Lula Does the Hula

by Samantha Mackintosh

  Mr VDM did as instructed, with startling speed, and we were at Hambledon Hospital in twenty-five minutes flat. A stretcher was waiting outside, along with Sergeant Trenchard, Arnold’s sister Elsa and Mona.

  Only Sergeant T got to go in with the stretcher, which left two boat crews, Elsa and Mona in the waiting room, all slightly out of breath, most of us much the worse for wear.

  Elsa grabbed me by the forearms. ‘Is he gonna be all right, Tatty?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said, my eyes wide. ‘Sure he is. Looked like the bleeding had pretty much stopped.’

  Mona had stepped up to us. She looked at me, her eyes narrowed, and choked out, ‘Yes, but how did the bleeding start? You and your stupid dog, again, huh, or just you this time, Tallulah Bird?’

  She whirled away before I could answer, striding off to the nurses’ station.

  I bit my lip hard, willing back the tears that swam in my eyes.

  ‘She’s just upset,’ said Elsa. ‘Forget it. From what Dr McCabe said, it sounded like you were a serious paramedic out there, Tatty!’ She laughed, but it was tight and strained.

  ‘Thanks,’ I whispered.

  ‘Mum will come out and tell us what’s going on,’ continued Elsa. ‘She won’t want us to worry.’

  ‘Good,’ I said. ‘Did she bring Mona?’

  Elsa nodded. ‘She was over at ours waiting for Arns to get home. They were going to dinner in town.’ Elsa’s eyes slid over to mine. ‘Jack is supposedly on his way over.’

  At the sound of his name I felt a surge of something – relief, it felt like, that he might be coming – but that brief high plummeted when I heard Jazz Delaney’s strident tones echoing through the waiting room. ‘Can someone tell us about the boating accident that took place up at Saddler’s Pond this evening?’ I turned to see her small, neat figure smiling up at Boris. He looked a little shellshocked as she confronted him with a small camcorder and a separate mike. ‘Speak clearly, please.’

  And then I spotted Jack. Wasn’t he supposed to be picking me up from home to go out tonight? Wait. Maybe he’d heard about me being in an accident, and rushed over. But . . . it really didn’t look like it. It looked like he wasn’t thinking about me at all. There he was, standing near the nurses’ station, asking questions, scribbling answers in a reporter’s notebook. He got an answer to something, nodded and set off towards us. When he saw me, he stopped and stared.

  ‘Lula?’

  I walked over to him. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be over at my house, picking me up to go and see a movie?’ I asked tightly.

  ‘Your mum said you were still out –’

  ‘So you turned tail and scurried back to Jazz and yet another news story,’ I finished for him. ‘Hope you get some great details, Jack.’

  ‘No! Lula, I –’

  ‘Oh, Jack!’ laughed Jazz, appearing at his side. ‘Please let’s get a shot of this girl! She’s covered in blood!’ She paused, putting her hand to her mouth in that fake expression of surprise. ‘Oh, it’s you, Talluley. Do you mind?’

  ‘Yes, actually,’ I replied, swallowing the lump in my throat, and turning away.

  ‘Wait! Lula! Are you okay?’ Jack reached out and grabbed my shoulder, his eyes wide.

  No, I thought. No, I’m not okay, but probably not because of tonight. Probably just because of YOU, you always with JAZZ. It felt silly being jealous now, when my friend was badly hurt, when so much other stuff was going on. I looked down at my body. The blood that had coated me so redly just minutes ago was already turning rusty and brown. The metal smell of it blocked my nose, and I itched to scrape it away from under my nails. I wanted to be alone under a hot shower, washing it all away, washing every single thing away.

  ‘Lula?’ asked Jack again. ‘Please?’

  ‘What is it they say to journos in the movies?’ I returned, raising my eyes tiredly to his. ‘No comment?’

  I saw his face freeze in surprised hurt as I walked away down the corridor to Mr VDM, who was explaining everything to a very big and very dishevelled person at the other end. I recognised the bright red patent leather Chanel bag before I recognised the man.

  Dad.

  Our eyes met and suddenly I felt about four years old. I needed a hug, from my father, even if his accessories were totally shaming. The truth is I was too shaken by everything that had happened tonight to be embarrassed by the bag. Too upset by Jack. Too scared about Arns in this hospital somewhere with his bleeding head.

