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There is such confusion in my mind
To play your illusion is so unkind
I didn't know who you were this afternoon
You said that doesn’t matter Ill see you soon

In The Rain/Madness

Previously…

YOU AND YOUR KIND ARE NOT WANTED HERE. GET OUT AND DON’T COME BACK. A WELL WISHER.

My heart did a sort of flip and I re-read it. What was going on here? Why would anyone want to do this? I thought that everyone was being so nice to me and now this! I threw the letter on the table and buried my head in my hands, tears coming easily to me.

After a few moments, I was aware of a slight smell coming off my hands. I gradually stopped crying and got up and fetched a tissue. Wiping my eyes and blowing my nose made me feel marginally better. My thoughts returned to the letter and the strange smell. Picking up the white sheet of paper, I looked at the words again and then put the sheet up to my nose. I recognised that smell from somewhere, but where? Then I had it! I picked up my bag and the letter and stormed out.

People were walking up and down the lane and I’m sure they must of thought me rude for not stopping or at least nodding to them, but I only had one thought–– In a few short minutes I was at my destination.

I climbed the short flight of steps and went in. She was at the desk, looking as sour as usual. She had just ordered someone to sit down and wore a superior look of being in charge. I slammed the letter down in front of her and she jumped slightly in surprise. ‘What the hell are you doing sending this piece of crap to me?’

And now the story continues…

Candice looked at the sheet of paper and turned a sort of puce colour. While she was looking, I wondered if justifiable homicide would be the correct plea if I sloshed her around the head with my handbag and broke it.

She looked up at me. ‘W—w—what?’

‘What do you mean what? Don’t, “what” me. You sent me this vile bit of filth, don’t deny it!’

My dander–whatever that is–was well and truly up. She was staring at me as if I was deranged.

It went very quiet. I could almost see out of the back of my head, the patients in the waiting room, straining forward to catch everything–hearing aids turned up to full blast. We were both breathing heavily now. She seemed lost for words as she stared for the umpteenth time at the sheet of paper.

Just then, Doctor Marcia walked out of her surgery with an old lady. She was talking rather loudly and didn’t notice the silence of the room. ‘All right, Betty, rub the cream in three times a day…’

‘How many?’ said Betty in a quivery voice.

‘THREE TIMES, DEAR.’

‘Do I take it with water?’

‘NO, YOU DON’T SWALLOW IT, YOU RUB IT IN, DEAR–I’LL RING YOUR DAUGHTER LATER–SHE’LL HELP.’

‘Good girl, our Sharon.’

‘YES SHE IS, NOW OFF YOU GO––’

Marcia looked up as the old lady tottered out and seemed to notice a certain atmosphere.

‘Is something wrong?’

‘Yes, there is. Your receptionist has sent me some hate mail–look.’

I grabbed the paper from Candice’s rather lifeless hands and thrust it at Marcia. After reading it, she looked decidedly shocked and puzzled at the same time. Clearing her throat she said, ‘You’d both better come into my room.’

Then, addressing the waiting patients she said, ‘Sorry about this, I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’

She led us into her consulting room and closed the door behind us.

‘Please, sit down, both of you.’

Candice and I sat opposite Marcia, me looking daggers at the wicked receptionist and she looking troubled to say the least. Talk about a guilt ridden face–

Candice had said nothing and I wondered if she was shocked at being so easily discovered in her deceit. I was still so livid, I could spit nails. Marcia looked at the sheet again, frowning.

‘Candice, is it true, did you send this?’

‘N…no, I didn’t, I wouldn’t. What sort of person do you think I am? I would never do that.’ She said it so vehemently that I almost believed her.

‘What do you say to that, Samantha?’

‘She’s always hated me. Look at how she treated me when I first came. She had access to my medical records, so she knows about me. As soon as I got it and smelt it, I realised that it must have come from her.’

‘Smelt it?’ asked Marcia.

