Saving Anya

By Kathryn Collis

Mervyn Finlaysons wife is a quadriplegic confined to a wheelchair after a car accident. Her hopeless situation has made her extremely depressed. To make matters worse, the woman who has cared for her since her return home from hospital has just quit on short notice.

When Mervyn offers Anya a job as his wifes new carer, he thinks he is nobly rescuing her from a life of enforced prostitution.

A series of suspicious mishaps occur, leading Mervyn to suspect that Anya may not be all that she seemsand he eventually realizes that his life is in danger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Mar 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781524561758

Kathryn Collis

Kathryn Collis has published sixteen books through Xlibris, including Siblings, Eating Well for Less Than $30 a Week, Not So Grim Fairy Tales, and R.I.P. Details of her works can be found at www.kathryncollis.com. Kathryn lives on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast.

Book preview

ONE

MERVYN FINLAYSON DROVE his black Bentley through the open gates leading to his sprawling five bedroom home in Dartford, Kent. The cobblestones in the spacious front courtyard crunched crisply under the tyres.

Due to fog descending early, there had been a serious accident on the A2, which had caused traffic to be banked up for miles. Mervyn had phoned home to report the delay. Finally, he was home, but definitely not in the best of moods.

The property Mervyn and his wife Elspeth owned was nestled in Dartford Heath. The house was a sturdy brick construction which consisted of two storeys. The roof was gabled and tiled. The large windows at the rear of the house overlooked heathland and woodland, while the front windows faced onto the courtyard and the quiet road beyond.

At this time of day, with the fog and mist having descended, there wasn’t really much to see. On a fine spring day, however, when the sun filtered through the trees and the wildflowers were in bloom, the woods and the heathland were a veritable explosion of colour: purple, pink, blue, yellow, and a vast range of shades in between.

The property had an extensive back yard, which featured a pond that was home to several ducks. He and Elspeth had spent many a pleasant summer evening sitting on the bench near the pond under the shade of three large ash trees, talking.

For years, Mervyn and Elspeth had grown vegetables in their yard: potatoes, beans, pumpkins, squash and turnips. They had also cultivated roses, marigolds and petunias – but the plants had died off long ago, to be replaced by turf, which only required mowing. This was far less labour intensive, particularly as Mervyn had a ride on mower.

Apart from the ducks in the pond, Mervyn and Elspeth had no pets. Neither of them had ever been dog or cat lovers, and they weren’t into caged birds, gerbils or rabbits, either.

As usual, Erica Hatton had noted his arrival and was standing under the front portico, buttoning her overcoat over her stocky body.

In her early fifties, Erica was rather a formidable looking woman. Her almost rectangular face was framed by short, curly brown hair. She had a fairly large nose, and piercing grey eyes. An aura of implacability emanated from her. In a way, this was a pity, for her inner nature bore no resemblance to her outward appearance and manner. In truth, she was a very kind-hearted and sympathetic person.

Thanks for ringing to tell me about the traffic delay, Mr. Finlayson, she said. I hope no-one was badly hurt?

Not as far as I could tell – at least, no ambulances arrived, which is always a good sign, he said. It was more of a nuisance than anything else.

She nodded. Well, I’ll be off, then. Mrs. Finlayson’s had her dinner and is all set for you to help her into bed tonight. As for your dinner, there’s left over cottage pie and vegetables ready for re-heating.

Thanks, Erica.

He watched her walk over to her old grey Vauxhall station wagon, which was parked just to one side of the house. Mervyn had paid to have the rear of the vehicle adapted to enable disability access.

As Erica reversed down the drive, he waved, though he doubted she would have seen the gesture in the rapidly thickening fog.

He drove his car into one of the three garages that were situated on the opposite side of the house to the side where Erica had parked her Vauxhall, picked up his briefcase – which was sitting on the front passenger seat - then closed his door and locked the vehicle.

