The Forgotten Cottage - Helen Phifer

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He’d spent six months in the medical ward where they had treated his severe facial burns until he was well enough to go up to a secure ward.

      Henry turned from watching the nurses who were just finishing their shift walking down the path to the main gates and the guard house. He caught his reflection in the mirror and for a second he didn’t recognise himself. His dark hair had been burnt off in the fire and his scalp badly scarred. The skin was pink, shiny and puckered, the scars running down one side of his face. He had never been a vain person, not particularly thinking he was handsome, yet he still didn’t like the face that stared back at him. Of course a hat and some dark sunglasses would cover the worst of it, should he ever be allowed back out into the real world, which he doubted would ever be possible; he was too much of a risk towards women the judge had said at his trial, and Henry couldn’t argue with him. There had been a lot of anger towards women, which was how he’d ended up in this predicament.

      The nurses never looked at him, not directly, except for Megan, with the pink streak in her hair and the tattoos running up one arm. She was young enough to be his daughter and she would often sit on the end of his bed, talking to him about the weather or asking him how he was feeling. She would tell him her latest boyfriend troubles, which Henry wasn’t the least bit interested in, but if he’d thought he lived a lonely life before he came here then it had got a whole lot worse now he was locked up and treated like a freak. He knew that Megan was morbidly fascinated by him; she was probably dying to know why he’d done what he did, but she would never ask. She was forbidden from talking to him about his crimes. That was saved for Dr Grace Marshall, who had been there to see the drama unfold and watch him get caught so he did have a sneaking respect for her because she’d almost seen him in action. He didn’t think he would ever kill her because she was far too valuable and he did enjoy their little chats, even if everything he told her was a distorted version of the truth. Henry wasn’t stupid and he only told her what he thought she should know.

      He had a bit of a soft spot for Nurse Megan, though; he wouldn’t call it a crush because that was ridiculous, but he did like the attention she paid to him and he was working on her: feeding her snippets of his life before it had come to this in exchange for information about how the hospital worked, what she did on a typical day, how many guards were in the guard house and patrolling the grounds. Because Henry had no intention of staying locked up in this place for the rest of his life. Once he was well enough he had a couple of old acquaintances that he needed to visit and a plan he wanted to put in place. When he had first been admitted and the pain had been excruciating and his days were nothing more than a morphine-induced haze it had been the thought of meeting Annie Graham and Will Ashworth once again which had kept him going. It had given him the will to survive, against all odds.

      The bolts on the door slid back and, bang on time, Megan entered with his lunch. He was supposed to eat with the other men on this wing but they were violent towards him, which was both a laugh and an insult. His crimes were no worse than any of the ones they had committed but for some reason they didn’t like him, so he stayed in his room until he was collected by the nurses and guards each day and taken for his solitary walk around the grounds in what he called the giant bird cage. He enjoyed his hour of exercise and fresh air; the feeling of the sun, wind and rain on his face was one he would never take for granted ever again. Even in the torrential rain he would go out and walk, never missing a day. His guards hated him even more in the bad weather and would shelter against the wall of the building or in one of the many doorways. Henry always promised them that he would behave and he did because he didn’t want to jeopardise anything until the time was right for him to leave and not come back. It would be a bad day when Henry left; the weather would be terrible so as to hinder any searches that were made for him and his scent would be washed away by torrential rain. Unless, of course, he could get Megan to help him and he thought that he might be able to do just that. It would be a shame to kill her but needs must and she reminded him a lot of a girl he’d known briefly a couple of years ago. He would never forget Jenna White—she had been his first kill.

      Annie was glad to finish work; she’d been stuck all afternoon directing traffic in the glaring sun for the Windermere air show. It had gone fast but it was too hot to work, especially in the direct sun with frustrated motorists driving at you from every direction and not one of them understanding what a stop sign meant. A woman with a car full of grey-haired friends had almost taken her out and she had to stop herself from calling her a ‘fucking idiot’. This would not have gone down very well with the public and probably would have resulted in a complaint to her sergeant, even though it was deserved.

      The small station was empty when she got back; everyone was out enjoying the show, even Inspector Cathy Hayes, who always managed to worm her way out of as many public gatherings as she could. Annie was relieved because it meant she had time for a quick shower and could get changed in peace then drive to the car ferry to meet Will on the opposite side of Lake Windermere at the Queen’s Head in Hawkshead village. He had promised to buy her tea and a cold glass of wine and the thought of it had kept her going all afternoon.

      She dried herself and got dressed in a pair of grey linen trousers, which were much cooler than her thick black combat pants, and a pale green blouse. She clipped her hair up and did a five-minute make-up job. Her nose was sunburnt so she covered it as best she could and left the station.

      A door banged along the corridor. Annie paused; she knew the station was empty – it must be the resident ghost. She smiled to herself; although she hadn’t seen this one because it was very shy and kept itself to itself, it did like to bang doors and let her know it was around. She wasn’t threatened by it or afraid because she knew it meant no harm; it was just going about its daily business and wasn’t interested in her. Sometimes it was like that; not all ghosts were hanging around because they were stuck in this life or didn’t know how to move on. Some stayed because they wanted to.

      She knew all of this because after sustaining a serious head injury two years ago that had been given to her by her now dead husband, she had started to see ghosts. Which had totally freaked her out at first but after a while she had come to realise that it was a special gift and one which had helped her to overcome a serial killer by helping a lovely ghost called Alice. She thought about poor little nine-year-old Sophie, who had desperately needed Annie’s help to be set free from the Shadow Man who had taken her away from her family and kept her in the shadows for twenty years. She had come to Annie for help and fighting the Shadow Man had been the scariest thing Annie had done up to now. Her friend Father John had tried to send him back to hell but had almost failed and it had been Annie who had stood her ground in sending him back, setting Sophie free in the process and reuniting her with her dead mum. Annie was lucky she wasn’t plagued by dead people all the time but if they needed her help they would come to her. Will had been scared by it at first but he and Jake, her best friend, had come to accept that Annie was now psychic and not mentally unstable and it was just a part of her life.

      She walked to the door and shouted down the corridor, ‘Bye, you’re on your own now but someone will be in later and I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.’ Another door banged in answer and Annie smiled to herself. She would like to actually meet whoever it was when they plucked up the courage to show themselves.

      She got into her convertible red Mini and put the roof down. It was stuffy inside and she wanted to freshen up and besides she only got to do this about six times a year with all the rain there usually was. The roads were still busy and it took her much longer to get to the car ferry than normal. There was a queue but she managed to squeeze into the last spot on the boat which had just loaded. She paid her £4.50 and looked out across the water at the view. It was beautiful; there were lots of boats out sailing on the calm blue lake. The trees, houses and hills which surrounded the lake blended in seamlessly. The ferry was full of families and the sound of laughter as excited children were led from their cars by parents to take in the views.

      Annie closed her eyes. She didn’t think there was anything nicer than the sound of children’s laughter and wondered to herself if she and Will would ever have any kids. Will was forty-five so he wasn’t too old to be a dad and she was only thirty-four but it wasn’t

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