by Sue Fortin
I find the inner strength from somewhere and yank my arm away, but Joanne doesn’t let go, even though she is thrown off balance and almost falls into me. We struggle, sway back and forth as we wrestle with each other. I feel her hand loosen on my arm and with both hands I push her away. She stumbles backwards and trips over her own feet. Joanne hits the ground and her head makes contact with the porch wall.
I stand there, shocked. Looking at her. Her eyes are closed. She doesn’t move. Somewhere in my mind, I know I should be kneeling beside her, checking she is OK, helping her. But I do none of those things.
And then she groans and her eyes squeeze tight before she opens them. Her hand lifts to touch the side of her head. When she takes her fingers away there is blood. She looks up at me. ‘You stupid bitch. Look what you’ve done.’
I look at her and try to summon up some sort of concern or sympathy. But I can’t. And in a moment of brutal honesty, I acknowledge my feelings, first of disappointment and then of fear. I can’t let Joanne tell anyone the truth.
Chapter 15
The warmth of the living room comforts me in the same way a hug from Seb does. I wish I was with him. I’ve had enough of Scotland and everything I am beginning to associate with it.
I swirl the vodka and Coke I have mixed myself around in the glass. The ratio of alcohol to soft drink well in favour of the former. Movements upstairs, gently squeaking floorboards and muted thuds of feet tell me that the others are awake now.
I hear footsteps on the stairs but the door is closed and I don’t bother to call out. I want to put off having to face anyone as long as I can. My enthusiasm for false jollities and friendships has been lost in the fog. I finish my drink and push further into the sofa, allowing my mind to wander into that place between conscious thought and sleep.
I am not sure how long I’ve been dozing when a scream of utter terror penetrates the thick walls of the croft. I’m catapulted from my slumber immediately. I jump up, the empty glass falling from my hand, but fortunately landing on the sofa. I ignore it and rush out into the hall where I almost collide with Andrea as she reaches the bottom of the stairs.
‘Where did that come from?’ she asks, a nervous inflection in her voice.
‘Outside.’ I slip my feet into my walking boots without bothering to tie the laces. Another scream punctuates the night air as I open the front door and we both rush out.
Andrea has a torch in her hand. ‘It’s Zoe,’ she says. ‘Sounds like she’s round the back.’ Without thinking what might await us, we bundle round the side of the croft.
Zoe is sitting on the edge of the grass, her knees drawn up and cradled by her arms. She’s staring straight ahead. She’s wearing her pyjamas and a towel is wrapped around her head. She reminds me of a frightened child.
I rush over to her. ‘Zoe. What’s the matter? What’s happened?’ I crouch beside her and put my arms around her. ‘Are you hurt?’ She clings to me and buries her head in my arm. Her body heaves and another sob escapes.
Andrea is standing in front of the porch. ‘Oh my God—’ The words are barely audible.
I follow the shaft of light from the torch and recoil at the sight illuminated on the ground.
‘Fuck,’ I hear myself say. My head swims and I feel faint but I force myself to my feet and drag one foot in front of the other until I am standing next to Andrea.
Joanne is lying across the threshold of the porch on her back. Her eyes stare blankly up to the night sky and a pillow of blood circles her head on the ground.
Zoe scrambles to her feet and throws herself on the ground beside Joanne, grabbing her hand and patting it, as between sobs she calls Joanne’s name. She cuffs her nose with her sleeve and looks up at us. ‘We need to call an ambulance. Do something!’
‘How can we? We haven’t got a bloody phone,’ says Andrea desperately.
‘We can’t just leave her. She needs help,’ insists Zoe. She jumps to her feet and looks around in a panic. ‘Carys! Andrea! Do something.’ She grabs my arms with her hands and shakes me.
The act triggers my brain into action. My first-responder training kicks in and I kneel beside Joanne. I slide my fingers around her limp wrist to locate a pulse, while calling her name.
‘Is she breathing?’ asks Zoe.
‘Is there a pulse?’ asks Andrea.
‘I can’t find one.’
Zoe lets out another wail. ‘Oh my God, she’s dead.’
