Beneath the Water

by Sarah Painter

  ‘Anything as long as it doesn’t stop you working, right?’ The words were out without prior consultation with Stella’s brain.

  ‘It’s not like that,’ Jamie said, sounding anguished.

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Stella said. ‘I’ll keep you posted.’ She hung up before she could say anything she regretted and stood for a moment, feeling her hands shaking.

  Esmé was sitting up when Stella went back into the room. Her skin tone still matched the pillowcase, but she was properly awake. ‘The doctor said I had a funny turn,’ she said. ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘You fainted, I think,’ Stella said. ‘Passed out. You didn’t wake up so we called the ambulance.’ It sounded so simple put like that. No sense of the horror at seeing Esmé on the floor, the deep fear that she wouldn’t wake up.

  Esmé nodded. ‘Were we having cake?’

  ‘You had just brought some in.’

  ‘To the boys,’ Esmé said. ‘I remember. That horrid little runt.’

  Stella was no fan of Nathan, but Esmé’s tone of disgust surprised her. Esmé was usually so circumspect. Of course, she might not be entirely in her right mind. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Like I fell over and something drove over me.’ Her eyes widened. ‘How are the dogs?’

  ‘They’re fine.’ Stella smiled. ‘They miss you, of course, but Jamie is looking after them.’

  ‘He gets distracted,’ Esmé said. ‘He might forget—’

  ‘I’m on the case, too,’ Stella said. ‘Don’t worry. Is there anything I can get for you?’

  ‘Is Jamie here?’ Esmé looked past Stella, as if he might be hiding behind her.

  ‘Not yet,’ Stella said, feeling supremely awkward.

  Esmé’s mouth set into a straight line but she looked resigned rather than upset. ‘He won’t come out here.’

  ‘Would you like to speak to him on the telephone?’

  ‘I think I’ll take a nap,’ Esmé said, closing her eyes. ‘Can you see yourself out?’

  Stella hovered for a moment, watching Esmé’s face for signs of pain. She had been dismissed, though, so she left, closing the door behind her and heading to the front desk. ‘Is there someone who can talk to me about Esmé?’

  ‘Are you family?’

  ‘I’m her family’s employee,’ Stella said. ‘I’m supposed to relay the information.’

  ‘Family only,’ the nurse said.

  Stella went downstairs and got a terrible cup of coffee in the small café.

  Back up in the ward, Esmé had been joined by an old dear who was snoring loudly in the bed closest to the window. The other two beds were still blessedly unoccupied. The curtains were pulled around Esmé’s bed and there was a doctor looking at her chart when Stella returned.

  ‘Ah, your mother’s awake now,’ he said unnecessarily.

  ‘She’s not—’ Stella began but Esmé cut across her.

  ‘What happened, then? And is it going to happen again?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so,’ the doctor said. He glanced at Stella before saying: ‘Is there a chance you took too many of your tablets?’

  ‘What sort of tablets?’ Stella asked. ‘Ibuprofen?’

  ‘I don’t take medicine. There’s nothing wrong with me.’ Esmé waved a hand around to indicate the bed, the room. ‘Usually.’

  ‘You like to stay healthy? Do you take multivitamins?’

  ‘You think she took an overdose of something?’ Stella said, turning to the doctor. She tried to keep her voice low, but without whispering it was impossible to stop Esmé’s bat ears from hearing.

  ‘Accidental,’ the doctor said quickly, glancing at Esmé. ‘Most likely vitamin A. It’s more common than you think. Especially in people who are—’

  Esmé glared at him and he broke off whatever he was going to say.

  ‘Finish that sentence,’ Esmé said sweetly, ice in her eyes. ‘Don’t mind me. But I didn’t down a bottle of tablets.’

  The doctor straightened up. ‘I apologise, Mrs Collins.’

  ‘So, is she all right?’ Stella said. ‘And shouldn’t we be sure about this vitamin thing? Have you ruled out everything else?’

  ‘We’ve done a thorough check and there’s no sign of stroke or heart attack,’ the doctor said. ‘And the symptoms are consistent with hypervitaminosis. The blood test will confirm, but that won’t be back until tomorrow morning at the earliest.’

