by Nicci French
Charlie’s eyes opened and she looked at me. Then she looked past me. Her mouth opened but no sound came. I saw a widening of her eyes and felt an explosion of pain so great and so sudden that it wasn’t just a feeling: I could see the pain, flashing white and then in bursts of blue and red, and I could hear it too, ringing in my ears. I didn’t feel my body collapse and hit the ground. I saw the ground move up and then it was against me, the slimy mud against my cheeks, in my mouth. The name came into my mind: Rick.
I rolled over and felt the pain in my left leg, spurting and flowing down to the foot, up through my thigh and into my body. As I turned, I saw Rick. He was on his knees. Even in the darkness I could see that his face was covered with filth and blood. Things were happening quickly yet I seemed to have a great deal of time to think. I realized that he had crawled towards me from behind and that I hadn’t seen him. He had struck my right knee with something, which had made me collapse, and now he was raising it to strike me again, on my head this time. I realized I had dropped Charlie and I thought, All this has been for nothing. I had called the police and the police would get here and they would find Rick but it would be too late. But at least I had found Charlie, if only for a moment. She was not alone any more. While I was thinking all that, I raised my right arm to ward off the blow and there was another explosion of light and sound. I cried out again, but I snatched with my left hand and gripped the metal bar he was wielding.
Even though he was injured, Rick was far bigger and stronger than me. But I thought of Charlie and I held the bar and knew that I would never release it until I was dead, and then he would have to prise my fingers from it. My right arm was hot with pain but I clawed at his face with my right hand. I felt flesh under my nails and scratched deep. I heard a scream from somewhere close. I had been pulling the metal bar but then, suddenly, instead of trying to wrench it free he pushed it down on me, on my neck, and I began to choke. I pushed and twisted with all my last strength, I scratched at his face but he was staring down at me. I tried to speak, I tried to tell him that it was all over, that the police were on their way, but the metal was hard against my windpipe. I could see him shaking his head at me, as if in reproof, and he was saying something but I was no longer able to hear or see. I was losing consciousness and then I heard a sound, felt it as much as heard it, of something heavy hitting the earth, and his weight on me was gone.
It was several seconds before I could see. There was a shape in front of my eyes, which gradually acquired form and detail, and I could make it out as Charlie. She was barely recognizable as the daughter I had last seen on the previous day. Her skin was as pale as that of a corpse. She was drenched, her hair and clothes plastered flat against her. She was holding a piece of concrete from the disintegrating pillbox. She let it drop and stood there, looking through me with dead eyes. She swayed like a tree that was about to fall. I glanced around. There was no sign of Rick.
I cried out my daughter’s name and got to my feet. I knew there was pain and damage in my arm and leg but it felt like a distant memory. I held her close in my arms; we were both trembling violently, with cold and fear. I looked into her eyes. ‘Charlie,’ I said loudly. ‘Can you hear me?’
She didn’t answer. Her eyes were rolling as if she was drugged or desperate for sleep. I remembered Rick. Where had he gone? Was there a chance he could come for us again, out of the darkness?
Then I saw him. The force of Charlie’s blow had knocked him off the bank where the remains of the pillbox stood. He had slipped down into the water and the mud. I could see the shape of his body in the water, pushed this way and that by the tide, which was now at its height. Slack tide – and before long it would ebb once more. He was lying on his back with one of his legs deep in the soft, gluey mud. I thought he was unconscious, but then his eyes flickered open and he looked up at me. He lifted his bashed, bloody head as far as he could. Occasional waves swept over him, making him choke with a horrible gurgling sound, but he couldn’t move. I stared down at him. I needed to hate him for what he had done. He had killed Olivia Mullen. And he had been intending to kill Charlie, or to stand by and allow the sea to drown her. I had spent the day hating the anonymous man who had snatched Charlie, and now I knew Rick was that man.
My first thought was to stand there and watch him die, but the idea made me cold and nauseous. I laid Charlie gently on the ground, and stood up, whimpering with pain. The world rocked around me and small lights were exploding inside my skull. I shuffled, half slipping, down the bank to a few paces from where he lay. I took a tentative step on to the mud to see if it would hold my weight. But my leg sank straight to the knee and above. It was only by grabbing on to a rough bush that I could drag myself free. The pain in the other leg made me howl. I couldn’t reach him.
