EPISODE 49

The first visit

A hostile welcome to the hospital had not been what Joseph and Mary had been expecting when they set out from the hotel, but that is what their senses received from the moment they walked through the main entrance.  In fact, Nothing inside the building was meeting with their expectations.      

  They had been both surprised, and slightly overawed, by the hospital itself from the very moment they had begun to approach it from the street level.  On the outside it had made an awesome impression in its silhouetted form against the darkened, stormy, night sky with its continuous array of silent electricity flashing through the clouds that surrounded it; a large, grand old Gothic structure, illustriously illuminated by the huge floodlights stationed in the gardens that boldly highlighted the walls all the way up to the four gargoyles that perched menacingly above all below; each on one of the four corners of the tall, rectangular shaped building so there was no escaping their piercing gaze.  And also on the roof , in the very middle of the ancient structure, highlighted by a further four slightly smaller spotlights, three massive bells hung from the beams of a large open tower.

  The exterior of the building extended an aura of safety and strength to those that approached it, and that is what they had expected the inside to also emit, but it didn’t.  Instead it presented an eerie, malevolent unwelcoming, to the hapless visitor who sought sanctuary and healing within its massive structure.         

  Evil, manipulative, feelings were more likely to possess one’s thoughts and senses, than safety and comfort in the interior of the former home of Lord Trentham.  Both Mary and Joseph could feel a presence in the room the minute they passed through the front door, but neither one could put a label on it.  Nor did either make comment on their intuitive feelings.  There was no mysterious sound or vibration to confront them; no wispy, shifting air current to distract the newly arrived – hot or cold.  No flickering lights, nor unholy shadows, to concern the worried mind. But there was something that disturbed the tranquillity.  Something that rattled the mind, stirred the senses, and crawled across the skin regardless of whether it was exposed to the night air … or buried beneath a sea of clothing.  However, both were forced to concede there was naught that they could do to alleviate the feeling except to do their utmost to deny its existence to their own minds.

  Denial, of course, proved no easy task to undertake because there proved to be far too many inconsistencies in the room they were currently viewing to overcome.  The interior, for instance, seemed so contrasting to itself it befuddled the mind in every way possible.  In one way it exuded opulent representation of the style of class one would have expected to come across in London, or one of the bigger, more affluent cultural cities or estates of the past.   

  But in another way it reeked of the vulgarity of the unkempt masses of today.          

  Whereas the exterior had offered a strong defiance to any attempt to change its age and purpose,  and appearance, the interior now presented a series of unnecessary, not-well-thought-out, attempts at modernisation; updates not simply chosen to replace worn equipment, but seemingly chosen purposely to destroy the very heart and soul of the building.

  Huge tapestries from the past hung on the walls in the entrance as a reminder of the house’s more opulent days.   As did, in various nooks and crannies spread around the entrance and waiting area, the roped off antique chairs and sofas that took shelter from any harm that could be inflicted on them from the modern generation.  The variety of unrelated items, all fine examples of Gothic culture, that were scattered around the room helped shape the nucleus of the building; they were it’s historical life-force.  Things, small like the sofas and chairs, and large like the ornamental pillars that stretched high up to the ceilings of the upper levels, became the semi-exposed beacons that cast expanded light on the beauty and character of the generation from whence the building came.

  But it was the four dozen or so grey coloured plastic bucket seats that sat in rows awaiting the multi dozens of unwell patients that were expected to overwhelm the reception area that epitomised the newly created character of the room.  The chairs, themselves, along with many more recently added furnishings, not only looked downright ugly, they gave severe vulgarity and cheapness to the room putting it completely out of touch with the snippets of original décor that shared the room. 

  Then, to make things look even despondent, there were three vending machines that dispensed coffee, drinks and an assortment of sandwiches, chips  and chocolates located beneath one of the huge tapestries.  Covering roughly half of the width of the magnificent piece of art, the tallest of the machines came to an upward halt just beneath the centrepiece.  Ironically, the centrepiece was Lord Trentham and his family serving food to his workers in the grounds outside the hospital in the days when this was his manor. 

  “God, it’s so morbid in here.”  Joseph complained. “It looks more like the storage room after a pop concert on the lawn, than a hospital or a former mansion.  “I gather this is reception, but where is everybody?”

