Chapter 3- An unknown name and a familiar sign

What the hell does that mean? I wasn't the daughter she was expecting me to be? This is sick, it's totally sick. My mum committed suicide... because of me?

My mobile began to buzz again and I awoke from my nightmare of a daydream.

"Hello?" I said, a bit more forcefully than I anticipated.

"Yes, Hello. We spoke earlier about your mother and her... accident," Yeah, but it wasn't much of an 'accident' was it? "I'm so sorry for your loss but we've just come across a few unsigned records, so would you mind popping in and signing them, Leah?"

"Leah? My name is Sam...well, Samantha." I questioned.

"Oh, it says here in your mother's records that her family contact is her daughter, Leah."

"No, that must be a mistake, I'm her only daughter and my name is Sam. But sure, I'll come in and sign whatever."

I just wasn't even bothered, I just wanted the ED to leave me alone, and I've always hated hospitals. I hung up the phone and grabbed my keys. Here we go again.

I arrived at Holby City ED 15 minutes after the call and a young face greeted me. I signed the records with my messy signature and was about to flee when I remembered the mix-up of names on the phone. I retreated back to the reception desk where luckily there wasn't a queue.

"Hi, sorry," I started to the female receptionist. "I was wondering if I could see my mother's records again, it's just, there was a mix-up and I wanted to see if I could straighten it out?"

"Oh yes, you must be Sam, we spoke on the phone." The young woman handed me an A4 piece of paper with my mother's details written out in the same bedraggled handwriting that was scribbled on her suicide note. And there it was:

Name of contact in case of emergency: Leah Nicholls

Our phone number followed and so did my curiosity. I guess there's no point correcting this now.

"Thanks," I said as I handed back the record. I turned on my heel and walked quickly in the opposite direction towards the automatic doors.

My feet hit the familiar wooden floorboards of home and I immediately made my way to the kitchen and to the note. It was right where I left it, face down on the kitchen table. That's when I saw it. How had I missed that before? The familiar Celtic design that was neatly traced onto the back of the note with all its turns and tumbles. I knew I had seen it before and I knew exactly where it was.