I was uncomfortably aware that we’d been privy to the conversation, as if he didn’t care, as if we’d never get the chance to tell anyone about it. I tried to steady my breathing. The worst thing of all would be to panic.
The hospital entrance was in sight. He parked in a reserved bay in the car park near to the entrance. ‘You,’ he turned to face me, ‘you walk beside us. I’ll keep this handy.’ He showed the knife. Would he have the guts to use it? He had a temper, all right, and he’d not hesitated to smack my head against the door, but would he stab Agnes? It wouldn’t be that easy through her clothes. I didn’t dare call his bluff yet but it might come to that.
He manoeuvred Agnes in front of him, then let me out. I shivered. I’d been sweating in the car and the cool air chilled me. We went straight in the main entrance, past a security guard who was enjoying a joke with a cleaner. I was praying that our awkward gait and the aura of fear around us might provoke some interest. Nothing. This guard was not the intuitive type. I could sense trouble before I saw or heard it, pheromones, sixth sense whatever. I thought it was a fairly universal trait. Obviously it hadn’t been on his job description.
‘Excuse me,’ I called out at exactly the same moment as the two of them erupted with laughter. My voice went unheard. Goulden grabbed my wrist and thrust the knife point into Agnes’ clothing. She stiffened.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘Please, don’t hurt her.’
Surely we’d meet other people on our way. I was taut with anticipation, waiting for another opportunity. The corridor, so busy by day, echoed with emptiness.
I cast my eyes up to anything resembling a security camera as we made our way down the corridor. Careful to move only my eyes, not my head, so as not to alert Goulden. I tried to reproduce in my eyes the fear that was ricocheting round my belly. Was anyone watching? Were they actually cameras? Was I staring petrified at nothing more than ventilation ducts and junction boxes?
We left the main corridor, turning just past a mosaic depicting a fountain, and headed through some double doors, then another set, into a sort of lobby, low chairs around a table, doors at the far end.
Goulden stopped abruptly at one of the doors. ‘Mr Simcock, FRCS’ the sign said. He opened the door and snapped on the light. So much for hospital security.
‘In here.’ He directed Agnes to the far side of the room beyond the large desk. I hovered at the doorway, glancing left and right, memorising the surroundings. ‘And you,’ he snapped. I stepped into the room.