Read sample Ward Zero

Prologue

He stared across the table in the crowded restaurant and his mouth went dry. Sarah. She was so lovely, smiling at him with shiny blonde hair just tipping her shoulders, and her blouse an exact match for the blue of her eyes. And now he would have to kill her too. It was too much to bear.

He reached for his glass, fighting to keep the ‘I’m having the greatest time ever’ expression fixed on his face. But her last remark had confirmed it – she knew way too much. And he, idiot that he was, had just made a monumental mistake. Sarah was concentrating on her fritters; she hadn’t realised the significance of what he’d just said. But she would, and the first thing she’d do was tell that bloody policeman. It was a risk he couldn’t take. Time to switch his emotions off.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to smile back. All he had to do was keep her busy thinking about other things, and after dessert he would suggest a quick coffee at home. His home. Once he had her safely locked up, he could organise her death in peace and quiet. It shouldn’t be too difficult – he’d already had a practice run.

When Sarah was gone too, he’d be safe.

If only he’d never gone to the hospital. He hadn’t wanted things to end like this, not for one minute.

Chapter One

Sarah stepped into the arrivals hall at Manchester Airport. What a brilliant feeling – back on British soil for her first long break in two years. And she was ready for it. Teaching in Switzerland and travelling round Europe in the holidays had been exciting, but exhausting. And now – where was Mim?

A glance round the waiting crowd failed to locate her foster mother’s strawberry-blonde head, and Sarah stood still. She hadn’t spoken to Mim since last week, but they’d texted yesterday. At least… Sarah frowned. She had texted her new flight time and Mim had replied with a smiley, which, when you thought about it, wasn’t typical. Mim had the gift of the gab even when she was texting.

‘There you are! Sorry I’m late – I had to park at the back of beyond.’

Sarah spun round to see a short, very pregnant figure beaming up at her, dark curls damp on her brow. ‘Rita! You’re huge! Come here!’

A lump came into her throat as she hugged the other woman, feeling the hardness of Rita’s bump against her own body. Lucky Rita.

Rita hugged back. ‘That’s pregnancy for you. Come on, let’s get out of this rabble.’

Sarah grabbed her case and turned towards the exit. ‘You’re on. But where’s Mim?’

She couldn’t imagine what could have kept Mim away from the airport when the two of them were supposed to be setting off on their long-anticipated tour of Yorkshire that very afternoon.

Rita took her free elbow. ‘Ah. Now don’t shoot the messenger, Sarah. It’s not my fault. My darling mother insisted you weren’t told until you’d arrived. Mim’s in hospital. She had an emergency knee operation on Saturday and she’s doing well.’

Sarah stopped dead. ‘No! What happened?’

Rita shot her a sideways glance, the ghost of a smile on her face. ‘She was biking home from the DIY store with a large tub of paint under one arm and didn’t quite manage the turn into Allington Road. She collided with the fish van and her right knee was damaged so much the docs had to replace it. And the fish van, her bike, and the road were all left with an interesting new yellow pattern.’

Sarah closed her eyes in affectionate exasperation. It was such a Mim thing to do. ‘Oh no, Rita, poor Mim. So what’s the plan now?’

‘Back to mine for coffee, then I guess you’ll want to get down to Brockburn to see her.’

Sarah nodded, acknowledging the unease niggling in her gut. Her own experience of Brockburn General hadn’t been the best. It was horrible to think of warm, energetic Mim stuck in a hospital bed.

‘Love to Mim! And call me tonight!’

‘Will do. Thanks for the loan of your car.’ Sarah waved as she drove off. Rain was streaming down the windscreen as she turned Rita’s Opel towards the Manchester ring road, but by the time she reached Brockburn the sun had struggled through. For a moment her spirits lifted. It wasn’t the prettiest town on earth, but even red brick looked better in sunshine. She took the short cut round the park then turned towards the east side of town, where Brockburn General had stood for a hundred years at least, and oh, Lord – was Mim okay?

The hospital was a sprawling collection of buildings flung up in different decades, most of them in depressing shades of grey. ‘Colditz’ was a good word to describe the place, and Sarah’s mood plummeted, taking her back to the day of her grandmother’s death. Black Tuesday. Blue-lighting up this road, sirens wailing, a paramedic pounding on Gran’s chest and fourteen-year-old Sarah having hysterics on the seat beside him. Thinking about it still made the sweat break out.

Forcing down panic, Sarah flipped on the indicator. Nothing like that was happening today. She and Mim were going to turn Colditz into The Great Escape, weren’t they?

The rehabilitation unit was a four-storey block at the back of the compound, beside maternity and opposite geriatrics, and Sarah parked as close to the main door as she could. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed her make-up was still in place and her hair no more chaotic than usual. She tucked her handbag under one arm and hurried across the car park. Two minutes more and she’d see with her own eyes how Mim was. She was being silly, worrying like this.

