The minute Rosa entered his room he noticed the unshed tears in her eyes.

‘What’s the matter?’ Bert asked.

‘I need some guidance,’ Rosa said. ‘I think my husband is having an affair. I don’t know how much more I can take.’

‘Why don’t you talk to him?’ Bert said. It seemed pretty straightforward to him.

‘I can’t,’ she whispered. ‘I need some advice about what to do first. I’ve been left a big inheritance and he wants me to put it in our joint account. I need to know if he’s just staying with me for the money.’

Bert shrugged. He was the last person to give advice on affairs of the heart. ‘I wish I could help you.’

Rosa sat beside him on the bed and grasped his hand. ‘You can. You know how we talked about your gift of divination? Well, my grandmother didn’t just give me money … she left me these. They’ve been in our family for years.’

Rosa undid the first two buttons of her tunic and plunged her hand down her top.

Bert’s eyes were drawn to the pinkness of her cleavage, hemmed in by the taut white bra. He felt himself redden as she caught his stare.

Rosa hunched her shoulders, screwing up her nose in mouse-like fashion as she squeaked a giggle. ‘Oops, sorry. This was the only place I could think of hiding these.’ She pressed the warm deck of cards into his hands then quickly buttoned up her top. ‘Don’t let anyone see them, will you? I’ll be back tonight for my reading.’ Rosa straightened up her tunic and patted her hair before planting a kiss on his cheek. ‘I know you won’t let me down,’ she whispered, leaving him heady in the wake of her perfume, and hotly aroused.

Shift changeover was a good time to meet as the staff had a half-hourly meeting to discuss events of the evening before going home. Rosa slid into the darkness of Bert’s room, clicking on the side lamp as she pulled up a chair next to his bed. It was after nine pm and most of the patients were drugged and asleep. Bert had decided to forgo his medication to see Rosa, hoping if he played coy she would give him more than a peck on the cheek.

‘Well?’ Rosa said, pulling a chair to the side of his bed. ‘Can you work with those cards?’

‘I don’t know,’ Bert said. ‘I’m not supposed to …’

Rosa scowled, jumping up from her chair and extending a pudgy hand. ‘Well in that case I’ll have them back. I should have known you wouldn’t do it.’

‘No, wait,’ Bert said, aghast. ‘I didn’t say I couldn’t. Sit down. I can do a three card reading, past, present and future.’

Rosa threw her arms around him, pressing her bosoms into his chest. ‘Oh thank you, Bert, I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’ She released her grip and relaxed back into her chair, her mouth upturned in a congenial smile.

Bert felt his pyjamas tighten with his arousal; relieved his modesty was preserved under the hospital blankets. Taking a few short breaths, he focused on the cards. Rosa had a short temper, and they did not have much time. He shuffled the deck before laying the three cards face down on the bed. Working with a different deck was like wearing someone else’s clothes. He wondered how he had forgotten about his own deck of cards, buried underneath the roots of the tree. He scratched his neck, and turned over the first card.

‘This is your past. Life has not been kind to you. I see a man, an uncle. He’s much older than you. He is entering your room. You are pretending to be asleep but he doesn’t care …’

Rosa’s eyes grew wide and she reached out to snatch the card. Bert batted her hand away. ‘Don’t be upset. It’s over now. I’ll move on to the present. You mustn’t dwell on the past.’

Rosa glanced back at the room door and frowned. ‘Can you hurry up? We haven’t got much time.’

Bert turned over the card. ‘I see a bald man, with a black moustache. He is kissing you goodbye and leaving your home.’

‘Yes that’s him,’ Rosa said, leaning forward in her chair.

‘I see him again, sitting in his car with a tall, thin, red-haired woman. They’re planning what to do with your money. He’s kissing her, telling her she’s the only one he’s ever loved.’ Bert knew that each word was a dagger into Rosa’s heart. But he had little sympathy for her when she treated him so abruptly.

‘I knew it,’ she whispered, her eyes narrowing as she spat the words. ‘The bastard. He said he was visiting his father.’

But the reading had not finished, and Bert felt his blood boil as he watched images of Rosa stealing from her patients on a daily basis. The more disabled they were, the more she took. Trinkets from home, soap, jewellery, even socks. No wonder she waddled when she walked; her bra held a lot more than her breasts alone. Like a magpie she would fish through her trinkets, some of them never seeing the light of day. But it gave her a certain satisfaction, stealing from people who could not answer back.

Rosa blew her nose before standing up to leave. ‘All this time I’ve been wondering what’s going on and you gave it to me straight. Thank you.’

‘The reading’s not over yet. Wouldn’t you like to know your future?’

Rosa sneered. ‘I already know. I’m kicking that bastard out, then I’m going to book a cruise. That’s the last you’ll see of me.’

Bert set his mouth into a thin line. He could hear voices down the corridor as the meeting broke up. Rosa put out her hand for the cards. ‘I’ve got to go. Give me back the cards. You’ll have no use for them now.’

Bert quickly shoved the cards under his pillow. ‘Wait, I have news of your future. It’s very important. Meet me on the fourth floor tomorrow night at nine, room 113.’

‘But that floor’s taped off for renovation. You won’t get in,’ Rosa whispered.

‘Leave it to me, I’m good at sneaking out. This is important, Rosa. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Rosa nodded before hastily making her way out the door.

It was just like the old days for Bert when he escaped outside under the cover of darkness. The floor had been cordoned off due to renovations so only pass holders could gain access. PVC was replacing the rotted sash windows, and room 113 was windowless, because they had ordered the wrong size. But Rosa didn’t know that. She rubbed her arms as she entered, squinting in the darkness. The electricity for that part of the building had been turned off, and as Bert stepped out of the shadows, he relayed the rest of her reading. She was going to die after falling out of the fourth-floor window at three minutes past nine. Rose had barely enough time to scream before she realised what was going on. Bert’s push sent her falling into the arms of the cold night air, screaming and flailing like a wingless bird.

As Rosa’s bloodied corpse lay on the concrete ground below, Bert ran to the other end of the building and climbed down the piping into his own room. As he gripped the cold metal chutes, he was reminded of the old oak tree from which Callum fell. He would have loved to have seen Rosa fall for himself, but he had to make do with pretending to wake from his sleep, acting groggy and confused as he asked the other staff what was going on. A later search revealed many stolen items in her locker, and Bert played his audience as he told them how Rosa used to sneak into his room at night, desperate to talk about her childhood abuse. Bert was lucid enough to explain how she had kissed him on the cheek and left, saying goodbye one last time. Like before, Bert had given a very good performance, and her death provided him with respite from his ills. His story was backed up by the CCTV, which only covered the inside of the building. All they could see was Rosa making her way through the corridor alone.