  ‘But if she didn’t take them, then how—’

  ‘I don’t know,’ the doctor said. ‘But right now, your mother needs to rest. This isn’t likely helping her at the moment.’ He cut his eyes bedwards and Stella took the hint.

  ‘I’ll let you sleep,’ Stella said. She didn’t know if she ought to hug Esmé or kiss her on the cheek, but both seemed impossible. She sat on the bed for a moment and patted her arm. ‘I’m going to pop home and then I’ll come back. Is there anything you need?’

  ‘Stay there. Sleep in your own bed,’ Esmé said. ‘Come back in the morning if you like, but you don’t need to come sooner.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Completely,’ Esmé said. ‘We both need to rest.’ Her eyes suddenly widened. ‘The dogs.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after them.’

  ‘Jamie can do that,’ Esmé said, and Stella tried not to feel hurt. ‘But thank you. They like you. Especially Tabitha.’

  ‘I’m sorry about Jamie,’ Stella said, suddenly angry. ‘He should be here.’

  ‘Don’t be too hard on him.’ Esmé sounded tired. ‘He’s got his own cross to bear.’

  ‘It’s not right,’ Stella began, but Esmé silenced her with a hard look.

  ‘Don’t talk about things you don’t know about. Jamie’s like a son to me.’ Esmé closed her eyes, the conversation clearly over.

  Stella followed the doctor out and tugged his sleeve before he could scoot off to another patient. ‘Is there anything else?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  Stella inclined her head to indicate the ward in which Esmé was hopefully falling asleep. ‘What’s her prognosis? Will there be long-term effects?’

  ‘Liver damage is the main concern and we’ll know more when the blood work comes back.’

  Stella nodded. ‘Okay. Thank you.’

  ‘Your mother is a fighter, try not to worry.’

  Stella forced a smile around the sudden urge to belt the doctor. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ll be back in the morning. Call me if there’s any change.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, already hurrying away.

  Stella stood in the foyer of the hospital and called a taxi. The driver chatted all the way back along the dark and twisting road, and Stella found herself longing for London and a driver who played obnoxious radio too loudly but who didn’t require any kind of response. Here, Stella knew that the man driving the taxi would probably turn out to be Caitlin’s next-door neighbour or a cousin of Esmé’s. By the time she got back to the house, her eyelids were closing. She didn’t want to see Jamie but knew she had to give him an update. He was in his office, of course, tapping at his keyboard. He stood up when she walked in and his face made some of her anger flee. His healthy colour had been replaced by milk-white. ‘How is she?’

  ‘Awake,’ Stella said. She leaned against the wall for support. Exhausted but not wanting to sit down. She needed to get this over with and go to bed. Close her eyes and sleep for a hundred years. ‘She’s fine in herself. Didn’t seem to be in any pain. They think she might have accidentally taken too many vitamins or something. Blood test will be back tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow? Bloody hell.’ He shook his head. ‘Did you tell them I’d pay for private treatment?’

  ‘I think that’s just how long they take. At the lab.’

  Stella felt as if she were swaying. She could feel the solid wall at her back, but still felt as though she were tipping forward. Her chest wasn’t tight so she knew it was just tiredness and the after-effects of the adrenaline. She began to say that she
was going to bed, but her vision went dark and she wasn’t sure if the words came out.

  ‘Stella?’

  She opened her eyes. The ceiling was directly above and, much closer, Jamie’s face. She could see stubble poking through his skin and purple shadows under his eyes. His lips were moving but she could only hear a ringing sound. She wanted to ask if it was a fire alarm, had the vague feeling they ought to be running somewhere.

  ‘Bloody hell.’ The words came through as the alarm receded and became a quiet ringing in her ears. Tinnitus. ‘You’ve got to stop doing that,’ Jamie said.

  ‘Tired,’ Stella said. ‘Just tired.’

  ‘Right-o.’ He stood up and Stella felt cold. Jamie stretched above her like a giant redwood. That was an image she would keep to herself. It would give him ideas, otherwise.