He made another choking, gurgling sound. I didn’t know if he was asking for my help, or if it was just the sound of a man who had lost all hope. With my numb, fumbling fingers, I undid my belt and pulled it free from the loops of my jeans. ‘Catch hold of this and pull,’ I said. I held the buckle and tossed the leather belt across the gap separating us. He lifted a hand feebly but missed. I tried again and this time he had it. ‘Get a good grip,’ I said. ‘Come on.’
He wrapped the leather round his hand, pulling me a bit closer to him. I hauled as hard as I could and felt a gradual shifting of his weight towards me. A small part of me was aghast as I tried to save the life of the man who had tried to kill my daughter.
All of a sudden, his weight shifted back again. I felt it in the tightening of the belt, I heard it in the sucking sound beneath us. The tide was going out at last, drawing the shingle, grit and debris of the muddy shore with it. And drawing Rick away too. His body was drifting from me.
‘Hold on,’ I gasped, as I strained to drag him towards me. ‘The police will be here in a moment.’
Now Rick’s weight was pulling me. I could feel myself slipping, and I knew that if I held on for much longer, I would join him in the sticky mud. For one moment, we stared at each other, the belt tight between us.
And then I let go. The belt curled towards him and he slid back, drawn by the steady tug of the tide. The waves washed over his face until I could no longer make it out. The moon glimmered down on to empty waters.
I looked round. Charlie was slumped on the ground. I hobbled over to her, crouched, and cradled her. Her eyes were shut again. Her flesh was damp and cold. I hauled her into my arms, and struggled to my feet, screaming with pain. My leg would barely hold me now but I needed to get her into the warmth of the car. I gripped her round the chest and tried to pull her, walking backwards and heaving her weight after me. I felt freezing, dizzy and sick, and was shuffling back an inch at a time. I collapsed on to the ground, Charlie on me, her hair in my mouth, and her body slack and heavy. I slithered out from under her and picked her up again, holding her, lolling, against me. I put two fingers against her neck, where a pulse should have been, but they were too numb to feel anything. As I sat there, the sea sucking back from its full flood and the wind coming raw from the east, I could feel my last reserves of strength ebbing away. My limbs would no longer obey me. I felt both as frail as a broken shell and enormously heavy. I just wanted to curl up on the cold ground with my daughter and close my eyes at last.
‘No, you don’t, Nina,’ I snarled, snapping open my eyelids. My voice was hoarse and feeble. I didn’t recognize it. ‘Don’t stop now.’
Once more, I grasped Charlie and pulled her into a sitting position just in front of me, between my open legs. I started bumping us both towards the car, which was so near, yet so infinitely far away. If I could get there, into the warmth… For a few minutes, the world shrank to the effort of moving in tiny jerks up the slope. I knew I couldn’t do it and yet I knew I must. Everything in me howled in protest, and it was as if my body was breaking up.
I saw it first as a path of light that shone past the pair of us and on to the black water, as if there was a second moon in the sky. I stopped a
nd turned my head. Over the horizon, a yellow beam fanned out, then narrowed again as the car came over the hill. Another set of headlights followed, then a third. Blue lights flashed, and the distant wail of a siren cut through the sound of the wind in the marshes.
I put my chin on top of Charlie’s head and rocked her. ‘They’re here to save us,’ I said. I cleared her matted hair off her face and tucked it behind her ears, then picked up her cold hands and rubbed them between my own. The lights were nearly on us now; the siren was a shriek that stopped abruptly. I heard brakes, doors opening, voices shouting orders. Silent, empty space filled up with noise and bustle. I wiped away the thick smear of mud from her cheek. ‘Sweetheart,’ I said, ‘please don’t go.’