  Even the V-shaped reception area they now faced was an affront on the building’s true personality.  An extremely high sheet of frosted glass ran the four metre length on the top of the counter on both sides.  And on each side three six inch holes in a symmetrical line had been drilled out presumably to make it possible to make verbal contact with the patient sitting on the other side, but keep them at arm’s length.  The reason for such high-risk security in a small village such as Trenthamville was beyond Joseph’s comprehension; however, he made no comment on it.  The building was old, he had no idea how long this kind of glass had been around, but he doubted that it had been part of the original construction.  But the more he thought about it, the less he cared, finally deciding the protection may have been installed during some kind of contagious outbreak years ago; “Covid-19 perhaps?” he wondered. “Most of the shops in London put up plastic barriers at the counters, so it is quiet possible; though I do think that this has been up a bit longer than that.  Perhaps the bubonic plague.  Well, it’s of no concern to us … I hope.’  Joseph had also wondered if the rows of seats facing the reception desk were justified, or a gross overkill, because, unlike the big city hospitals, currently there was no one occupying any of them.  Nor was there any sign of life to be seen anywhere in the room, and that included the night nurse. 

   As Joseph and Mary cautiously approached the counter in the eerie quietness of the seemingly empty room, they had wondered if there was anybody on duty … or if they were completely alone in the hospital.  Not a sound could be heard coming from anywhere outside that of their own footsteps thundering in the silence on the wooden floors.  And it was not until they had stuck their faces up close to one of the holes on the frosted glass window that they had gotten their answer.                                 

   As it had turned out there was only one solitary night nurse on duty, a rather sour-faced, middle-aged, woman who appeared to have more time for the television she had been watching in the small room located at the back of the reception booth than for visitors who turned up uninvited; a nurse who was more than willing to advise those visitors of her displeasure at their arrival.  She had made it painfully obvious that she had not expected any interruption to her night, from patients or visitors, and had not appreciated their intrusive enquiry.  As far as she had been concerned her sole duty for the night was to the hospital’s sole patient, and he was wired to half a dozen different apparatus which relayed the readings to equipment that allowed her to monitor them in the same room where she had been watching television, though she had personally made no mention about the television, only the room she worked in.

  “If no bells go off in the next thirty minutes I will be coming up to give him some medication and change his drip. “At that point in time I would expect you to be gone, or already be on the way out of the hospital.” The nurse explained in a slow, dry, tone,   “The medication will quickly put him to sleep and I doubt that he will be capable of communication again before breakfast, which for him will be about nine o’clock in the morning. 

  “And if the bell rings before thirty minutes are up?”  Joseph enquired fatuously.

  “Then I expect that you will have already left before I arrive.  So you’d best get moving if you want to salvage what is left of your thirty minutes.”  The nurse’s voice was quiet, but the tone was demanding. 

  Joseph, feeling suitably admonished for his facetious remark, thanked her for her time and said no more as the nurse abruptly got out of her seat, turned on her heels and made her way back to the room where she had been watching television.

  Following his reproach, Joseph dared not even contemplate going past the allotted thirty minutes she had granted them for their visit, not even by a second, and they quickly began their trek to Vittorio’s room.

  “I am glad that we didn’t mention the fact that we found her watching television when we arrived.”  Joseph freely admitted, his face breaking into a smile, “I didn’t care what she was doing, really, I just wanted to have a bit of fun with her.  She was so uptight, but she probably would have bitten my head off if I had said anything.”

  “I think she would have, possibly literally.” Mary agreed with a laugh.  “Wow, this part of the hospital is more like the exterior promised.  Though some of the faces scare me a bit; I know that it was the period, but they don’t look too friendly.  I certainly wouldn’t like to meet them in a dark alley or even here after lights out.

  Joseph looked at the paintings Mary was referring to that ran along the length of the wall and saw what she had been referring to.  A continuous array of stern, no nonsense, male faces, presumably from the hospital’s past, glared down on them, seemingly questioning their right and authority to walk these hallowed halls. 

  “Presumably, all ex-patrons, or former high-ranking members of the hospital board; perhaps even some of the doctors that once operated at the hospital.”  Joseph offered, “Did you notice that they were all carnivorous?”

