White Phantom chapter fourteen.

Chapter Fourteen

Jennifer's cheeks were red and her demeanour could only be described as joyful. Beth hated her. She was repulsed both by the girl and by what they were about to do.

‘I’ve waited to put my plan into operation for so long.’ Jennifer laughed, ‘you know me, I'm not good at being patient, but we’re close to it now. Once I’ve got this bed, I think I've got everything that we need.’

Beth had to make one last attempt to get through to her. ‘Please, Phantom, don’t make me do this. She’s a frail old lady; the shock might even be enough to kill her.’ Beth tried pleading with Jennifer but even to her ears the fake Scottish accent sounded ridiculous.

‘I’m not making you do anything, Bethie.’ Jennifer was staring at her with wide-eyed innocence. ‘If you don’t want to help me that’s okay, sweetie. I just thought you were my friend, that’s all.’

Beth chanted the required mantra. ‘I am your friend, White Phantom. I am your best friend.’

This was something she'd learned was easier just to go along with. Chanting like an idiot was one thing – what the hell, she could do that, it was no biggie – but evicting an old lady from her death bed was quite another matter. Beth had even offered to buy an orthopaedic bed for Jennifer, but she was having none of it. She wanted that bed and no other and Beth was in too damned deep to be able to refuse.

She took a long, analytical look at what she was going to do and couldn't comprehend how she'd sunk so low.

‘Well, then. All’s well and good, isn’t it?’ Jennifer had been watching the play of emotions cross Beth's face. If she expected mutiny she gave no sign of it.

Beth hated going to the house at the top of Springfield Road. Jennifer had made her go back many times, sometimes to clean, sometimes to indulge in one of her sick mind games.

One day she’d forced Beth to look at photographs of Marc. She didn’t have many to show but the ones she had depicted a young and handsome, vibrant man, always smiling with his big white teeth on show. She had them spaced out in a part-filled album. Jennifer turned the pages slowly while each new picture brought back so many horrors for Beth. If Beth sensed that Jennifer was up to something by the tension in her body as she at next to her, then it was only that she could feel the pleasure Jennifer was taking from Beth’s discomfort. The last photograph came as a complete shock. It showed Marc, half unwrapped from the dirty tarpaulin. He was propped in a sitting position with a cardboard smiley face on a stick in his hand. The lettering on the big yellow smiley read, ‘Get your tits out for the lads, Beth.’

That particular game was a punishment for flatly refusing to go back into the vault where Marc’s body lay. Beth didn't refuse again.

Going to the house didn’t get any easier. It became more of an ordeal every time. Not only was she terrified of the memories and petrified at the thought of what Jennifer might do to her on her home turf but there was also the fear of being seen there. The man she’d killed, and later tried to dispose of, lay in a vault in that house. It was the connection linking her to the crime.

Jennifer pointed the remote control and the huge garage doors slid open. ‘See? I told you we had a van.’

Inside the garage was a soft-top Porsche, a sleek Jaguar and a large white Mercedes panel van.

‘And you can drive this thing?’ asked Beth. The van was enormous and Jennifer was having trouble sliding open the side door to put the things they’d need inside.

Just getting out of the garage nearly caused Beth to have a coronary. They hit the back wall of the garage when Jennifer popped it in reverse instead of first, causing a shelf full of tools and tins of nails to come crashing down all over them. Jennifer tried to go forwards in a straight line but the van went into a lurch and hit the Porsche. She didn’t stop and continued to force the van out of the garage, the scream of metal grinding on metal reverberating around the interior of the garage. ‘Oops. Marc’s gonna be pissed. Sorry bro,’ she muttered, rolling her eyes towards the roof of the van.

Beth saw that three angry gouges ran the entire length of the Porsche’s bright red bodywork. She had no idea whether it amounted to hundreds or indeed thousands of pounds worth of damage. ‘There’s going to be red paint on the van, it’s going to show signs of being in an accident. It’s going to draw attention and get us pulled by the police.’ She was panicking.

‘Oh, stop being such an old woman. It’s nothing to worry about; it just gives the van a bit of character. Right, let’s see how we actually work this thing.’ She swung the wheel hard to the left and screamed out of the driveway without looking for oncoming traffic. They took half a laburnum bush with them. She beamed at Beth, giving every impression of having a great time.

By the time they’d lurched and bunny hopped to the end of Rake Lane and turned right onto Priory Road, Jennifer had gained something that might just be considered control of the vehicle. Beth was terrified.

‘Turn the radio on,’ demanded Jennifer. Obediently, Beth leaned forward and pushed the button. Mr Brightside by The Killers burst into life.

‘Louder.’

Three times Jennifer ordered that the music be turned up. She wound down her window and draped her elbow over the edge as she drove with one hand, her foot pressing down harder on the accelerator. The road ahead was clear but Beth knew it was twisty ahead.

‘Slow down, Phantom.’

‘What?’

‘Slow down!’ yelled Beth. ‘Let me drive.’