  He crouched down a moment later and put one arm around her shoulders. His other hand moved under her body and Stella jerked fully awake. ‘You don’t have to lift—’

  And she was up. She wrapped her arms around his neck instinctively.

  He carried her across the room and down the hall.

  ‘You don’t have to—’ she began again.

  ‘Humour me,’ Jamie said. He wasn’t looking at her, was concentrating on navigating a doorway without bashing her legs or elbow, but she saw a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

  ‘You can’t carry me all the way upstairs.’ The truth was that the exhaustion had swept over her like the returning tide, and her voice didn’t sound right to her own ears. It was as if she were speaking underwater.

  She let her eyes close, but felt the motion shift as Jamie took the stairs and heard his breathing deepen with the exertion.

  ‘You’re not sleeping alone,’ Jamie said. ‘I need to keep an eye on you.’

  Stella realised that they were in his bedroom a moment before he put her onto the king-size bed.

  ‘Don’t worry, clean sheets.’ Jamie turned and began gathering clothes and toiletries from around the room. ‘I’ll sleep next door so that I can check on you.’

  ‘You don’t need to,’ Stella said. ‘I’m completely fine. Just knackered.’

  ‘You fainted.’

  ‘I most certainly did not.’

  ‘You say potato—’

  ‘You should visit Esmé. She says you’re like a son to her.’

  His expression softened. ‘She must have been doped-up to get that soppy.’

  ‘It’s not funny. People will say you’re heartless.’ Stella wanted to say that she thought he was pretty heartless, but the man had just carried her to her bed like a knight in shining armour and was looking at her with an expression of such sweet concern it stopped her breath.

  ‘I don’t care what people say,’ he said, sounding sad rather than defiant.

  ‘But you care about Esmé.’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Then why? I don’t understand,’ Stella couldn’t stop a gigantic yawn from escaping, even though it undercut her argument somewhat.

  ‘You. Sleep.’

  When Stella opened her eyes, the light looked wrong. It was too light to be before nine and before she looked at the clock she knew she had slept late. ‘Bugger.’ It was almost half past eleven. Stella launched out of bed and showered as quickly as she could before going to find Jamie.

  He was in his office, hair wet from his ice bath, a tall glass of green sludge next to his keyboard. He finished a couple of clicks before looking up. ‘Do you feel better?’

  ‘Much,’ Stella said. ‘Poor Esmé, though. Alone this morning, I should have—’

  ‘Jenny’s there. Well’ – he glanced at the time – ‘she’ll be away, now. Morning visiting finishes at eleven fifteen. Afternoon starts at two.’

  ‘Jenny?’

  ‘Friend of Esmé’s. One of many. They’ll have a rota fixed up by now. Someone’s already been by to fetch some more of her stuff and to drop off a casserole.’

  ‘For us? Why?’

  ‘Because Esmé would want us looked after.’

  ‘I hope you told them I am more than capable—’

  ‘Let them help,’ he said, looking back at his screen. ‘People want to keep busy.’

  Stella took a second, adjusting her view of him as heartless. It was possible he was sticking to his routine, working as normal, because he had to in order to keep it together.

  But still. Esmé was the only family he had left. All the reading and research he was happy to do on his flesh and blood, but now that Esmé was in need he was sitting in his office with the door shut. Stella went back up to Jamie’s bedroom and began packing him an overnight bag. She channelled her anger into action, hauling out clothes from drawers and toiletries from the cabinet in the en-suite.

  Jamie stood in the doorway, looking confused. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘You need to go to the hospital.’

  ‘I told you . . .’ Jamie looked at the floor. ‘I can’t leave the estate.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Stella said.

  ‘I have anxiety,’ he said after a moment of silence. The words seemed dragged from inside, unwillingly. ‘Panic attacks. Imagine that. Superman has panic attacks. If the press find out they’ll have a fucking party.’ Jamie looked away from her, at the window.

  ‘Nobody needs to find out,’ Stella said. She wanted to say something about how they might feel terrible to him but, from the outside, people probably couldn’t tell.