  “Which,” Mary asked in both surprise and amusement at Joseph’s suggestion, “The doctors, the patrons or the members?”

  “Possibly all of them, I suppose. They do look a scary bunch alright.” Joseph replied with an embarrassed smile, “Sorry, but my brain got ahead of my tongue; I was referring to the birds.’

  “Birds; what birds?”  Mary asked in confusion as she stopped walking for a second and swung her head in the direction they had just travelled.  And as she raked her eyes back down the hallway she was surprised to see something she had missed earlier as her eyes had concentrated purely on the images on the wall.  What she hadn’t noticed earlier were the stuffed birds resting on small tree branches inside glass domes that rested on white pedestals; pedestals that occupied a space on the floor that existed between each pair of human portraits that hung on the wall above.  The size of each pedestal and domes varied, as did the bird contained within, but each display reached an equal height that guaranteed they reached a height a fraction below shoulder level of the average passer-by; no more – no less. 

  And Mary realised that Joseph had been one hundred percent correct in his assumption of the displayed birds place in the scheme of things.  Stuffed eagles, owls, ospreys, and many other species were on display; every single bird present – was a bird of prey.  Mary wondered if their placement at that height was to attract the attention of young children to take their minds off the horror their imaginative minds were conjuring up in relation to what was waiting for them in the hospital.  But considering the fact that most of birds had their bloody prey in their beaks or their talons, and each bird had its eyes staring menacingly at the observer, she began to wonder if was to appeal to the fascinated, inquisitive, child that visited the hospital – or to scare the life out of each and everyone of them as they passed by.

  “I think that this hospital is the most beautiful, interesting, surprising building I have ever visited.” Mary said happily, “There seems to be something of interest everywhere you look.  I think that I would like to have a really good look around the entire building before we head back to London.  Do you like it, Joseph?”

  “Yes, it is a pleasant change from the bricks and mortar of modern London.  It reminds me of the home where I grew up.”

  “My god.  Joseph.  Are you an aristocrat, or related to a millionaire or something?”  Mary’s face lit up in expectation of a totally unexpected revelation of the man that she had known simply as Joseph Jacobson: shipping clerk at Johnson’s Imports and Exports.

  “No,” Joseph laughed, “It was the orphanage where I was brought up.  It used to be owned by the Lord of the manor in the village before he died.  The school I attended was just as old and historic as the orphanage in a sense, and that was understandable because it had been the former home of the Lord of the manor’s brother.  Both were quite beautiful buildings.   And coincidentally,  both brothers died in the same house … under very mysterious circumstances.”

  “Oh, Joseph, I am sorry … I did not know.  I am so sorry for your loss of your parents.”  Mary said in a slightly embarrassed tone.  

  “It’s alright, Mary.  I was only a few months old at the time.  I never knew any difference, and the orphanage was a joy to live in. We were all in the same boat in there, so we became our own family over the years.”

  “I am sorry, though, Joseph.”  Mary still felt a bit embarrassed and desperately wanted to change the subject.  “But what did you mean about the Lord of the manor and the strange way he and his brother died?”

  “It’s all rather interesting, but I am afraid that we are running out of time to see Vittorio.  I will tell you all over a coffee a bit later, but at the moment the boys are waiting to see us safely up the stairs.

  As they began once again to quickly move towards the steps Mary wondered what Joseph meant by the boys and suddenly she giggled as she saw what he was referring to; At the base of the staircase leading to the upper level where Vittorio was housed, two large suits of armour, each complete with sword and axe at the ready, stood guard on both sides of the wide steps.  At their summit the steps merged with the rail guarded rectangular walkway that travelled around the open space that covered the stairs, and took the passing traveller past the two wards that occupied space on either side of the second level.

  There were only twenty four steps on a sharp incline that lay before Joseph and Mary, but they found the trip to be an extremely laborious effort as they climbed to the top – their efforts exhausting them, as a sudden, thoroughly unexpected, rising heat stifled their breathing. 

  “This is ridiculous.”  Joseph complained, “We will both get pneumonia out of tonight more than likely.” 

