The Forgotten Room: a gripping, chilling thriller that will have you hooked. Ann Troup

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      ‘Good Lord, no, that’s what I call her behind her back. She’s got a few too many airs and graces for my liking. No, I call her Miss Hall. Her ladyship indeed…’ Cheryl scoffed, shaking her head.

      ‘Fair enough,’ Maura said, feeling slightly embarrassed at her assumption. Cheryl was a strange woman, prickly and intense one minute, warm and friendly the next. It was an intriguing yet repellent mix and reminded her of why she’d wanted to become a nurse. People were fascinating in all their shades of light and dark.

      Back on the landing Cheryl pointed down the hall. ‘They don’t use that part of the house, it’s not safe, so don’t be going wandering. There’s nothing for you down there. His room is there, opposite yours, but he sleeps downstairs most of the time. We just use it to store his clothes – he can’t be trusted with them downstairs. Hers is two doors down from you.’ She led the way, their footsteps inducing creaks of protest from the old stair treads as they descended. Cheryl pointed to the one room she hadn’t already shown to Maura. To her dismay the door had a security chain attached to the outside. ‘Make sure to put that on at night – he likes to wander,’ Cheryl said.

      Maura couldn’t help herself. ‘I’m not sure I’m keen on the idea of locking him in his room!’ The idea was abhorrent to her. She hadn’t come to the Grange to look after the man by shutting him away and denying him his freedom. She’d hoped to bring him care and comfort. She wanted to give the best of herself, not be a jailer.

      Cheryl’s eyes widened, as if she was surprised to be dealing with someone who could be so naïve. ‘It’s either that or chase him around the bloody estate in the dead of night. If you know what’s good for you and him, you’ll put the chain on. Besides, we don’t want him taking a tumble too, do we? You mustn’t let him near the stairs. Like I said, the old part of the house is dangerous.’ She said this as if Maura might not have heard her the first time.

      Maura saw the wisdom in keeping her mouth shut at this, but she remained unhappy about the use of the chain. She forced a smile. ‘I suppose I’d better meet him, hadn’t I?’

      Cheryl chuckled. There was no warmth to her laugh and it sounded as mean and thin as her tea. ‘Suppose you better had. Brace yourself.’

      Gordon Henderson was on the floor, sitting in a puddle of his own urine and looking up at the two women with the innocence of an untrained puppy when they entered the room. ‘Don’t be fooled, this is all for your benefit,’ Cheryl whispered.

      Maura was too busy trying not to gag on the stench of ammonia that stung her eyes and burned her nose to pay much attention to Cheryl. This wasn’t the first time the old man had peed himself by the smell of it. She glanced at Cheryl, who seemed to be immune to the fumes.

      ‘Best get you up, Mr Henderson, eh?’ Cheryl said, speaking to the man as if he was a deaf five-year-old.

      He raised a thin hand and pointed a wavering skinny finger at Maura. ‘She can do it, not you.’

      Cheryl sighed. ‘Whatever. I’ll get you some clean clothes.’

      Maura knew instinctively that she was being tested, perhaps by both of them. ‘OK, but introductions first. I’m Maura. I’m going to be staying with you until Miss Hall is recovered. I’m a nurse, I’ve come to take care of you, and Miss Hall when she comes home. I’ll be here until she gets better.’ She added what she hoped was a reassuring and confident smile. ‘Right, I’m going to crouch in front of you and I want you to put your arms around my neck. Then I’m going to lift you into a standing position. Do you think we can do that?’

      The old man nodded, but there was a cold sparkle in his eye that invited caution. Maura was not unfamiliar with the wiles of awkward patients, and the likes of Gordon Henderson were ten a penny, nasty old men with a touch of the vicious. Not all of them could be changed by good nursing and a dose of compassion but she was prepared to give it her best shot. She crouched down in front of him and placed her arms around his back under his arms – he had the thin frame of a waif, but looked tall. She hunkered in, ready to lift from her knees to save her back. It wasn’t ideal, but he couldn’t stay on the floor, so she had no choice but to lift him badly. He slipped his arms around her neck and leaned in. His breath was sour and smelled of pear drops – ketones, which told Maura he wasn’t eating well, so no wonder he was so thin. She tightened her hold and began to lift, hauling him to his feet in one deft move. Once upright, he turned his lips to her cheek and, for a fraction of a second, she thought he was going to kiss her. Then he opened his mouth and took the flesh of her cheek between his teeth and bit down, holding her skin at a point where damage might be done if he felt the urge for it.

      She didn’t flinch. It was an old trick. ‘Mr Henderson, if you continue, and you bite me, I will drop you straight back on your backside, call the police, tell them I’ve been assaulted, and they will come here and take one look at you, and you’ll be in a psychiatric unit quicker than either of us can reconsider our decisions. Do you understand me?’ They were harsh words, but she needed to set some boundaries if they were to come to terms with each other. She’d never be able to nurse him if he thought she was afraid. She was, but he didn’t need to know that.

      He didn’t move. His teeth remained on her skin and she could feel his thin body quivering with malice. ‘I’m here to care for you, not to put up with abuse. I don’t care how ill you are, I will not put up with abuse – do we understand each other?’ She had come full of good intentions, hung on to them despite her instincts, but they were waning fast. Maybe she wasn’t ready for this after all. The sight of the little girl and all the reminders of why Maura had become a nurse had fuelled her enthusiasm and conviction and made her remember her compassion. She’d wanted to be kind, to show she was still a decent person and could still care, but this man was sucking it all away by the second.

      It took a moment, but eventually he relaxed both his grip around her shoulders and his hold on her cheek, but it bothered her that he’d had to think about it for so long. There seemed to be a streak of cruelty in Gordon Henderson that had the potential to send shivers crawling down the spine. He stank, not only of piss, but of evil, and the combination made Maura’s gut churn again. The feeling did not abate when he whispered in her ear, ‘There’s bad in this house, mind you be careful of it. It gets us all eventually. Ask the nurse, she’ll tell you.’

      ‘I am the nurse, Mr Henderson,’ she said. Her instinct was to shove him away from her, but she couldn’t. He was old, frail and demented if the agency was to be believed. No wonder they were paying so well; no one in their right mind would have taken this job on. But Maura wasn’t in her right mind – the pack of Prozac that lay in her bag unopened was proof of her own GP’s belief in that. Maura was desperate and lonely and full of self-pity. The depression was telling her she wanted to foist that pity onto someone else so she didn’t have to feel it herself any more. Coming to the Grange hadn’t been an act of altruism, it had been an escape route. She had hoped this elderly man would an eager recipient of her willingness to care, no matter how poor the reason, but it seemed she had made a mistake there too. She wasn’t ready, and no matter how mean and vile Gordon Henderson appeared to be, he deserved better. Everyone deserved better.

      Instead of pushing Gordon away she held firm, resolving to call the agency the next day and ask to be replaced by someone who was up to the job. They could have the money; she didn’t want it. She just wanted to feel useful again and keep hold of a good mood when it came along.

      Cheryl came back into the room carrying clean underwear, trousers and a pack of baby wipes.

      ‘Soap and water would be better,’ Maura said, which got her an impatient scowl from Cheryl and a smug smile from Gordon Henderson.

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