‘Yes, the letter. The odour coming off it was antiseptic, like the smell of your surgery. It’s unmistakable.’

Marcia sniffed the sheet and said, ‘I don’t notice anything.’

‘Well, you wouldn’t; you’re around the smell all day.’

‘I suppose. Look, Candice, what have you got to say about this?’

She looked at us both. I could see the fragility behind the hard shell that she normally displayed. There were tears in her eyes and for the first time, I had doubts––

‘I don’t know anything about it, I swear. I didn’t write the letter. I wouldn’t do something like that. It’s not me!’

‘Who knows about you–medically, I mean?’ Marcia asked.

‘Apart from everyone here? Abby, Jocaster and her family and Katie. No one else knows so the letter had to come from here.’

‘What about your father in law and wife?’

‘They want me to go back, so there would be no motive for this.’

Marcia thought for a moment, looking at the letter and then glanced up at me. ‘Surely there could be. If you were hounded out of the cove, you would have to go somewhere else. It may just be a lever to get you to go back.’

I looked at Candice. Her hands were shaking and she looked deathly pale. ‘Please tell me the truth. Did you send me that letter?’

She looked at me, tears in her eyes, a shadow of her former aggressive self. ‘No. You see, my son, Brian, is transgendered, so why would I send something like that to you?’

I stood up; horrified that I could have made such a terrible mistake. Pacing the room, I could see it all now, it was one of Nigel’s little mind games. Olivia wouldn’t do it, I’m sure. She had enough to contend with, with the baby and everything. Why had I been so stupid! Why did I always have to jump in with both feet?

‘I’m so sorry, Candice. Why did I accuse you? I’m so sorry, please forgive me I don’t know––’

I was breathing heavily; my head felt peculiar, I was panicky, as if I just wanted to go and hide my head in the sand. All of a sudden the room started spinning making me feel very strange indeed; then I started falling; I felt a huge bang on the back of my head…

~*~

When I regained consciousness my head was pounding–someone was banging away using pneumatic drills inside it and I just wished that they would go and have a well-earned tea break.

I cracked one eye open, then the other one. I was evidently in a room, not my bedroom though, although I wasn’t sure where my bedroom was. It was a sparse room with just a few chairs in the corner and a window with green curtains to the side. There was a clock on the wall opposite where I was lying. It was strange though as the clock looked fuzzy and I seemed to see two versions of it. There was a picture on another wall; that, too, wasn’t very distinct and I could see its double slightly to the side.

Suddenly, I felt a very sick faint and just managed to lift myself up slightly and then heaved whatever I had eaten previously, on to the floor.

The door opened and I could hear the click of heals as someone approached me.

‘Oh dear, have we been a bit sick then?’

‘That was obvious,’ I thought, ‘is she blind or something?’

The nurse helped me back into a more comfortable position with my head on the pillow. She was ash blonde, and quite pretty but needed to sort out her makeup, as I could see that her lips didn’t look right. Come to think of it, she looked a bit fuzzy all over, so it might be me at fault and not her.

‘Where am I?’

‘In hospital–Penmarris Cottage Hospital. You had a fall and got a bit of a bang. Do you remember?’

‘No, it’s all a bit confusing.’

She looked at my eyes for a minute and then squeezed my arm.

‘I’m just going to fetch the doctor, won’t be a mo.’

She clicked off. A few seconds later another nurse came in.

‘Hello, m’ducks, just clearin’ up the mess.’

She clattered about a bit with a mop and bucket and I winced because she wasn’t being particularly quiet about it. The builders inside my head had started using their jack hammers again and the pounding, if anything got worse.

‘There we are, m’ducks, all sparklin’ again, ’bye.’

I sort of waved my arm as she clicked out of the room. Do these nurses really need to have such loud heels?

I shut my eyes, thinking that I was probably about to be sick again. Then the door opened again and a couple of people came in. The woman in the white coat, I took to be a doctor and she was with the nurse who I had seen originally.

