The Dreamwalker [ON HOLD]

Chapter Seven

Mrs Finlay's panic-stricken eyes flicked from Adela to Lucy and back.

"Ruby," the nurse said calmly as she adjusted the pillows behind Mrs Finlay's back—completely unfazed by her sudden change in demeanour. "This is Adela."

Mrs Finlay looked up at the nurse. "No, no, she's not Adela—she's Alina!"

Alina? "Maybe I remind her of someone else she knows?" Adela suggested quietly.

"She's been mentioning Alina for a while now," said Lucy. "Tells me stories about her, so, perhaps you do remind—" Her pager chimed. She quickly checked the message and said: "—I'll let you three get acquainted while I go attend to a patient in the next room. I won't be a moment." But before she left, she said to them, "Should anything happen, please come for me. Okay?"

They nodded.

When the nurse left the room, Mrs Finlay spoke. "But you're dead, Alina!"

Adela looked uneasily from Mrs Finlay to Evenie, who slightly shrugged her shoulders, unsure herself about what to do. When Adela turned back, she said, "Mrs Finlay, my name is Adela—Adela Heart. I am one of Rose's—"

"Heart? Did you say Heart?"

"Er, um, yes, I did."

"You're Irina's daughter. You're—you're—" Her eyes grew wide.

"You—you know my mother?" Adela said, inching closer to the woman.

Mrs Finlay gave a brief nod, still unable to speak. Curious to know more, Adela moved closer still. When she did so, the light from the high, barred window on the opposite wall shone down on her, making her blink. She hadn't realised how dark the room was when she first walked in; she was that nervous. She stood at the foot of Mrs Finlay's bed and pursed her lips.

In that moment, Mrs Finlay spoke again. "Come, sit, dearest," she said, gesturing to the small empty space on the edge of the bed. Startled by the unexpected invitation, Adela didn't move. Instead, her eyes darted to Mrs Finlay's hand that was still patting the space beside her, saw stained sheet below, and wrinkled her nose.

Hoping that Mrs Finlay didn't notice her reaction, Adela said quickly, "No, no, you're too kind. It's okay. You need the, um, space. To be comfortable, I mean."

Mrs Finlay shrugged and placed her hands now onto her lap. "Did I say how lovely it is to have some company?"

Letting out a soft exhale—one she hadn't realised she held—Adela remained standing. "No, you didn't," Adela told her, "but I'm glad." She gave Mrs Finlay a small, awkward smile.

Mrs Finlay didn't look any different from someone who didn't suffer from a mental illness, and she didn't seem completely unstable, either. Then again, aside from the little that Lucy had told them, Adela had no clue about the exact extent of Mrs Finlay's condition. For all she knew, Mrs Finlay might lunge at her at any given moment; fine one moment, a freak the next. Though Lucy had also told them that Mrs Finlay was fine most days...

Adela met Mrs Finlay's gaze; her eyes scanned the woman's face. Mrs Finlay wasn't as old as Adela thought she'd be, maybe in her late fifties. She had dark brown, frizzy hair (just like Rose) that sat messily in a bun, and her tanned skin was lined with deepening wrinkles and black freckles. It was slightly unsettling, seeing her up close; she reminded Adela so much of Rose. There was one other thing Adela noticed about her, too, and it was that Mrs Finlay had a slight tic in her neck, one that made her twitch every now and then – and so would her lips, as if she were silently talking to herself.