  ‘T-Bird!’ cried Dad, as I walked quickly towards him. ‘Are you okay?’ The bag clobbered me in the back as he pulled me into a huge hug. Mr VDM gave my dad an embarrassed slap on the shoulder and moved off.

  ‘I was so worried about you!’ said Dad. ‘Look at you! Your coach says you aren’t hurt, but all this blood! Is this from Arnold?’

  I nodded my head, pressed deep into his shoulder, and said, ‘Sorry you had to come, Dad. Aren’t you supposed to be at your AA meeting?’

  ‘Oh, Lula-lu,’ whispered Dad into the top of my head. ‘Who cares about that when you girls need me?’

  ‘I don’t want you going off the rails,’ I said, hugging him back.

  ‘You keep me on the rails, my love, more than any silly meetings,’ replied my dad, squeezing me so tight I could hardly breathe.

  I began to cry.

  ‘Oh, my gorgeous girl,’ he said, kissing the top of my head, still hugging me. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay. Let’s get you home.’

  ‘Me too,’ said a small voice at my shoulder. I pulled away from Dad and saw Pen standing there.

  ‘Sorry, Pen,’ I said, Helen Cluny’s words about me always getting attention suddenly bouncing around in my head, ‘shall we go find the car?’

  ‘No,’ said my sister, ‘I meant me too for the hug.’

  Dad pulled us together and we stood there rammed into his burly chest until Pen said, ‘Okay, enough with the family bonding,’ and pulled away. But I could see she’d had a little driz too, and I grinned at her through watery eyes.

  ‘You were great, Lula,’ she said.

  ‘You really were,’ came a voice behind me. I spun round, and there was Jack, alone, his hands empty at his sides.

  Dad and Pen both murmured hello to Jack and began walking back towards the waiting area. ‘I’ll bring Tallulah back later,’ called Jack after them, and Dad turned to look at me with a question in his eyes. I nodded a hesitant yes, and he slung an arm over Pen’s shoulders and continued down the corridor.

  Silence. Even though the chaos of the hospital was ebbing and flowing just metres away.

  Jack cleared his throat. ‘I’m not stupid,’ he began. ‘I know how it looks. You know . . . me and Jazz everywhere with cameras. She said to me her contact up at the hospital called to say there’d been an accident, that we’d bag a story, be back in time for the movies. I didn’t know it was you up here in all this mess.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I thought . . .’

  ‘I know,’ said Jack. He stepped forward and reached for my forearms. ‘I’m sorry.’

  I looked down at his big strong hands holding my arms, pulling me closer, and sighed.

  ‘I don’t like feeling jealous,’ I admitted, ‘but I do.’

  ‘Jealous?’ Jack sounded confused.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, biting my lip. ‘You’d rather be with Jazz than with me.’

  Jack gripped my forearms more tightly. ‘You can’t be serious,’ he said.

  I met his eyes.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘No way.’

  ‘Jazz really likes you, Jack,’ I said. ‘She really does. And she doesn’t like me or my friends, because, well, because we take your time away from her.’

  ‘No,’ said Jack. ‘That’s not how it is, Lula.’ I gave him a look, but he carried on: ‘She’s just really ambitious, Lula. I am too – that’s why I spend time with her. She wants the same things I do, and together we can get them. You know, slots on real-life TV news, inches in paper columns, magazine features . . .’

  A
s he began listing the rungs on the ladder to superstardom I began to smile. My boyfriend’s face had lit up; he took no notice of the crusty blood under his fingers as he held on to me – he was totally focused on sharing his dreams with me.

  ‘I understand,’ I ventured. ‘And I always will. I’m not going to get in the way of your ambitions. I just need you to tell me things, that’s all.’

  ‘You feel I push you out?’ His face was anxious, his eyes puzzled. A frown line had creased up just above his nose.

  ‘You do push me out,’ I said. ‘And there’s no need because I’m not going to crowd you, okay?’

  ‘Wait a minute, Lu! I do not push you out.’ Jack looked startled. ‘That’s so not how it is.’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘You,’ said Jack, that smile beginning to tweak at his lips again, ‘You, Tallulah Bird, are a temptation that I have to resist until after the day job.’

  He lowered his gaze to my lips and pulled me closer, but, ‘Huh,’ I interrupted.

  He drew back. ‘You still cross with me?’ He tried on his best hangdog look and I laughed.

  ‘Noo,’ I replied. ‘Just . . . you don’t have to resist all the time . . .’ Jack laughed, and I could feel it in his chest under my hands. My stomach did that flippy thing again.

