Chosen Child

by Linda Huber

  Indignation and shock filled Steve’s eyes and he jerked back, pulling at the bin bag as he did so. Rick’s breath caught in his throat. If the plastic tore… He tried to manhandle his father-in-law away from the hole but Steve gripped the bag harder and pushed Rick back with his other hand. The bin bag ripped open with an odd little popping sound and an almost skeletal hand appeared, shreds of God knows what still attached to the bones.

  ‘Aargh!’ Steve dropped onto all fours, straddling the hole and staring straight at the hand, gasping for breath. His face turned a mottled grey colour.

  Rick grabbed him again. ‘Come away!’ Had he seen the hand? But he must have. It was over.

  Steve fell across the hole, his breath strident in the confines of the shed. Black giddiness descended on Rick and he ducked his head; he must not pass out here… Steve’s breath rattled in his throat and then cracked into horrible silence.

  Rick retched. No, please no, the man was dead – was he dead? Oh fuck he was dead; he wasn’t breathing and his face was the colour of – Rick retched again and spat. Christ no – what was he supposed to do now?

  Sobbing aloud, he rolled the older man away from the hole and onto the wooden half of the floor where he slapped his cheeks. ‘Steve! Come on! Breathe!’

  And that face, those eyes, staring at him, expressionless and empty – how very much more terrible than Gareth’s they were. Rick leaned across and vomited bile on the earth floor. Should he start CPR? But Steve had seen the hand…

  Panting, Rick shoved clumps of earth over Gareth’s hand before whacking the chunk of concrete back on top. He stamped on earth and concrete until the floor was more or less flat, tears rolling down his cheeks. Then he pulled the wooden boards from the side and dropped them on the still uneven base.

  Now for Steve. Heaving his father-in-law to his dead feet was one of the most horrible things he had ever done, but the strength of sheer panic was with Rick. He pulled Steve’s left arm over his own shoulders and grasped him round the waist. Half-blinded by a mixture of tears and sweat, he stumbled forwards, pulling Steve with him. A good kick opened the shed door and they staggered out, Rick’s head thumping so hard against the door frame that he fell to his knees, still clutching Steve’s lifeless body. For a moment he couldn’t see anything, the pain was so severe, but he forced himself to his feet, pulling Steve with him.

  Come on, come on – get away from the shed… Steve’s feet dragged over the grass as Rick lurched forwards, to the house, to the house… the kitchen door…

  He didn’t quite make it. Two metres from the house he fell to his knees, Steve collapsing in a heap beside him. Rick crawled forwards and thundered on the door. It opened, and Ella’s face, incredulous at first before horror took over, stared down on him.

  ‘He was stumbling over the grass, I was helping him in when he collapsed – call an ambulance!’

  Ella pitched forward on her knees beside her father and gathered the grey face in her hands.

  ‘You call! Daddy? Oh, Dad!’

  On his knees beside the dead man, his hands shaking like they’d never shaken all the time he was dealing with Gareth, Rick pulled out his mobile and punched out 999.

  Chapter Six

  Monday 28th July

  Ella crouched on the ground beside her father, her heart thudding in her ears. This couldn’t be happening.

  ‘He’s not breathing – I can’t feel his pulse! Rick! We should do CPR!’

  Rick had dropped his mobile after giving the address to the emergency operator and was cowering on hands and knees a few yards away, panting. He gave no sign of having heard her. Ella looked round wildly – she couldn’t do this; she didn’t know how. Vague memories of Casualty on TV had her pushing down on her father’s ribcage, push push push push push and now breathe into his mouth… She retched painfully but went back into her push push push…

  ‘Ella? What’s –? Steve…’ June was propped in the kitchen door, her face rigid with shock.

  ‘Mummy?’ Soraya appeared behind June and then immediately turned and fled back into the house.

  Ella didn’t pause in her rhythm. ‘Go inside, Mum. Stay with Soraya. An ambulance is coming. Rick! Come and help me!’

  But all he did was crawl over and kneel beside Steve’s head while Ella blew into the cooling lips, gagged and spat, and started again, push push push… It seemed like half a lifetime before they heard a siren in the distance, but help was nearly here and oh dear God had she done enough? Was Dad even alive?

