The Quilt (34 page)

“Are you alright?”  Joanne heard a slight panic in her
own words. “Sandy, that idiot didn’t even slow down!” 

The anchor
suddenly broke the surface making an unexpected crash as it hit hard against the bow. Joanne cursed again, but her strangled voice was that of a stranger. 

Sandy was no longer in the boat.

Joanne felt her hand clamp involuntarily over her mouth
as her mind scrambled to make sense of the scene in front of her. Above the noise there was a deafening silence, she fought the urge to panic as her eyes darted over the surface of the oily water and desperately searched for a glimpse of unnatural colour, an upturned face or a hand outstretched and beckoning for help. The adrenalin hit and clarity rushed to Joanne’s brain.

A detach
ed calm and assured voice gave their location.  It requested urgent assistance while the conscious Joanne grappled with a tide of emotions that threatened to crumple into a mass of hysteria. 

“Stay with the boat
.” The words from her course penetrated Joanne’s thoughts.  Did that apply when a person, riddled and weak with disease, was the victim?  She fought to remember how long a strong, able-bodied person could be expected to survive.  How long would it take for the rescue services to arrive, fifteen minutes? Realistically, it could be longer.  Her eyes desperately looked over the dark surface, scanning the whitecaps again for a sign of hope. 

Could she forgive herself if she made no effort to extend Sandy’
s life?  Could she live with herself remembering how she sat immobilised by fear when she was the only one who had had the chance of making a difference?

H
er mind was processing information at an unnatural speed, confusing the passing of time.  She glanced at the retreating stern of the launch; it was now a small speck almost on the far side of the channel.  It was still clearly visible and, therefore, only a few minutes could have passed.

Joanne tugged the straps on her life
jacket; and glanced nervously at the shore.  The boat had drifted closer to the curve of sandy beach and sharp rocky outcrop.   Her eyes scanned the white caps that rode the swift outgoing tide.  A brief flash of lime green, unnaturally bright in contrast to the angry dark sea, rose up.  It was partly submerged in the bulging swell, teasing briefly before disappearing from sight.

It was summer but the chill of the water took Joanne’s breath away. She kicked away from the hull of the boat and strained her eyes towards the channel, desperately seeking a glimpse of the green beanie.  Her line of vision flashed in and out as the swell of the water rose and fell like the belly of a slow breathing monster. 

Sickening
, thick, salt water lashed at her face causing a fog of tears.  It ran down her throat, burning and clawing, causing Joanne to gag and inhale in a desperate attempt to find air. “I am going to die trying to save my dying friend.” The irony hit as another swell battled to overpower the jacket which cradled Joanne above the mass of unforgiving water. 

The current
ran like a river down the central line of the channel, rushing in a desperate effort to reach the open water.  It carried her like a rag doll, its power and force mocking her pathetic human efforts, playing with her life and then inexplicably releasing her as if bored with the game.  Joanne felt the pull of the monster let go and the brutal swell drop to an untidy white chop on the surface of the water.  The shore beckoned invitingly, seducing her with its promise of survival. 

Had Sandy travelled the s
ame path?  Joanne looked towards the empty beach.  She reached out for safety and a soft mass brushed against the skin of her hand.  Her fingers wrapped around the green beanie.  It was then that the overpowering feeling of helplessness and exhaustion swept through Joanne and she began to sob, tears of frustration that came from the reality of loss.

Chloe’s premonition had unsettled Paul.  Although he did not understand, or believe in, anything that was not actually material or tangible, he had known from the first time they had met she possessed a quality that was not easily explained.

He
had returned to the vineyard feeling agitated and his mood had declined even further when, after seeking peace in the restaurant, he had witnessed another pointless disagreement between Jean and Mari.  They had both made determined efforts to lure him into their argument or to, at least, force him to give an opinion.  The restaurant was scheduled to open in a few weeks and they seemed constantly distracted by insignificant or imagined problems.