‘Check her neck. See if you can find a pulse in her neck.’ Andrea’s voice is controlled but the panic and fear are evident. She turns to Zoe. ‘Shut up, Zoe, just for a minute. Let Carys check her. We don’t need you losing it right now.’
I feel a brief moment of sympathy for Zoe, who whimpers and claps her hands together in front of her mouth, as if in prayer. I turn my attention back to Joanne, my fingers now pressing underneath her jaw against her soft, but cold, neck.
I cannot feel even the faintest of pulses. I lean forward and try to feel her breath against the side of my face or hear the tiniest whispers of breath.
Nothing.
‘Check again,’ Andrea insists. ‘Check. Again.’
I hear the intensity and desperation in Andrea’s voice. It takes a moment for me to think straight. Have I made a mistake? Have I missed the pulse because it’s weak? Can people keep their eyes open, unblinking, if they are knocked out?
My fingers shake as, once again, I try to locate a pulse, both in her neck and on her wrist. I listen intently for the slightest sound of a breath.
‘I can’t find anything,’ I say.
‘CPR. Try CPR,’ instructs Andrea.
I once again take in Joanne’s unblinking eyes and the crimson crown of blood and the coldness of her skin. I squeeze my eyes tight to stop the rapidly gathering tears from falling.
‘Carys, do what Andrea says.’ Zoe is close to hysteria.
I find myself beginning chest compressions even though I know that Joanne can’t be helped. The actions are as much to appease Zoe and to pave the way for ease of conscience on my part when I will need it in the days and weeks to come. I’ve seen death before. I know what it looks like. And I know the guilt that follows.
I try for five minutes, but all attempts to resuscitate Joanne are futile. Eventually, I lean back on my heels and, looking up at the others, I shake my head.
Zoe buries her face in her hands and emits gentle sobs which are carried away into the night by the wind before she rushes to the edge of the grass and throws up.
‘What the hell happened?’ asks Andrea.
I shake my head as I feel the enormity of events begin to push away the detached and focused element of my first-responder training. I fight back, not wanting to break down. ‘I don’t know,’ I reply steadily, wiping the sweat from the palms of my hands down the sides of my trousers. ‘Looks like she’s had a fall and hit her head on the side of the porch.’
I try to remain divorced from the notion that this is Joanne, my friend, lying dead on the ground. I’ve dealt with serious injuries and even a death during my time as a first responder. I have to convince my mind that this is someone I have no connection with. If I start to think of it in any other context, I know I will go to pieces.
Tears swamp my eyes and trickle down the side of my nose. I wipe them away with my hand but they keep coming. ‘Oh, Joanne,’ I say, so quietly I can barely hear my own words. ‘Oh God. What happened to you?’
‘Is she definitely … you know …?’ Andrea leaves the word hanging silently in the air.
Before I can say anything else, there’s a roar behind me and Zoe grabs my shoulders, spinning me round as I crouch and throwing me off balance. ‘What did you do?’ she screams at me. ‘What did you do to her?’
Andrea is pulling Zoe back. ‘For fuck’s sake, Zoe. Pack it in!’
I manage to scramble to my feet, shocked by this unprovoked attack. Zoe pushes Andrea away, takes several steps backwards, holding her hands up towards her; a signal that Zoe has it
under control and Andrea is to back off.
‘Take it easy, everyone,’ says Andrea. She looks from me to Zoe as she maintains her position between us. ‘You all right, Zoe?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ she replies, before looking over at me. ‘You were out here talking to Joanne. I heard you from my room upstairs. What happened?’
I don’t miss the challenge in her tone.
‘Nothing happened,’ I reply evenly. I’m not sure if Zoe believes me or not, but at this moment, I don’t particularly care. ‘It’s not important right now,’ I say, as more tears breach the rims of my eyes.
It’s Andrea who takes control of the situation. ‘We need to get inside. It’s freezing out here,’ she says. ‘We’ll all freeze to …’ I’m unsure if it’s the tears or the thought that prevents her from finishing the sentence.
‘What about Joanne?’ says Zoe, her tone now one of uncertainty.