  Mary was in complete accord with Joseph’s comments. A few moments ago, in the streets outside the hospital, the night air had been cooling to the body; their exposed hands beginning to feel the imaginary onset of frostbite. Once inside the building the air had been warmer, but warm, not hot.  And as they walked along the hallway it had remained the same temperature.  Now, as they reached the end of their ascent of the twenty four steps, the air felt nearly twenty degrees warmer.  It was becoming more and more difficult to breathe as they made their way along the narrow corridor towards room fifteen which was halfway down the aisle they were following according to the sign they had read upon reaching the top.  Joseph began to sweat heavily, and Mary was beginning to feel faint by the time they approached the door which was surprisingly shut.

  Joseph immediately turned the handle but nothing happened.  The door was not opened, and there was no answer.

  They checked the room and ward number, to ensure themselves that they were at the right room and Joseph began knocking on the door again once they assured themselves that they were. 

  But there was no reply.

 “Why the devil is it locked?”  Joseph mumbled as he knocked on the door again, “Vittorio wasn’t in any condition to run away the last time I saw him. And, besides, I thought there was going to be a policeman on hand to protect him?”

  He knocked again, harder and louder this time, but again received no reply.    

  “Vittorio, it is Joseph.” Joseph called out, “We met at the farm this afternoon.  I am Rosetta’s friend.  Do you remember me?”

  But again there was no answer.  Joseph reached out to test the lock again in a futile, frustrated, moment of action, but at the final second his hand movement stopped and hovered above the handle.  Finally, he lowered it and called out once again.

  “Vittorio, are you awake?” He called out for the second time.

  “This can’t be right,” Joseph remarked when again there was no reply,   

  “Why didn’t she tell us it was locked instead of sending us up here?  And why is it so hot up here?  It wasn’t like this at reception, nor in the corridor.   And now it’s beginning to smell. What sort of hospital is this?”

  “That smell is awful,”   Mary agreed.  “It smells like something burning.”

  Joseph scratched the back of his neck in frustration.  “Where is that policeman?  Perhaps he has gone somewhere; perhaps that is why it is locked.  Well, that is not a good sign.  Our allocated time is beginning to run out real fast … and we haven’t even gotten ourselves inside the room yet.”

  “Why don’t we just go back and ask the nurse if she has a key we can use?”  Mary asked.

  Joseph turned and looked Mary in the eyes, a huge grin on his face.

  “Off you go, then.  I’ll wait here in case the policeman comes back.”

  Mary looked back at Joseph with a horrified look on her face at the thought of facing Nurse Ratched. 

  “Well, it was just a thought.” She admitted sheepishly, “So what do we do now?”

  “Well, I am not too sure what to do now.” Joseph admitted, “I never had a plan in the first place.  I wasn’t expecting any obstacles other than Vittorio possibly being too ill to receive visitors.

  “Perhaps you should put your shoulder into it and knock the door down like they do in the movies?” Mary suggested with a mischievous grin.

  “No.  I doubt that those doors would give way even if I was Mister Tough Guy; they look too solid.  Anyway, I would prefer not to bust in on Vittorio if he is sleeping.  After all, he is recovering from a bullet wound to the heart.  Presumably the policeman has locked him inside the room because he has been called away for some reason, perhaps a call of nature, or the nurse closed it and just wasn’t thinking when we interrupted her television show… or maybe she was punishing us for interrupting her viewing pleasure by sending us on a wild goose chase.  Whichever, I have no intent of disturbing him if he is asleep.   And should we bust in and wake him, or even if he is already awake, we are likely to frighten him … and in his current mindset that could easily set him off in another tangent of madness.  I know that I am in a hurry to get answers from him, but he has been through a lot today.  We can come back in the morning when he is hopefully a bit fresher … and, hopefully, the nurse will be in a better mood … perhaps not even on duty.

  “You are a considerate man, Joseph.  I totally agree with you.”

  “Come on, let’s go.  I think I am dying for a nice warm caffe-latte back at the hotel … probably two.  It will feel freezing outside after the excessive heat in here … though, when you think about it, it has cooled down somewhat. Do you feel it.

“Actually, you are right.  Yes, I do.  It is a lot cooler.”  Mary agreed.

  “This place is crazy.”  Joseph said, shaking his head in disbelief at the change of the internal environment.

  “Never mind, Joseph.  Your suggestion still sounds good to me.  Though I think I will settle for a hot chocolate.”