  He shook his head. ‘They were happening all the time in San Francisco. Nathan knew about them and it was only a matter of time. Felt like it, anyway. And when I got back here I had one in the village shop. Was just buying some milk and I freaked out completely. I don’t have them at home, though. I haven’t had a single one on the estate.’

  Stella didn’t know if it was years of dealing with her own wayward heart, but she still didn’t see why this would stop Jamie from visiting Esmé. She faced him, looking straight into his eyes. ‘So you might have a panic attack. So what?’

  ‘You don’t understand. They make you feel like you’re dying.’

  ‘I understand perfectly. You are frightened that you might have a panic attack if you leave the estate, and I’m telling you that it doesn’t matter. You might have one and you might not. If you have one it will be horrible and frightening, but it will not kill you. And once it’s over you can still visit Esmé.’

  He looked at her. ‘It’s not that simple.’

  ‘It really is,’ Stella said. ‘Anything else is your anxiety lying to you.’

  ‘They make me feel weak. Like I’m dying.’

  ‘They lie,’ Stella said.

  ‘I’m not making it up, it’s a real condition.’

  ‘I know that,’ Stella said. ‘And it’s bloody awful. You have my full sympathy, but what you have is an illness. It’s not your fault and it’s not weakness and it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but at the same time you are letting it stop you from doing something you have to do. If you had a broken leg, you’d take some extra painkillers and get someone to drive you and, if necessary, push you in a wheelchair, but you’d still visit Esmé. Just because you have an illness doesn’t mean it has to change who you are, and I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would leave his own kin lying alone in a hospital bed.’ Stella knew she had her hands on her hips and that her tone was far too strident for a paid employee but she did not care. He could fire her later. After he’d visited Esmé. ‘Or am I wrong about you?’

  Jamie stared at her for moment. Then he said, ‘No.’

  ‘Right, then. Shoes and coat, let’s go.’

  ‘You’ll make a wonderful mother one day,’ he said, smiling a little.

  The words were like being stabbed and Stella turned to hide her face. ‘Do you have medication you want to take before we go?’ Staying with the practicalities. ‘I don’t know if you have diazepam or anything?’

  ‘I have some, but I don’t take it.’

  ‘Put one in your pocket just in case. You
won’t need it, but it will make you feel better to know it’s there. It’s like insurance.’

  ‘How do you know so much about this stuff?’ Jamie tilted his head. ‘Have you—’

  ‘No.’ Stella shook her head. ‘Not anxiety.’

  Jamie looked as if he was going to ask something else, so Stella headed to the boot room to locate their coats and to the kitchen to fill a couple of bottles of water.

  The roads were icy so Stella was very happy to borrow Jamie’s four-by-four. It was far shinier and more expensive than any vehicle she’d driven previously, and the inside had a theme of leather and chrome. Stella hauled herself into the comfortable seat and spent a happy few minutes adjusting the position and enjoying the seat-warming facility.

  ‘I don’t know about this,’ Jamie said. ‘I’ve got way too much to do today.’

  ‘If you say you are “too busy”, it’s a sign that your life is not well organised and that you have lost sight of your main priorities.’ Stella knew he was having a bad day and that she shouldn’t enjoy quoting his book at him, but she couldn’t help herself.

  ‘I suppose you think that’s hilarious,’ Jamie said after a moment.

  ‘Little bit,’ Stella agreed, as she concentrated on navigating the steep slope. It was as icy as she expected, but the car’s four-wheel drive and excellent tyres made light work of the treacherous surface. The turning onto the main road was uneventful and Stella let herself relax a little as they headed towards Fort William. Jamie’s hands were bunched into fists, his knuckles bright white.

  ‘How long have you lived here?’ Stella asked, trying to distract him.

  ‘Since I was born. I went away to school when I was nine, though.’

  ‘You were home for holidays though, I assume?’

  ‘Quite a few of them, yeah.’

  ‘I can’t imagine going away at such a young age. Did you mind?’

  ‘Hated it.’ Jamie was staring out of the windscreen with a fixed expression of horror, but Stella didn’t know if that was down to her questions or an incoming panic attack.

  ‘Do you want me to stop for a bit?’