by David Moody
* * *
Stephen’s close to the edge of the rock-climbing cliff, sitting on the wet grass like a lost kid left behind. He looks up when he hears the others. His movements are sluggish, and his chubby face appears distressingly vague; empty, almost. Ronan pushes his way to the front of the group. “What happened?”
Stephen doesn’t answer. He just lifts his hand and points toward the edge. Rajesh is already hooking himself up to one of the climbing ropes. His face is ashen.
“Fuck’s sake,” Nils shouts. “What did I tell you people about getting too close to the edge? There’s a fucking safety line marked, for crying out loud.”
Paul ignores the cordon and moves toward the top of the cliff and peers over. Ronan waits a couple of meters back, legs heavy. His stomach flips when Paul leans right out over the edge. “Careful, Paul,” he shouts.
“Did you not hear what I just said, Paul?” Nils bellows at him. “Get back.”
Natalie pushes Paul away and takes his place, looking right over and down. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she says.
“What’s happened?” Ronan asks again, getting frantic now.
“Get your staff back to base,” Rajesh yells to him as he starts his descent. “Nils, get the stretcher and bring it down the footpath. One casualty to bring up. Let Ruth know what’s happened.”
“For crying out loud, will someone tell me what’s going on?” Ronan demands for a third time, desperate now.
Stephen’s still sitting in the long grass, staring into space. He looks up and answers his boss. “Vanessa…”
Ronan defies orders and creeps closer to the edge. Vanessa is lying on the rocks about thirty meters directly below. Her pelvis is shattered and her right leg is snapped so badly that the heel of her foot is wedged under the small of her back. The back of her head has popped like a balloon. Sea spray steadily washes away the red. The waves gently move her body, but there’s no question she’s dead. Gulls swoop and caw around the corpse; throngs of them dart away from the cliff face, then race back again, skimming the waves. The bravest few strut around the dead woman as if staking their claim. Fresh meat.
In the time the others have been dawdling, Natalie’s already assessed the situation and has fetched Stuart and the first-aid kit (for what good it’ll do). She follows Nils the long way down the footpath to the rocks below. Stuart roughly grabs Matt by the collar, then points at Stephen. “Get him inside and keep an eye on him,” Stuart orders. “Don’t leave him alone. Don’t let him out of your sight, understand?”
“I understand. But what if—?”
“Ruth’s trying to raise the mainland. She’ll know what to do.”
“I don’t get it.… Did Vanessa slip or…?”
“I don’t have time for this. Just do it.”
“But how did she…?”
Stuart lowers his voice. “Get that bloke indoors and sit on him and don’t let him move a fucking muscle. According to Rajesh, it looks like your friend here pushed Vanessa over the edge.”
Matt’s head is spinning. What Stuart just told him couldn’t possibly be true, could it? With considerable effort he pulls Stephen to his feet and tries to get him to move, but Stephen doesn’t want to leave the cliff top. Matt’s pulling one way, he’s pulling the other. “Come on, mate,” Matt says. “We need to get inside.”
After a violent tug on his wrist, Stephen finally starts moving in the right direction. His feet are leaden, like they’re almost too heavy to pick up. Matt has to push him forward to keep him going. They pass Joy and Rachel, and the two of them glare at Stephen in silence.
“Get him in here,” says Ruth, waiting at the door of the base. She takes Stephen into the building and pushes him into the nearest chair. He slumps down heavily, then looks up and around the room, slowly as if he’s on a time delay or drugged, only just realizing where he is. “It’s shock,” Ruth tells Matt. “I’ll get a hot drink.”
Matt doesn’t know what to do or say. He goes to walk away, but Stephen grabs his hand and drags him down into the seat next to him. “It wasn’t me,” Stephen whispers, a hint of panic in his hushed voice. He’s sweating, breathing hard. “I didn’t do it, I swear.”
“We’ll talk about it later, Stephen.”
“I thought she was going to kill me.”
Matt’s confused. He thinks he probably shouldn’t ask, but he can’t help himself. “What are you talking about?”
Stephen pulls him closer still and whispers like he doesn’t want to be heard. “One minute I was talking about going home, next second she just turned on me. She was acting fucking crazy. I never did anything to her Matt, I swear. I thought she was going to push me over the cliff. She came at me and I managed to get out of the way, and she just lost her footing. I didn’t know we were so close to the edge.…”
Stephen’s getting more and more agitated now. It’s making Matt nervous. “Calm down, Stephen. We’ll get it sorted. Just wait until the others get back.”
“I didn’t want to hurt her.” Tears are running down Stephen’s face now. He’s still holding on to Matt’s hand and refusing to let go. “She was the one trying to attack me. You have to believe me.”
Matt knows it’s not what he believes that’s important here.
It’s a relief when the others start to return to the base in dribs and drabs. Rachel’s in tears, Gavin comforting her. For once, even Joy is subdued. Matt happens to look out the window at the exact wrong moment. The driving rain out there now is streaking the glass, but he still sees more than he wants to. Nils, Stuart, Natalie, and Rajesh are carrying a stretcher. On it lies the distinctive shape of a tarpaulin-covered corpse.
