Hearing Hannah’s story made Susan sympathise a little but not enough to change her from the course of action she’d decided upon. Anyway, it wasn’t as if she was going to go to the police. She’d meant what she’d said; she just wanted Mark.
She pushed her chair back. ‘If you’ve finished your coffee, can we get on with this?’ Perhaps Hannah had expected her sad story to have more of an impact because for a moment, she didn’t move. ‘Now,’ Susan said, getting to her feet, relieved to see the other woman following suit, afraid she’d have to use force, not quite sure she’d be capable.
There was silence as the two-person procession moved up the stairs and along the long corridor towards rooms Susan hadn’t investigated. The stink of death was stronger here, catching in her throat, making her blink rapidly.
Hannah stopped outside a door. She kicked a large, yellow bag that was slouched on the floor beside it. ‘Bastard,’ she muttered before turning to glare at Susan. ‘You’re sure you want to see this?’
Susan gulped. The stink was nauseating. She could feel her insides squirm. She didn’t want to see a dead body. Hannah had forced her into this unbelievable situation. ‘Positive,’ she said, swallowing convulsively. Dead bodies couldn’t hurt her. In fact, this particular dead body was going to be of help. Blackmail of sorts. She’d take the photograph, wait till Hannah sent a message to Mark before leaving this hideous place and putting this whole sordid mess behind her. That’s the way it would go. And her life would go back to normal… back to being fucking happy. It was anger rather than violence that surged this time. Anger at Mark who, instead of supporting her through a difficult time, had simply raided the sweetie jar. ‘Let’s get on with it, shall we?’ she bit out.
Hannah shrugged and pushed the door open.
The large room was in semi-darkness. Oddly, the smell that was so intense outside was barely noticeable here. A line of sunshine peeked over heavy curtains that hung on the bay window. The only other light came from an Anglepoise lamp in a corner of the room, its beam directed onto the pages of a book held by a person lounging in a comfortable-looking, leather chair. He didn’t get up or raise a head to acknowledge their entry.
But he was definitely alive. In the lamplight, his white uniform tunic glowed a startling white. When Susan glanced at the woman beside her and saw her face wreathed in malevolent amusement, she knew she’d got it all wrong.
Ignoring the seated man, Hannah nodded towards the hospital bed that had been pushed against the back wall. ‘Come and say hello to my beloved husband. They say he can understand everything. Tell him that you thought I’d murdered him. He’ll enjoy that; it might give him a laugh.’
Susan crossed to the end of the bed and stared at the gruesome sight of the cachectic man propped up against the pillows. Even in the dim light, his skin had an unhealthy grey tinge. His thin, white hair had been combed back from a high forehead, making his face look unnaturally long. With his sunken cheeks, he bore more than a passing resemblance to the agonised face in The Scream.
‘He’s not dead yet, but he’s dying,’ Hannah said, not bothering to lower her voice. ‘The stink is simply him rotting away. It’s just a matter of time, then I’ll be the Widow Butler and inherit quite a lot of money.’ She reached down to pat the man’s cheek. ‘I don’t visit often, but when I do, I like to thank him for leaving me so well off, and to tell him how much I’m going to enjoy spending every single penny.’ She’d patted his cheek with every word, increasing the strength until, on the final three words, they were hard enough to send the man’s head bouncing on the pillow.
‘Stop!’ Susan was horrified. She looked to the man seated in the armchair for support but finding none, turned back. ‘You can’t hit him. He’s dying, for pity’s sake!’
‘Not fast enough.’ But Hannah withdrew her hand. There was a tub of wipes on a nearby table, she pulled one from it, wiped her hands and tossed the used wipe into a bin. ‘Right, let’s get out of here.’
Susan wanted to say something to the man. Some reassuring, socially acceptable, empty words. But then she thought of the beating he’d given Hannah. Maybe this end was simply karma. She turned away without a word and followed the other woman from the room.