The Jump (17 page)

Nothing.

She slapped his face hard. ‘Come on, Ben.’

She pinched his nose again, breathed into his mouth, taking large gulps of air in between and blowing till her cheeks burned.

She hammered his chest, six thrusts, this time pushing with all her might, imagining his chest cavity collapsing under the force, her hands grasping through the ribs, her fingers wrapping tight around his heart, squeezing it back to life.

Still nothing. She punched his chest.

‘Don’t leave me, you fucker,’ she shouted.

She gave him mouth to mouth once more. Pictured her breath streaming into his lungs, dissipating into his bloodstream.

She pushed on his chest, throwing all her weight behind it.

One. ‘Come on.’

Two. ‘Live.’

Three. ‘Fucking live.’

Four. ‘I need you to live.’

He coughed and gasped, seawater spouting out his mouth as his chest began to rise and fall. He wheezed air into his lungs then turned his head to the side and puked into the pebbles, gulping in air and groaning.

Ellie slumped over his body, spent.

‘Jesus,’ he gasped.

‘Thank God,’ Ellie said, her body shaking.

Ben lay there for a long time with his eyes closed, drawing breath like it was the sweetest taste on earth.

Eventually he opened his eyes and turned his head.

‘You saved me,’ he said, his voice just a whisper.

She didn’t know how long they lay there getting their breath back, trying to stop their arms and legs from shaking. The relief was overwhelming and Ellie found herself laughing as she stared at thick white clouds flitting across the sky.

‘What are you laughing at?’ Ben said.

She turned to him as if they were lying in bed together, a couple making small talk. ‘I don’t know.’

The sound of her laugh scared the deer. There was a shuffle of hooves, legs swishing through grass and the herd scattered into the woods.

Ellie stood up, her footing uncertain on the pebbles, and looked out to sea.

She couldn’t see the Porpoise.

‘We did it.’

Ben pushed on to his elbows then sat up, holding his hand out for help.

‘Here,’ Ellie said, pulling him up.

He got his balance and followed her gaze. Just the grey-brown motion of the water, the never-ending undulations of it, the shifting patterns of waves, forever restless.

But no boat. No hull sticking out, no rigging slapping the waves, nothing.

‘It sank,’ Ben said.

‘It did.’

Ellie scanned the grounds behind them. No one about. A small beach, a grassy field next to it, then some thin forest along the coast heading east.

‘We need to get back,’ she said. ‘Are you OK to walk?’

Ben nodded.

They picked their way off the beach and into the field. It was a couple of miles straight back to Port Edgar, but they’d have to take a detour once they left the grounds of Hopetoun House, avoid the coast road by heading up through higher fields and woods. The stately home hosted expensive weddings and business meetings, and Ellie smiled as she imagined a wedding party coming across two strangers in wetsuits and bare feet staggering into shot for their photographs outside the big mansion.

They walked to the end of Bog Wood then left the grounds of the house, sticking to the coast. After a while they cut round the back of Society Point, the same houses Ellie had walked past when Jack dropped her off out this way. She thought of Jack lying at the bottom of the Forth, weighed down, fish nosing at him.

They cut across the road and into a field, picking their way between cowpats. Only a thin row of trees gave them cover from a factory and office to their right. To the left was East Shore Wood, but they couldn’t risk going further in, Ellie knew from jogging that dog walkers used it. They cut across Linn Mill and through more fields. Under tree cover they scurried across Society Road and walked down until they met Shore Road, the back way into Port Edgar.

Ellie had left the car parked at the other end of the marina, so they had to take the high road round the busy centre, avoiding the clubhouse and coastguard. The car was sitting in an isolated corner of the overflow car park, in the shadow of the bridge. The noise from there now was morphine to Ellie’s mind, calming her, making her feel at peace, like she belonged. She realised right then that she would always feel at home here.

The car park was uneven gravel and it hurt her feet as she picked her way across. No one else was around. Just her, Ben and the bridge. She looked at the enormous legs supporting the structure and imagined trolls heaving round from the other side, smelling their blood and coming to gobble them up.

She reached the car and pulled the door open. She’d left it unlocked, the key in the glove compartment. She opened it and took the key out. Ben opened the passenger door and got in. The wet arses of their suits made damp patches on the seats as they sat down. She pulled her door closed and put the key in, turned the ignition and felt the engine bump into life, vibrations through her body.

She laid her head back against the headrest and turned to Ben. He looked so tired. She couldn’t imagine what she must look like to him. She wiped gravel off the soles of her feet then revved the engine and put it into gear.

Ellie stood at the front door and wavered. Despite what they’d done, it felt good being out on the water, just her and Ben, like old times. As soon as she opened this door the real world would come pouring back in.

Ben put a hand on her back. ‘Come on, we’re almost done.’

She turned to him. ‘You think?’

He shrugged. She loved that he didn’t even try to bullshit her, another reason they were meant for each other. She opened the door and they went in. Sam met them in the hall, looking at their wetsuits and dirty feet.

‘Are you OK?’ he said.

Ellie touched his shoulder and ushered him into the living room. Libby was sitting on the sofa watching a cartoon. She turned and frowned.

