Joyce put on her own shorts and top, socks and shoes, brushed
her hair, then ate some of yesterday’s fruit for breakfast, washed down with
water from the jug, mixed with a little bottled raspberry squash, dated over five
years ago. The ER patients were the only ones who had been officially admitted to the
hospital, none of the others having any medical record other than the one on
the doctor’s computer, which were probably fakes. XXX Joyce thought
these were probably the ones Susan had said were specific people Helen had
known, and interacted with. Rather than being roughly folded, all the clothes in this drawer had obviously
been ironed, with sharp creases pressed in them, and there were two muslin
bags that still smelled faintly of the lavender sprigs inside them, even after all
this time.