  “Your choice. Mary.   Well, let’s go.”  Joseph replied happily as began to move away from the locked door and Mary immediately fell in beside him when suddenly, despite his own words, for just a moment Joseph stopped, looked at the door wondering if he should attempt to break it down in case there was something wrong in there, then shook his head as he accepted his own original decision and again began retreating towards the steps and the exit.  However, he had taken but two steps when a strange noise began to emit from the room; a throaty, gasping sound that sent shivers up his spine and neck.  Joseph turned back immediately and in an instant he had reached out for the door, Mary right behind him, but again the handle refused to more than an inch or two.

  “My god, he sounds like he is choking on something.”  Joseph cried out as he prepared himself to try and knock the door down.  But before he could fully prepare himself, a storm blasted into life behind him in the vast space that existed between the floor below and the ceiling on the next level above them; Electricity unexpectedly crackled loudly through the air and long sparks of mini lightning bolts exploded all around them as they smashed into the white walls of the ward … then something exploded within the room, the vibration of whatever happened causing the floor boards in the corridor to shake so violently Joseph had trouble retaining his balance and came precariously close to knocking Mary over the edge of the guard rails that ran around the second level as he tried to retain his balance. 

  Then, so close together it was as if it occurred in the same time frame, the sheer force of a second explosion inside the room ripped the door off its hinges and pushed it violently and vertically over the two visitors, the impact knocking them both to the floor before it became lodged at an angle against the railing and completely covered them.  Joseph pulled Mary in close to him and wrapped his arms around her to do his best to protect her from any errant flames from the fire ball that flew out the room and onto the door as they lay on the floor in the absolute middle of the door’s fortification.  The positioning of the door was nothing short of a miracle as far as they were both concerned.  It was as if they were protected by some benevolent force whose single aim was to save their lives as the door became an umbrella that protected them from the violent burst of flame that flowed out of the room.   The flame so close they could feel its heat forcing sweat to pour out of their entire body as it rolled itself up the almost disintegrated door, then unexpectedly found itself sucked into the ongoing storm that existed between the middle of the guard rails where it quickly dissipated.

  The smoke alarms screeched unmercifully through the wing of the ancient building: the fire sprinklers sprang into action, spraying the door, the walls and presumably the hall below with high pressure water.   Somewhere in the distance the town’s fire alarm roared the local brigade into action – while Joseph and Mary struggled slowly to manipulate themselves out from under the fragile, but still glowing door before it finally succumbed to the damage and water pressure inflicted on it and fell down onto them.

  Eventually, after what seemed an eternity, they managed to free themselves.  And as they got themselves back up on their feet they were surprised to find the fire completely out, both in the room and outside it; the storm that had raged above the stairs had disappeared, the heat that had almost burnt them to a crisp seconds earlier reduced dramatically to a pleasant level … the door that had saved them collapsed in a pile of dark grey dust and fell to the floor, and the sprinklers ceased their torrential downpour.  Then to their surprise and disbelief they realised that somehow they had managed to remain completely dry and injury free, despite the prevailing conditions, despite the amount of sweat they had lost whilst the fire had passed over, and despite the sprinklers.  They were uncertain as to how they had escaped it all, but glad that fate had decreed that they did, deciding not to even attempt to contemplate what had just taken place.  As far as they were now concerned nothing that was taking place this night was normal … and they doubted very much at this point in time they even knew what normal was, so they had no way of clarifying what had been real … and what hadn’t. 

  “My god!  Vittorio!”   Joseph suddenly screamed out; the volume and intensity of his voice scaring the life out of Mary, and despite the possibility of danger Joseph was inside the room in record time … then within a heartbeat Mary was standing right behind him.

  But the second they arrived in the room they were confused.  They looked around the room in disbelief: their minds finding it impossible to accept the credibility of the vision that their own eyes offered.  There, where presumably the bed with Vittorio occupying it had once stood, there was now nothing but a small, smouldering, blackened, pile of still smoking charcoal.  Elsewhere, the walls, the ceiling and the floor were meticulously, hygienically, clean.  There weren’t even any wet patches which led Joseph and Mary to doubt the existence of a sprinkler in the room, which, in turn, made them silently wonder how the fire had been put out.  The only other sign that there had been a fire in the room was a rose in a vase that was sitting on the bedside locker; now almost void of water, it’s singular, dehydrated, bud hung precariously downward from a wilted stem, and small wisps of steam floated upwards from inside the container.

