Car horns honked at her as she zipped across street after street without waiting for the cross signals. Anger continued to pulse through her, driving her forwards.
‘It’s Lizzie’s decision,’ Jaddi had said. Was it? Death wasn’t a choice.
People get to choose every day how they live their lives and no one bats an eyelid. Why should death be any different?
Because it is, Samantha thought. It is, Lizzie it is, it is.
An ache spread across Samantha’s chest but she carried on walking. Then the memories started. A carousel of images spinning in Samantha’s thoughts. Lizzie’s empty bedroom in their university houseshare. All the times it had been just Samantha and Jaddi, because Lizzie had been in London having check-ups.
Lizzie lying on the sofa last year, her duvet cocooned around her, her body shaking, too tired to watch television or mumble more than a few words. Samantha sitting beside Lizzie at the hairdressers whilst she’d had her lovely brown hair chopped off. Jaddi cracking jokes. Lizzie laughing and crying at the same time.
Samantha gasped. It wasn’t the lying that hurt, it was the truth. She could hate what they’d done with every atom in her body, but it didn’t change one simple fact – Lizzie was dying. Samantha drew to a stop and closed her eyes, allowing the hot tears to scorch the cold of her face as she wrapped her arms around herself and cried.
Samantha couldn’t begin to understand how hard the treatments were on Lizzie and then to find out it had all been for nothing … But did that make Lizzie right? Were six months of living worth more than the pain of the treatments? Samantha just couldn’t see how.
Then she remembered a conversation with Lizzie in Las Vegas.
Sometimes people keep secrets from the ones they love … They start down a road and before long they realise they can’t go back, so they carry on.
Had Lizzie been trying to tell her something? Did a part of her, however small, want to change her mind? What if she could find a way to make Lizzie see that life was worth fighting for? What if it wasn’t too late? There was still hope. Samantha inhaled the cold air and opened her eyes. There had to be way to help Lizzie. Samantha reached for her phone to call Lizzie, before she remembered where it was.
For the first time since she’d left the building in Times Square, Samantha scanned the street names. She was on the corner of 22nd Street and 7th Avenue. Their hotel was on 35th Street. She’d walked too far.
In the distance, the whoop-whoop of a siren blasted. Samantha stepped to the edge of the sidewalk and gazed along 22nd Street. The blare of the sirens grew louder and a flash of red lights peeked out of 8th Avenue and turned onto 22nd Street towards her.
Cars began to swerve to the sides of the road, clearing a path straight down the middle for the emergency vehicle. Samantha jumped to one side as a yellow taxi mounted the sidewalk beside her.
With a clear space, the ambulance accelerated. The shrill of the siren filled the night and pierced Samantha’s eardrums.
Her stomach flipped. Could something have happened to Lizzie? Samantha span around to leave, but glanced back as a deafening crunch of scraping metal and wheels screeching on wet tarmac sounded over the siren.
Time slowed. A second stretched into a minute as the flashing of red lights filled her sights and the ambulance lost control, colliding with the yellow taxi and bumping onto the curb. It toppled onto its side but didn’t stop moving.
Samantha stared at the whites of the ambulance driver’s eyes through the windscreen as the ambulance skidded towards her. He lifted his hands from the wheel and covered his face with his forearms.
Then a brilliant white shone across her vision and she felt her body lift up from the pavement and fly through the air.
CHAPTER 68
Day 62
Lizzie
Lizzie sat down on the smooth face of the rock and stared across the park. The grass glistened with a white, frosty dew. Heavy, white clouds covered the early morning sun. Despite the hour, Central Park was bustling with dog walkers, runners, and men and women in business suits wearing trainers and woollen hats. They glanced in Lizzie’s direction as they entered the south side gates, before dropping their heads and choosing one of the dozen different paths winding deeper into the park.
The tips of Lizzie’s fingers had begun to numb and she had a sudden longing for a pair of gloves. A hundred metres away Jaddi’s feet crunched the frozen grass as she jogged towards Lizzie.
‘Any sign of her?’ Lizzie said.
‘No. I don’t think she’s here, Liz. I’m sure she just checked into a different hotel. She’ll turn up.’