They came over the hill like an army, silhouetted figures behind the torches that shone down fiercely on us, pinning us in a dazzling brightness. I put a hand over Charlie’s eyes to protect them, even though she lay unmoving in my lap, and I looked out on to the landscape of our blind struggle. Under the crumbling cliffs, where stunted trees leaned out with exposed roots waving helplessly in the air, the waters were receding at last, sucking at the thick, bubbling mud, lapping at driftwood, rubbish and sharp stones. The ruined pillbox stood like a gaping mouth, eddies of waves around its entrance. Tomorrow, the winter light would return all of this to a landscape I knew: the placid blue-green sea, the shingle and sand where wading birds would lift their long legs in the shallows. I stared at the sea, and saw nothing but its heaving, glinting surface. I thought of his face, the waves washing over it, but there was no sign of Rick. The tide had taken him.
Then they were with us, between us, lights shining, stretchers lowered, blankets unrolled, voices talking into radios, a sense of controlled speed, of managed urgency. There were calm voices in my ear, warm hands on my freezing limbs, something soft wrapped round me. Someone called me by my name. My eyes were burning. My arms were empty. I called out for my daughter.
‘Just relax now,’ someone said. I saw a face looming towards me. ‘Don’t try to talk.’
I called for Charlie again.
I was on a stretcher. The blanket scratched my chin. I was being carried over the rough ground, and I lay on my back, feeling as if I was a bit of detritus tugged by the tide. I wanted to close my eyes, but couldn’t. The lids peeled back in my aching face and I stared up at the white moon sailing serenely on.
‘Rick,’ I whimpered.
‘Nina.’ I squinted into the face leaning over me. ‘It’s me, Nina, Andrea. Now listen, everything’s –’
‘Rick!’ I said again, raising my voice against the throb of pain in my knee, leg, head, heart. ‘In the water. Help.’
In the clamour of pain, in the agony of not knowing if Charlie was alive or dead, I had to try to save the man who’d nearly killed us both: it was like hanging on to the last shreds of my humanity.
‘Now, Nina, once you’re in the ambu –’
‘What’s this?’ A sharper voice cutting through the hubbub: DI Hammill. I put a hand out and clutched his arm.
‘He’s out there, drowning,’ I said.
I was aware of orders being shouted, people running. I saw more lights come over the horizon. Shafts of light and long shadows slid over me. At the centre of all the frenetic activity, I saw Charlie’s still figure being slid on the stretcher through the open doors of the ambulance. Her white, peaceful face. She looked so small and vulnerable. Someone pushed me down on to my stretcher.
‘It’s my daughter,’ I said. ‘I need to see her.’
‘You’ll see her,’ said the voice. ‘We need to check you over. You’ll be with her. But if you keep shifting around we’ll drop you.’
I lay back and suddenly I saw the stars. The Plough. The Great Bear. And the other one. The little one. The Little Bear. I was feeling woozy, drifting off to sleep, when I heard shouts of ‘Shut the door’ and ‘Watch out’. The sky had gone and my eyes were dazzled by bright lights. It was suddenly warmer. I saw green uniforms moving around me. The stretcher was put down. A young woman appeared close to me.
‘How are you feeling, Nina?’ she asked, just a little too slowly and loudly.
‘How’s Charlie? What are they doing to her?’
‘She’s here,’ said the woman. ‘She’s being looked after. Nina, we’re going to have to check you over, all right?’
‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘I just need to see my daughter –’ I broke off and howled because the woman had run her hands down my leg. I heard different voices shouting, but it was difficult to penetrate the fog of fear and pain that surrounded me.
‘We’ve got to move. Now.’
‘Is everybody in?’
‘Can we come?’
‘They’re being treated.’
‘It’s urgent.’
‘Just don’t get in the fucking way.’
Doors were slammed. There was a jolt, and pain shot through me. I realized I was in the ambulance and that we were driving away.
‘Charlie,’ I cried. ‘Where is she?’
The woman’s face came close to mine. A nice face, short, dyed-red hair, green overalls. ‘I’m Claire,’ she said, talking to me, still in the overloud voice that’s used for the very young or the very old or the very badly hurt. ‘We need to check you out, all right?’
‘Where’s Charlie?’ I said. ‘What’s happening?’
