‘Shut up, you fool, you stupid fool.’
‘They know! Don’t you?’ Goulden jabbed his huge finger at me. ‘They bloody know. Tell him.’
Oh God. Did I? Yes? No? What would be the safest reply?
‘Lily wasn’t senile.’ Agnes spoke slowly, I could just hear her. ‘You made her act as if she was, with those pills, then you were able to take her to Kingsfield.’
‘Weren’t they Lily’s scans then?’ I sounded blurred, like talking after having work at the dentist. Only I hadn’t had an anaesthetic before Goulden bashed me. ‘He said there were plaques.’
‘Yes, there were,’ Goulden insisted, ‘eventually. But we did it you see, we cultivated the actual, physical changes, the lesions,’ he was jubilant now, ‘plaques in the hippocampus and in the cortex, clear signs of deterioration.’
‘For God’s sake!’ Simcock tried to silence him but Goulden carried on regardless.
‘She was clear as a bell when she moved into Homelea, had her scanned as part of the medical. We induced the disease and for the first time we got over the problem of rejection. A real breakthrough.’ He was triumphant.
‘Lily didn’t fall,’ I said. ‘She never had any haemorrhage. That was just to cover up what you were really doing, so you could operate.’
‘He did a fantastic job,’ said Goulden. ‘He’s one of the best, you know.’
‘You’re out of your mind!’ Simcock exclaimed. He knelt to pick up the phone from where it had fallen. ‘I’m ringing security.’
Goulden flew at him. The two men grappled together. It was probably a second or two before it dawned on me that this was the diversion we needed. I rose with effort, feeling giddy.
‘Agnes.’
We ran.
The main corridor was still deserted. We turned left. I saw the fountain mosaic, reassured we were going the right way. There was no one about. Then I heard someone running. Goulden!
Nowhere to hide out here. There was a door to the left. I opened it. A small passageway: two doors along the right-hand wall, a trolley along the left. Nothing else. A dead end. I tried the first door. Locked. The second. Locked. There was an old Tamla song, bright and brassy, something about running and hiding, dancing in lines, with our handbags laid out in front of us. I could feel the pulsing beat as it started…I heard him getting closer. My heart was thumping. I pulled the trolley towards us, created enough space for us at the far end.
‘Get down here, Agnes.’
She moved past me and into the gap. Carefully she edged down into a kneeling position. Hurry up, hurry up. I crouched beside her. The fire door swung open.