Worry wound through Lizzie. She’d known it had been a long shot coming here so early, but what choice did she have? They had to find Samantha. ‘But all of her stuff is still in our room. I don’t think she even has a room key.’
‘Even more reason why we should be waiting in the hotel then, instead of in this freezing cold park,’ Jaddi said, pulling her hands inside the sleeves of her hoody and stamping her feet on the ground.
‘I know, but Samantha said yesterday that she wanted to walk through Central Park. It was worth a try.’
‘Come on. Let’s get some bagels and wait in the hotel lobby. She might already be there.’
‘If only she hadn’t given me her phone.’ Lizzie sighed.
‘Lizzie, we’ll find her.’
Lizzie nodded and slid off the rock. ‘Everyone’s looking at me.’ Lizzie nodded to a couple walking a dog ten metres away. The couple dropped their heads as Jaddi turned to look. ‘They hate me.’
‘No, they don’t,’ Jaddi said. ‘I know you don’t want to look at the Facebook page, but it’s filled with supportive messages. It’s all over the internet too. You’ve sparked a global debate. For every negative remark, there are at least two comments of support.’
Lizzie opened her mouth to say something but Jaddi spoke first. ‘We’ll fix it with Samantha. I promise.’
A figure in the distance strode towards them as they stepped onto the footpath.
‘Is that Ben?’ Lizzie narrowed her eyes at the figure. Her spirits lifted. He’d brushed over her apology last night, but she wanted to say it again. Nerves tugged at her insides. Could they find their way back to whatever it was they’d started in Vegas? She hoped so. But she had to find Samantha first.
‘I think so.’ Jaddi squinted and waved.
The figure waved back as a single snowflake drifted in front of Lizzie’s eyes and landed on the tip of her nose.
‘Yes,’ Jaddi said. ‘It’s him, and it’s snowing. Just what we need.’ As the words left her mouth, more flakes appeared around them, floating in slow swaying movements to the ground.
‘Hi,’ Lizzie said, feeling a sudden awkwardness as he stepped within earshot. What did he think of her? The whole world could hate her, but not Ben.
‘Hey,’ he replied, his face strained with a sadness Lizzie couldn’t read.
‘No camera,’ Jaddi said. ‘Does that mean the documentary’s been cancelled?’
Ben shook his head but didn’t elaborate.
‘How did you know we were here?’ Lizzie asked.
‘There’s a tracking device on the video camera in your bag. In case it gets lost or stolen.’
‘And to keep tabs on me.’ Lizzie raised her eyebrows as she thought about all the times Ben had found her sitting on her own somewhere.
Ben didn’t respond. Flakes of snow landed on his head. A small one caught on his eyelashes before dropping onto the dark-blue smudges circling his eyes.
‘You look like you’ve had about as much sleep we have,’ Jaddi said. ‘We knocked on your door earlier, but we weren’t sure if you were asleep or out. We came to look for Samantha, have you seen her?’
His forehead furrowed as he stepped closer. ‘There was an accident last night,’ he said. ‘An ambulance hit a taxi and lost control. Samantha was there.’
An icy chill spread over Lizzie’s skin. Goosebumps prickled her arms. Her th
roat tightened. ‘What?’
Fat puffs of snow swirled around her, moving in every direction. Not just down, but up and around too. A thin layer covered Jaddi’s hair, stark white against the loose black strands.
‘Is she OK?’ Jaddi asked. ‘Where is she?’
Ben shook his head. Lizzie watched his Adam’s apple jump as he swallowed, and in that millisecond she knew.
‘She died at the scene,’ he said. ‘It was instant. Her head hit the pavement. She wouldn’t have felt a thing.’
‘No.’ Lizzie stumbled back against the rock and shook her head. ‘There’s been a mistake. It can’t be her. You’re wrong.’
Ben reached out and pulled her into his arms. ‘I’m not wrong.’
‘Samantha isn’t dead. She can’t be. We saw her, what? Eight hours ago. She was so angry with me. She can’t be—’
Lizzie felt Ben tighten his hold on her as he spoke. ‘The police found her microphone and called the Channel 6 office in London. Caroline called me. I’ve just come from the morgue. It’s her. I’m sorry.’