  An ambulance screamed up and two green-clad paramedics took over, clamping a breathing bag over Steve’s mouth. Ella sat on the doorstep, panting, her heart racing as the paramedic pounded up and down on her father’s chest, so much more forcefully than she had. She turned to Rick, squatting to the side, his eyes fixed on the paramedics and their patient.

  ‘What were you thinking about? You left me to do everything!’

  His eyes slewed sideways. ‘He’s gone, Ella.’

  The older paramedic slapped pads on her father’s chest. ‘Clear… shocking… Sinus rhythm, let’s go!’

  Ella raised clasped hands to her mouth. One of the men was still operating the breathing bag, no, no, he still wasn’t breathing – Daddy, please breathe, please be okay.

  ‘We’ll get him to hospital now. Are you coming with him?’

  Ella turned to Rick. He was sheet-white, you’d think it was his father being bundled into an ambulance. ‘Go and tell my mother. If she wants to come, either bring her or get her a taxi.’

  She clambered into the ambulance and they wailed off, down the hill and through town. Should she have left her mother with Rick in the state he was in? Thank heavens her mobile was in her sweatshirt pocket. Mary… she would ask Mum’s cousin to go over.

  ‘Mary. It’s Ella. Dad’s been taken really bad. I think it’s his heart. I’m in the ambulance with him – can you go to mine and help Mum?’

  ‘Oh no. I’m on my way, Ella. Speak soon, lovey.’

  Now to let them know at home… but no one answered the landline, and both Rick’s and her mother’s mobiles were switched off.

  Halfway to the hospital at Truro her father’s heart stopped again, and the rest of the time was spent with the paramedic pounding Steve’s chest. And there was nothing she could do, nothing. She couldn’t even hold his hand. Would he be in this state if she’d been better at CPR?

  At the hospital he was trolleyed away and a nurse sent Ella to reception to ‘book him in’. It didn’t take long; the place wasn’t busy, and when she went back to the room where her father was they were still doing chest compressions. Oh no. A horrible foreboding took hold of Ella; she couldn’t control the shivers coursing through her body, and her hands were freezing. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes, and she had known all along, hadn’t she… He wasn’t going to make it.

  And moments later they stopped.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said the doctor in charge, a woman who looked no older than Ella. ‘It was a massive heart attack. We did all we could. You can see him presently if you want. Come and have a cup of tea first.’

  It was as if she’d been out in extreme cold, and her feet and her lips and – right inside her – were all numb. Ella sat in the relatives’ room shivering and drinking horrible tea with too much sugar while the doctor explained what had happened to her father’s heart.

  ‘Did he have any previous problems?’

  Ella gripped her mug with shaking fingers. It was dreadful to be so out of control. ‘He was on medication for high blood pressure, and he had a scare of some kind last year but they changed his pills and he was fine again…’

  Until he came to stay with his daughter and rip up concrete floors. This was her fault, she should never have allowed him to do something so strenuous. Ella began to sob. She would never forget the mental picture of her father this past hour – her ineffectual pounding on his poor chest, the taste of those rubbery lips –

  She clamped her hands over her mouth
and raced for the toilets, the doctor close behind. When the spasm was over Ella rinsed her face and the doctor passed her a paper towel.

  ‘Is there anyone who could come and get you?’

  ‘My husband’s at home with... I’ll call them now. Will Dad – will he be taken to an undertaker’s?’

  ‘Yes. You can see him here before he goes to the mortuary, if you like, and your undertaker will collect him from there.’

  Ella struggled to her feet. She had to call her mother, oh, what could she say to Mum?

  Mary answered the house phone, and Ella closed her eyes in relief.

  ‘Oh, Ella. June’s in a terrible state. How is he?’

  Ella managed to pass on the news with a lot more control than if she’d been talking to her mother. Bless Mary. What a good thing she’d been able to drop everything and run to help.

  It was nine before she arrived back home, calmer after the long taxi ride. June was huddled in the corner of the sofa, her eyes red and blotchy. As soon as she saw Ella she burst into tears.

