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  “Right, I better get going. Don’t want to hog all your visiting hours. I bet you’ve got visitors beating down the door to come and see you. Oh, speaking of which, someone’s knocking on your door. I’ll let them in on my way out.” Leaning across, Stuart plants a soft kiss on my cheek before whispering in my ear. “We miss you, Harper. Don’t keep us waiting too much longer, eh?”

  I blink my eyes in response to his words. It’s my ‘thing’ as my mother calls it. She likes it when I do it in response to her rambling questions. Apparently she knows I can hear her if I blink my responses. She got so excited the first time I did as she asked that I haven’t had the heart to stop doing it. It’s an automatic reaction now, whenever someone waits with bated breath, hoping that today’s the day I speak. I blink and they smile. Job done.

  Flynn

  I hold open the door for the man to exit the room. This is the last room I need to clean down and the last clinical waste bin to empty. Then I can go home for the day. Frank’s promoted me to room cleaning now, I’ve proved myself to be trustworthy enough to be allowed to work relatively unsupervised, although he keeps checking in on me when he gets stuck on the crossword puzzle. He’s too proud to ask for my help with it.

  As the door shuts silently behind me, I look up and realise I’m in the girl’s room, the girl who caught me staring at her through the window the first day. She’s even more beautiful close up, so much so that I have to I remind myself not to stare again. “I’m just going to mop the floor and empty the bin. Is that okay with you?” If the rooms are occupied, then I’m supposed to get permission from the patient to carry on. When she doesn’t respond, I stand at the foot of her bed and look right into her eyes, so I know she can see me. “Hi, can I wash the floor?” Still she doesn’t acknowledge me. “I see, this is how you’re playing it. Well, I guess I’ll just do the floor, then. I mean it’s kind of rude not to speak when someone talks to you, but I guess you’ve heard why I’m here, then.” Her eyes blink twice, and her brow furrows as she seems to be concentrating on my face. “You’re not going to talk to me, are you?” She blinks twice again. “Is that because you can’t or you won’t?”

  She doesn’t blink this time. Instead, her eyebrows shoot upwards, almost disappearing into her hairline, as she stares straight at me. And then it hits me, she’s answering with her eyes. “Of course, that was a double question! If you’re going to blink at me, I need to ask you one at a time, am I right?” She blinks again, slowly this time, as though she’s showing her exasperation for me, and I’m damn sure I see the corner of her mouth turn up ever so slightly. I think I like this game she has going on.

  Boy, this guy’s bright. I think I’ve seen him before, but I can’t quite remember where. Maybe he’s been in here cleaning before. But I don’t think that’s where I recognise him from. He’s kind of cute, and I know I would have remembered him. It’s his eyes. They’re kind and expressive as he talks, and did I mention blue? Not just any old blue, but a piercing, icy blue. He’s smiled at me twice, and both times his eyes have lit up. I nearly broke my resolve and smiled when he figured out the blinking thing. Note to self: must try harder, Harper. One cute guy does not a recovery make.

  “Okay, so you can’t talk?” I’m standing at the foot of her bed with my arms folded across her chest and my mop propped against the metal frame. Studying her closely, I’m waiting for the blink, but it doesn’t happen. Well, of course she blinks. She’d be a freak if she didn’t, but the eye thing she does in response to my questions is different, more pronounced and purposeful. “Well, in that case, you won’t talk.” Her eyes blink twice in quick succession. “Wow, this is fun. Not. Is it just me you won’t talk to, or everyone? You could give a guy a complex.” Her eyebrows shoot upwards again. “What? Oh, yeah, sorry. One question at a time. Just me?” No response. “Then it’s everyone?” Two blinks, I think I have this figured out. Let’s face it, it isn’t hard to understand.

  I have no idea why I’m talking—sorry, communicating—with this guy, but he’s funny. I’ve had to try really hard not to laugh at him. That would give the game away completely. Not a bright idea, Harper. I want him to stay so I can study him for longer, but he’s started to wash the floor now. Obviously I’m not intriguing enough for him.