‘So, you’re back with us are you?’

‘I feel sick,’ I said conversationally.

A chrome dish was given to me and with the help of the nurse, I leaned over the side of the bed again and sort of dry heaved. Not much there, just some yucky, gooey stuff; I hoped I was empty now.

My face was washed with a damp cloth and I lay back on my pillow again. I felt a bit better after that last incident, perhaps only half dead at the moment.

‘Right, now that I have your attention, I need to do a few things, okay?’

‘Mmm.’ I said enthusiastically.

She had this funny torch thingy and she shined it in my eyes. Then she asked how many fingers she was holding up and I had to follow her finger from left to right and then up and down.

‘Tell me, what’s your name?’

‘Pardon?’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Erm––’

Now that’s silly. I should know my name. It’s one of the first things that you learn when you are growing up.

‘Abby?’ I said, taking a stab at it.

‘Riiight. Where do you live?’

‘Erm–not sure, this is silly–London, I think.’

‘What year is it.’

‘Don’t you know?’

‘I do, I want to find out if you do.’

‘It’s–it’s 1999?’

‘What month?’

‘I’m not sure–November?’

‘Does everything seem a bit fuzzy?’

‘Yes, I think I’m seeing double.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Abb––I’m not sure, sorry.’

‘What year is it?’

‘Didn’t I tell you? Did I get it wrong–erm, is it 2000?’

‘Are you a man or woman?’

‘Well that’s a silly question.’

‘Well are you.’

‘Am I what?’

‘A man or a woman?’

‘A woman, of course!’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Olivia.’

‘You said Abby before.’

‘Did I?’

‘Where do you live?’

‘I—I don’t know. Look, my head hurts and I feel sick and tired. Can you give me something for my headache?’

‘Yes, I will soon. It’s rather strong and makes you a bit woozy; that’s why I wanted to ask you some questions. You’ve had a nasty bang on your head and your memory has been affected somewhat. Can I ask just a few more questions?’

‘Okay,’ I said reasonably.

‘How much is ten and five added together?’

‘Fourteen.’ Stupid question that.

‘Twelve times twelve?’

‘A hundred and forty four.’

‘Who is the queen?’

‘Diana.’

‘When were you born?’

‘When I was a baby.’ I giggled at that clever answer.

‘What year.’

‘I don’t know. Please can we stop the questions now? Anyone would have thought I was thick or something.’

The doctor smiled. ‘All right, I will give you a rest and something for the pain. I have someone who wants to see you. Would you like to see her?’

‘All right.’ I said, wondering who it could be. I closed my eyes as the glare from the lights seemed to be making things worse. The doctor left and a few seconds later the door opened again. I could hear the click, click of heels and I frowned at that. I do wish those nurses had rubber tips on their heels!

I jumped slightly as I felt someone kiss me gently on the lips. Opening my eyes, I smiled; now that was a nice kiss and I wouldn’t have minded some more like that, even on my bed of pain.

‘Oh, Samantha, we’ve been so worried. When you fainted like that in Marcia’s office and then bashed your head–it was awful. I was in the pottery when Marcia rang. I dropped everything and I’ve been here all day. How are you feeling, love?’

‘Apart from, sick and a headache, not forgetting double vision and being weak all over, I’m fine.’

‘Trust you to joke like that. Now, you don’t have to worry about Candice. She forgives you and agrees it was understandable under the circs. It’s funny; Candice isn’t too bad in small doses. I think that she’s had a bit of a wakeup call over all this. If you thought automatically that she sent the letter; it means that a lot of people think that she isn’t very nice. Maybe she will be better in future. She said that she would see you when you feel a bit better. Jo, Katie and everyone send their love and the cats are all missing you heaps.’

She paused for breath and I looked at her.

‘Erm–sorry, but who are you?’

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To Be Continued...

Please leave comments...thanks! ~Sue

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing, help with the plot-lines and pulling the story into shape.