfield as soon as possible.

  ‘There you go,’ said Ada with a told-you-so smile. ‘Somebody cares. Just when you were saying that goddam hospital was only too pleased to be shot of you…’

  ‘You said that.’

  Rose used the payphone in the hall.

  ‘How are you?’ Dr Whitfield asked.

  ‘No different. There’s no change.’

  ‘All in good time. Listen, I don’t know if this is significant, but someone was asking after you this afternoon. A woman. She phoned the clinic. She wanted to know if you’d recovered consciousness.’
r />   Rose’s skin prickled. ‘Did she mention my name?’

  ‘No. She simply referred to you as the patient who was brought in unconscious on Monday evening.’

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘She didn’t identify herself. The call was taken by one of our least experienced staff, unfortunately.’

  Biting back the rebuke that was imminent, Rose asked, ‘What else was said?’

  ‘The girl at our end told her you’d been discharged and were being cared for by the social services.’

  ‘Did she tell this woman where to find me?’

  The doctor said in a shocked tone, ‘We wouldn’t do that, particularly without knowing who the call was from. I’m afraid all we can tell you is that the voice sounded local. There was some of the West Country in it. It’s odd that she didn’t leave her name. None of this makes any sense, I suppose?’

  ‘No sense at all,’ Rose said, incensed that such a chance had been allowed to slip.

  ‘The caller may well get on to the Social Services and trace you that way. I wanted you to be informed, just in case. How did you get on with Mrs Thornton?’

  She controlled herself enough to tell him about the white car with the fish emblem. He said he hadn’t any knowledge of such a vehicle.

  ‘I wouldn’t get too excited. Old people can get things wrong,’ he told her. ‘She could easily have made a mistake about the fish.’

  When Rose replaced the phone her hand was red from gripping it. Through someone’s incompetence a real chance had been lost. They should have traced that call. Dr Whitfield knew it and was covering up for the hospital. He was a right ruddy diplomat. How could she believe anything he said? All these promises about her memory being swiftly restored: how much were they worth from a man who told you what he thought you wanted to hear?

  Up in their room she told Ada about the call. ‘I want to strangle someone,’ she said finally.

  ‘Terrific,’ said Ada. ‘Just what I need to hear from the person I share my room with.’

  Rose couldn’t even raise a smile.

  Ada asked, ‘Who do you think she is, this woman who called the hospital?’

  ‘That’s the bind. I’ll never know, will I, unless she gets in touch again? She could be one of my family, or a friend, or someone I work with.’

  Ada shook her head. ‘Think it through, petal. How could your nearest and dearest know you were in the Hinton Clinic? The only people who know you were in there are those pillocks who dumped you in the car park.’

  Rose stared at her. Such was her anger that this simple point had not dawned on her.

  Ada continued, ‘It’s my belief that this call was from the woman Mrs Thornton saw, the dark-haired dame in the car. She and Mr thin-on-top have you on their conscience. They needed to find out if you were dead.’

  She had come to respect Ada’s logic. ‘You’re saying the call was from the people who knocked me down?’

  ‘Unless you can think of something better.’

  ‘Bloody hell, it’s so frustrating. And now they know I survived, will I hear from them?’

  ‘No chance. What does every motor insurance company advise you to do after an accident? Admit nothing.’

  Rose sank her face into her hands. ‘Oh, shit a brick. What’s to be done, Ada? Where do I turn for help?’

  ‘Don’t ask me,’ said Ada.

  She looked up. ‘You’re not giving up? I need your brain, Ada. Mine’s seized up completely.’

  ‘And I know why.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You haven’t eaten for hours. You can’t think any more on an empty stomach. Me, too. Why don’t we go down to Sainsbury’s and liberate some fillet steaks?’

  Rose stared at her in horror. ‘I can’t do that. I’m not a shoplifter.’

  Ada’s eyes glittered wickedly. ‘How do you know?’

  She stood as Ada’s lookout at the end of the chilled meat aisle, trying to give the impression she couldn’t decide between two portions of minced beef. She had one hand on a trolley containing two cartons of cereal and a bottle of lemonade. Her job was to keep watch for any member of the Sainsbury’s staff who happened to come by. She was supposed to distract them by asking where to find the maple syrup. This would compel them (customer relations having such a high priority at Sainsbury’s) to escort her to the far end of the store, leaving Ada to make a sharp exit at the other end of the aisle.

  Even Rose, without any experience of this kind of crime, could tell that the strategy was flawed. Big supermarkets like this employed store detectives who weren’t dressed in uniform. But then Ada had never claimed to be an efficient shoplifter. She grabbed two packs of meat and stuffed them inside her blouse while her accomplice watched, appalled. It was swiftly done and Rose could only suppose the extra bulges wouldn’t show.