Ronan’s on Nils and Rajesh as soon as they get inside, berating them about safety standards and procedures. Ronan’s panicking, not thinking straight. “Do you people not understand the seriousness of this? The reputation of my business is on the line here.”
Rajesh stops and squares up to him. “For fuck’s sake, man, one of your people is dead. Who gives a damn about your frigging business.”
Ronan storms away to find Stuart and Ruth, and the noise goes with him.
Everyone’s back now. All of them are sitting away from Stephen or in other rooms altogether. Even Matt makes his excuses to put a little distance between them. He’s loitering by the kitchen serving hatch where he can hear Ruth talking. She’s on the radio in the back room, trying to get through to the coast guard on the mainland.
Paul stops to talk to him. “Hope this doesn’t slow things down too much,” he says quietly.
“What?”
“They’re bound to want to send people over to investigate. We’ll be stuck here a while longer, I bet.”
“What do you expect? Vanessa’s dead, Paul.”
“I know, but I’ve had enough. Don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to get off this bloody rock.”
“So do I, but they need to find out what actually happened first.”
Rachel’s walking past and overhears them talking. She yells at Matt, unfairly venting all her anger and emotion on him. “I’ll tell you what happened. That bastard was fighting with Nessa like he always does. The fucker’s twice her size. She didn’t stand a chance.” Rachel points accusingly at Stephen. “He killed her.”
4
It’s a quarter to one. The boat will be coming to take them home soon.
The atmosphere in the base is understandably tense. Hardly anyone speaks. No one knows what to say. What’s happened feels impossible yet irrefutable. It’s hard to accept that Vanessa is dead, even harder to accept how she died. Dagger looks and whispers come from Rachel and Joy. Ronan and Stuart keep Stephen in the corner of the mess hall, separate from the others. The lack of space on Skek feels like both a blessing and a curse right now. Stephen can’t go anywhere because there’s nowhere else to go. And while they all know he needs to be kept under a close watch, no one wants to be anywhere near him. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty? To his (and Vanessa’s) work coll
eagues, the evidence (or lack of) is incontrovertible. Stuart’s managing to keep a level head. He’s been both a special constable and a volunteer on lifeboats before now. He knows how to handle situations like this. Not that there’s ever been a situation like this on Skek before. Not on his and Ruth’s watch, anyway.
Almost hometime, Matt thinks. Well, maybe not quite hometime in view of what’s happened, but the start of the process that’ll eventually get him away from here and back home to Jen. He can’t wait to see her. It was hard enough being away from her before all this happened, but now it feels unbearable. It’s been a long time since he’s been away from Jen overnight, and that he hasn’t even been able to talk to her makes matters worse. Mobile phones are useless here—only good for taking pictures, playing games, and checking the time, not communicating. Just a quick conversation would have been enough, but there isn’t even a landline here. Hell, there’s barely even any land. Jen gets nervous when they’re apart. He worries about her worrying.
“You okay?” Natalie asks, disturbing his thoughts.
“What? Sorry … yeah, I’m okay.”
“Sure?”
“I suppose. It’s all gone a bit shit, hasn’t it?”
She sits down next to him. “You’re right about that. Horrible way to go. Paul was saying she could be difficult at times, but you wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
“He shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”
“What’s she gonna do about it, put in a formal complaint? To be fair, being pushed over a cliff by a colleague seems like reasonable grounds for taking out a grievance though.”
“Bloody hell, that’s a bit off. Have some respect.”
“I know. Sorry. I can’t help it. It helps me deal with stuff.”
He’s gotten to like Natalie’s humor over the last couple of days, though it often takes him a while to work out whether she’s joking or being serious. Getting to know Natalie has been one of the highlights of the weekend. Late on Friday evening they sat in a corner together, disconnected from everyone else, and bonded over the dregs of a bottle of cheap wine and a mutual appreciation of trashy movies.
She digs him in the ribs. “She weighed a ton too,” Natalie says, really sticking the boot in.
“That’s sick.”
“You didn’t have to carry her.”
He thinks about that, remembering watching the stretcher bearers. “Can’t believe she’s dead.”
“I know. It’s a fucking horrible way to go. Would have been quick, though, if that’s any consolation.”
“It’s not. Paul was right, though, she could be difficult to work with. Well, difficult or good at her job—depends which side of the fence you’re sitting on.”
“And which side were you on?”
“I didn’t have a lot to do with her, to be honest. Not my department.”
“Not my department. That’s such a corporate excuse.”
“It’s true.”
“I don’t doubt it. So what about him?” Natalie nods over at Stephen. “Did he have enough of a problem with her to do her in?”
“They definitely had their moments, but she’d have had to have done something pretty awful for him to have done what they’re saying he did.”
“You think it was an accident then?”
“I don’t know what to think. He keeps saying she went for him.”
“What’s your gut saying? You know him better than I do. Did Vanessa fall or was she pushed?”
Matt thinks for a second. “Don’t know how much I trusted Stephen or Vanessa, to be honest. How well do you really know anyone you work with?”
