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Chapter Eight

The morning had gone well: no more water had leaked onto the table, she’d found all the glass, the porridge had been Goldilocks-perfect, and so far the house hadn’t sabotaged her. Bob was coming to check her dodgy fuse repair, Cheryl was due any minute, and Buster was happily sniffing around the garden finding a choice spot for his ablutions. Maura was about to smile when the screaming began.

It was Gordon’s habit to retire to the cloakroom for a precise half hour after his breakfast before he required help with washing and dressing. He’d been in there barely a minute when he started to holler. ‘Get it out. Get it away from me!’

The sight of an elderly, thin and distressed man sitting on a toilet with his pyjama bottoms around his ankles was more than Maura could stand after the day had started so well. ‘What’s the matter? Mr Henderson, Gordon, calm down, tell me what’s wrong,’ she said as calmly as she could while the half-naked man twisted and flailed his arms at her. Tempting as it was to grab his wrists to stop the assault in the small space, she daren’t. His wrists were as thin as a bundle of breadsticks and his skin was like fine vellum; she was scared she might injure him if she was too hasty. Gordon didn’t seem to have the same concerns and clawed at her in panic, scraping his long yellow nails down her arm and swiping her across the face. The instinctive reaction to pain is to lash out, but she couldn’t; instead she wedged herself alongside the toilet, got behind him as best she could and wrapped him in a bear hug.

‘Let’s calm down and find out what’s wrong. What’s upset you?’ she said firmly into his bristly ear. It was an undignified situation for both of them and she needed to resolve it as quickly as possible.

Gordon was sobbing, his breath coming in thick gasps and gulps. He struggled against her hold. ‘Take it away, take it away, get it away from me,’ he cried.

‘Take what away?’ She could think of nothing in the room that hadn’t been there before until she remembered the bear. ‘Is it the bear? Is that what’s bothering you?’

Gordon wailed and nodded. ‘Get it away, please,’ he gasped miserably.

‘If I let you go, are you going to sit still while I take it away? I don’t want you to fall because I can’t pick you up in here if you do.’ It was true. The tiny cloakroom barely had room for two of them standing, let alone wedged as they were. If he fell now, she’d have to pull him out by his feet.

Gordon nodded. ‘Just get it away from me and never let me see it again. They promised me I’d never have to see it again.’

Maura had no idea what it was about the toy that had upset him so much. When she’d taken it from Buster the night before, she’d thought it might be Gordon’s childhood companion and that he’d be happy to get reacquainted. She’d hoped she might be able to use it to have a conversation with him, enjoy some nostalgia and break him out of his reclusive, obsessive ways. ‘OK, I’ll let you go and I’ll take it away.’ She loosened her grip and sidled away from him, moving herself in front of the bear so he couldn’t see it.

Gordon was muttering and shaking, wringing his hands together then rubbing them down his thin legs. ‘Told her to burn it, burn it all. Told her to get rid of it,’ he muttered.

Maura reached behind her and groped for the bear. She didn’t want him to see it at all in case it set him off again. Once she had the thing in her grasp she backed towards the open door and dropped it, kicking it out of sight of the cloakroom. ‘There, it’s gone.’

Gordon looked up, his eyes still wet with tears. ‘Take it away, take it out of this house and burn it. Burn all of it.’

Maura hesitated – he seemed in no fit state to be left alone.

‘LEAVE ME BE!’ he shouted.

Reluctantly she shut the door, but loitered there listening as he continued to mutter to himself. She couldn’t hear the words but he seemed to be calming himself. The bear lay forlorn and innocent on the hall floor and Maura couldn’t imagine what memories it had conjured to provoke such a reaction in the old man, but it clearly symbolised something that was abhorrent to him. She bent and picked it up, turning it in her hands as if something telling would reveal itself. It was just an old, worn-out bear. He wanted it out of the house and the simplest thing to do would be to throw it in the dustbin.

Halfway there she changed her mind and, without dwelling on the decision, walked to her car, unlocked it and threw the bear onto the back seat. When she got back to the house, Gordon was standing in the hall. ‘Is it gone?’

She nodded. ‘Are you all right? Can I get you anything?’

The Forgotten Room: a gripping, chilling thriller that will have you hooked

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