Chapter 2

Dr Alice Grant folded the empty cardboard box with a grunt, pressing the corners together until the tape crumpled in protest. She put it down near the bin, a silent wall of evidence that she had been too generous with her free time. The last books were unpacked and arranged in messy stacks on the library table like a gaggle of unruly schoolchildren awaiting direction.

The reception desk was empty but the library was supposed to be manned at all times. She tried to remember who was meant to be there but attributed the empty desk to their chronic staffing issues. There were too many patients and not enough staff to meet the staff-to-patient ratio. They weren’t in the red crisis zone yet, but the amber level was close to their legal limit.

Her gaze drifted to the shelf where she’d put the first book before giving up on the others, and she shivered. That one was unlike any novel she’d seen because it had no enticing graphics or embellishments. Thinking it was a textbook, she’d flicked it open to the first page and was surprised when it read like a novel. She skimmed the opening paragraphs describing a nameless character going about their business in a work environment.

 The book was odd. It wore a plain green facia—racing green, like her uncle Barry’s Jaguar. And it had a title. A stupid one. But that was it. There was nothing to hint what it was about and nothing to draw the reader in. But it gave her a feeling of discomfort. Something happened to her when she touched it. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Alice rubbed her arms over each other to reduce the spread of goose pimples that broke out. 

It was called The Book. It rested on the shelf, bare and featureless with an unremarkable spine, nestled between a battered encyclopaedia and a long-forgotten bodice ripper with a cracked cover. She wondered about it and felt—what? Frightened? Really? She dismissed the thought. It was too harsh. Wary fit her mood better. She felt compelled to go back and pick it up but resisted the lure. It was a tatty old thing anyway and she decided to throw it out, but as she reached for it, her mobile rang and she was distracted by a call from the pathologist with some urgent blood test results she’d been waiting for. She’d throw the bloody thing in the recycle bin later.

Alice missed lunch and was hungry. She’d grab a quick sandwich from the canteen later. She looked back at the book as she put her phone away in her pocket. It was just a tatty storybook.  

She stretched her shoulders. The library was empty, which was unusual at any time of day. The patients here were unwell and couldn’t ever be silenced. But while the rest of the unit was a cacophony of babbling and screaming noise, they encouraged quiet in the library. It made it popular among the introspective patients and the ones nearing release. Today, the quiet was dense and it muffled her thoughts. Alice knew it couldn’t last and the patients would wander in soon enough, drawn by the promise of distraction or routine, depending on their particular brand of turmoil. But in the stillness, she was unnerved.

She couldn’t leave the new items there for the patients to knock over, or try to eat, so she sorted through the stacks on the table, grouping the books by genre—or what passed for genre when half the titles were fading. That was the last time she’d buy a mystery box from eBay.

A rustle at the door caught her attention, and she looked up to see a man watching her. The timid ones always came tentatively, as though the quiet was a trap. The books stayed on the table.

‘Thomas,’ she said with a smile, though his name was more a guess than a certainty. In the annexe, patients came and went like restless ghosts. With the new ones, it was always a case of attaching names to faces and vaguely remembered case files.

He hovered by the door. His lank hair extended way beyond the collar of his oversized jumper. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, and his eyes were like a pinball machine, refusing to meet hers. Tommy Too-Late. She remembered the word association she’d used to recall his name because, during his initial consultation with her he kept saying that it was too late for him to be helped.

‘You can come in,’ she said, keeping her tone light. ‘It’s just me.’

He went in and his slippers squeaked on the laminated floor. He looked at them as though they might attack him.

‘Book,’ he murmured, looking over her right shoulder at the wall. His voice was low and rough-edged. It sounded as though he didn’t use it often.

Alice gestured to the shelves. ‘Are you looking for anything in particular?’

He didn’t answer but shuffled closer. His gaze wandered over the books, maybe searching for something he couldn’t name. She didn’t think he would speak again, and she had a thousand and one things to do, but patients couldn’t be left unattended in any room other than their bedroom. She went to the door to call an orderly.

‘I used to like reading,’ he said. ‘Before it was too late.’

Alice avoided the obvious question and kept her response neutral. ‘Which books did you like?’

‘We liked everything. Most of us did’ A smile ghosted across his lips. ‘Simon even liked old adventure books. Did you ever read those?’

