‘Take care of your Morag,’ she whispered. ‘She needs it most.’
Doug was waiting in the background with more of his damned facts.
‘It’s impossible,’ he said. ‘There’s no infrastructure. We’d have to pull in really top people from Sydney. This needs an engineer who really knows what he’s doing to supervise, huge manpower to pull it off, tradesmen of all descriptions… Then there’s the medical side. We have a situation where the entire island’s been traumatised, including the local doctor. She’s a single mum. She can’t cope with this long term. The money…the commitment…’
‘The islanders won’t leave.’
‘They won’t have a choice,’ Doug said bluntly. ‘It’s either abandon the island or be cut off from all services. You’ll never get political support for the sort of funding this place needs. And you’ll never get the personnel.’
He should go back to the medical centre. There was still an hour or so before dusk and Jaqui might need him. But Grady’s radio was on his belt and he knew he could be contacted, so he found himself picking his way through the debris until he came to the promontory where the lighthouse stood.
Morag was there. As he’d hoped. He rounded the cliffs that separated the promontory from the township and he saw her, standing at the foot of the lighthouse, staring up at the whitewashed tower.
David and Goliath.
That was what she looked like, he thought. A tiny figure, facing immeasurable odds.
He called and she turned, but she didn’t smile. She simply watched as he made his way down the cobbled walkway that reached out to where the lighthouse tipped the promontory.
‘I hoped I might find you here,’ he said, but there still wasn’t a smile.
‘I need to put out some food for Oscar.’
Oscar. Of course. Sam’s cat.
‘He comes here?’
‘He likes here,’ Morag told him. ‘Oscar’s the most independent cat we know. He lives on Sam’s boat but for some reason he thinks this is his territory, so he visits us each night.’
‘Maybe he likes you,’ Grady said gently, but he still didn’t get a smile.
‘Maybe.’
‘You’re exhausted.’
She nodded. ‘And…defeated. So much death.’
‘You need to go back to Robbie.’
‘I just phoned him. He’s OK. He understands. I just wish…I just wish he didn’t have to.’
‘Let me help you here and I’ll walk you up to Hubert’s’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘It doesn’t help,’ she whispered. ‘If I learn to lean on you.’
There was nothing to say to that. He watched as she scooped a can of cat food out into a crevice beside the lighthouse walkway, out of sight of watchful seagulls but certainly in smelling distance of the tomcat if he cruised past later in the night.
She straightened and looked at him as if she couldn’t quite figure out why he was there. ‘I need to check the light,’ she told him, and it was a dismissal.
‘I want to see.’
‘Grady-’
‘I know.’ He held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘I’m not helping. But I’m curious. I’ve never been in a lighthouse before.’
‘It’s not as good as it used to be.’
‘Why not?’
She hesitated then shrugged, as if she didn’t have the energy to tell him to get lost. Though her shrug said she’d certainly like to. ‘The light used to be fantastic,’ she told him. ‘It was a huge Fresnel lens that once filled the lantern room.’
‘Tell me about it.’ More than anything, he ached to take that look of utter defeat from her face. He could think of no way to deflect her. But she must love this lighthouse.
And it seemed that she did.
‘It was vast,’ she told him. ‘Wonderful. It had about a thousand individual glass prisms mounted in brass. It stood almost twenty feet tall and six feet wide, and was large enough for a man to stand inside. But now… Now we have a small green DCB-24 Aerobeacon. It’s about a hundredth of the size, even though it can still be seen for almost eighteen miles.’
‘Can we go up?’
‘I guess…I guess we can,’ she told him. ‘At least, I can. I usually go up and check the light every couple of days. The globes change automatically-it’s fully automated-but things still go wrong. Once I went up and a sea eagle had somehow smashed through the glass and was beating itself to death trying to get out again. I managed to get it out-amazingly it flew off and even looked like it might survive-but it had damaged the beacon.’