‘No.’ Lizzie shook her head against his chest. A chill like nothing she’d ever felt before seeped into her bones. ‘You’re wrong. You have to be wrong. She can’t be dead.’
Pain sliced through Lizzie’s chest. Her lungs shrunk so that all she could pull in were short, gasping breaths. It had to be a mistake; it had to be a mistake. Her heart hurt. A raw physical pain that spread all the way to her throat. Samantha couldn’t be dead. Her best friend couldn’t be dead. Lizzie’s weight dropped against Ben’s body as a muffled sob escaped her mouth.
CHAPTER 69
Jaddi
‘This is on me. This is my fault,’ Jaddi said.
In the space of minutes the air had filled with a million flakes of feathery snow. A layer of pure white, the colour of printer paper, covered every surface for as far as she could see. An involuntary shaking had taken hold of her body, and yet she couldn’t feel the cold anymore.
‘This is on me,’ Jaddi said again. Her hands quivered as she lifted them to her face.
‘Jaddi?’ Lizzie said, stumbling away from Ben and wrapping her arms around her.
‘This is my fault.’
‘It’s not, Jaddi.’
‘Yes, it is. I came up with the idea. I created the website. I pushed you into it. I convinced you to lie to Samantha. If I hadn’t done those things then she’d still be alive.’
‘Then it’s on both of us,’ Lizzie said.
Jaddi turned her face and stared into Lizzie’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’ Jaddi swallowed down a sob; it caught in her throat creating an anguished cry like a wild animal caught in a trap. Jaddi dropped her head onto Lizzie’s shoulder. Hot tears poured down her cheeks.
Jaddi dug her fingers into Lizzie’s back. She felt Lizzie’s shoulders shake as they clung to each other.
‘We should go,’ Ben said. ‘It’s really coming down out here.’
Jaddi pulled in a shuddering breath and lifted her head up from Lizzie’s shoulder. ‘Where?’
‘The hotel,’ Ben said.
Lizzie shook her head before glancing at Jaddi. ‘I need to see her.’
Jaddi wiped her hands across her cheeks and nodded as another sob broke free.
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Ben said. ‘I’ve already done the identification. It’s her, Lizzie.’
‘I know, but I … I just can’t believe you. I have to see her for myself.’
Jaddi swallowed the razor-edged mound in her throat as fresh tears fell from her eyes. ‘Me too.’
A porter in a green uniform led them down a long corridor and through two sets of swinging doors with circular porthole windows.
The only noise was the squeak of their shoes on the polished linoleum floor. The porter – a short man in his late fifties with greying-brown hair and a bald spot in the shape of a perfect circle on the back of his head – had raised his eyebrows at their dishevelled, snowy clothes, but hadn’t commented or attempted the same chit-chat that they’d endured from the taxi driver on their journey towards the East River.
Jaddi felt a cold droplet of mucus run from her nose and realised she’d been breathing through her mouth, like the times she used public toilets and couldn’t bear to breathe through her nose because of the putrid smell of urine and faeces. But this wasn’t a public toilet, it was a morgue, and the odour she didn’t want to smell was death. Jaddi dabbed the cuff of her jumper against her nose and risked a short sniff. Nothing. No decay or death smells assaulted her nostrils. No zesty cleaning products or redolent air fresheners either.
The porter unlocked the door of a small dark room no larger than a broom cupboard and waved them in. He tapped a switch and a long fluorescent tube flickered to life, revealing two plastic chairs and a window covered with navy curtains drawn across from the other side of the glass.
‘It’ll just take a few minutes,’ he said, nodding towards the window.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Ben said.
Lizzie gripped her hand and nodded.
Jaddi closed her eyes as her thoughts flitted between willing the curtains to open and wishing that they never would. It could all be a mistake, couldn’t it? Ben could have made a mistake? That’s what they were about to find out. Someone else’s best friend, someone else’s life was gone, but not Samantha’s. Samantha would be waiting for them in the hotel lobby, furious with them for lying to her, but still alive.