He eyed the half empty bottle of red wine sitting on the bench.  A glass would have calmed his nerves had he not been on call.  Officially
, he should have been off duty but Geoff had asked him earlier if he could cover for a crew member who was attending a function in the city.   The weather was predicted to turn nasty and a quick glance out of the window told him there were still a few boats making their way back to shelter.

Jess lay patiently in the doorway, her soft liquid brown eyes watched as her master paced the floor.  Paul looked down at the old dog and she wagged her tail in response.

Perhaps some exercise would help.  He
stripped off his shirt and dived into the pool.  Relentlessly, Paul pushed himself until his muscles ached and the nervous energy drained from his body. 

He
emerged from a hot shower surrounded by a dense cloud of steam and wandered over to the freezer.  He selected one of the frozen containers that were reserved for times when he did not feel like preparing a meal. 

The shrill insistence of his pager
halted his hands progress to the oven.   Cursing, he grabbed the small black object and glared at the screen.  The word “Urgent” illuminated and Paul felt the dull dread return to his stomach.  He arrived at the boat within five minutes and they were headed out into the channel within ten.

Geoff looked grim.  The conditions had deteriorated dramatically over a short period of time and the information
they had was sketchy.  A woman had indicated by telephone that someone was in the water; she had appeared calm and was able to give an accurate location.   But now that they were close there was no vessel visible. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the raised voice of a crew member.

“Over there!” A finger indicated towards the rocky outcrop that jutted into the water.  Paul focused and a chill ran down his spine.   Hunched and alone on the beach was the elegant blonde woman who had often invaded his thoughts, although he knew nothing about her.  Even from a distance, he could make out the slight regrowth on her shaven head, her frame was doubled over from the cold and she clutched a gaudy green object to her chest.  She looked up dully but as she comprehended a boat was approaching she became alert like a young fawn mesmerised by the headlights of a car.

On the rocks further up the beach he could clearly see the remains of the small wooden boat.  The mural of a mermaid with long curling red hair was the only part of the boat that appeared intact.   The transom had broken away, taking the outboard motor and rear seat of the vessel with it.

“There
are normally two women on board.” Geoff spoke directly to Paul as they approached the beach.

“You had better go and
find out if she was alone.” He held Paul’s eyes and they silently acknowledged the outcome was unlikely to be positive.

Paul approached Joanne and gently wrapped a hypothermic blanket around her shoulders. He spoke slowly watching for any sign of confusion.

“Was your sister
on board?”

Joanne lifted
her eyes. 

“
Sandy is not my sister,” Joanne continued, “she was wearing a life jacket which I know was fastened.  She went over while I was bringing in the anchor.  I think it would have been within the last twenty minutes, maybe slightly longer.”

She tried to focus on Paul
’s face but it seemed to blur around the edges in her field of vision.  Joanne felt a strong hand on her shoulder gently it supported her and a reassuring controlled voice broke through the gathering darkness.

“Please lie down
.”

Joanne struggled to stay upright and again the firm voice broke through her resolve
.

“Joanne
, you must lie down.  It is important, please trust me on this.”

The world had regained focus and she reached for
Paul’s hand that had remained protectively on her shoulder.

“Please find her
.”

“
We will do our best,” he smiled, but Joanne noticed his eyes were clouded by concern. 

“
Paul, can I speak to you for a minute?”

T
here was a static crackle that seemed to belong to a radio. Joanne assumed the unfamiliar masculine voice belonged to a police officer.  

“Please don’t try to sit up.  The rescue boat have
enough crew on board to start searching and the police launch and a search plane are on the way.  There is nothing else either of us can do, except make sure you are well looked after.” 

Paul got to his feet b
ut seemed reluctant to leave.  He moved away a short distance, just far enough that he could not to be overheard.

“
Realistically this is retrieval not a rescue.  The missing woman, Sandra Cunningham, is terminally ill so her chances of survival are already greatly reduced.” 