  “What happened to Vittorio?  Where is he?”  A clearly shaken Mary asked in disbelief at what she saw.  Her eyes occasionally floated around the entire room as if in a vain hope that Vittorio was going to walk into the room as he returned from the toilet, or the outside area of the hospital should he have ducked out for a quick, illegal, smoke.                                   

  “I don’t know for certain.”  Joseph replied as he looked at the smoking pile, “He could be down the hall at the toilet, or we could be in the wrong room, after all, the door was locked.  We never actually saw him in the room; we just believed that we were at the right room.  But I seriously doubt it.  I am fairly certain that those strangely twisted pipes lying on both sides of the ashes, and those blobby things that are exposed with them are the melted remains of the various monitoring apparatus that were attached to him.  And by the looks of their current placement, I would imagine that they are still hooked up to whatever is left of him, though none of it may be any longer recognisable as what it once was.  This room reminds me so much of what we found at the farm.  I think it best that we get out of here as fast as we can in case whatever caused this mess comes back for us.” 

  Joseph turned to leave when he saw something in the embers that caught his attention   “Wait a minute… what’s that?”

  “What is it, Joseph?”   Mary asked in surprise as all she could see was the slowly diminishing red ashes that Joseph seemed to be indicating was Vittroio; a suggestion that she preferred to not even think about … even if it was true.

  But instead of saying anything, Joseph began running his eyes around the room.   However, it took him less than a minute to decide that what he needed was not in the room.  “Mary, do you don’t happen to have any tissues or spare paper on you do you?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”  Mary replied as she searched through her handbag.   “No, wait a minute.” she exclaimed as she pulled out a small plastic packet of tissues, “Will this do?”

  “Perfect.  Thank you, Mary.”  Joseph accepted the packet and immediately began pulling half a dozen tissues out of the packet and rolled each of them into a loose ball in order to make them a little heavier than the way they would have been they been left as single sheets.  Once he had finished rolling all six sheets Joseph threw them all in one motion as hard as he could over the ashes, ensuring that his hands didn’t cross the line, and was overjoyed when he accomplished a good two and a half feet into the space above the embers before they all began their trek to the floor.  Like feathers lost in flight, the sheets began to slowly float down towards the floor, rocking gently from side to side as they fell.  But when they reached the bottom, two of them had the misfortune to fall on red embers which reduced them to ash within seconds, while the others fell upon cold charcoal and remained intact.  The entire action brought a smile to Joseph’s face. 

  “It would appear that there was not as much energy used in this attack.”  He advised Mary in a rather excited voice, “This would explain why the fire is dying out so quickly this time.  Whatever caused it was not emitting anything near the strength that had existed at the farm.  Perhaps that was because there were many of them, while Vittorio was but one.  Well that may be of a great advantage for us to know in the future.”

   Mary had no idea what Joseph was talking about, but then became more curious when he reached over and picked up the wooden chair that stood on the floor just outside the ring of embers and smashed it down on the floor … immediately scooping one leg up as he did so.   Mary watched in fascination as Joseph reached over and began raking it through the black mess as he and Martin had done at the farm, but her heart jumped up into her mouth when he suddenly picked up the now leg-less chair seat and placed it down on the embers, went down on it with one knee and reached in with his bare hand to pull something out of the blackened embers.

  “Joseph, be careful,” Mary called out in fear for his safety, but Joseph just turned and gave her a smile. 

  “It’s fine, Mary … I am perfectly safe. These embers are no longer active.” 

  And as he spoke Joseph began to rise up to his full height, giving his entire attention to whatever was in his hand in the process.

  “What is it, Joseph?”  Mary asked excitedly as she sidled up to him to get a better look at the mysterious item.

  “I don’t know.” Joseph admitted reluctantly.  “It reminds me of something, but I can’t remember what.”

  “May I see it, please?”  Mary asked, and Joseph handed her what appeared to be an oddly shaped piece of reddish tinged glass.

  “It seems slightly familiar.”  Mary agreed, “It reminds me of something that my father once found when he went to Australia for his honeymoon many years ago.”