Jennifer grinned, flooring the accelerator. The speedometer went from forty to seventy. They passed the cemetery and the first sharp corner was looming towards them. Beth braced herself and pushed back into her seat, both feet pressing into the floor and ramming home imaginary break pedals.

At the last possible moment Jennifer braked hard. The back end of the van flew out towards the centre line. Half way into the bend, she took her foot off the break and gave the van a hit of gas. The van righted itself and came out of the curve with power.

‘See, told you I can drive. Just needed to get used to it again. Marc taught me.’ Her face clouded. ‘But then you killed him.’

Beth wasn’t immune to the accusation and every time Jennifer used it against her it stung, but she’d pulled the ‘you killed my only brother’ card out of the hat so many times that she had learned to ignore it. ‘You’re driving too fast. It’s going to draw attention to us.’

‘Rubbish. Everybody drives like this.’ She gave the accelerator a workout as they came out of another tight curve.

Beth was almost relieved when they made it safely to the farm. The narrow track leading to the farmyard had been difficult to negotiate due to neglect and overhanging trees. Jennifer told her not to moan because it served their purpose by adding even greater seclusion to the place. There were no immediate neighbours and the farmyard was covered on three sides by fields and bushes.

Unless somebody paid a visit to the old lady while they were there, they weren’t going to be seen.

They had timed the bed raid carefully. The teatime staff would have left and the carers due to settle her for the night would not arrive until nine o’clock. Beth checked her watch as she walked up to the house. It was just gone seven forty-five. There were no other vehicles and none of the staff would come to this call on foot, but as a precaution she rang the bell. She could legitimately say that she’d called to see the old lady if anybody answered. They didn’t. She motioned to Jennifer that it was okay to continue.

Beth put on her gloves and took the key from the hanging basket by the front door. She knew it was there because she’d made the arrangements for one to be left so that carers and nursing staff could let themselves in until enough keys were cut. Jennifer had thought of everything else.

Because the old lady might recognise her voice, for nearly twenty-four hours Beth had been speaking only in a soft Scottish accent. It wasn’t good, but Jennifer decreed that it was ‘passable’. She’d changed both her usual deodorant and perfume. They both wore gloves and unremarkable clothing, jeans and plain black jumpers. Beth opened the front door and they stepped into the shadowy hall. The final precaution was to put on Ski masks before going into the makeshift bedroom that Beth had set up downstairs. She said that Mary would be terrified and might die and Jennifer’s only answer was that Beth had better apply her best bedside manner and keep the old cow calm.

Beth tapped gently on the only door with a light showing from underneath. Jennifer laughed. She found it funny that they were going to rob the old Lady but still knocked politely on the door. Impatiently, she pushed Beth from behind and told her to get on with it. ‘We’re not here for a cup o’ tea and cucumber sandwiches, you know.’

They walked stealthily up to the bed, tiptoeing past china dogs and chintzy armchairs. The room was cluttered but luckily the bed was on castors and would wheel easily out to the van. The only time they’d have to lift it was to get it in.

Mary was asleep, propped high on pillows to aid her breathing. Her chin had lowered to her chest. Her mouth was open. Her teeth grinned from a jar on the table beside her. Jennifer screwed up her nose in disgust. The frill at the top of Mary’s flowered nightie raised and fell slightly with the breath from each gentle snore. Beth’s eyes filled with tears. She didn’t want to do it. This was the evil that she'd become.

‘With a bit of luck we can just lift her over onto that sofa and the senile old bat won’t even wake up,’ said Jennifer.

‘I wish we could, it would be better for her,’ mused Beth. ‘But it’d be too dangerous if she woke while we were lifting her over, she’d struggle and her bones are very brittle. I agree to not using the hoist, it’ll be much quicker and less stressful for her if we don’t, but if she woke in the middle of the lift she might be hurt.’

‘Whatever,’ said Jennifer, bored. ‘Let’s just get it done and get out of here.’

Beth tapped Mary gently on the shoulder and had to remind herself not to use the lady’s name. She spoke softly using her adopted accent. ‘Lady, come on, hen. Wake up.’

As she stirred, Beth covered Mary's eyes with one gloved hand. ‘Wake up, but don’t open your eyes yet… sweetheart.’ She’d paused, she had been going to say doll. She called all of her patients doll to calm them. ‘Come on, love, wake up. Nice and easy now.’ Mary was awake. ‘Right, I’m going to move my hand, but don’t be frightened. We’re not going to hurt you. It looks scary do…darling, but don’t you worry, we’ll be out of here in two minutes and we’re going to make you nice and comfortable before we leave.

Everything's all right.’ Jennifer nudged her in the back to get on with it.

‘Right, we’re just going to lift you out of bed and move you gently onto the sofa over there.’