Paul nodded
and waited for Bradley, the local police officer to continue.

“
There is a helicopter on the way to take the other young lady to hospital.  I am assuming she is hypothermic?”

A
gain Paul nodded.  Bradley hesitated, as if considering whether to continue.

“
One more thing.  They have recovered a small life jacket.  It was washed up further down the bay. The police dive squad are on their way.”

Paul sat down heavily and reached
for Joanne’s cold and lifeless feeling hand to offer reassurance.  She made no effort to withdraw from his touch but turned slightly to face him and started to talk in a soft, guarded voice. 

Paul returned to the beach after he had helped transport Joanne’s stretcher up to the waiting paramedics.  He settled on to the sand and watched the retreating helicopter until it was nothing more than a pin prick on the horizon.  Overhead the search plane swept across the island’s perimeter and down the channel.  Several rescue boats together with the police dive squad formed a grid pattern meticulously searching for Sandy’s body. 

He got up slowly, and
brushed the sand off his overalls.  Turning away from the chaos, Paul walked back along the sand towards the track that led up to the vineyard.  He paused briefly near the rocky outcrop to look at the smiling face painted in vibrant colours on the side of Lucky Lady.

“Nothing in life is more precious in life than life itself”

Chapter 32

“
Can There Be Closure”

Simon was obviously flustered.  He swept into the hospital room with his face partially obscured by a huge bunch of flowers.

“I have been so worried
.” He looked Joanne over, quickly noting an angry purple bruise had formed on one arm and her face was ghostly white and drawn. 

“How are you sweetie?” H
e didn’t stop to allow Joanne the opportunity to answer. “And aren’t you the popular one?” His slender hand swept towards an even larger pink and white bouquet, “that is fabulous!”

“I thought they were from you
.”

Joanne glanced
at the towering arrangement that dominated the small sterile hospital room.

“No.
I obviously have competition.”

H
e looked up, hoping to see amusement on Joanne’s delicate face but her weak smile was unconvincing.

“Have they found her yet?”

“No.  I rang the Cunningham’s earlier this morning.  They were not particularly interested in talking to me.   I suppose it is understandable under the circumstances.  Audrey Cunningham did ask me to let you know she would make arrangements to have Sandy’s car picked up from the launching ramp.  When is your mother returning?”

Joanne shrugged before answering.

“She is in London and not able to alter her schedule. She promised to contact my father.  It really isn’t important, I was only in overnight for shock and mild hypothermia.  Oh, not again!” 

The tears welled up unexpectedly and cascaded down Joanne’s cheeks.

“Please get me out of here, Simon.”

A sense of unreal came over Joanne when she walked up to the front door of the villa.  The numb, dreamlike quality had helped distance her from the tragedy of the past twenty four hours.

Simon followed behind
, balancing the two huge bouquets and a small overnight bag that he had prepared in case Joanne had not been released from hospital.  There was an eerie silence in the villa, broken only by the light ticking of a wall clock.  Keeping a respectful distance Simon walked into the kitchen, he cleared his throat in an effort to break the fragile atmosphere that held them both nervously in one spot. 

“I will put
the flowers in water for you.” 

H
e busied himself finding a vase large enough to hold the stems. 

“You didn’t even look at the card did you?  The other arrangement is from some
body called Paul.  I don’t remember you mentioning him.” 

Simon looked up expectantly.

“It says “
Give yourself time to heal. Best Wishes Paul.
”  He waited for a response but Joanne appeared not to have heard him and remained standing at the front door. 

Critter gave the impression he had not moved since the day before.  His food and water were untouched and he sat solemnly
, regarding Joanne through bulging suspicious eyes.  He showed no interest in Simon but his unblinking stare scanned Joanne for answers.

“
He knows.”

“Don’t be ridiculous
, he is a dog, of course he doesn’t.” 

Simon walked
around uncomfortably in the kitchen.

