One month later
‘Where is Fran?’
Staff nurse Claire Browning, who was reading through some patient notes, looked up to see who was asking. Ward manager Gemma Evans was leaning on the counter of the nurses’ station, frowning.
‘Errm … I’m not sure, actually, Gemma. I haven’t seen her for a while.’
‘Hmmm. I hope she hasn’t gone off for a sneaky nap again. I did warn her …’
Claire shook her head vehemently.
‘No, no, I’m sure she hasn’t. She was mortified about that, and really upset that she’d had a verbal warning. She wouldn’t. Not again.’
‘Where is she then?’ Gemma looked left and right, but the long corridor was empty. It was just coming up to four a.m., and the high-security hospital was quiet, most of its residents soundly sleeping.
‘I really don’t know.’ Claire was frowning now too. ‘I mean, I saw her probably about half an hour ago. One of the patients buzzed, so she went down to see what was wrong; it was her turn. And then Margo in room two wet the bed, so I went to deal with that, and just got back here five minutes ago, and Fran still wasn’t back. It can’t have been anything serious, though, or she’d have rung for back-up …’
‘Which patient? Which patient buzzed?’
The alarm in Gemma’s voice sent a nervous current through Claire.
‘Errm … room eight, down the other end. Applegate. Why?’
‘Shit. Come with me, quick.’
Gemma turned and began to run down the corridor, and Claire, suddenly feeling panicky, leapt from her chair and followed. The door to room eight was ajar, the light off.
‘Fran? Fran are you there?’ Gemma pushed the door open and flicked the light switch. ‘Oh my … GOD! Shit. SHIT!’
‘Gemma … what … what’s happened?’ Claire clamped her hands to her mouth, eyes bulging as she gaped at what was lying on the floor of room eight. Fran – at least she thought it must be Fran, although it was rather hard to tell, because her face was covered in so much blood, but it was certainly Fran’s long red hair – was lying on her side, wearing only bra and knickers, one arm twisted unnaturally behind her. Her nose looked broken, and there was a small pool of blood under her head, the metallic tang of it sharp in the air. Gemma was on her knees, groping for a pulse, repeating the word ‘shit’ over and over again.
‘Got it. She’s alive. Only just though. Get help, Claire, quick, for fuck’s sake.’
‘Sorry. I’m on it.’
Claire dragged her eyes from her friend’s slumped body, ran to the phone which sat on the bedside table, and hit the emergency button.
‘They’re on their way.’
‘Good girl.’
Gemma was rubbing Fran’s hand gently, murmuring reassuringly. Claire took a deep, shaky breath and moved a step closer, then stopped as something struck her. Why was Fran half naked? Where were her clothes, her belt with all the keys and security passes, her shoes? She looked around the room, but it was neat and organized, no clothes anywhere. A horrible suspicion suddenly flashed into her mind. Could the patient …?
‘Gemma. Gemma,’ she said. ‘Where is Flora Applegate?’
NEWSFLASH
A woman who killed a baby and framed his mother for the crime has escaped from a high-security psychiatric hospital. Flora Applegate was detained under the Mental Health Act in February, after admitting the manslaughter of eight-month-old Zander Ashfield. On Saturday morning her bloodstained clothing was found on a bridge two miles from the secure Croft Park Hospital in south Wales.
Miss Applegate, who staff described as ‘disturbed and depressed’ in the days leading up to her disappearance, attacked a nurse before making her escape, leaving the thirty-year-old woman with serious injuries.
South Wales Police say she is potentially extremely dangerous, and should not be approached …