  ‘She didn’t want to go to the hospital,’ said Mary helplessly. ‘She’s been sitting there shaking since you called to say he had – gone.’

  Ella rubbed her mother’s back. ‘Oh, Mum,’ she said, hearing her voice break.

  June wailed anew, rocking back and forth, and all Ella could do was hold her mother and rock with her. She looked at Mary.

  ‘Soraya?’ And Rick, where was Rick in all this?

  ‘She was pretty upset. I asked Rick to take her away for a bit,’ said Mary, and the words seared into Ella’s head.

  ‘Wha -’ She couldn’t speak; dear heavens no, where was Soraya?

  Mary moved across the sofa and murmured in Ella’s ear. ‘June was hysterical. It wasn’t good for the child, seeing her grandmother like that. I think Rick’s taking her to a little friend. You’ll know who.’

  Ella grabbed her mobile and sat patting her mother with one hand and pulling up Rick’s number with the other. And of course, he didn’t answer. She fought to keep fear at bay. Surely Rick would do what he’d said, take Soraya to – Amanda? Was she home yet? Lindsay was still away… Ella gripped June’s hand. She couldn’t cope with this and her mother too.

  ‘Come on, Mum,’ she said firmly. ‘Let’s get you up to bed. You need to sleep.’

  The words seemed to calm June, and she allowed Ella and Mary to take her upstairs. Ella gave her one of the sleeping pills she’d been prescribed last winter when her nerves about the adoption got the better of her. She and Mary exchanged a look of relief as June sank into the pillow, her eyes closing. Ella pushed damp hair back from her hot face and hurried through to Soraya’s room. No small girl lay sleeping there tonight, and the pink suitcase was missing from the corner. So Rick had packed for Soraya – where had he taken her? Ella tried his mobile again, but it was still switched off, and why that should be was hard to imagine. Twisting her hands, she fought for control. This was the worst day, the worst time she could remember, and all she wanted to do was scream, loud and long. Rick wouldn’t do it again – would he? Disappear with Soraya? This time he even had an excuse – Mary had asked him to go.

  Ella tore downstairs, where the older woman was packing her handbag. ‘What did Rick say before they left?’

  Mary looked startled. ‘Just that he would take her somewhere. He was very upset too. They left shortly afterwards. I’ll get off home, Ella, as long as there’s still a vestige of light, but I’ll come back in the morning. I’m sure Rick won’t be long – why don’t you text him, if he isn’t answering his phone?’

  Ella nodded. She should have thought of that. She went out to the car with Mary, who gave her a long hug.

  ‘You get some sleep too, darling. Take one of your pills. June will need you strong tomorrow.’

  So would Soraya, thought Ella, waving briefly as the car drove off. She was still in the hallway when the doorbell rang, and Owen stood there, his face questioning.

  ‘Oh no – Ella, I’m so sorry,’ he said, when she explained about her father. ‘I thought something was wrong when I saw you outside there. I won’t bother you now, but if there’s anything I can do, give me a shout. Any time.’

  He touched her shoulder and left. Ella closed the door behind him and leaned on it. Thank heavens he hadn’t wanted to stay for tea and sympathy.

  She collapsed on a kitchen chair, leaning her head on the table and sobbing quietly. No one else in the house was awake to comfort her. And her father was dead. Impossible to see further than tomorrow, when she’d have to arrange undertakers and a funeral and look after Mum and – where were Rick and Soraya?

  Chapter Seven

  Tuesday 29th – Wednesday 30th July

  Amanda propped herself up on one elbow and grabbed her phone from the bedside table. Thankfully, she’d put it on vibrate. She glanced at Jaden, asleep in his cot on the other side of their room in Susie’s Glasgow west end flat. At last, Rick was getting back to her – she’d tried his number at least ten times yesterday.

  ‘Well, you took your time! What -’

  ‘He’s dead, Amanda.’

  It was a shaky old man’s voice; she’d never heard him speak like that before. He sounded both gutted and terrified, and fear stabbed into her.

  ‘What? Who?’

  ‘Ella’s dad. I – I found him in the – the garden after he collapsed and I called 999 but he died, Amanda, he died at the hospital.’