  ‘Oh, Tatty Lu,’ he answered, lowering his lips, ‘you’ll be sorry you said that.’

  So I had blood on my hands but a song in my heart as I came out of the A&E bathroom. Well, strictly speaking I’d got most of the blood off my hands, though there was still plenty under my fingernails. A pretty nurse was coming down the corridor towards me.

  ‘Tallulah Bird?’ she asked.

  I nodded a wary yes.

  ‘Come with me, please,’ she said. ‘Arnold Trenchard is asking for you.’

  I thought about returning to the waiting room to tell Jack and Mona where I was going, but reckoned they were probably already at Arns’s bedside, so I hurried quickly after the nurse.

  ‘Is he all right?’

  The nurse smiled. ‘He’s fine. This way.’ I scrambled after her up two flights of stairs and down another long corridor till she pushed open a door into a small room with two beds. Arns was lying back comfortably, talking quietly to his mother while Dr McCabe wrote stuff down on a chart.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said to the nurse. She smiled and left, while I walked over to Arnold’s bedside. He was as white as a sheet. Where was his sister? And Mona? And Jack?

  ‘Ah, Tallulah,’ said Dr McCabe.

  ‘Hi, Dr McCabe,’ I said. ‘Thanks for being so great on the phone. You know, on the way over here.’

  Dr McCabe nodded, not saying anything. ‘Did you see Matilda?’ I asked. ‘She was at the front of the boat with my sister. I’m so glad no one else besides Arns got hurt.’

  Dr McCabe shot a look at me. ‘What is it about you, Tallulah Bird?’

  ‘Pardon?’ I said.

  ‘Luckily I’m a scientific man. If I were remotely superstitious, I’d be frightened by the kind of chaos you attract.’

  I felt my face fall. Oh, no. Not this again.

  ‘Dr McCabe?’ called Sergeant T from the other side of Arnold’s bed. ‘Is everything all right? Tatty? You look upset.’

  Dr McCabe blinked and pulled himself together. ‘Oh, God,’ he said. ‘What am I saying? I’m sorry, dear.’ He patted my arm awkwardly, shaking his head. ‘I-it’s just the thought that my Matilda could have . . . I’m sorry. I-I’m feeling . . . I’ll be back in a bit,’ he concluded, and left the room, the double doors whoomphing closed behind him.

  Heat rushed to my face and I felt tears smart at my eyes, while my legs wouldn’t move me anywhere at all. Sergeant T came quickly over to me. ‘Well!’ she said. ‘What’s got into him? Come say hello to Arnold, dear, over here.’

  She steered me towards Arnold, who was staring at me with bright eyes.

  ‘Thanks, Tallulah,’ he said, his voice quiet. ‘You could have told me you wanted a scar added to complete the cool-guy look.’

  ‘Ha,’ I said. ‘Ha ha. Don’t pin this on me!’ I reached out and grabbed his arm, swallowing down tears at the sight of him there stretched out in the bed, his head all bandaged up, his eyes so huge and bruised-looking.

  He didn’t reply. His eyes were closing and he just sighed out a shaky breath and looked away.

  ‘Hey,’ I ventured. ‘I’m glad you’re all right.’ He may have nodded. I’m not sure. ‘People are going to start calling me jinxed again. You’re going to prove them wrong, yes?’

  Arns looked back at me and swallowed, before turning his head away.

  I wondered why he’d asked for me if he didn’t want to see me. Did he blame me for the accident? My eyes flew to his mother.

  ‘Arnold?’ said his mother. ‘Don’t be rude, son.’

  The nurse was back, checking a drip. ‘I think maybe he’s just very tired, Sergeant Trenchard,’ she said. ‘Maybe no more visitors tonight?’

  ‘Oh. Okay,’ said Sergeant Trenchard. ‘Is it all right for me to stay a little longer?’

  ‘Of course,’ said the nurse. ‘I’ll just take Tallulah back down the hall.’

  I waved at Sergeant T, my throat too thick with unshed tears to speak, and followed the nurse back to the waiting room.

  Still seated there were Jack, Mona and Elsa. At the sight of the nurse they all shot to their feet.

  ‘Is he okay?’ demanded Mona. ‘Can we see him?’

