Black Cairn Point (13 page)

I didn’t ask if he was okay when he came back. He clearly wasn’t. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but his colour was even worse than before. His skin was sallow, his lips white where he had them pressed together. Wincing at every step, he slowly closed the distance between us.

‘Are you ready to go?’ he asked in a dull voice.

Surely he didn’t think he could manage to hike up to the road? It was at least two miles. It would have been an ordeal just taking into account his sprained ankle. Retching and burning up under a fever, it would be torturous.

‘Dougie, I don’t think –’

‘I’m going,’ he snapped, obviously anticipating what I was going to say.

I didn’t want to argue with him. Instead I watched silently as he stuffed several water bottles and a giant bag of crisps into a backpack. Then he slung the straps over his shoulders. He already had his shoes back on, although the left was unlaced. It was obviously too painful to tighten.

‘Have you got your phone?’ he said, addressing Emma for the first time.

She hadn’t seemed bothered by being ignored. She’d just stood motionless, face blank, waiting.

She blinked at the question. Then she frowned ever so slightly, like she didn’t understand.

‘Your phone,’ Dougie repeated impatiently. ‘Have you got it?’

Emma made a small movement that might have been a shrug. Then she looked away, towards the cove.

‘I’ll check in the tent,’ I offered, because I could see Dougie was getting ready to explode at Emma and I wasn’t sure there would be any point. She seemed completely empty, like nobody was home behind those vacant blue eyes. It was hard to be worried for her, though, when I was so concerned about Dougie. And Martin. And Darren.

Part of me was clinging desperately to the idea that Martin had just gone home. Darren I wasn’t so sure about. The suspicion that he was floating in the water refused to go away. I should have checked the cove more thoroughly, I knew that, but Emma had been so out of control that it’d been hard to even get close to the churning sea. And her vehement pleas that I not go in the water had scared me enough that I’d only dared search from the shore, the rocks.

I should have gone in, I really should have. That guilt was hard to deal with on top of everything else. I tried to push it down, out of sight. It nagged at me, though, making my stomach churn.

I found Emma’s phone easily. It sat on top of a pile of her clothes, pink metallic cover bright in the dull grey of the tent. I pressed the buttons, hoping to see the screen light up. It didn’t. I repressed a sigh. I supposed it wasn’t surprising. We’d been at the beach several days and Emma liked to keep her phone on, using it as an MP3 player and a camera. All the apps she ran ate up battery life, and the handset was dead.

‘Emma’s phone’s no good,’ I said as I returned to Dougie and Emma. They didn’t seem to have moved an inch, although Dougie looked like it was costing him a lot of effort to stay standing. ‘Dead.’

Dougie made an agitated noise under his breath.

‘Guess we just walk until we find someone then,’ he said. He shifted on the sand, adjusting his weight. ‘Come on, I want to get started.’

He started the slow, slow trudge towards the car park.

‘Emma.’ I tugged gently on her elbow. ‘Emma, we’re going.’

It was as if she hadn’t heard me, though I was standing right next to her. I pulled harder on her arm and she let me drag her along. We shambled forward in tandem for several steps then she stopped dead and refused to move, no matter how hard I hauled at her. I turned, stared at her.

‘What?’

‘I’m not leaving.’

‘Sorry?’ I hadn’t misheard her; I just couldn’t believe what she was saying.

‘I’m not leaving. Not without Darren.’

I expected her to burst into tears but her pale face was calm and composed. Her jaw was set in determination.

‘Emma, that’s why we’re going. So we can get help for him. We need to get help.’

But she shook her head at me, absolutely resolute.

It was going to be impossible for me to drag Emma and support Dougie on the climb up the hill. I stood between the two of them, helpless.

‘Emma, please –’ I said, tightening my grip on her arm.

But her face darkened. Taking a step back she wrenched her arm free with surprising strength.

‘No,’ she said, the loudest I’d heard her raise her voice since she stopped screaming.

‘Emma, Darren isn’t here!’ I hissed.

‘I don’t care.’ She glared at me, eyes finally full of life. ‘I’m not leaving without Darren.’

‘But –’

‘NO!’

