by A J Waines
I stayed up as late as I could, hoping I’d be so tired that sleep would claim me and carry me straight off to a tranquil place. At half-past midnight, I crept into bed a jittering wreck, feeling like I was about five years old. The weather didn’t help. The scene was ripe for nightmares; heavy rain was battering my bedroom windows. Roars of wind came in fierce waves, wrapping around the aerials and satellite dishes as if trying to wrench them off. I couldn’t believe June had turned so wet.
I switched off the light and there was an immediate flash of lightning, splitting the room down the middle. A loud crackle of thunder was close on its heels, chasing it across the sky. I pulled the duvet up to my chin and realised I was shivering, even though it was a muggy night. I wished Con was there. Or Miranda. Anybody.
I will never know if any nightmares were brewing, because I was in the middle of a curious dream about Peter Pan, when a loud bell cut across my consciousness. At first it sounded like sleigh bells, then a 1950’s ambulance. Then it made sense. The phone. In my bleary state, I wondered what Miranda had done now.
It was Danny.
‘Con’s on the roof.’
‘What? What time is it?’ I still had one foot in Neverland.
‘Nearly three.’
I shot up, his words starting to sink in. ‘Call the police.’
‘They’re on their way.’
I got out of bed, pulling on my jeans with one hand. ‘What’s he doing?’
‘He’s drunk and waving his arms around, shouting that he’s going to jump.’
‘Oh shit. I’ll be right over.’
Leo answered on the second ring. ‘Con’s climbed onto a roof – you’ve got to get over there now.’
Danny lived with three others near Waterloo Station in the top flat of a Victorian house. He was pacing around outside without an umbrella, squinting up into the rain. With the stripes of his pyjama bottoms showing between his anorak and his unlaced hiking boots, he looked like an escaped convict.
A small group of people – Danny’s flatmates, intrigued neighbours and a couple of late-night passers-by – were staring up at the roof. Con was sitting near the chimney pots. He stood up when he saw me and his left leg slithered down the wet slates, almost forcing him into the splits.
‘For God’s sake, Con, stay where you are,’ I bellowed. He managed to drag his leg back and appeared to be squatting.
‘How the hell did he get up there?’ I asked, turning to Danny.
‘He went out onto the fire escape, then he must have climbed up the drainpipe. I only realised when a gale starting blowing through the open window and all the doors in the flat were slamming.’
I heard the gate clunk and Leo came charging towards us under a large golf umbrella.
I grabbed his arm and gave him an imploring look.
‘This is Leo. He’s a…doctor.’ Somehow, plastic surgeon didn’t sound the least bit appropriate. ‘When did you call the police, Danny?’ I added.
‘They should be here by now.’ He checked the time on his phone. ‘About twenty minutes ago. I’ll call them again,’ he said, turning and pulling his mobile from the pocket of his anorak.
Leo held his umbrella over my head. For a fleeting second, it was like being inside a little capsule; rain dripping off the edges creating a silver-beaded curtain. I wished that an extra-terrestrial force would beam us up together, to a place far away from this absurd ordeal. A private, secret spot – for just the two of us.
Instantly, a shudder of guilt gripped me for having a thought like this when Con was in such acute danger.
‘They’re on their way,’ broke in Danny.
Con had stood up again. He was shouting, waving his arms, his bare feet sliding around on the dripping tiles.
‘We’ve got to get to the nearest window,’ urged Danny. ‘We’ve got to talk him down.’
Leo turned to him. ‘Can you get together mattresses, sofa cushions, anything that’ll give him a soft landing. Start laying them on the ground around the edges of the building.’ Leo took a few steps to one side, extending his arm to keep the umbrella over my head, and looked towards the back of the house. ‘Front, back and side.’
‘Sure – yeah,’ said Danny, jamming his hand into his hair and inadvertently creating a Tintin quiff. His flatmates were soon struggling in and out of the house, trailing their bedding through the deepening puddles.
I grabbed Danny’s sleeve. ‘How close can we get to him?’