  ‘He’s fine,’ said the nurse gently. ‘But we’re going to keep visits to tomorrow, if that’s all right? He’s very tired. Can barely keep his eyes open.’ She smiled at me. ‘Don’t take it personally,’ she said.

  ‘You’ve seen him?’ Mona was outraged.

  ‘Well,’ I said nervously, ‘not really. He was kind of passing out.’

  ‘Passing out?’ spat Mona. Jack put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. ‘So he’s not okay, then, is he?’ she asked the nurse. ‘He’s in hospital, for heaven’s sake. This is the second time in a matter of weeks that Arnold has needed medical attention, and Tatty has been there on both occasions! Maybe that whole jinx thing was never about kissing!’ Her eyes flashed. ‘Maybe it was really about people getting hurt!’

  Jack shook his sister firmly. ‘Stop it, Mona! That’s ridiculous. If it weren’t for Lula tonight, Arnold would be a lot worse off. He is all okay, and that’s what’s important.’

  ‘I need to go now,’ said Mona abruptly. ‘Take me home, Jack.’

  I shot a glance at Elsa. She’d been standing stock still, her gaze frozen on the nurse’s face. ‘I’m sorry I saw Arns before you,’ I said. ‘And I’m sorry you’re not going to see him tonight. I think it’s just because the nurse here saw me first, and probably just one visitor at a time . . .?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, Tatty,’ said Elsa. She reached for my hand. ‘Here comes Mum now. She wouldn’t be leaving him if he weren’t totally fine.’ I gave her a grateful look and she grinned back. ‘You look terrible,’ she said. ‘And you smell really bad.’

  Before I could reply, and insist that Jack take Mona home, Sergeant T huffed tiredly up to us. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘What a night. And it’s’ – she consulted her watch – ‘not even seven thirty. I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to see him, Mona, but he really is all right. Secretly pleased about the scar, probably.’

  ‘There’ll be a scar?’ Mona’s voice wobbled, and Sergeant T laughed.

  ‘His hair will grow. No one will ever see it, probably, unless he goes all skinhead to show it off. Let me take you back to school, dear. Your matron will be worrying. And I’ve got to get back to work.’ A cloud crossed her face.

  ‘Has something happened?’ asked Elsa.

  ‘Well . . . you’ll all know soon enough anyway,’ said Sergeant T with a glance in Jack’s direction. ‘I’ve had my team searching the Frey’s Dam area for evidence relating to Parcel Brewster’s drowning, and Emily Saunders’s bag has been found. With her mobile phone, her purse, her change of clothes.’
>
  ‘She didn’t run away,’ gasped Mona, her anger at me forgotten. ‘She . . .’

  ‘She was taken,’ finished Jack grimly.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Saturday, last day before the regatta

  Tam called me at 7 a.m.

  ‘Tatty!’ she chirped.

  ‘Tam? Smfrikkingearly.’

  ‘Usually you’d be up by now, T.’

  ‘That’s when I lived with the yodeller. Now I get to sleep in. Unless my friends call really really early.’

  Pause while Tam laughs heartlessly.

  ‘How’s Gianni Caruso?’

  Tam: ‘What? What have you heard?’

  My turn to laugh heartlessly. ‘Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry. But I have news for you that you get to hear before Alex and Carrie. Emily Saunders really has gone missing.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘But what about the voice message?’ asked Tam. ‘The one about her being at her grandparents’ place, their Tide’s Up beach shack or whatever.’

  ‘Sergeant T had Mrs Saunders bring in her phone, and they downloaded the voice message again. Turns out Emily was saying something like “I’m not okay, they say my time’s up” and then it ended. Maybe they found the phone or the battery died or . . .’

  ‘Omigod. Is there anything we can do?’

  I shrugged, even though Tam couldn’t see me. ‘We’ll find out soon enough, I guess. I don’t want to interfere. Maybe . . . maybe Emily just lost that bag . . .’

  We were both silent for a bit, considering this, but it sounded implausible even to me, the eternal optimist.

  ‘Gavin . . .’ said Tam eventually.

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘But he did have alibis. I don’t think they’re considering him at all.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ agreed Tam.

  I chewed my lip. ‘I wonder if Mr K has any thoughts.’

  ‘Probably. But Sergeant T will get to the bottom of it all, with or without his help. Alex will probably be scouting around too, so remember you’ve got quite enough going on without worrying about all this. The regatta tomorrow, for starters. You ready to row, Lula? Ready to hula? Ready to have your artworks on display for all to see?’