I made myself twist round and saw two other figures in green overalls bent over the stretcher across from me. ‘Is she dead?’ I whispered.
‘We need to think about you first,’ said Claire. She laid a hand on my shoulder, but I jerked away from her.
‘No. Nothing until you tell me. How is she? Is she going to be all right? Is she dead?’
‘Nina.’ She came closer to me so that I could see her brown eyes. ‘Your daughter has got very cold. Her core temperature has fallen drastically. We’ve got to get it up. We’re doing all we can.’
The sympathy in her eyes struck terror into me. ‘Get Rory,’ I said. ‘At once. Get her father.’
There were shouts from around Charlie’s bedding. ‘I can’t get a BP reading.’
The interior of the ambulance was taking shape, coming into focus. I could see Beck by the rear doors, swaying with the movements of the ambulance. She looked anxious, helpless. I couldn’t make out anything of Charlie. An oxygen mask covered her face. Her body was obscured by the medics.
‘What’s happening?’ I shouted. ‘Someone’s got to tell me.’
The figures were crouched over her, but they didn’t seem to be doing much. One turned towards me. Young man, sandy hair, pale skin. ‘Your daughter is severely hypothermic,’ he said. ‘We’re warming her up.’
‘She was moving around,’ I said desperately. ‘She saved me. You’ve got to save her.’
‘We’re doing all we can.’
‘Can’t you inject something?’
‘Drugs are ineffective when she’s this cold, even dangerous. We’ve got heat packs. She just needs to get warm.’
I struggled to get off the stretcher. ‘Let me help,’ I said. ‘I’ll –’
But he held me and I collapsed back, gasping.
‘Save your strength,’ he said. ‘You’ll need it for both of you. Now, let Claire deal with you.’
‘No! She can’t die! You can’t let her die!’
‘We’ll do everything possible,’ he said gently. ‘You need to look after yourself now.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘No. I need to see Charlie.’
But someone put a hand against my chest and I lay back. I heard a tearing sound and felt something burning along my leg: my clothes were being cut off. I was lifted and twisted. I felt like I was being peeled and left pink, naked and raw. Pain flowed through me like a deep, fast river. ‘I’m all right,’ I whispered. ‘But please can I…’
Suddenly the motion of the ambulance ceased.
‘What’s happening? Are we there?’
‘The causeway’s still covered by the tide. We’re just che
cking if we can get through.’
‘Can we talk to her?’ said Beck.
‘She needs rest,’ said Claire. ‘And we need to do some checks. She may be in shock.’
‘It’s very important.’
Claire turned to me.
‘Can you manage a few questions?’
‘No! I want to see Charlie! What’s happening to her? Why won’t anyone tell me?’
Claire moved across to the huddle around my daughter. There was some murmuring and then she was back, crouching by my side. ‘They’re monitoring her temperature. They’re warming her. We just have to wait.’
‘How serious is it? I have to know. Please tell me.’
She looked uncertain. Her eyes flickered as if she wanted to avoid my gaze. ‘They’re doing their best.’
‘Is she going to die?’
But she didn’t answer.
The ambulance started up once more. I thought of going through so much, of pulling my daughter from the icy water, then losing her. I saw the two police officer’s faces close to me. They were like figures from long, long ago. Barely recognizable.
‘Call Rory,’ I said once more. ‘Immediately.’
‘He’s being driven straight to the hospital.’
So the alienated parents were coming together at last, at their daughter’s sickbed. Or deathbed.
‘Can you talk?’ said Beck.
Her face was coming in and out of focus and the pain in my head seemed to be breaking up into lots of small fragments. ‘What for? It’s all done. It’s all over.’
‘Did he get away?’ said Beck.
‘What?’
‘The man who took your daughter.’
‘He’s in the water,’ I said. ‘I tried to get him out. Couldn’t. I had to save Charlie.’
‘The water?’ said Beck. ‘When we left, the officers were trying to retrieve Mr Blythe’s body. But what about the perpetrator?’
‘What?’
‘Did he fall in the water as well?’
I felt as if the whole world was going fuzzy around me.