‘Follow me.’ Danny led us into the house, up to a window in the kitchen on the top floor. ‘This is where he got out. If you lean back you can see the roof.’
With the help of a chair, I backed out of the window. Leo held my arms and I got on to the narrow and slippery ledge. I straightened up, leaning into the bricks. It wasn’t a place you’d want to be loitering for any length of time. There was an outdoor fire escape to my right. I reached out to the handrail and shuffled towards the platform.
I hoisted myself over the railing and stood looking up at the roof. Leo took no time to follow in my footsteps. The angle was tight, but I could see Con’s arm from time to time. Then he saw us and shuffled a few steps in our direction, losing his balance for a moment and swinging his arms like windmill blades to compensate.
‘Welcome to the party! Aren’t you coming up?’ His whisky-soaked words bled into one another.
‘I think the party’s over, Con,’ I barked at him. ‘It’s time to come down.’
‘What did you bring him for?’
‘Leo’s here to help.’
‘Cradle snatcher…’ he snarled at Leo.
‘I need to get closer to him,’ said Leo.
Before I realised what he was doing, Leo was climbing up onto the handrail of the fire escape. ‘Give me your hand,’ he insisted.
His spectacles looked like the inside of a bubbly glass paperweight. ‘No, Leo, this is madness. You mustn’t go up there.’ I tried to block him, but he was reaching for the drainpipe. He checked it was secure and managed to hoist his weight against the wall, holding the pipe and using the brackets as footholds.
‘I know about your clandestine meetings,’ continued Con.
Leo heaved himself up and scrambled over the gutter onto the roof. The rain made a sound like tiny pebbles spitting at the tiles. It gushed down the drainpipes.
‘I want to help you,’ said Leo. He was wearing trainers, but the water on the slates had turned the roof into a sloping ice rink. I hoped he wouldn’t try to stand up. I didn’t want him getting any closer to Con.
‘Stay low, Leo,’ I shouted. ‘Please, be careful.’
Con was drunk, angry and still under the influence of the false memories, plus he had nearly twenty years’ advantage over Leo and was far fitter. I didn’t fancy Leo’s chances in a head-to-head. More worryingly, Con was about as far from his right mind as he could get. I could lose them both.
‘You’ve been seeing each other, haven’t you?’ Con yelled. ‘Don’t try and deny it.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ I cried, but my voice was dragged away by the wind. ‘Stop playing games and come back to the fire escape – both of you – and get down.’
‘Come on – what’s the point?’ cried Con. ‘Why don’t you admit that you and my girlfriend are having a sordid little affair.’
‘No…that’s not how it is...’ Leo’s denial sounded pathetic even to my ears.
Con shook his head in disgust. Then he suddenly dropped down onto all fours and started crawling towards Leo. He seemed to have something in his hand. They looked like two bedraggled lions, prowling before they pounced on one another.
Then Con lunged at Leo with some sort of wire fork. Leo covered his head, curling into a ball.
I shouted the first thing that came into my head. ‘Drop that, Con. RIGHT NOW. Get down – both of you.’
They were too far away from me by now, on the front slope of the roof. I ducked down towards Danny who was poking his head out of the kitchen window.
�
�I’m coming down,’ I shouted. ‘Get everyone to drag all the mattresses round to the front. Someone’s going to fall.’
I scrambled down the steps of the fire escape and began helping the volunteers to adjust the padding to make sure it was all beneath the slope of the roof. There was a line of dense privet in front of the downstairs window, which might have helped to break a fall, but we couldn’t count on it. I called on onlookers standing by the gate to come inside and hold a duvet stretched out tightly above the ground. If a body fell from the sky, we’d need to be ready to catch it.
‘Where the hell are the emergency services?’ I called to Danny. He pulled out his phone and redialled.
The sky was flinging down water like it had some big point to prove. My face was getting battered and my neck was aching from looking up the whole time.