And before I could stop her, she turned and ran back down the beach. I saw her disappear into the tent. Angry, worried and feeling completely helpless, I made to follow her.

‘Leave her,’ Dougie said over my shoulder.

Leave her? Here, by herself? I turned to stare at Dougie, only to see he’d dropped down to rest on the low stone wall. My immediate fears over Emma vanished as I took in the nauseated expression on his face, the way he was swaying slightly, mirroring the slow, undulating movement of the waves.

‘Dougie, are you sure about trying this?’ I asked.

He ignored my question, hoisted himself onto his one good foot.

‘Look, we need to get help. That’s it.’

There wasn’t much to say to that.

I held my hand out in case Dougie wanted me to support him, but he seemed to want to travel under his own steam. He hobbled awkwardly across the uneven packed dirt of the car park. I followed a half-step behind, walking slower than a funeral march, watching his every movement, waiting for the inevitable.

It didn’t take very long. One moment Dougie was scuffling determinedly along, shoulders rolling with each uneven step; the next he was leaning ominously. I caught him before he toppled, but only just.

‘Are you all right?’ I gasped, hanging onto his jumper and trying to lower him gently to the ground – he was too heavy for me to hold up. ‘Did you trip?’

‘No,’ Dougie mumbled. ‘Dizzy.’ He groaned. I released him, sure he was going to throw up again. He didn’t, but rolled over and lay with his face inches from the mud, each breath sending up a little puff of dust that coated his sweat-covered skin. I hovered over him as he moaned and convulsed periodically. Nothing came out of his mouth, though. He must have already emptied his stomach. ‘Christ,’ I heard him hiss.

We stayed like that for a full minute, then another. Dougie stopped heaving but he didn’t try to get up, either. Eventually I crouched down, tentatively rubbed his back.

‘Dougie, this is stupid. You can’t possibly go anywhere like this.’ I said it as gently as possible, acutely aware of how he would react. He didn’t disappoint me.

‘No!’ he growled. ‘We’ve got to get help. We’ve got to let someone know. Help me up!’

I did as he asked but as soon as he was upright he staggered, as if he was blind drunk, and I had to move quickly to support him, stuffing my shoulder under his arm, bracing him with a hand on his chest.

‘Dammit!’ he hissed.

‘Let’s go back to camp,’ I suggested. ‘Just for now,’ I had to add quickly, because Dougie immediately opened his mouth to argue.

But after a moment he nodded and I started to slowly guide him back down the hill. I wanted to lead him to the tent but he resisted, pulling me towards the chairs.

‘I like the fresh air,’ he said, even though he was shivering again.

I dropped him down into a seat, got one of the water bottles out of the bag and prepared to do battle. He was in no shape to go anywhere. I knew it and he knew it. I also knew that probably wouldn’t stop him. There was only one way to keep him here.

‘Look,’ I said, swallowing hard. ‘You stay and watch Emma and I’ll hike up and find someone.’

I didn’t want to. I
really
didn’t want to, but it was obvious Dougie couldn’t and Emma wasn’t going to leave. He was right, too. We needed help. Now.

I just … The thought of wandering about on my own, flagging down a stranger … Maybe getting lost, stuck in the dark …

I took a deep breath to quell the panic. Thought about Martin and Darren; Emma, lost in her own head; Dougie, burning up in front of my eyes.

Something gripped my fingers and I looked up from the hole I’d been burning in the sand with my gaze to see Dougie staring at me. Slowly he shook his head.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Nobody goes on their own.’

I didn’t point out that he’d been willing to let Emma stay alone. I was too overwhelmed by a sudden rush of warmth that he wouldn’t let
me
go off by myself, that he wanted to protect me, keep me safe.

But it was hard, sitting there. Dougie sank down so he was half-lying in the chair, his head resting on the back. He closed his eyes and although I didn’t think he was sleeping – every so often he would sigh or groan, then his eyelids would flutter open – it was clear he didn’t want to talk. Emma had closed the tent flap, shutting herself in her own little world. That left me. Not on my own yet very much alone. Well, I had my thoughts for company and they were not pleasant.

