Page 106 of The Psychopath Next Door

Emma’s face had gone pink. ‘What the hell?’

Fiona waved this away. ‘I’m messing with you. Yes, it was a terrible time. Guess what? I found out that my own great-grandmother was a patient here.’

Emma still looked shell-shocked from what Fiona had said, and Fiona realised she needed to be careful for a little longer. She didn’t want Emma marching out of here, attempting to drag Rose with her.

‘I’m sorry about the affair comment,’ she said. ‘Bad joke.’

‘It didn’t sound like a joke.’

‘Why was she here?’ Rose asked, ignoring this brewing argument.

‘Unsociable behaviour, apparently,’ Fiona said. ‘She was accused of being a “loose woman” who damaged the reputations of several high-ranking gentlemen.’

‘Typical,’ Rose said.

‘Also, she murdered her husband.’

‘Oh. Wow.’

‘Cut his head off with an axe, then carried it into town and handed it to his mistress, who worked at one of the more popular inns.’

Emma stared at her, then said, ‘Youarejoking, right?’

‘Why would I joke about that? Her name was Emma, in fact. Isn’t that a coincidence?’

‘It’s a common name.’

‘Hmm. Have you ever had the urge to chop anyone’s head off?’ Fiona giggled. ‘Sorry, I’m messing with you still. How would you like a tour?’

Before Emma could reply, Fiona went through the door behind the reception desk into the corridor. There were no windows here, and it was almost too dark to see your own hand in front of your face. Fiona, knowing Emma wouldn’t be able to see her, felt her inside pocket, checking the flick-knife was still there, and took her phone out of her pocket, switching the torch on.

‘Isn’t it amazing?’ she called out, her voice bouncing between the walls.

Using her phone to light the way, Fiona went through a door into the washroom, brushing a cobweb from her cheek as she entered. This was where new patients would be cleaned, often with freezing water delivered by a hose, although this – by all accounts – did nothing to quash the lice that had infested this place. Several tin bathtubs, encrusted with dirt and brown rust, lined the wall. To the right of the corridor were several smaller rooms which might have been used for relatives, usually husbands, who were waving goodbye to their loved, or despised, ones.

‘Why did you refer to this place as home?’ Emma asked.

‘Because that’s what it’s going to be one day.’

Emma was incredulous. ‘Yourhome? It would cost millions to buy this place and do it up. Are you secretly rich?’

‘Not yet. But one day.’

‘When you win the lottery?’

Fiona didn’t smile. ‘There are other ways to get rich, Emma. I almost managed it once. But you know what? Going forward, Iwon’t make the same mistakes again. And I’ll have a better disguise next time. Everyone trusts a mother.’

‘Wait. Are you having a baby?’

Ignoring Emma’s question, Fiona tried to catch Rose’s eye, but she was busy inspecting the dilapidated bathtubs, taking photos of them on her phone. She had her own torch on too.

‘What do you think of it, Rose?’ she asked.

‘It smells bad.’

‘Yes, but apart from that?’ Fiona tried not to let her irritation show. At the same time, she heard rain drumming against the remaining windows. The storm had come.

Rose said, ‘It’s horrible. I mean, it’s cool to visit and the history is kind of interesting, I guess, but it’s old and smelly and gross.’

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