  “Is there some kind of code you use? I mean, is it simple, like, one blink for no and two for yes? I’m intrigued. It must get kind of confusing for everyone. The blinking, I mean.” She’s just staring at me again, not blinking but looking right at me. “Oops, right, from now on I’m working on you blinking once for no and twice for yes. If it’s the other way round, I think I’ll get confused. You with me?” Two blinks, and there goes that corner of her mouth twitching again. I grin widely and wink at her. “Atta girl. You know, I’ll take a smile too if there’s one on offer?” Her expression blanks and her eyes look vacant again, almost sorrowful as she blinks slowly once.

  Shit! You fucking moron, Flynn. What did you say that for? The door swings open and in waltzes some woman in a cloud of perfume and shopping bags. “Harper, sweetie, I’m sorry I’m so late today. Sebastian took me out to lunch and, well, I couldn’t get away. He sends his love. He’ll be in next week.” The woman looks me up and down but dismisses me before I can introduce myself. Story of my life. I sneak a look at the girl I now know to be Harper. It’s written on her name board above her bed. She’s watching me intently, and not this person who’s breezed into her life. “Anyway, sweetie, Mummy has bought you some nice new clothes. The doctor said we should think about having you dressed each day. She thinks sitting here in your nightwear every day isn’t doing you one ounce of good.”

  She’s her mother? I think I’d refuse to talk if she were my mother too. She plainly doesn’t want to be here but is just doing her duty. “Well, I’ve finished in here. I’ll see you tomorrow, Harper.” I stare at her face, looking for my response. And there it is, two rapid blinks. Get in! I feel like I made the winning goal. Stupid but true.

  The door to Harper’s room closes quietly behind me, and I turn to look back in through the little glass pane in the door. Her mother is holding up dress after dress in front of her face, not waiting for a response from her daughter. She’s just going through the motions. For some reason that makes me feel sad.

  Chapter Eight

  Flynn

  I didn’t sleep well last night. I couldn’t get Harper out of my head, those eyes burning holes into my soul as I tossed and turned all night. That and Jacob coughing all fucking night. Man, I think he needs to see the doctor again. Cutting Mrs Fisher’s grass isn’t helping him, but selfishly I can’t ask him to stop. The extra cash is a big help. I said it was selfish, but Jacob even bought a pizza with it last week. We haven’t had takeaway pizzas in such a long time.

  It’s Jacob’s birthday next month, and honestly, I don’t have a fucking clue how I’m going to buy him a gift. Pete said he’d go over our benefits with me again. He thinks Jacob’s asthma might qualify us for extra payments, but I won’t hold my breath. I’ve stopped using my travel allowance to get to Bluebell Hill now. Instead, I’m putting it away, and I’ve cut down on the cigarettes so I can save a little extra cash for him. He’s seen a pair of trainers on that bloody computer of Mrs Fisher’s, and he keeps going on and on about them. I can’t afford those ones, but I think I might find a cheaper version of them.

  As I walk up the driveway of the rehabilitation unit, I feel my heartbeat quicken slightly. This is stupid. It’s because I know I’ll get to see her again today. Not that I’m bothered, but she seemed to like me talking to her, and to be fair, I don’t get to talk to a lot of people, other than my probation officer and Pete, that is. I’d rather not have to speak to either of them, but for now they’re an everyday part of my life. That’s one reason to stick to this program—one day I want them gone. I want it to be just me and my brother, nobody else sticking their noses in our business. I know we’re never going to have the rose-tinted version of life, but I’m starting to be
lieve that we can have a better version, better than the one Jacob is currently dealing with, anyway.

  It’s a hot day and I’m wearing jeans. I have that fucking tag on my ankle, another aspect of my sentence. If I wear jeans, I can hide it, not that I’m ashamed of who I am, but I don’t want to flaunt it. Not here, anyway. I don’t give a fuck who knows outside of here, but it feels a bit more respectful to keep it covered while I’m working off my debt. Really, I just don’t want Harper to see it before I have chance to explain. Why it bothers me, I have no clue, but it just does. Most other offenders wear theirs with pride, and the girls use it as a fashion accessory for fuck’s sake. Me? I’d rather hide it. The tag ensures that I’m at home and indoors from seven every night. It’s supposed to make sure I don’t re-offend, but honestly, if they researched when I was actually criminally active, they’d know it was mostly during the day, when Jacob was at school. Sure, I went out around the pubs at night, selling the fruits of my labour, but the actual thefts were done during daylight hours. Usually right after signing on for my benefit.