  She wouldn’t fancy the steak.

  She had agreed to do this only from a sense of obligation. She felt she couldn’t refuse after Ada had supported her at the Hinton Clinic. There was no risk in being the lookout, Ada had insisted. Ada Shaftsbury had never ratted on a friend, and you had to believe she was speaking the truth.

  It was still nerve-racking, especially as Ada wasn’t content with two packs. She grabbed two more and moved to another aisle to scoop up some vegetables. Rose went too, squeezing the handle of the trolley to stop her hands from shaking.

  The plunder continued. Some loose runner beans and a number of courgettes went under the waistband of Ada’s skirt. The fit was so tight that there was no danger of them falling through. Next, she acquired a handful of tomatoes and dropped them into her cleavage.

  ‘Hello.’

  Rose jerked in alarm.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  She turned around guiltily. But the voice was only a child’s. A boy of about three, or perhaps a little older, in a Mickey Mouse T-shirt and blue shorts, was staring up at her.

  She swallowed hard and told him, ‘Just picking out some things.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘I haven’t decided.’

  ‘Are you going to buy some biscuits?’

  ‘I don’t expect so.’ She looked up and down the aisle. ‘Shouldn’t you be with your mummy?’

  ‘She’s over there.’ He pointed vaguely. She could have been any one of a dozen women waiting for service at the cold meat counter.

  ‘You don’t want to get lost,’ said Rose, wishing fervently that he would. She was supposed to be scouting for Ada, not humouring little boys. ‘Why don’t you go back to Mummy?’

  He said, ‘I like chocolate chip cookies. I like chocolate chip cookies best.’

  ‘There aren’t any here,’ said Rose. ‘This is fruit and vegetables here.’

  ‘They’re up there. Do you want me to show you?’

  ‘No. I’m too busy.’

  ‘They have got some here.’

  ‘Is that so?’ she responded without enthusiasm, still trying to keep Ada in sight.

  ‘You got me some on the train,’ said the child. ‘What?’ She frowned at him.

  ‘Chocolate chip cookies. You remember.’

  ‘On the train?’

  ‘Yes. For being a good boy.’

  Rose bent closer to his level. ‘What train?’

  ‘From Paddington. You remember, don’t you?’

  She glanced back. Ada was already moving towards the exit. The plan required Rose to go at once to the end of the aisle nearest the checkouts and create a diversion by dropping the lemonade bottle and smashing it while Ada made her escape. She should have started already. This couldn’t be delayed.

  She would be forced to leave the boy just as she was learning something vital.

  ‘There are cookies in this shop,’ he insisted. ‘I’ve seen them.’

  ‘What’s your name?’’ Jeremy.’

  Another glance. She dared not delay any longer. Ada depended on her. She was turning the corner at the end of the aisle.

  She started moving. ‘Jeremy what?’
r />   He muttered something.

  ‘Speak up.’

  ‘Parker.’

  Or was it Barker he said?

  She couldn’t wait to find out. She didn’t want Ada to be arrested. She fairly raced towards the checkouts, fumbled in the trolley, pulled out the lemonade and let it drop. The bottle shattered. Splinters of glass slid across the floor in a pool of sticky lemonade.

  ‘Oh, God!’ said Rose with absolute conviction. One of the supervisors was at her side almost at once to tell her it was no problem.

  ‘I’m so sorry. It slipped out of my hand. Of course I’ll pay,’ Rose offered.

  With the minimum of fuss the area was roped off and the glass swept up. She joined a queue. She looked along the length of the checkouts for Jeremy Barker (or Parker) and his mother. They were either still touring the shop, or they had slipped out. Rose decided not to linger. It was too dangerous. She paid for the few items she had, and left. Ada would be waiting for her in Green Park.

  Ada liked her steaks cooked medium rare and she stood in the kitchen doorway to make sure Rose didn’t leave them too long under the grill.

  ‘They’d better be tender after all this trouble,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t complain to me if they’re not.’

  Ada laughed heartily. ‘Can’t complain to Sainsbury’s, either.’

  While the cooking was going on, Rose gave Ada a less frantic account of what the boy Jeremy had said.

  ‘Just a kid,’ Ada said thoughtfully. ‘How small did you say?’

  ‘Under school age.’

  ‘Three? Four?’

  ‘Four, I’d guess.’

  ‘You’re wondering if you can rely on a little scrap like that? They’re just as good at recognising someone as a grown-up is.’

  ‘He was a bright little boy. I think he was sure he knew me,’ said Rose.

  ‘As someone who gave him chocolate chip cookies on a train?’

  ‘From Paddington, he said. He had plenty of time to get a look at me. You’re right, Ada. Kids are just as observant as grown-ups. More so, if they think they can get something out of them.’