There was a weariness in his step as he trudged up the front steps and crossed the small portico to the front door of the house, opened the door and entered the hall which led to the ground floor of the home. He went to the cloakroom and deposited his hat and coat. It annoyed him that he was still having to take a coat with him every day. Spring was just around the corner but winter was still clinging on, refusing to gasp a last breath before making way for finer weather.

With such lousy weather, it was no wonder he was in such a bleak mood.

He left the cloakroom, then made his way down the long hallway to the sitting room.

The sitting room could best have been described as cosy. Its most prominent feature was a large ornamental fireplace. Erica had stacked and lit the fire, which was casting a comforting glow around the dimly lit room. The furniture consisted of a large leather lounge suite, an oak side table with a decorative lamp on it, a coffee table, and a large oak dresser that was topped with photographs of Mervyn and Elspeth at various – immensely happier – times in their married life.

The aubusson carpet absorbed his footsteps as he approached Elspeth’s wheelchair, then bent down to place a kiss on his wife’s forehead.

Hi darling, how are you?

She scowled. How do you think? The same as always.

This brief exchange was a daily ritual.

While I’m in the kitchen re-heating my dinner, would you like me to make you a cup of tea?

No. Sit down. We need to talk.

He sat in the leather lounge chair that was next to her wheelchair. What’s up?

Today Erica gave me a week’s notice. She’s leaving.

Mervyn stared at her in abject disbelief. I just spoke to her and she never said a word about leaving. She’s been working here ever since you arrived home from hospital. What prompted this? Did the two of you have an argument, or something?

No, we didn’t. Why do you think she’s leaving? Day in and day out, looking after someone who’s got to be bathed, dressed and helped with all their bodily functions, it must be tiring. She said her back’s starting to give her trouble. She’s found some kind of nanny – or nursemaid – job, which she says will entail much lighter duties.

I see. Do you think that if we offered more pay, she might reconsider?

Actually, I did ask her. I know I should have consulted you beforehand, but-

He raised a hand. You did the right thing, he said. The insurance money you were awarded is there to pay for your care, Elspeth. Money is no object.

Anyway, she said money wasn’t the issue. It’s just the back problem. Nothing else.

Despite his immense disappointment with Erica’s decision, he could see her point. Erica was Elspeth’s carer on week days, but nights and weekends were Mervyn’s responsibility. He had to admit that looking after someone who was almost totally disabled was an extremely demanding task. Week nights were okay, as he only had to get her from the wheelchair to the bed, which was accomplished using what was called a transfer board. He and Erica each used that same board to help Elspeth into the shower and onto the toilet.

Weekends were another matter. Instead of Erica, it was up to Mervyn to use the transfer board to help Elspeth into the shower and onto the toilet. He also had to help his wife dress, prepare meals for her, and try to keep her, if not happy, then at least relatively comfortable and content. On top of this, he was responsible for the upkeep of both the house and the grounds. He also had to do all the shopping, cook, clean, and pay all the accounts – while all the time trying to look after Elspeth in between chores. By the time he went to work on Monday mornings, he was often exhausted.

Elspeth had once been slim, almost sylphlike, but the enforced inactivity that resulted from being wheelchair bound had caused her to put on weight. Lifting her was no small function, particularly as she was to all extents and purposes, a dead weight. He could well understand Erica complaining about back problems.

In the wedding photo which sat atop the dresser, Elspeth was a typical glowing bride, her long dark hair shining, her little oval face split with a huge smile on wide, rich lips, her eyes shining. Her strapless satin wedding gown clung to her trim figure like a second skin. She was vibrant, alive, and so full of joy and hope.

Now, she rarely – if ever – smiled. That smile had been replaced by a resigned glower. Her hair was always clean but it didn’t have that same lustre about it which had been so evident in the photograph of his lovely bride. As for her eyes, the shining light had been replaced by a permanent emptiness. Her once lovely lips were set in a perpetual hard line.