‘You coped with a sea eagle alone?’ he asked, stunned, and she looked at him as if he was stupid.
‘Of course I did. What else was I to do?’
Scream and run? he thought. Call for Air-Sea Rescue?
That’d be him.
Call for him?
‘I can go up now because the lamp’s not burning,’ she told him. ‘After dusk you’ll blind yourself.’
‘I’d like to come.’
She gave him a dubious look. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be busy writing down all the reasons why the island should be declared uninhabitable?’
‘Morag…’
‘It’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?’
And there was no answer but the truth. ‘Yes.’
‘Creep!’
‘Don’t shoot the messenger,’ he said mildly, and got an angry glare for his pains.
‘If people would support us-if the politicians realised how wonderful this place is…’
‘You’re too far from the mainland. Even the lighthouse doesn’t need maintenance any more. It’s been through a tidal wave without a blink.’
‘Go jump, Grady.’
‘Show me your lighthouse,’ he told her. ‘Please.’
‘Fine,’ she snapped. ‘And then will you get out of my life?’ She stomped forward and walked up the three huge stone steps to the lighthouse door, produced a key that was almost as big as her hand-and then paused. Instead of inserting the key in the lock, she simply pushed.
The lighthouse door swung wide.
‘It’s unlocked,’ she said, and added, staring down at the lock, ‘It’s smashed.’
‘The wave…’
‘I checked yesterday. It was still locked and firm. This door’s been built to survive battering rams.’
‘It can’t have been locked.’ Grady wasn’t really thinking of locks. He was thinking of Morag. Only of Morag. Of the way she looked…tired and defeated, yet still with shoulders squared and with the flash of fire in her words. Pure courage…
He’d thought it took courage to do what he did. Rescuing people from high seas, from burning buildings, from all sorts of peril.
But maybe Morag had needed a different kind of courage to do what she’d done over the past few years-and she’d certainly found it. In spades.
‘It looks like someone’s attacked the lock with an axe,’ she was saying, and he hauled himself out of his preoccupation and moved forward to see.
She was right. The vast wooden door was intact, except for one slash, splintering deep into the lock.
Grady frowned and pushed the door further inward.
There was an axe propped against the wall where the spiral staircase started its long swirl upward.
‘Who…?’ Morag moved to the stair, but Grady stopped her.
‘Let me go first.’
‘The axe is down here,’ Morag said reasonably. ‘We’re not about to get attacked.’
But Grady was already climbing, his face turned upward and his ears tuned to danger.
‘If you’re thinking it’s a house burglar, there’s not a lot of call for used aerobeacons,’ Morag told him.
‘Hush.’
‘They’re a bit strong for spotlighting rabbits.’
He smiled at that, but schooled his features to seriousness, turned and frowned her down. She was wonderful, he thought. Her humour shone through no matter how black things
were. How could he have let her go four years ago?
But he needed to focus on other things beside Morag. ‘Will you shut up, woman?’
‘I only thought-’
‘You didn’t think enough. Hitting lighthouse doors with axes isn’t a reasonable thing to do. So someone’s acting unreasonably. Let’s find out why before we treat this as a joke. We don’t know if someone’s here, but let’s assume there is.’
And a hundred and twenty-nine steps later they had part of their answer. The trapdoor up into the lantern room was securely bolted. From the other side.
Behind Grady, Morag had grown obediently silent. Her spurt of laughter had been as fleeting as any joy on this island this day.
Grady pushed the trapdoor upward but it didn’t move. Frowning in concern, Morag edged him aside and knocked. Hard.
‘Hello,’ she called into the stillness. ‘It’s Morag. Dr Morag. Who’s up there?’
The voice from above them responded immediately-a male voice, deep and gruff, with the hint of an educated English accent.
‘Can you go away, please?’ The man sounded distracted, almost panicked.
‘William.’ Morag seemed confused.