“Do you want to come and stay at my place tonight
?  At least you would have company.”

Joanne smiled
, knowing that Simon was ill equipped to deal with a display of female emotion.

“No
, I have to get used to being here alone at least in the short term.  I will be fine, there are things you need to do at the café and I will be back at work in a few days.”

“Paul is right
, give yourself time to heal.”

Joanne looked confused
.

“Paul?”

“You weren’t listening to me at all were you?  Paul, the man who has taken the time to send flowers to you.”

“That really was considerate of him but not necessary
.”

“Are you going to elaborate?”

Simon leant forward eagerly.

“Sorry to disappoint you but there really is nothing to tell.  He was just par
t of the rescue crew involved after Sandy’s accident.”

Simon
looked disappointed.

“Just give me a call if you need anything.”
  He walked over and kissed Joanne lightly on the cheek. “Ring even if you just want to talk.”

Joanne waited until she heard the car back out of the drive and accelerate away from the villa. She walked to the kitchen and picked up the small delicate card.  The flowing italic letters were neat and precise.  His writing seemed to contradict her impression of the masculine man with strong hands that had appeared like a tower of strength when Joanne’s world had crumpled around her.  Joanne looked at the delicate pink and white display; he certainly seemed to feel unnecessary sympathy for her. 

She moved uncomfortably from one foot to the other
, imagining the pathetic image she must have created as she sat forlorn, red eyed and incoherent on the beach.    This wasn’t the first time Paul had occupied her mind.  She remembered her confusion when she had first seen him.  It had made her shrink away to avoid physical contact in the confines of the small boat.  Joanne felt her cheeks warm as she visualised the scene as an observer. 

Now
, at a time when she could not afford any distraction, when she felt her sanity was hanging from a thread, he had briefly visited her life again.  Somehow she felt this stranger had taken up a tiny residence in her mind at a time when she was full of doubt, vulnerable and raw. 

Joanne
turned the card over in her hands, then defiantly dismissed his intrusion and everything he represented by throwing the bouquet of flowers into the bin and dropping the elegant card on top.    

Joanne stood dull headed and nursing a sleep deprived headache.  Without physical evidence that Sandy had perished a tiny flicker of hope lingered.  It deprived her of restful sleep and left her slipping in and out of vivid dreams or lying awake watching the bedside light flick down the seconds. 

She applie
d pressure to her temples with her fingertips as she stood transfixed in the doorway of Sandy’s room.  The actual thought of trespassing into the bedroom had been terrifying.  Now what lay in front of her filled her with even more dread than she had imagined.  Joanne looked from the bed which had been made with hospital precision to the surfaces that gleamed tidy and devoid of the customary layer of grim and rubbish.

A chill ran down Joanne’s spine,
radiating over her skin and into her arms.   Sandy had had no intention of returning home.

Critter pushed past without enthusiasm.  He walked around the perimeter of the bed
before jumping up and settling in a dejected heap on the duvet.

A light breeze flowed in
to the room and airily moved the net curtains.  As it passed it lifted the edge of a page in a pink diary that sat on the dresser. 

Joanne inhaled deeply and picked up the small book.  Her hands felt damp and her mouth dry.  She turned the pages to the day of the accident.  There was one sentence written in Sandy’s unmistakable erratic scrawl.

Monday, I’m sorry. Please look after Critter xxxx

The book
slipped through Joanne’s hands and without picking it up she walked to the kitchen and plugged in the jug.  It wasn’t as if she felt like a hot drink, she just needed to move away from the clinically tidy, silent room and the single sentence that confirmed Sandy had made a conscious decision to end her struggle. 

Joanne
watched the tedious circles of the spoon and slowly gathered her emotions before returning to the bedroom.  She placed the cup on the cabinet and picked up the diary before settling beside Critter.   The pages of the diary were covered in Sandy’s haphazard writing, her thoughts and emotions spilled out randomly falling in cobweb like peaks and troughs over the paper.

