Chosen Child (23 page)

‘I’ll have another go at the shed with the new bit,’ said
Steve. ‘Then we’ll leave in the afternoon – if it’s okay with Mary.’

‘What’s a bit?’ said Soraya, staring after him as he ran
through the rain.

‘It’s the new metal thing for the drill that cuts through
stone – he hopes,’ said Ella. ‘No, don’t go with him, sweetheart. There might
be chunks of concrete flying around in there.’

There was certainly plenty of noise when Steve started, and
Ella found time to be glad that the drilling wasn’t going to continue all
weekend.

At half past three she and Soraya waved her parents off.

‘Grandma’s funny, isn’t she?’ said Soraya as Ella closed the
front door on the rain.

Ella opened her mouth to say, ‘In small doses’, then closed
it again. There was a lot to be said for tact around children. ‘She certainly
is,’ she agreed. ‘Now, it’s been a filthy day and it’s going to be a filthy
night too. Let’s have ourselves a lovely blobby evening with a DVD. And lemon
pancakes for tea?’

Soraya ran into the kitchen. ‘I want to see what Grandpa’s
done in the shed!’

Ella looked outside; you could barely see the shed for the
rain. ‘Let’s wait till the morning, huh? If the shed hasn’t turned into Noah’s
Ark and floated away by then.’

Which, when you thought about it, would be a blessing in
disguise.

Sunday 27th – Monday 28th July

‘Pingu! Pingu!’ Jaden was warm and heavy on Rick’s shoulders
as they watched the Penguin Parade at Edinburgh Zoo.

‘Pingu everywhere you look,’ said Amanda, reaching up to
squeeze the little boy’s foot.

Rick leaned over and kissed her head. Being here just felt
so right – him and Amanda, and Jaden who would be his boy. Things might be
messy now, but it was going to be all right. They belonged together.

He hadn’t contacted Ella since leaving St Ives, and she’d
made no effort to call him either. Worry about what was going on at home nagged
at Rick; it was like toothache, the kind that isn’t bad enough to make you
phone the dentist, but still jabs away at the back of your mind all the time.
The news was unsettling too – horror-reports about landslides and flooding were
coming from the south-west. Was Gareth still all right under the shed? What
happened to a buried body when the soil was completely saturated – did it try
to float, work its way to the surface? Good thing he’d put that concrete down;
it wasn’t perfect but it would do the job until he got back. They were planning
to leave Edinburgh tomorrow. Decision day was looming for him and Ella.

‘Let’s go for coffee,’ said Amanda. ‘I’m parched. Juice for
Jaden?’

Jaden bounced up and down, and Rick gripped the small feet
more firmly.

They were squeezed together in a bus on the way back to the
B&B, Jaden dozing on Rick’s knee, when his phone rang. Hell, it was Ella.
He couldn’t take the call here. He switched it off and tried to look
nonchalant, cursing the fact that parking was limited at the zoo and they’d
come by public transport.

He stayed outside to phone when they arrived at the B&B,
apprehension twisting in his gut.

‘Hi – Ella.’ He wiped a stray bead of sweat from his temple.
‘Sorry, I was in the car when you called. Is everything all right? The news is
full of your awful weather.’ He couldn’t ask about the garden shed. That would
be just too odd.

‘Fine. And Mum and Dad are well too, thank you for asking.’
There was no friendliness in her voice.

‘Are they still with you?’ That sounded kinder than ‘have
they gone yet’ – didn’t it? Her answer sent his heart thudding towards his
boots.

‘They’ve been visiting Mum’s cousin for the weekend but
they’re coming back tonight for another couple of days. I thought you should
know.’

‘Thanks. Um – has the garden survived all that rain?’

‘Oh yes. And you’ll be glad to know Dad’s been attacking the
concrete in the shed. He bought a heavy-duty bit to drill holes in it and he’s
shifted a lot round the edge. He’ll do some more next week.’

Rick flushed hot, and then cold sweat trickled down his
brow. ‘No! Tell him to leave it – it’s much too strenuous for a man of his age.
I’ll get it fixed when I get back.’

‘Which will be…?’

‘Tomorrow. I’ll call you when I’m back in St Ives.’

‘Where are you - ?’