‘I did. I cheated, though. I’d keep my finger on the last page if I couldn’t wait for the ending.’ Simon hadn’t manifested to her yet, but Thomas’ file said the child-personality was a seven-year-old sweetheart.

Thomas smiled, peeling back the shadows that clung to him.

‘What about now?’ Alice asked. ‘Do you fancy something to take back to your room?’

His smile faded, and she noticed his hands tighten in his pockets. She thought he’d misinterpreted her suggestion, and despite being a thirty-five-year-old professional, she blushed, willing her cheeks not to.

‘I can’t concentrate now. They talk too much. They read ahead of me. Betty reads out loud, and Simon reads it backwards.’ He tapped the side of his head with one finger, his expression apologetic. ‘They don’t like it when I sit still.’

Alice had to do her rounds. Where was Josh? The orderly was supposed to be manning the desk. ‘That’s all right,’ she said. ‘Sometimes just being in here helps, doesn’t it?’

‘I like the quiet.’

‘Me too,’ she smiled and touched his arm. He flinched but didn’t pull away. Then he shrugged, his gaze drifting back to the books. As he looked around, his posture stiffened. His demeanour changed and unease flashed in his eyes.

‘Thomas?’ Alice asked, following his line of sight.

He pointed. ‘That one. It isn’t right,’ he said.

Alice was caught off guard. Thomas was straight-backed and shaking. She was in the library alone with him, putting herself in a vulnerable position. She knew better and glanced at the desk to see if it was manned. It wasn’t.

The fluorescent overhead lights flickered, indicating that the tube was nearing the end of its life. ‘See? Do you see what it’s doing?’ Tommy backed away.

‘It’s okay. It’s just a book. You’re safe here,’ she said.

Thomas’ eyes were wide and unblinking. She touched his arm but he didn’t turn his head towards her to see her reassuring smile.

‘I don’t like it,’ he said.

The book was shrouded in the shelf’s shadows, its plain cover blended seamlessly with the gloom in that corner of the room. ‘It’s okay, Thomas. There’s nothing to worry about.’

His words fell out of him in a rush. ‘It’s watching me.’

Thomas brought his hands to his heart and made the Sign of the Cross on his forehead, lips and chest. He mumbled a prayer under his breath and Alice picked out a few words of Psalm 23. The old RE lessons had paid off, her old teacher would be proud.

Her expression remained calm. Some patients had conditions that transferred their fears onto objects or the people around them. It often made them volatile and unpredictable, and the intensity in Thomas’ voice scared her. She inched along the wall towards the panic button. Her hand hovered near it, her racing thoughts masked by a calm demeanour. She spoke gently. ‘Let’s move over there. You don’t have to look at it and I’ll get Josh to bring you a nice cup of tea.’

Thomas shook his head, moving farther away from the shelves. ‘You brought it here. And you’ll pay the price. It doesn’t belong.’

It was too hot and she reached for the neck of her tunic. The heating was always set too high for her liking, it could be stifling, but patients, particularly those going through detox, were prone to feeling the cold. Today, a chill seeped from the floor, enveloping the room but Alice barely felt it. Thomas was even more affected by the book than she’d been and she wondered why she hadn’t thrown it away when she had the chance.

‘Because it won’t let you,’ Thomas said.

She hadn’t spoken aloud. ‘What?’ Alice asked, but he was already retreating to the door.

‘I have to get out of here.’ Thomas slipped out of the room. His footsteps faded down the corridor and she breathed. He was agitated and she’d get Josh to check on him when the patient had reset. Outside of her consultations, she should never be alone with patients. They all had the potential to be violent and she’d been attacked several times. Never turn your back on them. The words came to her from inside her head. Josh should have been at the desk, damn him.

It’s just a book. She pushed Thomas’ silly ideas aside.

‘Shush.’ She thought she heard the whisper behind her and spun around but nobody was there.

Outside the library, the hospital’s hum vibrated like a pulsing organism. The screaming, shouted demands, muffled conversations, and the omnipotent squawk of a distant intercom sounded a million miles away and right up close in her ear—it pounded in her skull. Even at its quietest, the annexe was loud.

Somebody was crying.

Somebody was always crying.

Katherine Black Amazon page 17 books, all on Kindle Unlimited Amazon Page. https://www.amazon.co.uk/stores/Katherine-Black/author/B071JW51FW?