First I tried to work out how many hours Martin had been missing for. Thirty-six? Maybe longer? If he really had cadged a lift home, would he have forgiven us by now, be thinking about sending a reconciliatory text? One I might get tomorrow if Dougie was better and we hiked back up, if I could get my phone to switch on?

And if he hadn’t left, if he was stuck somewhere, injured or trapped, was thirty-six hours enough time for the cold to do damage? It was warm enough during the day but night was a different matter, and then there was the rain that had fallen … How long did it take to get pneumonia?

I didn’t know the answer to that. Same as I didn’t know how long a fever could rage before I should start to get worried. Or more worried. A day, maybe? A day was all I was going to give Dougie before I walked up by myself, no matter what he said. He wouldn’t be able to stop me; he could barely stand.

And Emma. Lost-her-marbles Emma. I didn’t know what to do there, either. I couldn’t imagine what had made her snap so completely. Had she and Darren had a massive falling out? Or had she really watched him sink under the waves?

He was in the water. I was sure of it. There were so many simple things that could have gone wrong. He might have waded out too far, started swimming and been caught in a current. He might have been prancing around on the rocks, showing off. One slip and it would be easy to smack his head, knock himself out. Then the gentle current would just let him drift away. There were a lot of ways to get into trouble in the dark, frigid waters of the sea.

But the waves, they pushed one way. If something had happened to Darren there was a chance he would wash up on the beach, like all the flotsam and seaweed collected in the cove. After all, hadn’t that been why they’d gone there; because it was such a great place to collect driftwood?

I was standing before I realised I’d made a decision.

‘I’m going to the cove,’ I announced.

Dougie opened one eye and gazed at me blearily.

‘What? Why?’

‘I just want to … check. Maybe I missed Darren. Maybe he fell and he’s lying on the rocks, or maybe he was in the sea but he made it onto the beach and was too exhausted or hurt to get back here. Maybe …’ I didn’t finish. Maybe he’d
been
washed back up, not off his own steam, but as a ‘gift’ from the sea. ‘What harm could it do?’ I asked, because Dougie was looking at me uncertainly.

‘On your own?’ he said.

‘Just to the cove,’ I replied. ‘It’s not far. I won’t go up the road. You’re right, I don’t really want to hike up there by myself.’

In all honesty I didn’t really want to go to the cove by myself either, but I just … I had to check. I had this funny, eerie feeling that wouldn’t go away. And it was killing me just sitting here. Waiting for nothing.

‘It’ll be fine,’ I said, because he still didn’t look convinced. ‘It’s practically within hearing distance. If anything happens, I’ll yell. I’m loud,’ I added.

For the first time that day he cracked a smile.

‘I know,’ he assured me. ‘I remember the jellyfish.’

Despite the sunshine that had dominated the weather for weeks, it was another overcast day. Not quite as cold as yesterday, though, so I left my jumper on my chair. I tried to ignore the fluttering in my stomach as I walked quickly up the short hill to the path that wound round the coast. I hadn’t enjoyed my first visit to the cove and I wasn’t looking forward to going back. But if there was any chance Darren was there …

Really, I was assuaging my own guilt. I couldn’t stop wondering if maybe I’d been so busy trying to calm Emma, to get her out of there, that I’d missed him.

The walk wasn’t familiar to me yet and I hesitated when I came to the fork, not entirely sure which way to go. The day before, Emma’s screams had been my guide. Today there was nothing but the cawing of gulls and the rush of the breeze in my ears. I wondered if the wind ever stopped blowing up here. Somewhat uncomfortably, I set off down the trail and eventually emerged on the pebbly beach.

There were several large rocks and boulders in the cove that could conceal a slumped human figure – one of which I’d found Emma huddled behind. I checked each one, walking all the way round to be sure, then concentrated on scanning the flotsam that had collected along the shoreline and the shallows.

I didn’t see anything at a glance that resembled Darren’s wide silhouette but I made myself look properly, determined to be thorough. My trainers crunched against the shifting stones with every step and the sound seemed to reverberate off the rock walls.