  “Morning, lad. I’ve got some repair work we need to get on with first thing, then you can get to cleaning the private wing this afternoon.” Frank hands me a worksheet to sign in, then we’re off down the corridor in the direction of his much-coveted storeroom. It’s like an Aladdin’s cave in there. If Frank doesn’t have it, I reckon you don’t really need it. The walls of his storeroom are lined with shelf after shelf of boxes and jars, each one containing different-sized screws or fixings. Then there’s all the cleaning supplies he keeps in a very regimented order. In fact, all of his shelves are in order. I’m betting he has OCD or he’s ex-forces. “Tiles are loose in the bathroom, in the reception area, then the sink in the staff room needs unblocking. That should see us up to lunchtime if we don’t rush.” Frank winks at me. He’s mellowed out towards me the last few days. I think he’s realised that I want to work off my debt to society. I know that the world doesn’t owe me a living and that was never my motivation for what I did. I’m here to prove myself not only to the authority but to my brother.

  Really, I want to rush through the fixings, then I get to go see Harper. I’ve come to realise that she is in what is referred to as the private wing, which just means her folks pay for her care. The other wings are for the government funded patients. I’m guessing that means they’re not hurting for cash—her folks, I mean.

  I’ve had my head stuck under this fucking sink for the last forty minutes. We re-tiled the bathroom beneath the urinals first thing this morning, but if Frank doesn’t hurry the fuck up with that washer to stop this leak, I may just end up with a custodial sentence after all, only this time it’ll be for much worse than theft. “Son, I can’t find the right size. Just tighten it back up and I’ll pick a new washer up tonight. We can sort it out properly tomorrow. Here, wrap this tape around the join before you screw it back up.” I want to tighten my hands around his fat little neck right now, never mind the effing U-bend. He hands me a roll of thin, white plastic tape to seal the join temporarily. “Why don’t you go get some lunch, then you can start on the private wing.” I wriggle out from beneath the sink and wipe my hands down my jeans. I’m only too glad to get out of here for a break, throwing my tools back in the box that Frank has given me to use. He even wrote my name on it in big white lettering. I wash my hands and make my way back towards the staff room to collect my lunch bag. Yes, Mrs Fisher is still sending me off every day with a sandwich wrapped in cling. I kind of like her doing it, to be honest, and it’s become a bit of a ritual. Who am I to argue with the old lady?

  My favourite place to eat lunch is right outside Harper’s window. I’m able to sit just out of her view. I don’t stare in at her, that would be weird, but it makes me feel close to her, just sitting here. I can listen to the bleep of the machine that she’s hooked up to. I don’t have a clue what the machine is for, but I’m guessing it’s important. I’ve stopped putting my earbuds in just so I can count the beeps. If it keeps making that noise, I’m presuming it means she’s doing okay.

  Dropping my lunch bag in the bin, I turn to head back inside. Harper is watching me through the window from her hospital bed. I smile at her as I make my way over to her open window. “I’m heading your way in a little while.” I lean through the window, smiling at her as she stares at me. “Don’t go anywhere now, will you?” Raising her eyebrows, she gives me that look of astonishment that she seems to have mastered so well. She may not talk to me, but I know exactly what she is thinking when she looks at me that way. Dumb fuck. I guess I’m just trying to keep it light-hearted. “Too soon in our relationship to crack that joke?” I ask. Two rapid blinks. “Yeah, well, that’s me. Mr Politically Incorrect. See you later, hot stuff.” I disentangle myself from the window frame and head back inside the unit.

  Ten minutes later I’m making my way down the corridor that takes me to Harper’s room. I have two rooms to clean down before I get to see her. The residents have either died or moved out, I’m not sure which, and I really don’t want to know, to be honest. I’d rather think of them as plain old spare rooms.