‘We’ll work that out in a minute,’ I say. ‘We’ll have to do something with her. We can’t leave her out here.’
‘What about the police? We should call someone,’ says Zoe between sniffs.
‘And how are we going to do that?’ says Andrea. ‘We haven’t got our phones, and even if we did, we’re apparently in a not-spot.’
‘The radio,’ I say, suddenly remembering Joanne said she had one with her when we were setting off this morning. ‘Joanne took one with her.’
We all look at Joanne. ‘Someone needs to search her pockets,’ says Zoe. ‘I’d sooner not.’
I take a deep breath. ‘I’ll do it.’
Kneeling once again beside Joanne, I avoid looking at her face as I begin to pat the pockets of her padded coat, hoping to identify the radio. Both pockets are empty.
‘You’ll have to undo her jacket,’ says Andrea.
I feel so intrusive as I pull the zip down and check the inside pockets and the waistband of Joanne’s trousers in case she has it strapped on to her belt.
‘I can’t find it,’ I say. ‘Maybe she already took it indoors. We’ll have to look for it when we go in. We can try to find our phones while we’re at it. We might be able to get a signal from higher ground.’
‘You’re not seriously planning on going out tonight in the dark on the off-chance you’ll get a signal?’ says Andrea. ‘That’s a stupid idea. What if you get lost, or something happens to you?’
I stand up. ‘Have you got any better ideas?’
‘As it happens, I do. And it doesn’t involve standing around here freezing our tits off while I convince you that going out in the dark is not simply stupid, it’s bloody stupid.’
‘Andrea does have a point,’ agrees Zoe.
‘And even if you did somehow manage to find a signal,’ carries on Andrea, ‘how are you going to tell them where we are?’
‘They could tell from my phone. Or, if I’ve got a signal, I can put the location setting on and check with the map app.’ I feel a small ray of hope as I let this idea grow in my head.
‘Still not going out tonight. The weather is closing in and it’s dark now,’ says Andrea.
‘But we can’t do nothing,’ I protest.
‘We’ll go inside and try to find the radio and phones,’ says Andrea. ‘I don’t know about any of you, but I need a drink. A strong one.’
Reluctantly, we follow Andrea inside the croft where, for want of something to do rather than out of necessity, I fill the kettle and switch it on to boil. Andrea disappears into the living room and returns with a bottle of vodka tucked under one arm and carrying a bottle of cola and three wine glasses in her hands.
‘It’s the best I can do. There’s no whisky.’ She puts the glasses on the table, takes the bottle and twists the red screwcap until the seal cracks. Then she pours three large measures. She pushes a glass to each of us.
‘There’s some Coke here, if you want to dilute it,’ I say, offering Zoe the bottle. I know from nights out, neither of us are ones for drinking neat spirits. Andrea knocks her shot back in one go and is already topping up with another.
‘Thanks,’ says Zoe, taking the bottle and adding plenty of Coke to her vodka. I drink mine down in one go and nod to Andrea when she holds the bottle over the empty glass.
‘I’ll have some more vodka,’ says Zoe.
I decline the offer of another. Two is enough. What I long for, now that the alcohol has taken some of the sharp edges off the shock, is a nice cup of sweet tea.
‘What are we going to do?’ asks Andrea.
‘I thought Joanne said there was a radio out here, in case of emergencies. You haven’t seen it, have you?’
‘Nope. It must be here though. What are you supposed to do in emergencies otherwise?’ Andrea begins searching the kitchen, opening cupboard doors, inspecting the contents and closing them again. ‘Do we even know what it looks like?’
‘No idea,’ I reply. After a good search of the downstairs, we give up. ‘What about our phones? Do either of you know what Joanne did with them?’
Their blank faces say it all. ‘God knows why we agreed to her confiscating them,’ says Andrea. ‘What was the point of that?’ She has one final look in the wall cupboard next to the door. As she closes the door, she peeks through the glass. She gives a shiver. ‘We can’t leave her out there. Or at the very least we should cover her up.’ Her voice cracks and she turns swiftly away from the door, closing her eyes and taking slow deep breaths.
‘We shouldn’t move her,’ I say.