I was halfway to the shoreline when it caught my eye. A smidge of orange. Darker than it should be, but definitely orange. Nothing on this beach should be that colour. I sucked in a deep breath through suddenly tight lungs and tried to find it again, that tiny fragment of man-made colour.

There, bobbing up and down, in and out of sight. In the water.

I started forward, unaware of my feet pounding, arms pumping. My eyes were fixed on the flash of dark umber, convinced I’d lose it if I so much as blinked. I broke the surface of the water without noticing the shocking cold of the Irish Sea. Splashing my way forward, I reached out long before he was within my grasp.

‘Darren!’ I gasped.

The shape of his body was clearer now, the outline just visible through the murky water. His back and shoulders were lifted a little above the surface, nestled against a jagged rock that, now the tide was out, just broke the waves; his orange t-shirt shouting his presence to the world … to me. His head was twisted to the side, face half-in, half-out of the water. Part of his mouth was clear. Enough for him to still be breathing?

I had to hope as I snatched at his shoulders, hauled him onto his back. His skin was pale, waxy. His eyes were open but the pupils were hidden, rolled back into his head. My hopes plummeted as his head dropped back, hanging lifelessly over my arm. Was I too late?

‘Darren!’ I shook him roughly and his head flopped from side to side. ‘Darren! Look at me!’

No response. Just the heavy weight of his massive frame, limp in my arms. I dropped my face down to press my cheek against his mouth, praying I would feel the soft flutter of warm breath against my skin. Nothing, just the chill of his lips bumping against the side of my face, unwelcome kisses as the sea lifted him rhythmically with the waves.

Trying to remember it was Darren, trying not be repulsed by the knowledge that I was probably clinging on to a dead body, I ran my hand across his clavicle until I came to his neck. I pressed two fingers firmly against the base of his throat, hunting for a pulse. I couldn’t find one. The skin was stone cold, hard beneath my touch. My face scrunched up as tears burned my eyeballs. Too late, far too late.

Had he been right here yesterday, still breathing as I left?

I cried a little harder, crumpling under the weight of guilt.

Something encircled my arm. Not the gentle, tickling touch of seaweed or jellyfish. This grip was tight, firm. I screamed, jumped, yanking my body backwards, ripping both my arms free. Then I saw Darren’s face. His eyes were black, focused. Staring right at me. But only for a second, before he slipped beneath the water, disappearing.

He was alive. Darren was alive.

‘Shit!’ I exploded forward, desperately searching the water. It wasn’t deep here, where was he? I was soaked and frozen but I didn’t care. I dropped down onto my knees, wincing as jagged stones smashed into my shins. I didn’t stop hunting, though, crashing about, hands scraping over sand, seaweed, rocks. Where was he? He was here, just a second ago. Where was he?

‘Darren!’ I screamed. My throat was tight; his name came out broken and scratched.

But nobody answered. There was utter silence. Emma was right; it was deathly quiet in this cove. I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to realise that the beach was sheltered on all sides by rock walls, keeping out the wind. The sea was calm, whispering gently. The only sound came from my frantic splashing as I beat at the water.

Abruptly I stopped and stood there, panting. Now that I wasn’t disturbing the surface, I realised it was clear enough for me to just make out the bottom. I could see dark swirls of seaweed, twigs, snapped off grasses and fronds, pebbles. But not Darren. No body, clawing for the surface or lying still. He wasn’t there.

Confused and frightened, I twisted round, gazed about me. He wasn’t on the shore, or floating off into the depths. He wasn’t anywhere.

‘Darren!’ I screamed for him anyway.

Somebody called back, wordless, guttural. It wasn’t Darren. I knew that voice, though.

‘Martin?’ I was ran out of the water, turning left and right on the beach, dripping water everywhere, not remotely aware of the cold. ‘Martin?’

He shrieked again, sounding in pain. Hesitantly, I took a step in the direction I thought his voice was coming from, but the sound seemed to surround me, echoing off the walls.

‘Martin? Martin, where are you?’ The tears were back and they stole the volume from my voice.

‘Heather!’ My name came at me from everywhere and nowhere. I was turning so fast I was getting dizzy. ‘Heather, help!’