Rick ended the call and sprinted inside. That interfering old
man. Nothing, but nothing in this life was ever easy – would he get back in
time to prevent Gareth being discovered?

It was afternoon the following day when he arrived in St
Ives, having driven several hours the previous evening before crashing out at a
hotel south of Manchester. He’d persuaded Amanda to take Jaden to Gareth’s
mother in Glasgow for a couple of days. If there was going to be a problem with
Gareth and the concrete, it was best she wasn’t around. Something was telling
him Amanda might not be happy about Gareth’s resting place, and dealing with
Ella and her parents would be enough hassle.

Rick drove through town, cursing the fact that Amanda’s flat
was so close to home. If Ella saw the car parked outside… On second thoughts he
couldn’t risk that. He turned back, and left the car at a supermarket near the
sea front, hailing a taxi to take him to Amanda’s. Rick glanced up at the sky.
Cotton wool clouds were floating across immaculate powder blue – a picture
postcard day. The town was full of happy tourists, and how he hoped Ella was
safely on the beach with her parents and Soraya. Back in Amanda’s flat, he
poured a stiff drink and lifted his phone.

‘Ella, hi. I’m in St Ives. I’m wondering when to come home?’

‘Mum and Dad are back again. I don’t think you should come
while they’re here, Rick.’

She couldn’t have sounded cooler, and Rick winced. ‘Ah. How
are you all getting on? Having fun?’ Shit, what a stupid thing to say. How
could he get the conversation round to the shed?

‘We’re having brilliant fun, Rick. I’m choosing my outfit
for the job interview I have on Thursday, Mum and Soraya are washing shells,
and my father’s knocking lumps of concrete from the shed floor as we speak.
I’ll let you know when my parents leave.’

The connection broke, and Rick stood there, rigid with
shock. Steve was lifting the concrete
right this minute
– any second now he might come across whatever was left of Gareth. No, no, no,
that could
not
be allowed to happen. Rick fled from
Amanda’s flat and pounded up the hill.

The garden was empty and he ran straight over the grass and
burst into the shed. Broken-off pieces of concrete were all over the place and
Steve was on his knees, pulling at an enormous chunk, his face red. Rick’s
worst fear was realised – the floor he’d laid was more than half gone and the
ground beneath it was ragged and soft. It would take very little to uncover
Gareth.

‘Rick! What a -’

‘Leave it, man! Come away – it’s too much for you!’ Rick
grasped Steve’s arm and pulled, but the run up the hill or the nerves or
something was zapping his strength. Steve shook him off, surprise on his kindly
round face.

‘Hey, it’s not as hard as all that! Look!’ Steve tugged the
lump again and it broke away in his hands, bringing a wodge of sticky wet earth
along with it. He tossed it to the side and to Rick’s horror, there in the hole
was a piece of shiny plastic. Gareth’s bin bag.

Before Rick could stop him, Steve tugged it. ‘Ah, you did
try to line the base before you put the concrete down.’

Rick yanked the other man’s arm. ‘For God’s
sake
, leave it alone!’

Indignation and shock filled Steve’s eyes and he jerked
back, pulling at the bin bag as he did so. Rick’s breath caught in his throat.
If the plastic tore… He tried to manhandle his father-in-law away from the hole
but Steve gripped the bag harder and pushed Rick back with his other hand. The
bin bag ripped open with an odd little popping sound and an almost skeletal
hand appeared, shreds of God knows what still attached to the bones.

‘Aargh!’ Steve dropped onto all fours, straddling the hole
and staring straight at the hand, gasping for breath. His face turned a mottled
grey colour.

Rick grabbed him again. ‘Come
away
!’
Had he seen the hand? But he must have. It was over.

Steve fell across the hole, his breath strident in the
confines of the shed. Black giddiness descended on Rick and he ducked his head;
he must
not
pass out here… Steve’s breath rattled in
his throat and then cracked into horrible silence.

Rick retched. No, please no, the man was dead – was he dead?
Oh fuck he was dead; he wasn’t breathing and his face was the colour of – Rick
retched again and spat. Christ no – what was he supposed to do now?

Sobbing aloud, he rolled the older man away from the hole
and onto the wooden half of the floor where he slapped his cheeks. ‘Steve! Come
on! Breathe!’