‘What? You want to leave her out there all night?’ snaps Zoe. ‘We can’t do that. What if some fox or wild animal comes along?’ She pushes her face into her hands, then flaps her hands in the air as she fights off more tears. ‘I can’t bear the thought. It’s too awful to even think about.’
‘I still don’t think it’s a good idea to move her,’ I say.
‘You’ve been watching too many police programmes,’ says Andrea. ‘This isn’t foul play, it’s an accident. A terrible accident. We’ve already contaminated the scene anyway, so I don’t care what you say, I’m not leaving her out there all night.’
‘I don’t want to leave her there either,’ says Zoe.
I sit down in the chair and push my hands through my hair. ‘I don’t know what to do. I’m trying to keep it together and do the right thing, but I agree with what you’re saying,’ I concede. ‘Leaving her out there doesn’t seem right. It’s … disrespectful. But at the same time, I don’t think moving her is right. Can’t we keep a vigil by her for the night? Take it in turns?’
‘In this weather? We’d get hypothermia or something,’ says Zoe.
‘I’m making the executive decision, in that case,’ says Andrea. ‘Both Zoe and I want to move her, so I say we should.’
I can feel the will to fight seep from me. ‘OK, we’ll move her’. I massage my temples with my fingertips and close my eyes, only to be confronted with a new wave of helpless anxiety as the enormity and knock-on effect of what’s happened swamps me. ‘This is all so bloody surreal. What are we going to tell Tris? And the kids?’
‘God knows,’ says Andrea. She goes to pick up the vodka bottle but changes her mind and sets it on the table. ‘I need to keep a clear head, tempting as it might be to get totally wasted.’ She sits at the table and takes a sip of the tea I made. Her hand shakes as she picks up the cup and lifts it to her lips. Andrea is far more affected than she is letting on but, for now, I’m grateful for her pragmatic and stoic front. I’m sure if one of us starts to crack, the other two will follow. We need to stay strong, at least until help arrives.
‘How long do you think Joanne’s been dead?’ asks Zoe, staring into her mug as she swirls the spoon around in slow circles.
‘I don’t know. She was stone cold, so maybe a little while ago. I’m sure a person doesn’t go cold that quickly.’
‘It’s not exactly the tropics out there,’ says Andrea. ‘It wouldn’t take long for the body temperature to drop. You think it happened earlier?’
‘I don’t
know,’ I say honestly. I give a sigh. It’s hard to think logically about it.
‘Were you outside with Joanne?’
I nod. ‘I was apologising for earlier. That’s all.’
‘Why go outside though?’ Andrea folds her arms.
‘Joanne suggested it. Said it would be more private.’
‘I could hear you talking,’ says Zoe. ‘I couldn’t make out what you were saying, but I could hear your voices.’
I wonder if Zoe’s telling the truth. Could she have heard what we were saying? Joanne and I weren’t exactly keeping our voices down, especially towards the end. Zoe’s room is right above where we were standing, I’m pretty sure she’d have heard us. ‘We talked, then I came back in and dozed off on the sofa.’ I can hear the defensive tone creep into my voice. I don’t like the assessing look Andrea gives me. ‘Maybe she slipped or something. I don’t know.’ I rest my head in my hands again as I try to process the chain of events. ‘Earlier, I thought I’d seen someone at the window, but it was my reflection.’
‘You sure about that?’ asks Andrea.
‘Yes. That’s what made me go out and look,’ I reply. ‘I went out to the front with a torch. It was very spooky. I felt like I was being watched. That was when Joanne jumped out on me.’
‘You don’t think it was anyone else?’
‘What are you getting at?’
‘That maybe there was someone else out there?’
Chapter 16
‘What are you saying? There’s someone else out there and they killed Joanne?’ says Zoe, looking shocked. ‘What’s to stop them coming in here for us?’
‘Wait a minute,’ I say, holding up my hand. ‘This is getting ridiculous. For all we know, Joanne could have fallen and we didn’t hear her. All this talk of someone being out there is making us jumpy.’
‘But you’re the one who said you saw something,’ says Zoe.
