Free Finders and Keepers by Catrin Collier Page A

disinfectant.
    â€˜Books are allowed on the understanding that they cannot be passed from patient to patient and that they will be burned when the patient leaves.’
    â€˜Burned!’ Brought up to value and cherish the printed word, Harry was horrified by the prospect.
    â€˜Paper harbours bacteria, as can glass, china and cloth. Everything a patient brings within these walls that cannot be disinfected will be destroyed when he or she leaves.’
    â€˜Even personal keepsakes like family photographs?’ Harry recalled the photographs that filled every inch of shelf space in his grandfather’s bedroom. They went everywhere with him, even when he spent only a single night away. Studio portraits of his beloved wife, Isabella, who had died before his mother had met Lloyd. Family groups of his stepfather and uncles when they’d been boys and young men. Wedding pictures of all three. Studies of him and his cousins …
    â€˜Especially photographs,’ Miss Adams emphasized, ‘because patients tend to handle them more than any other object.’
    Harry made a mental note to warn his father to have the photographs copied and not to allow Billy to bring his gold watch, or any of the books he regarded as precious into the sanatorium.
    They moved into the corridor.
    â€˜Have you seen all you want to in here, Mr Evans?’
    â€˜Yes, thank you.’
    Alerted by voices, Miss Adams opened the door next to the room they had visited.
    â€˜Excuse me, Mr Evans.’
    An emaciated dark-haired man, who could have been anything between forty and sixty years of age, was sitting up in a bed made with cotton sheets and a single white cotton blanket. He had no pillows and his back was propped against a laddered metal backrest that had been pulled out from the headboard.
    A man, gowned and masked like Harry, stood beside the bed. He was holding a clipboard and the patient was sketching on a sheet of paper pinned to it. Interested, Harry stepped forward, but Miss Adams snatched the board from the young man’s hands and turned it around before he could look at it properly.
    â€˜How many times must we tell you that we cannot take any responsibility for your uncle’s health while you persist in flaunting our rules, Mr Ross? You know he should lie flat at all times.’
    â€˜Don’t shout at Toby, Miss Adams. He tried to stop me …’ The effort of speaking brought on a coughing fit and the patient sprayed the blanket with bright red droplets of blood.
    The ward sister left her desk, pushed past Harry and ran to the bed. She slipped her hands behind the man’s back and, while supporting him, helped Miss Adams to return the backrest into the frame before lowering him on to the bed.
    â€˜I was only sketching,’ the patient whispered when he could finally speak again.
    â€˜I saw what you were doing, Mr Ross.’ Miss Adams looked to the ward sister. ‘How long has Mr Toby Ross been here?’
    â€˜Five minutes, Miss Adams. And I warned him not to tire his uncle.’
    â€˜There will be no further visitors for Mr Ross today or tomorrow.’
    â€˜Yes, Miss Adams.’
    Diana turned to the visitor. ‘I will ask my father to curtail your visits to your uncle altogether if you continue to encourage him to disobey the rules.’
    Meekly he muttered ‘Yes, Miss Adams.’
    â€˜Out, now!’ She held the door open.
    â€˜I’ll see you later, Frank.’ The young man glanced at Harry when he left the room, but Harry failed to decipher the expression beneath the mask.
    â€˜Could you leave the board on the window sill so I can look at it, Miss Adams?’ the patient pleaded.
    â€˜Sister will put it and the sketch in the cupboard in the sluice room, which is kept locked. When Doctor Adams considers you well enough, they will be returned.’ Miss Adams folded back the blood-stained blanket. ‘Re-make Mr Ross’s bed with clean linen,