  “You were there when your parent’s went on their honeymoon?”  Joseph asked, playfully.

  “No, silly, he found it in New South Wales in some country town he was visiting, and he kept it on display on a stand in the lounge room because he said that it brought him luck.”

  “And what was it?”

  “A ruby!”

  “My god, you are right.  It does look like part of the outer case of a ruby.  Or at least half a ruby, there’s a lot missing from it, surely.  It looks like it has been melted.  I wonder how it got into that condition … or how it got into the fire?”

  “Perhaps it was Vittorio’s?   Perhaps it was his lucky charm?”

  “Then it was not a very lucky charm was it?”

  “No, I guess not.”   

  The wailing sound of an emergency vehicle suddenly began to fill the night air, its constant demand to be noticed immediately quelling Joseph’s curiosity.

  “Well, Mary, by the sounds of it, the fire brigade are on their way and I really don’t feel like trying to explain what happened here tonight … especially when I really don’t know.  And if the fire brigade are on their way, the police surely won’t be far behind.  And if they find us here it may seem suspicious to them that we were at the farm when Vittorio was shot … and now we are here at the hospital when he disappears under mysterious circumstances.  And if we try to explain what we think may have happened they will most likely think us mad … or guilty of trying to make them look like fools.  Whichever way it goes, I feel sure it will work against us.  So let’s get out of here before it’s too late.”  

  Mary shook her head in silent agreement and they hurriedly made their way out of the room where they were surprised by the fact that there was nobody to be seen anywhere.  And they were even more surprised to find the only physical evidence of what they had been through outside the room was the dusty grey charcoal remains of the door, and some water on the corridor floor in front of the room from the dripping sprinkler above it.  Although they could both swear that all of the sprinklers went off, the remainder of the carpet was bone dry.  It was as if none but the one from outside Vittorio’s room had been turned on, and the puddles the dripping caused were so miniscule it was more the result of a faulty system, than what they had seen happen.  Joseph shook his head in disbelief at the lack of carnage that they were now finding; it was almost as if nothing had happened whatsoever, and their own dry clothes and skin tended to agree with that statement.  However, they were certain in their minds that the night nurse would have heard the noise and they needed to keep moving as fast as they could. ‘Surely she didn’t have her headphones up so loud that she didn’t hear the raucous sound of fire bells screaming through the hallway, never mind the explosion in the room?,’ they both wondered.  Cautiously they made their way along the narrow passageway, then down the staircase guided by the light from above the stairs, and the light that streamed upwards from the lower level which had been unaffected by the action and events that had taken place on the higher level.  As they reached the bottom of the stairs there was still no sign of the night nurse, nor any signs of water, but outside, bells, warning of the fire brigade’s impending arrival, could be heard very close by.  It seemed to Joseph and Mary that the only actual evidence of what they had seen happen was the mess on the floor where the bed once stood, and the fact that the fire brigade was actually responding to an alarm.  And in these circumstances there was every chance in the world that the conditions of the room would change dramatically before anybody else entered, and the fire brigade was coming in response to a completely different alarm.  The sooner they were back in the hotel the happier they would both be.

  They moved quickly past the paintings and stuffed birds, still getting the strange feeling that the décor was watching them as they moved by, and were almost at the entrance when the first fireman came crashing through the door.  What Joseph and Mary hadn’t seen as they had almost reached the bottom of the stairs had been the night nurse leaving her little enclosure through a door next to the glass enclosed reception desk and making her way towards the far end of the pointed counter.  Once she reached the end the night nurse took a sharp turn to the left just in time to collide with the running fireman who had just entered the room and was trying desperately to locate the scene of the fire.  Joseph and Mary could hear her surprised scream reverberating down the otherwise empty corridors and did their very best to not be seen by the two entwined bodies as they struggled to regain their individuality along with their footing.

  “Mary, over here.” Joseph whispered as he quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her to the back of the plastic chairs and went down on his knees.  Mary followed suit and they moved on their hands and knees, arriving at the end of their cover just as the remaining firemen rushed into the room and headed directly to the two struggling bodies on the floor in order to disentangle them.  Joseph seized the moment and the two of them moved like lightning to the front door and quickly exited the building in total disbelief of all they had seen that night.