The smell of smoke and gravy lingered inside the Mini. They wound the windows down and sang along to Aretha's "Natural Woman." The song was miles out of both their ranges and they squeaked and growled, stopping and catching the tune whenever they could. The roads were quiet and Vik parked outside the hospital, switched Aretha off and turned to look at her. "Are you sure about the records?" he said, nodding to the stacks in the backseat. Maureen had given him her record collection. Her record player was broken and she wanted to get the dusty, pointless piles out of the house.
"Aye," she said.
"I'll give them back to ye later, if ye like."
"I don't think I'm going to want them."
"They're not all shit."
They smiled at each other.
"I'm sorry," he said, and paused. "I'm sorry things are the way they are with you. Ye seem happier."
Maureen didn't want to remember any of that when she was with him. "Mibi I am. Will ye come and see me again?"
"Well, Shan and I are coming to the trial next week."
"But will ye come and see me afterwards, just yourself?"
Vik raised a salacious eyebrow. "Listen," he said, "after the welcome I got last night, an Ebola quarantine wouldn't keep me away."
Through the open doorway to Ward G Maureen saw a young man in a suit in the center of the ward hammering out a plodding rendition of "Nearer My God to Thee" on an electronic keyboard. She remembered the holy rollers coming round her ward at the Northern on Sundays, and a particular Sunday when Angie, the tiny woman in the bed next to her, emptied a bottle of Lucozade into a box of Bibles.
Maureen tried to remember how she had been with Si McGee. He would have received the small-claims letter and she didn't know what she could say about it. She could pretend it hadn't happened, hope Ella had owned up during a warm chat with her son, but it didn't seem very likely. It was just a mix-up and she was the cheery mug from the market. Getting into character, she sped up her walk and made her way to the nurses' station. There was no one there. A hot cup of tea sat on the wooden desk, burning a damp ring-stain into the surface. The door to Ella's room was firmly shut. Maureen took a deep breath, remembering who she was meant to be, knocked briskly and opened it. Ella's bed was empty, the blankets neatly folded on the end. The windows were open to air the room. Maureen turned to find the nurse standing behind her. "Has she gone?"
Disconcerted, the nurse took Maureen by the elbow, holding her quite tightly, guiding her firmly towards the station. Thinking she was in trouble for passing herself off as Ella's daughter, Maureen tried to act surprised and confused. Si must have found out and corrected the nurses. But they could hardly arrest her for that. She hadn't said she was the daughter, she just hadn't contradicted the nurse.
The nurse sat Maureen down and asked whether she would like a cup of tea, pointing at the steaming cup to illustrate the tricky concept. Maureen refused it nervously. Behind the nurse, standing upright between a filing cabinet and the wall, was a polythene bag and sitting on the top was the blue nightie Maureen had bought for Ella. "Wait a minute," said Maureen, "where is she?"
The nurse sat down heavily on the chair. "I am so sorry," she said, taking Maureen's hand. Her hands were damp and smelled of Dettol. "We didn't have a number for you and your brother couldn't give us one. I'm afraid your mother died yesterday."
"She's dead?"
"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry."
The door opened behind them and the sullen beardy nurse took two steps into the room. "Oh," he said, startled and staring at their clasped hands. "Sorry." He backed into the corridor and shut the door.
"She was all right yesterday," breathed Maureen.
"Are you sure you wouldn't like a cup of tea?"
"What happened?"
"She slipped away yesterday."
Maureen tore her hand from the nurse's. "What the fuck are you talking about? She was all right yesterday."
"Her heart…" The nurse looked confused. "… failed. It can happen in older people."
"What-they just stop living?" said Maureen angrily. "That's it? Is that what you're saying?"
"Maybe you should speak to the doctor," the nurse said, and moved to stand up.
Maureen grabbed her by the wrist, holding it tightly. "When did this happen?"
The nurse looked alarmed. "In the afternoon."
"What time?"
"After four, before teas at five. Please let go of me."
Maureen released her wrist. "Was he here?" she said quietly.
The nurse was bewildered. "Who?"
"Was he here?"
The nurse clasped her hands on her lap and looked at them. "Yes," she said quietly. "He was with her when it happened, with his wife."
"His wife?" Maureen hadn't thought of Si as married. "Are you doing a postmortem?"
"Why?" said the nurse, looking up sharply.
"Could he have smothered her?" said Maureen. "Could he have poisoned her?"
"Look, I'm not in a position to say," said the nurse carefully, realizing she had stumbled into the middle of a bad family feud.
"How do I get a postmortem done on her?"
"Maybe you should speak to the doctor about your mother. He'll be back on in an hour."
"You listen to me," said Maureen, leaning across the desk, pointing in the nurse's face. "I'm going to phone the police and if I find out that her body has been released to him I'll hold you personally responsible." She turned and opened the door.
"It's nothing to do with me," said the nurse anxiously. "It's not even my department. Don't ye want to see her?"
Maureen was suddenly calm. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."
She had to wait in a converted cupboard, sipping sweet milky tea that someone had forced into her hand. The department-store poly-bag sat against her ankle. Si had left everything she had bought for Ella. She was in the bowels of the hospital, deep in the earth, three floors below the lobby. The artificial lighting was bright and, despite the insistent heating, the walls still smarted damp and cold. Maureen was only wearing a vest and jungle shorts and her arms were covered in goose bumps. They would never have let her see Ella's body if they didn't think she was her daughter. Ella's real daughter couldn't have come to see her at all. She sat forward, bending over her knees, wishing she could smoke. Si'd had his wife with him.
Maybe he was married to the foreign woman Ella had mentioned when they were filling in the form. She tried to remember whether he had a wedding ring on his finger but couldn't.
A small black man with tidy features stuck his head around the door. He wore a white coat with bulging pockets and wire-framed glasses. "Hello there. Would you like to come through and see Ella now?" His voice was low, and Maureen appreciated the thought that had gone into reading the toe tag before he came through.
He led Maureen across a hallway, unlocked a small door and took her through a narrow corridor to the Chapel of Rest. Designed to offend no one's religious sensibilities, the chapel had none of the symbols that would have made sense of it. There were no crosses in the room, no doves, no crescents, just a red and white stained-glass lamp, a narrow shelf with a bunch of silk flowers on it and a trolley, prettied up with a sheet.
The sheet was folded down under Ella's chin, tucked in tight as if to hold her in place. The plaster cast had been cut off her leg. Her eyebrows were still missing, her hair brushed back flat against her head. She looked like a venerable old gentleman. Her arms were by her sides, the gold necklace was missing, presumably in Si's pocket. Her teeth were in her mouth and Maureen could see where her lip curled up that the break had been stuck together with clear glue. The soft light made her look restful.