Dark Choir Read online

  He threw his head back and laughed. Dan decided to try another direct question.

  “Have you heard the singing from the asylum?”

  He shot to his feet and was suddenly in Dan’s face. “Course I have. They sing to me. Me. Every night. In my head. I hear what they’re saying. ‘Going to pay, Connor, going to pay for what you did to young Patty.’ Yeah, well I had fun. Years I was on him. Years I had my way, but there’s always a cost. Always.”

  Pendred drew back and sat on the bed.

  “Patty? Do you mean Patrick? I know what you did to him. I spoke to Ann Prendergast.”

  “She don’t know nothing. Nothing of the Dark Choir. When the Dark Choir sing, block your fuckin’ ears.”

  “What is the Dark Choir? Tell me!”

  “Well, it’s like this.” He moved closer and lowered his voice. “When they sing, them cripples walk.”

  Pendred went silent. “Go on.”

  “That singing I hear, that’s just practice. Winding up for the big show. They can walk a bit when practice is on, but when the big show comes…fuck me…nothing’ll stop ’em. Ol’ Patty. He’ll get in here. With everything to keep him out he’ll be gettin’ in here, and he’ll get me. I hear what they’re singing so I know. Widdowson don’t know. Jackie don’t know. Jason don’t know, but I do. He’s gonna visit first. They’ll all get visits first, then…” He ran his finger across this throat. “…but slow. All night. I’ll get it. I’ll get it bad. He’s gonna string me up by my bollocks if he gets his way. And they’re gonna sing soon. Really soon.”

  “What do you know about Jackie O’Shea and Jason Hereford.”

  Connor looked up at him, eyes piercing his soul with contempt. “What do you know about Jackie O’Shea and Jason Hereford?” he mimicked in a sing-song whine. “You’re shitting yourself being here.”

  Maybe he was insane, but that particular observation was quite astute.

  “Look at you, goin’ all red now. If we didn’t have guards and whistles all here, I’d smash your face in. I’d smash your face in and then grease you up. Just like I used to do to Patty. I’d grease you up, and then we’d see who’s boss.”

  Revulsion amalgamated with fear. This creature was truly revolting, and Dan didn’t want to listen to any of this.

  “Fuck you. I’ve heard enough.” He backed out of the doorway, keeping Connor in sight as he did.

  “They talk about your Lindsey, you know. She’s one of ’em.”

  Dan stopped. “How do you know my sister?”

  “I don’t, but they do, and when I hear their song they sing about her. Oh, she’s gonna do the worst. And they got plans for you, Daniel. They sing about you too. And Widdowson, and PC Gould and Gillits and Angie the fingerer and Connor. Connor’ll be first they say, and I’ll go on the longest.” He hung his head and stared at the floor. His whole body language changed. He no longer registered Dan’s presence. He repeated the sentence again but quietly, to himself, “And I’ll go on the longest.”

  Dan left the unit as quickly as possible. Scaife let him into the airlock. giving back his attack alarm to the guy at the desk, Dan breathed the fresh air.

  Alison was waiting, but he didn’t tell her much of the conversation once in the car. Dan was still trying to come to terms with what Connor had said. Alison stopped at the shop on the way back, leaving him and Lindsey in the car.

  He regarded his sister. Black hair hung over the headrest of the wheelchair, her mouth moving, a seemingly contented moan coming from her throat as she lazily let her head loll to one side.

  “You’re not some mad murderess on the quiet, are you Linds?”

  She laughed when he spoke as she often did when she heard his voice.

  Philip Scaife had twelve minutes left until the end of his shift. He had nine bottles of Peroni in the fridge at home, the Breaking Bad boxset to get through, and he was intensely looking forwards to it. He knew he wouldn’t be getting away on time. Pendred had sat on the edge of the bed all afternoon after that nervous visitor from his church left. Philip just knew he was going to kick off tonight. The night shift coming on were short, and Philip couldn’t just leave them if Pendred needed to go into seclusion.

