Ten minutes later she was striding up the road above the hospice. This felt better: a bit of sun and fresh air, at last. But when she got to the track that led through the woods, she found it was water-logged. A tree had fallen, close to where the path began and the trees around dripped steadily. Mary shook her head. What a shame! It was too wet, she’d only slip and get mud on her clothes. Go back to the hospice? She decided to follow the road round and down into the valley: she’d keep an eye on the time and, anyway, Judy would text if she couldn’t find her in the office.
After just a few paces, she saw that the road was like a river. Water was running off the wood and draining away along the lane. Nobody would be able to drive here: no wonder the police visit was delayed. Mary stuck to the curb and walked carefully.
It was an odd business. Who’d want to kill someone who was about to die? Mrs K had been slipping in and out of consciousness, sometimes lucid, sometimes comatose. Her life had been reduced to a few regular medical interventions each day. Yesterday, she’d still been capable of recognising people and talking to them. Maybe she would’ve lasted a few more days. Who’d deny her those last few hours? Why?
Ayesha seemed unconcerned about the whole thing. Of course, she wasn’t directly involved, because… Mary stepped over a deep puddle and continued along the road. She imagined Mrs K’s last moments: the hospice in darkness, the nurses running up and down the corridors, the panic and the worry they must have felt for the patients… Anyone could have sneaked into the wards at that point, that’s what Dr Peterson had stopped them saying. She imagined some nasty, spiteful Harold Shipman type, imagining he could play God and decide whether Mrs K could live or die.
The road curved down and Mary saw a pile of cars, some pushed to the side of the road by the pressure of the water, some more carefully parked. One was upside down, its four wheels gleaming in the wet. That could have been me, thought Mary. Hope the people got out in time. It’ll be ages before anyone can come up here to tow them away. All those cars—ruined, I suppose, complete write-offs.