  Finishing up on the last room before Harper’s, I prop the door open so that the nursing staff know to come in and put on fresh linen for the next lucky patient. I never thought cleaning a room would give me this much self-esteem. Scanning my eyes over all the surfaces and under the clinical bed frame, it’s plain to see that I’ve done a good job. On my first day at Bluebell Hill, it was easy to think it would be a hateful waste of time, but now…now I look forward to coming here and no, it’s not all about the beautiful blonde girl that I’ve come to know. I have a newfound self-respect, I feel like I have a purpose in life. I’ve even started scanning the staff vacancy board daily. Most of it is for clinical staff, which is no use to me, but I’m kind of hoping Frank takes early retirement or something before my time here is up.

  Gathering my materials together, I head down the corridor and Harper’s room swings open. A smartly dressed guy walks out purposefully. He scans the corridor both ways as though he’s looking for the exit. “You need to head down towards the blue doors, then make a right. That’ll take you to the main entrance.” I point down the corridor with the handle of my regulation mop. He doesn’t answer me, just nods his thanks as he slides his finger along the inside of the collar on his shirt and smooths down the front of his shirt. His gaze drops to the front of his pants and he rubs something away with a handkerchief he just produced from his pocket.

  He doesn’t look like anyone medical, but then again they don’t wear white coats anymore, so who knows. Anyway, it’s none of my business who she has visiting her, medical or otherwise. Although I am intrigued as I head off for fresh water before I sort out Harper’s room.

  Chapter Nine

  Flynn

  Where in the Hell is he? He said he was heading my way, but that was over an hour ago. If he’d shown up when he said he was going to, I might have been spared that last visit. He wouldn’t have come in here if he saw someone else was here. He only ever comes in when he knows I’m alone. It’s okay though. I managed to shut down my brain again. I’ve become quite good at that now. I can make it seem as though I’m just an onlooker, floating around on the outskirts, watching him do those things to someone else. The thought of him doing it to me makes my stomach roll. Thank god they feed me a liquid diet through that tube, or my stomach may just have repelled its contents.

  If my stupid mother had bought something other than frilly dresses for me to wear, then it may have limited his access to me. But nope, she wants a girly daughter, not the tomboy that I am. She’s loving the fact that she gets to dictate what I wear now. Never in a million years would I have picked out this effing ridiculous dress. My girls are on show, and it’s far too short. That’s even taking into consideration that I’m lying down too. It would be indecent if I actually cared to stand up. He’s left it bunched up around my mid-thighs, too, making it appear even shorter than it is.


  “Hey, you waited for me!” There I go, making another stupid comment. What the fuck is wrong with me? I get within feet of her and my brain stops functioning. She doesn’t look glad to see me; her eyes aren’t smiling the way they normally do. I scan her face and it looks damp. I’m not sure if she’s been crying or if someone just wiped her face. Perhaps that’s who that guy was, a male nurse. I shudder at that thought. Surely her folks would insist on a female nurse to do that shit for her? Shaking my head, I try to clear the thoughts of that man tending to her. For some reason, the idea just makes me see a red mist. “Are you going to smile at me today? I think I’ve earned it. Frank had me tiling underneath the urinals in the public bathroom. I had to lie on the floor and everything. Do you know what a urinal is, even? Do they teach girls that shit? Sorry, I’m talking crap now!” One blink, I’ve forgotten the code, does that mean yes or no? I’m going with no. “So, no smile, or no, you don’t know what a urinal is?” Another solitary blink. “Okay, so no to both, then. Well, a urinal is a kind of male toilet. So we can piss standing up.” To that, I get two rapid blinks, and I’m going with a slight mouth twitch too. I feel the warmth spread through me; seeing her almost smile gives me a really great feeling. It’s like she’s rewarding me for something, but I don’t have a clue what it is. Who cares though? That’s the third almost smile I’ve gotten so far.

  The look on Flynn’s face is priceless. Whatever it is about him, I like it. But he’s breaking me slowly. If I’m not careful, he’ll make me laugh, and then there’s no going back. That would change everything. I’d have to leave here and go home, back to my old life, back to a time when I would need to tell someone what he’s doing to me. That’s not happening until I feel ready to deal with it. Why the Hell is Flynn standing there grinning at me like a fool? I didn’t do anything funny. I didn’t do anything.