“Natalie, love,” Ruth shouts from across the room, interrupting their whispered conversation. “The boat’s due in and Stuart’s stuck talking to Ronan. Do me a favor and go down to the jetty. We need to keep the kids away from base, just until everything’s sorted.”
“Sure thing,” Natalie says, jumping up. “You coming?” she asks Matt.
“I should probably stay here.”
“Why?”
“I dunno. I just reckon I should.”
“Why?”
“Because of what happened, I guess.”
“What difference does it make?”
“Ronan’s going to want us to stick together.”
“You’re on an island, Matt. No one’s going anywhere.”
She grabs his arm and pulls him up, then clambers over the mountain of luggage the group has left assembled by the front door. Matt snatches his waterproof jacket from the back of his chair and puts it back on.
“Where are you going?” Frank asks, blocking his way.
“Down to the beach with Natalie, why?”
“That’s not a good idea. We’ve already lost one of the team. We can’t afford to—”
“What do you think’s going to happen, Frank?” Natalie interrupts. “Christ, you people are as bad as each other. Vanessa’s the first and only fatality we’ve ever had on Skek. Do you think I’m going to march Matt up to the top of the cliffs and push him over too?”
“I didn’t say that, I just—”
“Or maybe you think he’ll drown? What’s he going to do, slip off the end of the jetty and forget how to swim?” She looks at Matt. “You can swim, can’t you?”
“Of course I can swim.”
“My job is business continuity and security, and I need to consider the risks,” Frank continues, getting annoyed.
“Bit late for that.”
“Don’t trivialize what’s happened here. A woman—a colleague—has died.”
“I’m not trivializing anything, but Vanessa’s death doesn’t make it any more or less likely that anyone else is going to die, does it? Of course, if your man Stephen asked me out for a cliff-top walk just now, I might have to politely decline.…”
“I don’t like your attitude.”
“And I don’t like your accent, but we just have to put up with these things, don’t we?”
“What’s my accent got to do with anything?”
“Nothing at all, and that’s my point. Come on, Matt.”
Matt’s been standing between the two of them, following the conversation like a tennis umpire. Now he feels like he’s got to make a line call.
Despite the way Frank’s glaring at him, he chooses Natalie and follows her outside.
* * *
The mist being blown off the sea mixes with the low cloud that has smothered the island like a damp blanket. Matt and Natalie were wet through after they’d only been on the jetty for a few minutes. They’ve been outside almost an hour now, and they’re soaked to the bone. “Even when the weather’s this shitty and you can’t see anything, I still prefer the view from your office window,” Matt says.
“It’s pretty special, isn’t it? You like your job though?”
“Bits of it. The bits when I’m left alone to get on with it, mostly.”
“So you’re a poor little misunderstood introvert?”
“I work better on my own sometimes. Nothing wrong with that.”
“Nothing at all. What about the rest of the time?”
“You know how it goes. We’ve all had jobs that have their moments.”
“Too right. That’s why I’m here, actually. I got halfway up the corporate ladder and realized I was climbing in the wrong direction. I had a nice flat, a pretty decent bloke … I just wasn’t happy.”
“Shame.”
“Not really. Much happier here.”
“Even on days like today?”
“Until now there haven’t been any days like today. It’s bloody horrible what happened, but it doesn’t change anything, does it?”
“How can you say that?”
“Pretty easily. We might never know the full facts, but it’s likely it was an accident, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, but accidents like that are more likely to happen here, aren’t they?”
“I suppose, but then you’re more likely to be hit by a bus than I am.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugs. “Just making a point. Risks are relative.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. I have seen someone fall like that before, as it happens.”
“Shit. Really? You said Vanessa was the first fatality you had here.”
“Oh, it wasn’t here. It was in Croydon. I was temping in an office block for some insurance company. There was a multistory car park on the other side of the road. Apparently a firm in the same block as we were in went belly-up after a market crash or something.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I was sitting looking out of the window one afternoon, counting the minutes till hometime, and I saw this guy on the top floor of the car park. He walked right up to the edge and chucked himself off. Turned out he was the CEO of the company that had gone under.”
“Lovely story,” Matt mumbles sarcastically.
“You can see my point though, can’t you?” She can tell he’s not entirely sure, so she spells it out for him. “The surroundings are largely irrelevant. It’s people that are usually the problem.”
“You’re a proper ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”
“I aim to please.” She grins as she braces herself against a vicious gust of wind.
The conversation falters. Matt checks his watch. That he’s still on Skek makes his stomach tighten with nerves. “You think something’s up?”
“They’ll get here when they get here.”
“So why’s the ship late?”
“Boat. I wouldn’t call it a ship.”
“Whatever. Why’s it late?”
“It won’t be long,” Natalie assures him.
“But they should have been here by now, shouldn’t they?”
“Like I said, they’ll get here when they get here. George is never in much of a rush. You can’t be too precise about timings with him, and the mist won’t have helped. You have to remember, the sea’s not as predictable as you might want it to be. It’s not a motorway, you know.”
“Suppose.”
“Look, I know it’s been a shitty morning, but you should loosen up, Matt. Stop clock-watching.”