  Salim, the staff nurse, had just entered the building and the shift handover hadn’t even begun when a scream erupted from Connor Pendred’s room. Philip, Salim, and Wilson, the other care assistant on today, ran up to his room.

  The bed was overturned and the sink had been ripped from the wall. This was violent even by Connor’s standards. Pendred himself had backed into a corner, screaming hysterically.

  Connor Pendred had a history of violent conduct towards staff. He must have been put into the seclusion room a dozen times in the last month, but this time it was different. This time he looked afraid.

  “Restrain him,” said Salim. “The usual positions.”

  The three men piled forwards and Connor fought them. Wilson and Salim got his hands behind his back and Philip took his head, and they put him to the floor. He still screamed and fought. All three men knew he wouldn’t be calming down any time soon.

  “Right, let’s get him in seclusion,” Salim decided. They pulled him to his feet and practically dragged him down the corridor to the seclusion room; a featureless cell where the patient was put to calm down so they can’t hurt anyone else or themselves.

  As Salim and Wilson struggled with Pendred, Philip unlocked the heavy metal door to the seclusion room. The grey interior of the room was illuminated by a single light sunk into the ceiling, a glowing bulge of toughened glass. There was a protrusion from the wall that served as a seat made from the same hard rubber that covered the walls, floors, and even the ceiling. Salim and Wilson practically threw the patient inside. Philip caught the look of terror in Pendred’s wide blue eyes before he slammed the door shut.

  Midnight.

  Philip would not be drinking that Peroni or getting through that boxset tonight. Connor had been screaming continuously. It had worried the other patients and their anxiety had increased. Salim had given most of the patients a sizable dose of the pre-prescribed PRN medication to calm their anxiety. Salim, Wilson, and the other staff seemed to be coping now, so Philip told Salim he was leaving. Salim thanked him and told him to come in later tomorrow to take back the time he’d worked over. Philip knew he wouldn’t do that as there would be no one to give out the lunchtime meds if he were late, but he was too tired to explain this to Salim right now.

  As he left the ward office, he met Wilson at the door of the seclusion room. Pendred appeared to have screamed himself out. Now he was moaning quietly.

  There was a small window in the door of the toughened glass where the patient could be observed.

  “How is he?”

  “I dunno,” replied Wilson. “He starts to go quiet then starts screaming again. He’s telling someone to get away and leave him alone. Can we go in there and just check that he’s okay?”

  “Not really, mate. I’m going off shift now. I should have finished at eight.” Philip looked in on Pendred. He was crouched on the floor in the far corner of the seclusion room. “He’s okay. Well, apart from the psychosis. Doctor Mylvalganum is in tomorrow. They stopped his antipsychotics last week. This is probably why he’s like this.”

  “Please,” said Wilson. “Just open the door for a minute with me.”

  Wilson looked concerned. Philip trusted him and knew he wasn’t one of those over emotional people you sometimes get working here.

  “Why do you want to open the door?”

  “This will sound insane. The door hasn’t been opened since we put him in there and the room was empty before that, but I’m sure I heard someone else in there. Another voice speaking.”

  Philip was too tired for this. He needed his bed. “You’re hearing things.”

  Wilson smiled an uneasy smile. “Maybe I am. Perhaps Doctor Myl should put me on antipsychotics.”

  “You keep hearing voi
ces, mate, he will.” Philip unclipped his attack alarm and gave it to Wilson. “Will you buzz me out?”

  Max had gone off duty hours ago. Wilson entered the small office and unlocked the first door to the air lock. Just as Philip was leaving, Connor Pendred began screaming again, telling whoever was tormenting him to get away.

  Thirty-Six

  Connor Pendred was mad but his words played on Dan’s mind for the next few days.

  Until now, Dan called the unearthly singers up at the asylum the ghost choir. Pendred had christened them the Dark Choir. Ann Prendergast had mentioned the Dark Choir in reference to Connor Pendred when he’d interviewed her.

  Connor had said they had plans for him. Even if that was true, which it wasn’t, he would be back in London by the end of the week and all this would be irrelevant. He tried to push it out of his mind, but with all that had happened the events stayed there. Pendred’s words continued circling around inside his head in an endless cycle.