Mary was fully awake now, her eyes wide and terrified. ‘What’s going on? Who are you? What are you doing in my house? Oh, don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me.’ She began to whimper. Beth rolled the blankets down to the bottom of the bed. A stale smell of urine rose from the soiled bed sheets and Beth noted with disgust that the previous carers had changed the old lady’s incontinence pad but had left her in a damp under sheet. She couldn’t help herself from picking up the record book beside the bed to note the names of the two carers. She’d remember them for future reference and see what could be done about them. Beth hated sloppy care and wouldn’t tolerate it in the controlled setting of the hospital. She knew that it was harder to monitor in home care circumstances where the staff were sent out on trust.

Jennifer had set about botching up a makeshift bed on the sofa. Beth instructed her to place extra pillows and showed her how to position the draw sheet until it was placed just right to lie under Mary’s bottom. ‘I’ll take her shoulders. You get that scarf over there.’ She motioned to a long tartan scarf hanging over the back of the armchair.

Jennifer had said that she wasn’t going to speak while they were with Mary. She’d said that the less sensory perception Mary could recall the better but she couldn’t help herself. ‘Why, are we going to strangle her?’

Mary tried to raise herself up in alarm. ‘My son John’s coming. He’ll be here any second. He’s just gone to lock down the animals.’ Beth knew that the animals were long gone and that John was resting in a drug-induced slumber. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart. She was being stupid. Take no notice of her. I promise you, we’re not going to hurt you.’

Beth could have hit Jennifer. ‘Shut up and get the scarf. Put it under Mary’s legs. Elderly people bruise easily and by using the scarf to lift her you’ll have a better grip and minimise any risk of hurting her.’

For once Jennifer did as she was told, allowing Beth to take a leading role in the proceedings. She eyed Mary’s twisted, sparrow legs with distaste and was very obviously glad to have the scarf to lift her with rather than having to touch her skin. The lift went smoothly and Beth repositioned pillows and tucked Mary in, making sure that she was comfortable while Jennifer ripped off the soiled bedding and fiddled with the brakes on the bed to unlock them. Beth changed the old lady’s incontinence pad again, to be sure that she was clean and dry.

‘We’d better take some stuff to make it look like an ordinary burglary,’ she said. ‘The old bird’s got some decent bits here. We’d better take her watch and rings and stuff.’

Mary began to cry. The tears hadn’t been far away but at the thought of her wedding ring being taken she began to cry in earnest. ‘Oh please, don’t take my wedding ring. You can have anything else, but please leave me that.’

Beth almost came out of Scottish character when she yelled at Jennifer. ‘We take nothing but what we came for. You wanted this bloody bed and we’re getting it. But you do not take anything else. I swear to God, Ph...’ She stopped herself from calling Jennifer by her chosen name, ‘I swear to god, I’ll…’

‘What will you do? Go on. What will you do?’ Jennifer’s voice became menacing. ‘What can you do?’

‘I can walk out of here right now and leave you to your sick games.’ She wasn’t about to argue with her, ‘Come on get the other end of the bed. We take nothing else.’

She assured Mary that her night care would be coming soon. Jennifer glared at her. They weren't supposed to know details like that. Beth put two chairs against the sofa to stop Mary from falling out and said Goodbye on the way out. They left, taking the bed with them.

It was an easy job getting it up to and loaded into the van. Beth felt sickened by what they’d just done and wanted to get home. She felt the need of a long cleansing bath and a stiff glass of wine to take away the filthy taste of corruption from her mouth.

‘She’s got one of those yucky commode things, hasn’t she? That chair thing by the bed was one, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, why?’

‘While I’m breaking the window in the door to make it look like a break-in, you go back and get it. I need it.’

Argument was useless and fell on deaf ears. They were wasting valuable time and it was easier to just get the toilet chair for Beth than stand locked in a battle of wills.

Beth didn’t want to go back into Mary’s bedroom. She didn’t want to see her accusing eyes. Mary flinched at the sound of the breaking glass. Beth was half way across the room with the chair.
‘It’s awright, hen, it was just a little window at the side of the front door. You try and have a wee sleep now, and when you wake up your carers will be here.’

As Beth passed by the sofa, Mary put out her hand and grabbed her shirt. ‘Wait.’

‘Yes, love, what is it? Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything before I go?’ This was surreal, it was ridiculous. She had broken into the old ladies home and was standing over her in ski mask and gloves asking her if she wanted a cup of fucking tea.

‘Thank you for not taking my wedding ring. Thank you, Beth.’

Beth’s eyes flew open. She was terrified. Mary patted her hand, ‘You can hide your voice, but you can’t hide who you are, Beth. You’re a good girl, I know that and as soon as I knew that it was you I wasn’t frightened, I knew you weren’t going to hurt me. You must be in a lot of trouble. I hope you come out of it soon.’ With that Mary closed her eyes and Beth grabbed back her hand and fled the room with the commode, sickness and self disgust welling inside her.

Beth wasn’t a good girl; she was a murderer and a thief, and now an abuser of elderly ladies. And there was nobody in the world that she could turn to for help.