Glass doors slid open at her approach, and Sarah strode in before slowing down. The entrance area was busy and noisy, the cafeteria on the right providing an interesting olfactory challenge to the usual hospital smell, and the sounds of Wimbledon coming from a darkened TV room straight ahead. Sarah hurried towards the lifts. The wards here were named after rivers, but they had numbers too. Mim was in Clyde, aka Ward Seven, on the fourth floor. Sarah pressed the button. Going up…

The lift doors opened at the orthopaedic rehab floor and Sarah stepped out. A porter was waiting with an empty trolley, and she squeezed past with a muttered, ‘Excuse me.’

He swung round and caught her elbow. ‘Sarah? Sarah Martin? It is, isn’t it?’

Sarah gaped at him. Tall, dark hair, thin face – handsome thin face, actually… Jack Morrison from Montgomery Road, way back when she’d lived with Gran, and golly, he’d changed since the days of teeth braces and school sweatshirts. ‘Jack – goodness, it’s been years! So you work here?’

He smiled, showing white, even teeth. ‘I’m between proper jobs at the moment so I’m being a porter for the summer. What are you doing here?’

‘Visiting my foster mum.’ Sarah glanced at the clock on the wall behind him. She didn’t have time for a long what-have-you-been-up-to conversation, even if he was the best-looking bloke she’d spoken to all year.

His face creased sympathetically. ‘It was tough for you back then, wasn’t it?’

Sarah was touched. ‘It was awful. But my foster family were – are – great. I’m fine. Are your parents still in Brockburn?’

‘They’ve moved to a retirement complex down near the town centre. Unwillingly, I might add, but Dad’s health… I’ve started doing up their old place. Not so easy – memories in every room.’ His eyes were suddenly bleak.

Sarah bit her lip. Sensitive as well as good-looking, and he seemed to be having a hard time. Poor Jack. He was an only child, she remembered that, but oh, Mim was waiting…

His bleep saved the day. ‘Sarah, I have to go, but why don’t we have coffee sometime, catch up a bit?’

Relieved, she moved away. ‘Great idea. Phone me at Mim’s, huh? Miriam Dunbar, Allington Road.’

‘I’ll do that.’ He touched one finger to his head and pushed his trolley into the lift. Sarah heard him whistle The Song of the Clyde as the lift started back down.

A young nurse directed her to room 145, and she pushed the door open with her heart in her mouth.

‘Sarah, love! Come in and let me look at you!’

Mim was sitting beside a bed at the window, both legs resting on a footstool, and Sarah ran over to hug her. There was a long scrape on Mim’s forehead and she was paler than usual, but her hair was shining and her lippie was on. She was wearing a tracksuit in her favourite turquoise, and the eyes fixed on Sarah were bright.

Sarah heaved a sigh. It was going to be all right. ‘You bad woman, keeping all this from me. Now tell me how you are.’

Mim grimaced. ‘Mediocre would be the best word, but it could have been a whole lot worse. As soon as I can bend my knee ninety degrees and straighten it enough to stand on safely, I can go home.’ She dropped her voice. ‘Which is more than can be said for some of the poor souls here. Rehab or not, it feels like an old folks’ home, and I’m not ready for that.’

‘Can you walk? Are you in pain?’ Sarah settled down on the chair beside Mim’s.

‘I have elbow crutches, and I swallow every painkiller they bring me, but it is getting better. Now tell me about you. What’s happening about the job?’

Sarah relaxed. Mim really did seem herself. ‘The Zurich one is finished, but there’s a vacancy for a primary teacher in the international school in Geneva this October, and I can have it if I want it. And oh, I don’t know.’

‘Why not?’

‘Geneva’s in the French part of Switzerland and my French isn’t wonderful. And… you know. Andreas. I’ll need to have a good hard think. I’ve to let them know by the end of this month.’

She glanced round the room as she spoke. It was pleasant enough for a hospital, with green-tinted blinds keeping the sun out, and a couple of flower prints on the opposite wall. The occupants of the other three beds were all elderly, and busy with visitors too.

A nurse appeared and parked a trolley beside Mim’s bed. ‘Mr Lawrence is coming to inspect your knee. Let’s get that dressing off.’ She nodded to Sarah. ‘You can stay if you want to.’

Sarah shook her head. She’d never been good with blood. ‘I’ll wait outside. I don’t want to go all weak and wobbly on you.’

Mim stood up on her good leg and hopped over to the bed. ‘Go and have a coffee, Sarah love. I’ll try to persuade Mr Lawrence to let me home this week, now you’re here to keep an eye on me. Wish me luck!’

‘The very best. Tell him I’ll do all I can,’ said Sarah, kissing Mim warmly.