Con was leaning over, hitting Leo with what I now realised was a piece of television aerial. Even though he was drunk, Con seemed more able to keep his balance. Maybe the alcohol had dampened his fear. Leo was covering his glasses, as the jabs rained down on his scalp and hands.
A flash of lightning splintered across the sky, followed by a hollow roar, giving form to the turmoil I was feeling inside. Con reared up and flung the aerial into the sky, then sank down onto his backside and started slapping the water with his palms. He looked like a toddler in a paddling pool. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
Leo crouched on his haunches. ‘I can help with the flashbacks,’ I heard him call out.
‘That’s what Sam said,’ Con sneered.
‘Well – how about it?’
Con was on the move again. All of a sudden, he sounded like he was crying. ‘Oh God, the fire…I should have helped people. I shouldn’t have walked away,’ he blubbered.
It was hard to imagine this was the same man I’d been attracted to. The mind-games he’d been subjected to had turned him into a maniac one minute and a drivelling child the next.
‘Wipe your eyes,’ shouted Leo, ‘You won’t be able to see properly.’
‘What does it matter? I’m a shitty person.’ Con used his hands and feet to walk himself crab-style towards the front edge of the roof.
‘Con! Keep away from the edge,’ I yelled. ‘Look at Leo. Focus on Leo.’
The group holding the duvet appeared to shrink together.
‘The fire never happened,’ called Leo. ‘The nightmares are false.’
‘I’m not sure it matters any more.’ I heard the despair in Con’s voice and watched him slide closer to the gutter. He was trying to stand up again.
‘Sit down!’ shouted Leo. A cluster of blue lights were flickering in my peripheral vision. A fire-engine and an ambulance. About time.
In a calculated pounce, Leo grabbed Con’s legs and forced him to fall backwards away from the edge. Con landed on his backside, looking up at the sky, surprised. Leo, however, had ended up spread-eagled across the guttering.
I cried out.
Suddenly Leo’s legs were dangling down and his elbows were tucked inside the gutter. The muscles in his shoulders must have been burning with the strain. He couldn’t hang on much longer.
I directed the dozen or so people holding the duvet to stand underneath Leo’s hanging body. The fabric was saturated with the rain. ‘Get a firm grip!’ I shouted at the volunteers. ‘Keep it taut!’ I grabbed a corner, muttering snatches of prayers, pleading with Leo to hold on, while Con was motionless still flat on his back.
Leo tried to heave himself up, but the guttering was starting to peel away. Doors banged and the fire-crew were heading inside the gate at last. They’d have ladders. They’d reach him. Come on! Hurry up!
There was a snapping sound and two of the plastic brackets gave way. Then another. I sucked in a bucket-full of air and held tight to the sodden duvet.
Leo wasn’t holding on any more.
He made no sound as he fell.
Chapter 35
Leo’s fall seemed to happen in slow-motion. The group congregating below whooped in one high-pitched gasp. Then there was a dull thud as Leo plummeted into the duvet. As he landed, several hands snapped away with the sudden weight and Leo hit the ground.
I felt like all my internal organs had exploded.
I bent over him and frantically searched for his pulse. There was a faint tremble, but his eyes were closed.
‘Leo…?’
Someone helped me get him into the recovery position. I laid a sleeping bag over him, grabbed a blanket that had been draped over the hedge and rolled it to put under his head. Everything was soaking wet. His glasses were lying, smashed, beside his head. Rain dribbled down my cheeks into his open mouth. I used my coat to shelter him, keeping him warm, tenderly stroking his face.
A paramedic was kneeling beside me. Then another.
‘Leave this to us, love. Are you a relative?’
I stood back shaking my head and watched them check his vital signs again. They lifted him onto a stretcher and put their own dry blanket over him. I wanted to go with him, but they wouldn’t let me.
I watched firemen climb up onto the roof. Before long, Con was walking towards me, looking like he’d been hauled out of a river.
‘Oh my God, Con,’ I hissed. ‘What have you done?!’
It was all I could say to him. Through my disbelief and outrage I kept trying to remember that this wasn’t Con’s fault, but I couldn’t get past the fact that Leo had been busting a gut to save him and had quite possibly given his own life as a result.