One week prior to the accident.  At least for now
, that was all she needed to understand.

Tuesday, again today was a bad one.  Raewyn rung Dr Martin and told me they are going to increase my pain medicine.  How much more before I am just lying here drugged and unaware?  I tried to write another letter but what needed to be said seemed to come out like a badly written drama.   I am so tired and drained, but at least for now I am able to know how I feel.

Joanne continued to carefully decipher the writing a frown formed as she tried to imagine the emotional turmoil Sandy must have been living.

Wednesday, I went into the Doctor myself today. It seemed such an effort.  I asked him what I could expect and if there was any hope of improvement or a different treatment that might become available.  It wasn’t what he said, it was what he didn’t say.  He discussed the increase in medication; he didn’t discuss any increase in my quality of life.  If only I could do it all again, not the whole treatment thing but change when I actually started the treatment.   I guess ifs don’t count for much.

Thursday, today I woke up with a really bad coughing attack.  It was the worst I have had and hurt so much I thought my ribs had cracked.  There are not many pages left in this diary and I have made up my mind that before it ends my choice will be made.  Soon I will not have the ability to make that decision or set down the terms for myself.  Believe me if there was an alternative I would take it, but there can only be one eventual outcome for me, it is just a matter of when and how. Whatever I do, I don’t feel as though I can win and whatever I choose is going to cause someone else hurt.  I know I do not want everyone around me to watch my slow deterioration or more selfishly I, myself, do not want to experience months of what I  have become and more specialist appointments knowing there is no real hope.

Joanne stared unblinking at the page.   She hadn’t even realised Sandy was not always at home while she was working.

Friday, today I decided to go and see my parents and try to prepare them.  I was stupid to imagine I had a chance.  They pray for a miracle every day.  I envy them their beliefs.  I don’t understand but I do know that belief is what will keep them whole when they need the strength. It would destroy them to learn that my death came from any circumstance other than accident.  They truly believe my funeral will be years away and both agreed.  

Saturday, Joanne, I tried to write another letter to you today.  It was full of the drama I know you hate.  All the emotional things and thank you’s that don’t really seem enough so are better left unsaid.  In the end I have decided this diary is all you will need. I hope it helps you to understand I have made the decision not to go on, and that the decision was mine and mine alone.  I know you will analyse and question whether you had any responsibility or could have changed or prevented the outcome.  The answer is no. It has been a struggle for over a year now and I really don’t know how to thank you for staying around. I am not sure if our positions had been reversed I could have put my on life on hold in the same way that you have.  Now you have to find whatever it is that makes you happy, really happy because you will have a life to live for both of us.

Joanne swallowed and glanced over towards Critter.  He looked back through sad eyes; his solemn, pinched little face seemed to have aged.  For the first time she noticed a small splattering of grey had appeared on his muzzle.

Sunday I woke up coughing again today.  I am sure I broke some ribs this time.  I went past the wine bar and looked in through the window; it feels as though that was part of someone else’s life. I came home and started to tidy up my room and realised just how little I have to show for my life.  I wish there was something I could do to thank the people that made my fight with this disease easier, my life tidier and me more normal.  Joanne, look through my things and take something of mine that can go with you, that will remind you that you are the best friend a friend could have.  You were, you are, my friend. Sandy

Monday, I’m sorry.  Please look after Critter xxxx

Joanne closed the diary and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. She opened the box that contained Sandy’s jewellery and picked up the delicate mat of blue love beads. 

There was a hollow ache that seemed to be grinding away inside as she realized her
recent life had revolved around Sandy’s illness, and now without warning she was left alone, isolated and emotionally drained.  Where the hell to now? Why would she have made the decision to take her own life? Then again, under the circumstances why not?

Water pooled under the defrosted meal that still sat untouched on the bench.  Paul picked up the container and sniffed its contents without enthusiasm.  He then scraped the meal into Jess’ dish and sat down heavily on a bar stool.