‘We need to talk,’ Ellie said. ‘But Ben and I have to get changed first. Wait here.’

They went upstairs and stripped out the suits, dumping them in the bath. They towelled themselves off then threw on joggers and T-shirts. The stink of brine was all over them. Ellie rinsed her feet with the showerhead, then Ben did the same.

They went downstairs and Ellie headed into the kitchen and filled the kettle, a reflex action. As it began hissing, she walked through to the living room.

Not my family, she reminded herself. This is not my family.

The end credits were rolling as Libby switched the television off.

‘Sit down,’ Ellie said to Sam.

Sam felt for the arm of the sofa and lowered himself.

‘We got rid of the problem,’ Ellie said.

‘You dumped his body?’ Libby said.

Ellie nodded.

‘Out at sea,’ Ben said.

‘Won’t he just float back to shore?’ Sam said.

Ellie rubbed her cheek, felt the burns on her hand. ‘We weighed him down.’

‘What with?’ Libby said.

Ellie frowned as Ben spoke. ‘Don’t worry, he won’t be found.’

Sam stared at Ellie then Ben. ‘Why were you in wetsuits?’

‘We had to ditch the boat,’ Ellie said. ‘Too much evidence.’

‘You sank your boat?’ Libby said.

‘Yes,’ Ben said.

‘And swam to shore?’

Ben nodded.

Libby pointed out the back window. ‘Just out there?’

Ellie shook her head. ‘Further along the coast, away from prying eyes. I’m pretty sure no one saw us.’

Silence for a long moment.

‘Thank you,’ Sam said.

Libby looked awkward. ‘Yeah, thanks.’

Sam stood up. ‘So what now?’

Ellie glanced at Ben. ‘You two go home,’ she said.

Libby shook her head. ‘I want to stay here.’

‘That’s impossible,’ Ben said.

‘Why?’

She was really just a kid, didn’t get the way things worked.

Ellie sat next to her on the sofa. ‘Alison is your mum, your legal guardian, you have to go back.’

‘I don’t want to,’ Libby said. ‘She knew what Dad was doing.’

Ellie shook her head. ‘You don’t know that.’

‘Trust me, she knew.’

‘It’s not that simple,’ Ellie said. She didn’t want to defend Alison, but found herself in that position all the same. ‘Maybe on some level she suspected, but you can’t say she knew. She’s your mum, Libby, think about that.’

‘And he was my dad,’ Libby said, hands in her lap. ‘Think about that.’

Ellie placed a hand on hers. ‘Look, you have to go back. It’s the only way. At the moment, no one even knows your dad’s missing. And there’s no law against going missing, not for grown-ups. If he chose to wander off and start a new life, that’s that. That’s what we play up to.’

Sam frowned. ‘I don’t know how this is going to work.’

Ben looked at Ellie.

‘You and Libby go home,’ Ellie said. ‘Sam, you say you’ve been sleeping rough since the day Jack was stabbed. You could say you were in that old warehouse, that way it’s more like the truth. Say you panicked in the morning when you came downstairs and saw your dad had been stabbed by an intruder, and you ran away. Say you’ve been confused and worried this whole time.’

Ellie turned to Libby. ‘You say you got in touch with him, then went to make sure he was OK. You stayed last night at the warehouse with him. Now you’ve both decided to come home.’

‘It won’t work,’ Sam said.

Ellie stood up. ‘It will as long as they don’t suspect you. At the moment, why should they? Your dad didn’t tell them anything. You ran, but you were scared. That’s a reasonable reaction for a teenager. Especially one with your issues.’

‘I don’t know.’

Ben turned to Sam. ‘What’s the alternative?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘If you don’t go home, what are you going to do? You can’t stay here. You’ll have to keep running forever. Start a new life somewhere people don’t know you. Never see your sister again.’

‘I could go with him,’ Libby said.

‘Then you’d really be in trouble,’ Ben said. ‘That would be abducting a minor, you’d definitely have the police after you.’

‘It’s the only way,’ Ellie said. ‘It won’t be easy, but you can ride it out. Just don’t say anything, keep the information to a minimum. Don’t tell them about the abuse, don’t tell them about the stabbing, don’t tell them about me or Ben. Just don’t say anything you don’t have to.’

‘And what about Mum?’ Sam said.

Ellie held out her hands. ‘What about her?’

‘What do we tell her?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Really?’

Libby spoke up. ‘Are we supposed to keep up the lie forever?’

Ellie walked to the mantelpiece and looked at the picture of Logan, ran a finger along it and shrugged. ‘The alternative is to go to the police station and tell them the truth.’

‘Then what would happen?’ Sam said.

‘God knows,’ Ben said. ‘But we’d all be in a lot more trouble.’

‘I’d happily go to jail for you both,’ Ellie said. ‘For all of you. I couldn’t give a shit. But you have to decide, Sam, you and Libby. You have to make a decision and stick to it.’

Sam shook his head and looked at his sister. ‘What do you think, Lib?’

Libby stood up.

‘I’m not going to the cops,’ she said.