Con was led to a police car.
‘Bloody idiot,’ Danny said, shaking his head. He was sitting on the dripping steps of the fire-escape.
I watched as the police officer put his hand on Con’s head to guide him on to the back seat, but I couldn’t bear to see any more. I turned away when they drove off.
The remaining officers stopped me and asked questions. I gave them an edited version of the truth and made sure they knew Con should be on suicide watch. An officer spoke into his radio and confirmed with me that, because he was so drunk, Con would be spending the rest of the night in a cell under supervision.
The ambulance had taken Leo to A&E at St Luke’s, but I knew they wouldn’t let me see him. I considered waiting in a corridor at the hospital for the rest of the night, but in the end I rang for a cab to take me home instead.
By the time I got back, night was starting to peel away from the sky, leaving a low band of orange like a smouldering fire, on the horizon. My bedding was in a heap on the floor. I dragged it onto the bed and got in fully clothed and sopping wet. I buried my face in the pillow and wept. Great surging sobs rose from deep within me.
Leo couldn’t die. He’d been brave and heroic. He’d been prepared to risk his life for Con. The sobbing left me shivering and I knew I had to take off my wet clothes. I pulled on my crumpled pyjamas and curled into a foetal position.
More than anything, I wanted to sleep. No, that’s not true. More than anything, I wanted to wake up and find the horrors of the last few hours had merely been another nightmare.
I was up at six the following morning, ringing the hospital. Leo was in a coma in intensive care. There were no visitors allowed outside the family and I sincerely hoped that Kim and Felicity would have put their grievances aside to be there for him.
Meanwhile, I got dressed and was waiting outside the police station near Waterloo when it opened at 9am. Con was being released, but the police wanted to see him later for questioning. I grabbed his wrist as he came towards me.
‘My place. Now,’ I instructed. We waited for a cab. He no longer looked like someone I wanted to associate with. His hair was filthy, trailing in his bleary eyes and he smelt of disinfectant. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him, but I had a job to do.
‘I tried to give a statement,’ he said, ‘but they wouldn’t accept it. Said I was too drunk.’ He wiped his nose with his sleeve. ‘How’s Hansson?’
‘Not at all good,’ I said.
‘It wasn’t my fau
lt.’
‘Of course it was your bloody fault! He was only up there because of you. He was trying to save you!’
‘Whatever…’
‘I’m going to have to do the procedure myself.’ He let me pull him along by his sleeve like a dawdling child. ‘I’ve seen all Leo’s notes. He was waiting for a special drug to arrive from Seattle. I should be able to do what needs to be done. I just need to get into his office. Or his cottage. I’m not sure where his notes are.’
‘Doesn’t exactly sound promising,’ he snorted.
‘You haven’t exactly been helping,’ I retorted.
I had to remind myself again that this wasn’t the Con I knew. I was seeing a distorted version of him, through frosted glass. I did, however, want to get one thing straight with him. ‘For the record, Leo and I were never lovers and I don’t want to talk about it ever again.’
When we got back to my flat, I made toast. I wasn’t hungry, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten properly. Con tucked in heartily. As I pushed the marmalade-coated slice around my plate, I wondered how the hell we were going to carry out the next stage. I couldn’t reverse Con’s false memories without Leo’s notes and the drug from America. I might be able to gain access to Leo’s office, but with him in a coma, where would the package end up? In the post room? On Lian’s desk? Sent back to Seattle? In the blink of an eye, everything had gone hopelessly wrong.
But I had to start somewhere. Con agreed to spend the day with Danny, so I went straight to the hospital to find Lian.
A bundle of tissues was scrunched up on her desk and she was trying to hold a conversation on the phone with one of Leo’s patients.
‘You’ve heard…’ she said, as she put down the handset.
‘Yes. It’s terrible news.’ I didn’t want her to know that I’d been there when Leo had fallen; she’d only ask questions and it would waste time.