And that face, those eyes, staring at him, expressionless
and empty – how very much more terrible than Gareth’s they were. Rick leaned
across and vomited bile on the earth floor. Should he start CPR? But Steve had
seen the hand…

Panting, Rick shoved clumps of earth over Gareth’s hand
before whacking the chunk of concrete back on top. He stamped on earth and
concrete until the floor was more or less flat, tears rolling down his cheeks.
Then he pulled the wooden boards from the side and dropped them on the still
uneven base.

Now for Steve. Heaving his father-in-law to his dead feet
was one of the most horrible things he had ever done, but the strength of sheer
panic was with Rick. He pulled Steve’s left arm over his own shoulders and
grasped him round the waist. Half-blinded by a mixture of tears and sweat, he
stumbled forwards, pulling Steve with him. A good kick opened the shed door and
they staggered out, Rick’s head thumping so hard against the door frame that he
fell to his knees, still clutching Steve’s lifeless body. For a moment he
couldn’t see anything, the pain was so severe, but he forced himself to his
feet, pulling Steve with him.

Come on, come on
– get away from
the shed… Steve’s feet dragged over the grass as Rick lurched forwards, to the
house, to the house… the kitchen door…

He didn’t quite make it. Two metres from the house he fell
to his knees, Steve collapsing in a heap beside him. Rick crawled forwards and
thundered on the door. It opened, and Ella’s face, incredulous at first before
horror took over, stared down on him.

‘He was stumbling over the grass, I was helping him in when
he collapsed – call an ambulance!’

Ella pitched forward on her knees beside her father and
gathered the grey face in her hands.

‘You call! Daddy? Oh, Dad!’

On his knees beside the dead man, his hands shaking like
they’d never shaken all the time he was dealing with Gareth, Rick pulled out
his mobile and punched out 999.

Monday 28th July

Ella crouched on the ground beside her father, her heart
thudding in her ears. This couldn’t be happening.

‘He’s not breathing – I can’t feel his pulse! Rick! We
should do CPR!’

Rick had dropped his mobile after giving the address to the
emergency operator and was cowering on hands and knees a few yards away,
panting. He gave no sign of having heard her. Ella looked round wildly – she
couldn’t do this; she didn’t know how. Vague memories of Casualty on TV had her
pushing down on her father’s ribcage,
push push push push
push
and now breathe into his mouth… She retched painfully but went back
into her
push push push
…

‘Ella? What’s –?
Steve
…’ June was
propped in the kitchen door, her face rigid with shock.

‘Mummy?’ Soraya appeared behind June and then immediately
turned and fled back into the house.

Ella didn’t pause in her rhythm. ‘Go inside, Mum. Stay with
Soraya. An ambulance is coming. Rick! Come and
help
me!’

But all he did was crawl over and kneel beside Steve’s head
while Ella blew into the cooling lips, gagged and spat, and started again,
push push push
… It seemed like half a lifetime before they
heard a siren in the distance, but help was nearly here and oh dear God had she
done enough? Was Dad even alive?

An ambulance screamed up and two green-clad paramedics took
over, clamping a breathing bag over Steve’s mouth. Ella sat on the doorstep,
panting, her heart racing as the paramedic pounded up and down on her father’s
chest, so much more forcefully than she had. She turned to Rick, squatting to
the side, his eyes fixed on the paramedics and their patient.

‘What were you thinking about? You left me to do
everything!’

His eyes slewed sideways. ‘He’s gone, Ella.’

The older paramedic slapped pads on her father’s chest.
‘Clear… shocking… Sinus rhythm, let’s go!’

Ella raised clasped hands to her mouth. One of the men was
still operating the breathing bag, no, no, he still wasn’t breathing –
Daddy, please breathe, please be okay.

‘We’ll get him to hospital now. Are you coming with him?’

Ella turned to Rick. He was sheet-white, you’d think it was
his father being bundled into an ambulance. ‘Go and tell my mother. If she
wants to come, either bring her or get her a taxi.’

She clambered into the ambulance and they wailed off, down
the hill and through town. Should she have left her mother with Rick in the
state he was in? Thank heavens her mobile was in her sweatshirt pocket. Mary…
she would ask Mum’s cousin to go over.

‘Mary. It’s Ella. Dad’s been taken really bad. I think it’s
his heart. I’m in the ambulance with him – can you go to mine and help Mum?’