‘Yeah, it’s William,’ the voice said. ‘But, Morag, please…go away. I hadn’t intended anyone to be here. I’m sorry, Morag. I’m sorry you have to…cope with this. Cope with me. But, please, let me be. I need to jump.’
CHAPTER NINE
THERE was a moment’s deathly silence.
‘Why?’ Morag called sharply and urgently, as if William might jump at any minute. Which he might well do, Grady thought grimly. The pressure of onlookers could form an impetus to push a man hesitating on a death urge straight over the edge. ‘William, tell us why.’
There was a moment’s loaded silence. Dreadful silence.
‘Us? Who’s with you?’
Grady let his breath out. Contact established. The first hurdle crossed. He’d been involved in rescue efforts for intending suicides often in his career-taking people from ledges, rescuing them after they changed their minds, bringing them medical attention when a serious attempt didn’t work-and he knew this first contact was vital.
Hauling people back from the abyss.
Often it didn’t work. Too damned often. The hardest part of medicine was the life you couldn’t save.
Morag had done the same training as he had, he thought grimly. She knew how important it was to establish empathy.
‘Dr Reece is with me,’ she called. ‘Grady Reece. He’s part of the rescue team.’
‘William, I’m here to check out the lighthouse,’ Grady said, interjecting just as strongly as Morag had. They needed to establish his presence was non-threatening. No one was going to burst in and haul him away from the edge. ‘There’s only the two of us. I persuaded Morag to bring me up to show me the light.’
‘Grady, this is William Cray,’ Morag told him loudly, as if she was performing an introduction. The last thing they wanted was for William to think they were whispering behind his back. ‘The William Cray. William is the island literary celebrity. He wrote Bleak Cradle and…and…’
‘And Dog’s Night and Evil Incarnate.’ Grady’s mind was working fast as he made his voice sound excited. ‘I know who William Cray is. Hey, I loved those books.’
‘No one here reads them,’ William said, softly now so they were struggling to hear.
‘I read Bleak Cradle,’ Morag told him.
‘Did you like it?’ William demanded, and Grady held his breath again.
‘No,’ Morag said honestly. ‘You killed the heroine.’
Good answer. Honest answer. It was the sort of reply that engendered trust even further. William would know Morag wouldn’t soft-soap him down.
But they could take this further.
‘Hey, I liked it,’ Grady told them, slightly indignant. ‘I thought the heroine asked for what she got. What a dimwit. But the hero-what was his name? Demszel. Boy, you put him through some hoops.’
‘You have read it.’ William sounded disbelieving and Grady thought maybe he could play the affronted card.
‘Hell, yes. Of course I have. Why would anyone not have? I’ve read everything you’ve written.’
‘No one reads every one of mine.’
‘I have.’
There was a moment’s stunned disbelief. ‘Tell me why Lucinda died.’ A test.
He racked his brains. In truth, William’s books were hardly his books of choice, but there were long, boring waits between rescues and a man couldn’t play chess all the time.
‘She made it with her sister’s husband, and her kid was also her brother-in-law’s kid, and the kid found out and…heck, it was really convoluted.’
Silence.
‘Yeah, well, you’ll be the only one who’s read them.’
‘Is that why you’re planning on jumping?’ Morag asked softly. ‘Because you’re depressed about your writing?’
‘I’m not depressed about my writing.’
‘Then what?’
‘I’m not depressed.’
‘You’re not happy,’ Morag said softly. ‘Happy people don’t think about suicide. Even in times like these. Can you tell us? William, will you explain?’
Keep him talking, Grady thought. Great going, Morag. If they could get him engaged…keep his mind off the jump…
‘I’m just… Hell, it’s all such an effort,’ William was muttering. ‘I’ve been fighting this for months now. Over and over. I can’t think. I can’t make myself do anything any more. Everything’s just a huge effort. You know, just figuring out the commitment to ring my agent takes me days, and often I just can’t do it. It’s just…like living in black sludge. I can’t move. And now my dog is dead.’