Who could blame her, though? Just a little over five years ago, Elspeth had been earning a substantial wage as an insurance assessor. Her job had entailed quite a lot of travelling. An accident on the M25 motorway that encircled most of Greater London had left Elspeth a quadriplegic. The driver of the other vehicle, who had been illegally overtaking, and speeding with it, walked away without a scratch. It later transpired that he’d been drinking heavily all afternoon. He’d been charged with both dangerous driving and drink driving. Some bleeding heart judge had given him a suspended sentence. Mervyn had watched news footage of the little bastard leaving court. He’d been sporting a grin from ear to ear. No gaol time, he’d said happily.

Meanwhile, Elspeth had been sentenced to spend the rest of her life imprisoned in a wheelchair.

As the accident had happened while Elspeth was travelling in the course of her work, she had received a very generous compensation payout. However, having to pay for a full-time carer on week days was seriously chewing its way through that money. Mervyn knew that the time would come when the insurance money would inevitably be exhausted and he would then be obliged to become Elspeth’s full-time, round-the-clock carer. He was a quantity surveyor. If push came to shove, he could probably set up his own business and work from home. However, with the amount of care that Elspeth needed, even that option might not prove viable. What then? Retire altogether, sell this house, buy a little flat somewhere?

At least - thank God - they didn’t have a mortgage to repay. They had spent twenty-five years ploughing their earnings into mortgage repayments, even eschewing parenthood so they could own their own home outright. Not that the choice to forego having children had been a very difficult one. Neither of them had been overly fond of children. They were also very happy and content in their relationship and didn’t see how children could possibly improve things, so remaining childless hadn’t been that much of a sacrifice.

By the time they had reached their late forties, they were in a financially sound position. They had then planned to indulge in a bit of travelling. After all, there was a big world out there, just waiting to be explored.

That, of course, was Before The Accident (BTA). There were two distinct stages in their life together: BTA and ATA, and they were poles apart.

He had not envisaged ever having to decide whether to try working from home, or retire and move into something much smaller. Certainly he had never foreseen being placed in this current situation, where the carer was quitting and he had to find a replacement for her in the space of a few days. What if he was unable to find someone? What then?

Now he said to Elspeth, I wish Erica could have given a lot more notice.

Well, she couldn’t. They needed her to start next week. She was told that if she was unable to do that, the job offer would be withdrawn.

This is most… unfortunate. What an inadequate word! He sighed. "I suppose I could take some leave until we find a replacement for Erica. I’ve got quite a bit owing."

She cast him an indifferent stare. Whatever.

Mervyn could understand why Elspeth was fed up with life. He was sure that if he was in her situation, he would be too.

His appetite had disappeared completely. The last thing he now felt like was dinner.

Amidst the photographs on top of the dresser stood a crystal decanter full of brandy, and four quite large Waterford Crystal glasses. Mervyn crossed the room, lifted the decanter, and poured a generous measure of brandy into one of the glasses. Want some? he asked.

Drinking won’t solve anything, she said tartly.

He took a hefty swig of his drink, then returned to the lounge chair he’d been sitting in.

You should divorce me, she said.

He stared at her incredulously. What?

Look at me. I’m useless! All I am is a burden to you. Tears glistened in her eyes. My life will be miserable wherever I am. You shouldn’t have to be miserable too.

He put down his glass and leaned forward. Listen to me, Elspeth. You’ve given more than half your life to me, to us. We made a pact when we married, remember? For better or worse. We’ve had a lot of good years together. I know the past few have been bad, but I’m not quitting. We’re in this together, right?

She nodded slowly. Yes. There was a world of doubt in her tone.

So, no more silly talk, okay? He fetched a tissue from the box that was sitting on the dresser, near the brandy and glasses, and gently dabbed her eyes. I love you, he said. That’s all there is to it.

Okay, she said meekly.

It’s the fact that Erica’s leaving, that’s brought all this on, isn’t it?