Ellie stood at the door to Logan’s room, her finger tugging on the skelf of loose wood on his name sign. When he was alive she used to go in his room every day to tidy up, a ritual of motherhood. She barely had the time, holding down a job, all the other stuff that went with being a parent, but she would sneak in when Logan was out or even just downstairs and pick dirty clothes off the floor for the wash, scoop stuff off his desk into the top drawer, empty out the bin full of crisp packets, crumpled up pieces of paper and Irn Bru cans.

Then one day there was nothing left to tidy. Two weeks after it happened, all his clothes were put away in the drawers, the bin emptied, the desktop clean, the room caught in a moment of time forever, preserved for the future.

She went in now and closed a drawer. Earlier, she’d given Sam a new set of Logan’s clothes. A quick inspection of the stuff he had on, the clothes he’d borrowed three days before, and she spotted dark stains on the trousers, the top as well. Could be blood, could be something else, either way best to get rid of them, give him a new outfit. She chose the most innocuous stuff she could find, blacks and greys, and if Alison spotted they weren’t his clothes, he was to say he stole them off a washing line when his own clothes got too dirty. It wasn’t ideal, but then none of this was ideal.

She’d given Libby some of her own clothes – a loose sweatshirt and plain jeans. They were about the same size, which had given Ellie a wry smile. Libby made a face at the clothes, but she took them and handed over her own when she realised her father’s DNA was all over her T-shirt and trousers.

How would Ellie feel if her two missing kids turned up on the doorstep just like that? If they were wearing strange clothes, had been hiding out for days, and didn’t know anything about their missing dad. She’d just be glad to have them back. She imagined her doorbell ringing, Logan standing there dripping wet after swimming to shore. She’d pictured it countless times. But maybe Alison wasn’t like her, being a mother didn’t guarantee anything.

Ellie and Ben had ushered Libby and Sam out the door a few hours ago, sending them up the road to their house. There were no hugs on the doorstep, both kids too awkward for that, everyone still in shock.

When the door was closed Ellie stood with her back to it and burst out crying, tears quick to her eyes, her shoulders heaving. Ben hugged her until she had it under control, then she went and gathered all the clothes Libby and Sam had been wearing and stuffed them into a bin bag. She walked out to the Binks, stopping to pick up half a dozen heavy stones from the beach on the way and adding them to the bag. She tied the knot at the top of the bag tight, checked no one was around, then hurled the bag into the water with as much strength as she could muster. The black plastic ballooned as the bag floated for a few moments, then as the water seeped inside and the rocks made gravity do its work, the bag sank like a deflated ball. It wasn’t exactly lost forever, it could be found if anyone was looking, but then that was true of everything they’d done, everything they’d tried to cover up. If someone was really looking, they’d find out. The trick was to not give anyone a reason to look.

When she got back to the house Ben was in the bathroom soaking and rinsing the wetsuits. He put them on a radiator afterwards, not ideal for the neoprene but it was best to get them dried quickly.

Ellie checked her phone. She deleted all the call notifications to and from Sam’s mobile. Wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference if they checked the records, but it was all she could do for now. Before she deleted his number from her contacts she scribbled it down on a piece of paper and hid it under an ice tray in the freezer. She’d thought about throwing the phone away, joining all the other evidence at the bottom of the Forth, but then she pictured the CCTV footage, Logan stepping off the bridge. She couldn’t do it, not yet.

Ellie looked round Logan’s room again. Same posters, same games consoles, same bedsheets. There was a small dent in the pillow where Sam had put his head down to sleep that first day. She sat on the bed and smoothed it with her hand. Lifted the pillow to her nose and breathed in.

She remembered a night, maybe a year before the jump. It was summer and Logan had been hanging out with his mates along the prom on their bikes. They must’ve persuaded someone to go into the offy and get them a carry out, cider by the reek of it. She’d done the same when she was a kid, small-town teenage drinking hadn’t changed over the years. He stumbled in the door half-cut, not hammered, he was too sensible for that, too in control. Even his suicide smacked of control, when she thought about it. The ending of his life looked like a clear and conscious decision, rational thought. She didn’t know if that made it better or worse.

That night with the drink in him he’d popped his head round the door, mumbling about going straight to bed. It was so obvious, it was hard for Ellie and Ben not to laugh. They listened smiling as he clumped around upstairs, a wall shuddering as he bumped off it. Then after a few minutes of silence, Ellie crept upstairs to find him curled on the floor next to his desk, snoring away. She got Ben to help get him undressed and into bed. Then once he was stripped and under the covers she stayed sitting on the bed, right where she was sitting now, for a long time, stroking his head and whispering that she loved him. It’d been so long since he needed her, since he had to be put to bed, since he allowed himself to be touched like that. It felt like coming home, being allowed to touch his face, stroke his hair without complaint.

Ellie stood up and went to the window. The bridge still there, the Firth of Forth still there, the whole of the Ferry still out there, twinkling in the twilight, going about its business, carrying on.

The doorbell went.

Ellie looked at the clock on Logan’s bedside table. Half past seven. It was four hours since she pushed Libby and Sam out the door.

She was surprised it had taken this long for the police to come round.