Beside her, Jaddi felt Lizzie’s hand tighten around her fingers. Jaddi’s eyes shot open as the curtains juddered for a second and then parted to reveal another room similar to their own, empty apart from the steel gurney and the body, covered to the chest by a green sheet the same colour as the porter’s uniform.
A wave of elation crashed through Jaddi. It wasn’t Samantha. The lifeless body on the gurney was too small. Her blonde hair was wet and brushed back instead of parted down the middle. Her skin was too pale and her face, whilst familiar, was not the face of the best friend who’d stayed up all night to help Jaddi finish her dissertation on time, and had jumped off a cliff with them in Mondulkiri, and had slept in the next room, washed in the same shower, and eaten at the same table as her for the past nine years. It wasn’t Samantha.
Lizzie let out an anguished sob from beside her.
‘It’s not—’ The rest of the words caught in her throat as Jaddi’s gaze fell to the pink circular marks on the woman’s wrists, and the cut stretching along her right arm where Samantha had hit the nightstand in Vegas.
Pain stretched out of her heart. Tears spilled down her face and over her lips until she could taste the salt of them in her mouth. An unbearable energy exploded inside her. She wanted to bang on the glass and shout wake up, wake up, wake up. She wanted to run to the next room and pound her fist against Samantha’s chest until her heart started beating again, until Samantha started living again, but Jaddi’s feet refused to move, just as her eyes refused to look away.
Ben stepped towards both of them. He wrapped an arm around Lizzie and, a moment later, she felt his hand on her shoulder and allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace. Something warm dripped onto the top of her head. Ben’s tears.
Jaddi’s legs buckled from beneath her and her body slipped from his hold and onto the hard floor. It was her fault that they were in New York. It was her fault that they’d argued on the street. She was the reason Lizzie hadn’t raced after Samantha. This was on her. Samantha was dead because of her. She was the reason that they’d lied to Samantha. She was the one who’d supported Lizzie’s decision, helped her hide it too, so Lizzie wouldn’t have to explain herself, or be convinced to change her mind.
One of her best friends was lying dead in a morgue because of her, and another would be joining her soon. All because of her. Jaddi pulled her knees up to her head and covered her face with her hands as tears poured from her eyes.
A moment later the porter returned. ‘We have a bereavement room,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you’d lik
e to use it.’
Jaddi felt Ben’s strong arm on hers, pulling her to her feet and guiding her three paces across the corridor and into a larger room with gleaming white walls. Two large canvas prints of the New York skyline hung on the walls.
Loss wound through Jaddi’s body. It wrapped itself around her in a cocoon of despair. Samantha would never travel to the top of the Empire State Building and see the New York skyline for herself. She would never get to travel back to Mondulkiri like she’d wanted to and care for the elephants. She wouldn’t do anything again, ever.
‘There’s tea and coffee facilities. Please help yourself, and stay as long as you need,’ the porter said, before closing the door.
Lizzie dropped onto the sofa, bent forward and buried her head in hands. Ben moved over to the table and, a moment later, the whirring noise of a kettle boiling filled the room.
The sound made her think of Samantha. Samantha was always the first one up in the morning. Always the first one to flick on the kettle and make three cups of tea, delivering them to Jaddi and Lizzie without a word. How many times had Jaddi joked with Lizzie about that? ‘It’s the best indicator of how late I’m going to be for work if I’ve overslept,’ Jaddi had always laughed. ‘Lukewarm – marginally late; tepid – very late; cold – time to call in sick.’
Ben pushed a steaming mug into her hands before passing another to Lizzie.
‘I don’t know what to do now.’ Jaddi shrugged, looking between Lizzie and Ben. ‘Are we supposed to carry on? Because I don’t think I can.’ Her voice rose and ended in sob.
Lizzie shook her head before turning to Ben. ‘What will happen to her now?’
‘Channel 6 are arranging to have her body flown back to London. Caroline’s contacting her mum.’
‘Yesterday was the first time I’ve ever heard Samantha talk about what it was like for her growing up,’ Lizzie said.
One Endless Summer Page 31