Maybe, she said dubiously, although Elspeth’s sudden announcement had probably merely been the catalyst for the utter despair that was now crushing her.

Well, don’t worry about it. I’ll sort something out, I promise.

Even as he said it, he knew he had no earthly idea what that ‘something’ might be.

Another thought crossed his mind. Have you been taking your tablets?

Yes. But they don’t seem to be helping.

In those first few months following the accident, there had been hope that the paralysis wasn’t permanent, that with time and a lot of physiotherapy, Elspeth would at least partially regain some of the functions which had been denied her by the accident. By the time a year had passed, with nothing changing, that hope had faded, replaced by depression and hopelessness. Mervyn and Elspeth’s doctor had prescribed anti-depressants, which, together with extensive counseling, had initially seemed to ease the hopelessness that engulfed her.

Her mawkish talk about divorce was evidence that the anti-depressants were definitely no longer having much effect.

You need to get Erica to take you to the doctor, first thing tomorrow, and tell him the anti-depressants aren’t working as well as they have in the past, he said firmly. I can’t bear to see you feeling so low. Promise me you will.

All right, she said grumpily. Though a bunch of pills isn’t going to change anything, is it?

Mervyn could not find the words to reply.

A couple of hours later, he helped Elspeth to complete her night time ablutions, then with the aid of the transfer board, he moved her from the wheelchair to the bed that was set up in the ground floor room which had originally been designated as either the fifth bedroom or an office. It had been adapted to cater for her disabilities, with the alterations including an en suite. The room was now equipped to accommodate Elspeth’s wheelchair and her general incapacities.

Once he’d settled his wife in for the night, Mervyn poured himself another brandy, then sat in his armchair and stared into the dying embers of the fire.

Between the gloomy weather and Elspeth’s increasingly dark moods, life over recent months had been extremely dismal. The worst thing was, it looked as if this situation was going to deteriorate over the years that stretched ahead. There was certainly no chance anything would improve. He continued gazing into the fire and sighed heavily.

He awoke a couple of hours later. The brandy seemed to have had a soporific effect on him. He went to the kitchen to wash his empty glass, then climbed the stairs to the second level of the house, which contained four spacious bedrooms – each able to accommodate a double bed – as well as a large and functional bathroom.

With all that was on his mind, it took a long time for him to finally drift into a fitful sleep.

TWO

I’LL BE WAITING just outside, Erica said, as she wheeled Elspeth’s chair to the front of Dr. Irwin McClosky’s desk and engaged the brake.

Right you are, he acknowledged.

Dr. McClosky was in his early sixties, a tall, slim man with greying hair and a face that featured a Romanesque nose, pointy chin and kindly grey eyes. He had been both Mervyn and Elspeth’s doctor ever since they’d bought their Dartford home, and had been extremely sympathetic and helpful to them both following Elspeth’s horrific accident.

He leaned forward and said, Now, Elspeth, what seems to be the trouble.?

Apart from the obvious? she asked. When he nodded, she said, Those tablets I’ve been taking-

The mianserin, you mean? he asked.

Yes. Those. They’re not working any more. At least, they don’t seem to be. I just feel totally miserable, all the time. I’m so fed up with myself, with being like this, being useless.

That’s understandable, Elspeth. Anyone in your situation would feel like that from time to time.

"That’s just it, though. I feel like it all the time. And the feeling just keeps getting worse and worse. Last night, I even told Mervyn he should divorce me."

Why on earth would you do that? he asked.

Elspeth burst into tears. Because I don’t want him saddled with someone like me for the rest of his life. I can’t expect him to share this misery with me for the next twenty or thirty years, can I? God, look at me, I’m not even capable of killing myself!

Oh dear, he said. You really are in a bad way, aren’t you? Has something happened to cause all these dire thoughts you’re having?

Well, Erica’s leaving. As you know, she’s been looking after me from the minute I came home from hospital. Now she reckons the lifting’s affecting her back. She only gave a week’s notice. What if we can’t find someone to replace her?

