Free TOYL by Paul Pilkington Page A

Are you a policeman?’
    ‘What makes you think that?’
    ‘Because you’re asking a lot of questions, and he looks like the sort of person who might be involved in things like that.’
    ‘No, I’m not the police. Just a friend.’
    ‘I thought I recognised you,’ she said, softening up. ‘It’s just that he’s had a few people visiting him that don’t seem too friendly, and he asked me not to talk to people.’
    ‘I’m worried about him,’ Will said. ‘I can’t get hold of him on his mobile.’
    ‘Probably because he’s at the hospital. You can’t use your phones in there, can you?’
    ‘He’s gone to the hospital, this morning?’
    ‘That’s what he said. Passed him on the stairs carrying a bunch of flowers and that’s the explanation he gave me – said he’s got a friend in there at the moment.’

    ***

    Will hailed the first taxi he saw. He stewed in the back of the cab, wondering whether he was just being paranoid.
    Surely he wouldn’t do such a thing?
    The cabbie made polite conversation, mostly about the weather and traffic, but Will wasn’t in the mood for a chat. He considered calling through to the hospital, just to check that everything was all right, but then decided not to.
    He paid the driver and raced towards the hospital entrance, checking his pace as he got a few sideways glances from the hospital staff. He headed for the lift but then decided the stairs was a quicker option, taking them two by two.
    By the time he reached the right department he was seriously out of breath. Gasping for air he strode past the nursing station and headed for Richard’s private room. He heard a nurse calling out behind him but he didn’t stop. The door to Richard’s room was closed but through the blinds he could see someone standing over the bedside.
    It couldn’t be, could it?
    He flung the door open, bouncing it back on its hinges with a clatter.
    ‘Hello, William,’ said the man, stepping back from Richard’s bedside.
    ‘Dad,’ Will said, taking in the scene, ‘what are you doing here?’

15

    Emma said goodbye to Will and resumed packing. It was so good to hear her brother’s voice. He was always such a comfort. She finished packing the rest of her things and zipped up the suitcase, hoisting it off the bed and onto the floor with a thud. Then she reached up to the top of the wardrobe and pulled down the box that was stored there. She carried the box into the lounge, placing it on the coffee table, and flipped open the lid.
    Inside was all the material related to their wedding. Eighteen months of mementos, starting with the batch of engagement cards from family and friends, to the cut-outs from various wedding magazines of potential dresses and other wedding paraphernalia, and finally copies of the wedding invitations, and receipts for the wedding ceremony, which was still due to take place in thirteen days – unlucky for some.
    ‘Get a grip,’ she said, closing the box. This wasn’t doing any good.
    She knew that all this reminiscence was just a diversion tactic. And it wasn’t like she had time to waste – Mr Henderson had already been gone for ten minutes or more, and could be back at any time.

    ***

    ‘Mrs Henderson, I was hoping to have a chat with you. Are you in there?’
    Emma knocked on the door again. She’d been trying to get an answer for over a minute now, but despite knocking several times, there hadn’t been any sign of life within the apartment. She wondered whether Mrs Henderson was asleep, or maybe worse.
    ‘Mrs Henderson? Edna?’
    This time she heard someone moving within the flat.
    ‘Mrs Henderson,’ she said, surprised to suddenly have some success. ‘I just want to ask you about what you saw the other day. I’m looking for my fiancé and you might be able to help me.’
    Now she could hear soft footsteps as someone moved right up to the other side of the door.
    She moved to the corner of the door, trying to find any gap through which to