  A sob followed his voice down the line and Amanda blinked. Had Rick been so close to Ella’s dad? But what a shock for him, poor baby – this was the why of yesterday’s non-communication.

  ‘Oh no, Rick, that must have been terrible. How old was he?’

  ‘Sixty-eight, I think. Amanda, it brought it all back, you know… Gareth.’

  Alarm bells shrilled in Amanda’s head. If Rick was in earshot of anyone at all he shouldn’t be talking about Gareth – and neither should she, with Susie on the other side of the wall.

  ‘Don’t talk about that, Rick. Will you be all right? Would it help if I came back?’

  ‘My head’s buzzing. Please come, Amanda.’

  He broke the connection and Amanda stared at her phone. He wasn’t coping, she could tell. Twenty to seven. She might make the mid-morning flight to Newquay, if there was a seat available. Thank heavens Jaden was young enough to sit on her lap.

  The thought of Rick hurting and upset and saying who knows what to all and sundry gave Amanda no peace. She grabbed her clothes and went through to the bathroom to dress. It was understandable that a second man dying right in front of Rick would have shaken him – it was the kind of thing that didn’t happen at all to most people, and now Rick had experienced it twice within a couple of months. The memory of Gareth on the bedroom floor flashed before Amanda’s eyes.

  She was going to have to leave the warm security of Susie’s flat. Arriving here on Sunday evening, seeing how pleased Suze was to welcome her and Jaden back – it had felt like coming home. Now she would have to go back to St Ives, where Gareth was hidden somewhere – unless he was in the sea – and it was such a complicated, horrible situation. If only they could all come to live in Glasgow.

  But that wouldn’t work either. Amanda blinked unhappily. Suze was Gareth’s mum and it would be a while before she welcomed the thought that Amanda had found another partner. The lump in her throat almost choking her, Amanda booted up the laptop and searched for a flight. But the first available seat to Newquay wasn’t till the following day and she burst into tears. Nothing was going right this summer.

  Amanda pushed Jaden’s buggy into the arrivals hall at Newquay Cornwall Airport, glancing to right and left. She’d texted her flight times to Rick but he didn’t reply, and she hadn’t liked to call him. If he was with Ella and her mum, and still upset, he might say something indiscreet. She kept sending supportive messages until she realised someone might pick up his phone and see them. Now she was here and Rick was nowhere to be seen. She would have to risk a call.<
br />
  ‘Rick – we’re at Newquay Airport. Any chance of a lift home?’

  ‘I’m not at home, Amanda.’

  He sounded exhausted; Amanda had to press the phone to her ear to hear him. Frustration and weariness made her snap. ‘Where the hell are you, then?’

  ‘June was in a terrible state so I took Soraya away for a bit and she’s playing up and I hardly slept. I can’t pick you up, Amanda. I’ll be in touch.’

  ‘But -’ She was left talking to nothing. Amanda shoved the phone into her bag and stood fighting for control. Jaden was drooping in his buggy, she was four months pregnant with Rick’s child, and he expected her to hitch-hike back to St Ives. She stormed towards the exit. It would have to be a train.

  Watching the scenery flash by, Jaden asleep on her lap, Amanda regained her sense of proportion. Okay, it wasn’t fair that she should have the permanently shorter straw, but that would change. She would go home and provide the support he obviously needed – he could bring Soraya to her. She texted this twice, but no answer came and she gave up. Rick would get in touch when he was ready.

  The flat smelled stale and there was no yoghurt in the fridge, a major catastrophe as far as Jaden was concerned. His lower lip trembled when Amanda offered him a biscuit instead, and she scooped him up and hugged him.

  ‘Okay, sweetie pie, we’ll go and buy yoghurt, will we? Yummy yoghurt in the shop for Jaden?’

  Jaden clapped plump hands, and Amanda kissed him. This was such a lovely stage, when he could understand and show her what he wanted. She glanced at the calendar in the hallway, and stood still. How funny – she was sixteen weeks pregnant, and Jaden was sixteen months old. Smiling at the coincidence, Amanda hurried downstairs. The newsagent up the hill had a small supply of yoghurt.

  ‘Did you hear about Ella Baxter’s father?’ The woman on the till was eager to spread the gossip.