Given the huge number of people who specialize in aged and disability care, I really don’t think you’ll have a problem, he told her.

But I’ve gotten so used to Erica. I can’t imagine having some stranger come in and take me to the shower, put me on the toilet, and feed me!

Well, Erica was a stranger when she first began to look after you, wasn’t she?

I suppose so, Elspeth sniffed. I don’t know, I just feel… overwhelmed.

Obviously, your current medication’s not working as well as it has in the past, he said. I could try increasing the dosage, but I think, instead, I’d better switch you to selegiline.

Selegiline? What on earth’s that?

It’s a different type of anti-depressant. What’s commonly known as a MAOI inhibitor.

What does that do?

As the name suggests, it inhibits the activity of monoamine oxidase enzymes. Noting her puzzled expression, he said, You don’t need to know too much about that. Let’s just say a monoamine is a compound whose molecules contain a single amine group. You may have heard of neurotransmitters?

I think I’ve heard them mentioned somewhere.

Well, they’re an example of monoamines. As I said, don’t get too bogged down in all that. He turned to his computer and began typing. I’m going to get you to replace your mianserin with selegiline each night then come back and see me in a fortnight. He printed out the script then stood up and came around the desk to hand it to her. If you have any truly weird or disturbing reactions, ring me immediately.

Elspeth looked dubiously at the script. The trouble is, she said sadly, These pills aren’t going to change anything, are they?

Sadly, no. I wish there was more I could do.

With that, he opened the door and called Erica in.

I’ve changed her medication, he said. Make sure she takes the replacements, won’t you?

Erica nodded. I will, and I’ll make sure I tell Mr. Finlayson, as well. With that, she released the brake on the wheelchair and wheeled Erica out.

This new stuff had better work, Elspeth said grimly, as they left the surgery.

THREE

THE NEXT MORNING, Mervyn had his usual breakfast of tea and toast, then poured himself a glass of water and took one of his beta blockers. He’d been taking them since he’d had a nasty turn just a few months after Elspeth’s accident. The cardiologist at the hospital had told him that he had a prolapsed mitral valve in his heart. Neither the cardiologist or Doctor McClosky had been able to tell him whether or not the stress he’d been under at the time had contributed to the condition.

As he was not expecting to have to drive to any construction sites that day, he decided to catch the train to work. If he was called out on site, he could always take the firm’s work vehicle. In any case, he wasn’t sure if the considerable amount of brandy he’d consumed the previous night might still be in his system. He didn’t want to take any chances. The last thing he needed right now would be to have some copper pull him over and slap him with a drink driving charge. Given the situation with Elspeth, he needed his licence.

He didn’t mind the train. Unless there was some hold up, the trip from Dartford Railway station to Charing Cross, which was quite near the office that his boss’s firm worked from, only took about three quarters of an hour. It was much more relaxing to sit on the train and read the paper, than to be battling his way through the morning traffic on the A2 and M25, especially as it was another dull, foggy and totally uninspiring morning.

Despite intending to read the newspaper, he spent the entire journey mulling over the problems that would be caused by Erica’s hasty departure. What to do, what to do, what to do?

Should he talk to his boss, William Pritchard, about taking some time off? It wasn’t as if he wasn’t owed any. The trouble was, he was currently dealing with a couple of very large contracts, for some extremely important clients, contracts which he’d invested a lot of time and effort into setting up. The clients would expect him to follow through on those commitments, not fob them off onto somebody else.

As it turned out, William had driven up to Leeds to sort out one of his own contracts, and wouldn’t be back until the following day.

Of course, if it’s urgent, you could always ring him on his mobile, said Penelope, who fulfilled the dual roles of personal assistant to William and receptionist to his two employees.

Penelope was already working for William when Mervyn was hired. She was one of those women who was ageless. Kind of like Dame Helen Mirren. Although