  He got a break from the cycle when Beverly rang. She acted as if nothing had happened up here. When he tried to talk to her about the attack, she changed the subject, interrupting him to talk about the wedding and grill him with ideas for timings, place settings, readings, and bridesmaid dresses. Beverly was in complete shut down to the events that had taken place at One Farm Road.

  When he left Derbyshire he was facing the prospect of a wedding he didn’t want. Hot on the heels of his fear at this prospect came the paralysing apathy he’d nurtured since his engagement. He should say something but was too scared. Beverly ended the conversation by asking him if she should spend five hundred pounds on a cheap photographer or go with a quote from a reputable snapper who charged a grand. He’s said the one for five hundred pounds. The call ended.

  Tuesday arrived and he and Alison packed as many of Lindsey’s things as they could and took her to her new home at Willow House. The drive felt like any other drive to the unit over the hills and through the winter pines to St. Vincent’s and St. Brendan’s. He told her she would be staying here now, but Lindsey just looked oblivious as she did a lot of the time.

  As he took bags of her clothes into the unit, he saw Stephen on the sofa laughing at the empty space. He passed Shelly in her room and Patrick walking slowly up the corridor holding the hand of a young caregiver who’d not been working at the unit for long. On the journey back to the car he passed the open dining room door and heard Nigel yelling as a caregiver tried to feed him and the tiny form of Greg as he blew raspberries across the dining room table.

  The abuse these people had suffered just didn’t register in his mind. He couldn’t comprehend it. The events Ann Prendergast had detailed became abstract concepts when he saw these guys here and now. Maybe they’d forgotten it. Maybe they’d buried it deep, just like he’d buried what his mother used to do to him. Who knew? How could anyone know what they were really thinking?

  Alison had taken on the unwanted task of ringing Widdowson to see when he wanted to move in. He’d not answered the phone on previous occasions. Eventually, Alison got through on the church landline and spoke to one of his cronies. A guy named Bill. Bill had told them to ring after the weekend as Pastor Widdowson was busy. Dan took this to mean he wouldn’t be moving in for a while.

  Billy had said Widdowson was going nuts, trying to find out who was blackmailing him. Even Gould had distanced himself from the pastor because of the extreme length he was willing to go to find the culprits. Dan was glad he would be out of it.

  On the way home Alison rang the firm that had supplied Lindsey’s equipment. She arranged for the hoist, slings, profiling bed, and other equipment to be collected on Monday. When they returned to the house, Alison had begun tidying up. Dan found her cleaning the oven.

  “Why bother,” said Dan. “It’s only Widdowson.”

  “Don’t you want to take anything with you?” she asked.

  “I can’t. Diane left Widdowson the lot. Every ornament, every piece of furniture.”

  “So, with Lindsey gone, that just leaves me and you.” She stood up and took off her marigolds. “You made me a promise, remember?”

  Suddenly all his problems vanished for a second when he remembered his promise to her. “I’ll ring the restaurant now.”

  Dan decided to wear the suit he’d gone to Diane’s funeral in but with a different shirt and tie. He waited downstairs, playing with a replacement phone he’d recently bought, looking up the soccer fixtures for the weekend, seeing what football teams were playing.

  Alison was upstairs. She’d run a bath and he wondered what she’d be wearing. He’d only ever seen her in that nurse’s uniform and the outfit she’d worn to his mother’s funeral. When she eventually came downstairs, he gasped. He couldn’t hide it.

  Alison confidently glided down the staircase wearing a black knee-length dress which had been cut low to make the most of her ample cleavage. The pale flesh of her legs now monochromed by black tights and a pair of black high-heeled shoes. Her nails and lips neoned with the same shade of deep red which highlighted her blue eyes that flashed, framed within her bob of bright blonde hair. She didn’t ask if she looked all right, she knew she did. Alison exuded confidence in everything she did and tonight she looked beautiful.

  “You look amazing.” Dan didn’t think before he spoke. The words tumbled out of his mouth.

