The Jack Hansard Series: Season Two

Episode 9.1

I spent a whole day in Cora's company. Something I used to do at the beginning, but not so much in recent years. I come, drop off my offerings, and go.

Since Ang stormed out, I'd remained sitting in an armchair opposite Cora. The sun was warm in the window, and my body, having been stretched to the brink with an all-night drive and a werewolf attack – not to mention the mental strain of revelation upon grim revelation – finally forced the issue of sleep. I rested quite comfortably. You'd think I should be plagued by guilt-ridden nightmares, but I wasn't. Those came after I woke up.

It was Mavis who roused me. 'Time to go, love. They'll be doing dinner in a minute. Thought I'd let you know before shift change.'

'How late is it?' I burbled.

'Nearly six.'

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and looked at Cora. She'd been moved into a wheelchair already, presumably to be taken down to the dining room. I was shocked it hadn't woken me.

'Looked like you needed a good sleep,' Mavis offered, noticing my consternation. 'We let you be while we kept Cora's usual routine. There's a sandwich waiting at reception for you, if you want it for the road, what with you not having eaten all day.'

'Thank you,' I mumbled.

She looked concerned for a minute. 'Your niece . . .' I hastily tried to think up an explanation for her disappearance, but Mavis beat me to it. 'It was Nelly on reception. Apparently little Emma said she was being picked up by her mum? Only I didn't find out until after, and no one actually saw her leave and well . . . that is right, isn't it? She was being picked up?'

'Yes,' I said, feeling sorry for the anxiety in Mavis' eyes. 'Thank you for worrying, but she's back with my sister . . . in law.'

'Oh, good,' she said, visibly relieved.

I massaged my legs a bit where they'd gone to sleep, and stood up. My stomach burbled emptily and my shoulders ached.

I leaned down and kissed Cora on the forehead. 'Take care,' I said. And finally to Mavis before I left, 'You promise you'll try to get her off those meds?'

'I can't say he'll agree, but I've written to the doctor today,' she said. 'It's up to him.'

This I hated the most, my lack of agency in Cora's care. She was technically homeless, and had nothing to formally identify her with any family, biological or otherwise. And even if I wanted to intervene – what could I do? Kidnap her from the home? How would I even look after her? Feed her? Keep her breathing when the body occasionally forgot? Should I carry her around like a ragdoll in my car?

These thoughts made me detest myself.

I slumped into my car. It felt wrong to have an empty seat beside me. The absence was mocking. I'm used to gambling with my life – that's safe in its selfishness. Gambling with Ang's trust was a line I should have never stepped over.

So what now? Back to the road, and the next opportunity? Off to another town, tourist-trap or otherwise profitable mark?

I stared unseeingly at the road map.

There was really only one place to go.

I started the engine and plotted a route north. Probably five hours or so, to get to Manchester. I cricked my neck, and settled in for another long drive.

* * *

I ended up sleeping in a secluded residential street once I arrived in the city. In the morning I helped myself to a dose of 'Claritea' from my stock. I don't usually make use of my own wares, but this was an exception, being one of my own creations.