‘You don’t know your dog is dead,’ Morag said sharply. ‘They’re still searching.’
‘Yeah.’ William’s voice was a jeer. ‘One dog. Twenty-four hours in the sea. You know, I would have killed myself months ago but for Mutt. He… Hell, he keeps me sane.’
‘So if you jump now and Mutt’s found, what are we going to do with him?’ Morag asked.
‘Get your nephew to keep him. And his friend. Hamish and Robbie, they’re always pestering me to take him for walks.’
‘You really think your Mutt would want to live with a nine-year-old rather than live with you?’ Morag asked incredulously, and there was a moment’s pause.
But then there was the sound of dragging-a door being opened above them-and Grady saw Morag wince. He guessed that William was opening the door to the ledge outside.
‘William, you know we’re both doctors,’ he called, and there was another moment’s silence, as though William was considering whether to answer them or not.
But finally he did.
‘I know that. So you can help Morag with…with the mess. I need to-’
‘You know you’re suffering from depression.’
‘I’m not suffering-’
‘You are, mate,’ Grady called urgently, knowing that time here was horribly limited. ‘What you’re describing sounds like real, dark and appalling depression. If I’m right, what you have is not just a bit of temporary sadness but a medically treatable, chemical imbalance. It’s not just a bleak mood. It’s depression as in a major clinical illness. Depression with a capital D-as in an illness that can be cured.’
‘Cured…’ There was a harsh laugh. ‘Don’t be funny. Cured. What a joke. It’s been months. The times I’ve told myself to snap out of it…’
‘It doesn’t work, does it?’
‘Of course it doesn’t.’
‘Treating yourself for this sort of depression is impossible,’ Grady called. ‘You can’t do it. The more you try to tell yourself to snap out of it, the more you can’t and the worse it gets. You feel a failure because you can’t make yourself operate. You can’t make the most minor decisions. You can’t think forward with any glimmer of hope at all.’
‘Yeah.’ The door dragged again.
‘Yeah.’ William’s voice was a mocking cry. ‘I’ve read about ’em. They knock you right out. You smile and wave but there’s no one at home.’
‘The old ones were like that,’ Grady told him. ‘Not any more. I swear. There’s all sorts of people operating normal, optimistic lives while they’re on antidepressants. While they’re being cured. People you can’t believe would ever need them. Depression’s insidious and everywhere. They call it the black dog. William, believe me, it’s treatable, and we can help you.’
Silence.
‘It’d be an awful shame,’ Morag said softly into the stillness, ‘if we found Mutt tonight and you weren’t here to welcome him home.’
Another silence. And then a rasping sob, choked back.
‘If I go away,’ Grady said, casting an urgent look at Morag. ‘William, if I go downstairs, will you open the hatch to Morag?’ He hesitated. ‘It’s over to you, mate. We’re here to help. I swear we can help.’
‘You can’t.’
‘Will you give us the chance? For Mutt’s sake at least?’
‘I…’
‘Look, I’m going down,’ Grady called, with a silent, urgent message to Morag. They had to act fast while William was hovering in indecision. Endless talk wouldn’t help-not when there was no eye contact. The longer he stayed up there…Well, it was over to Morag. ‘I’ll stay down below,’ he called. ‘Either to scrape what’s left of you off the rocks or to welcome you down when you come down with Morag. Your call. Over to you, Morag. See you below, mate.’
He turned and deliberately started the long climb down the stairs, allowing his boots to scrap on the worn steps so William could hear him going.
Please…
And before he’d gone twenty steps he heard the trapdoor being dragged back.
Morag was being allowed to enter.
He was brilliant.
With Grady present, William might have maintained a front. He might have played the man. But with Grady gone, all pretence disappeared and as Morag climbed the last few steps into the lightwell, he crumpled against her.
The Doctor’s Rescue Mission Page 12