  “You’re too kind.”

  “No. You do.”

  “Scrub up well, do I? You don’t look bad yourself. Could have given that shirt a bit more of an iron, but I’ll forgive you if you’re paying.”

  She slipped her arm through his and they exited into the night. He drove the Morris to Belper and they said very little. Dan realised the stress of everything had evaporated. He no longer cared about the Dark Choir or about the wedding Beverly was planning. He was taking this beautiful woman out and that was all that mattered.

  They found the restaurant and parked, then went in and occupied a corner table away from the other diners. Alison had got a few admiring looks from some of the male diners, which made him smile. He ordered Prosecco for Alison, red wine for him, and perused the menu.

  “So, you’re leaving tomorrow?” she said.

  “’ Fraid so. What about you?”

  “I might stay until the weekend. It doesn’t seem like Widdowson is in a hurry to move in.”

  “You’ll stay there on your own? After what happened to Beverly and Widdowson? After the bald guy came in?”

  “Unless you want to stay and keep me company.”

  “I’d love to. I really would. Work wants me back. I said I’d be coming back tomorrow. They’ll go nuts if I don’t. What are you going to do? Have you got anything lined up?”

  She shrugged. “I’ll just go back to my father’s house for a bit. There’s plenty of work around.”

  “Can we stay in touch?”

  She lay down the menu. “What about Beverly? Won’t she get funny about us being friends?”

  “I don’t care.” That had come out rather quickly. A pregnant silence hung between them, interrupted only by a waiter. They ordered their food before he broke the silence.

  “Thanks for everything you’ve done for me,” he said. “You’ve really watched my back, but I feel it’s all been about me and nothing about you. I’ve never even asked about your family or anything? So, Alison Coombs, who are you?”

  She laughed. “There’s nothing to tell. There’s just my father and me. He lives on the other side of St. Vincent’s. I trained to be a nurse when I was young. Travelled around the country for a bit.”

  “Any boyfriend? Husband, maybe?”

  “I didn’t get to my age without knowing a few men, Mr. Hepworth. A girl doesn’t reveal such things on a first date.”

  “Date?”

  She laughed out loud. “The look on your face. Priceless.” She perused the menu again despite the fact that they’d ordered. “Did you tell Beverly you were taking me out?”

&
nbsp; He felt himself flushing slightly. “I didn’t.”

  “Oh?”

  He took a sip of wine. “She’ll get jealous. She’s…you know.”

  “I do.” She laid the menu down. “She’s keen to get married to you. She rang on the land line when you were out. Only wanted to talk about the wedding?”

  “Don’t remind me.” He sighed. “You saw us arguing. You saw it all. What do you think?”

  “I don’t usually say what I think, Dan, but I have your best interests at heart, believe it or not. You want to know what I see. I see a man who would rather cut off his own leg than get married to that woman, but he’s going to do it anyway.”

  “She’d be devastated if I don’t go through with it.”

  “She’ll be devastated if she doesn’t get married. Weather she gets married to you or someone else is immaterial. She wants a big day, a big dress, a house, kids, all that. The husband, the man in this dream of hers, is just another facet of the ceremony. No more or less important than the dress or the cake. She could be marrying a shop dummy and still have her big day.” Alison clasped her hands together and rested her chin on her knuckles, those sparkling eyes staring right at him. “The one who stands to lose the most in all of this is you. You are prepared to go through with this, stay with a woman whom you have a toxic relationship with to save face. It’s gone too far down the line, Dan. You should have said no when she asked you. I presume she asked you and not the other way around.”

  “She brought me the ring and told me to propose to her at her birthday party.”

  “What?” Alison’s hand went to her face. “That is insane behavior. My God.”

  “You’re right. I should have said no. You’re also right about it being too late. She’s paid for the dress. Her brother is going to be best man. Her parents have paid for the venue.”

  “I never said it was too late.” She caressed his hand with her finger. “It’s never too late. You’re at a crossroads. The choice is yours as to which road you take, and no one can condemn you for choosing to follow your heart.”