“Sandy, I have the car keys.”
Sandy spun around angrily in the doorway. Her hand travelled to her jean pocket and she cursed.
“I took the car to buy groceries this morning.”
The front door slammed closed at the same time as Simon picked up the telephone.
“Hi Simon, something has come up I won’t be in until this afternoon.”
“Is Sandy having a bad day?” he asked.
“No, on the contrary she seems quite well. She has decided to go out on the boat. She even told me she would prefer to go alone,” Joanne laughed. “I think I would be chasing after her now if she had managed to get her hands on the car keys.”
There was a slight pause and Joanne imagined an understanding smile creasing Simon’s face as his own memories flickered into life.
“Let her enjoy the day.”
“I should be back early this afternoon. I have just checked met service and a front is arriving this evening, so we will only be able to get out for a few hours. Are you going to be in later today?” Joanne hands nervously picked at the corner of a tea towel. “There is something I need to discuss with you.”
“That sounds ominous, should I be concerned?” Simon was intrigued but there was a hint of worry in his voice.
“No, you have no reason to be concerned. In fact, going out in the boat is the ideal opportunity for me to discuss things with Sandy, and whether I even need to talk to you is dependent on how she reacts. I’ll come into the café as soon as we get back.”
“You know I hate a mystery.”
“And you know if I keep Sandy waiting much longer she will make sure I hate my entire day.”
Simon reluctantly hung up and Joanne gathered a few items and filled Critters bowls before joining Sandy outside.
“We can’t stay out for long. The weather is forecast to get bad later today.”
“That’s fine; I will get tired well before we need to come back in.”
The frustration had drained from Sandy while she waited leaning against the soothing, warm steel of the car.
Sandy turned her face into the sun. It warmed her back, and cast dancing lights across the blue waters that played against the side of the small boat. She met Joanne’s eyes and smiled happily. Today, life felt normal. For a few hours she could exist without the time limitations imposed by disease. The islands surrounded her like jewels separated from busy city life and its harsh concrete structures that reached for the sky just out of view.
“You wanted to discuss something with me?”
Joanne flinched. Sandy’s face had been animated, her voice cascading excitedly as she reminisced about family and school, boyfriends and the chaos she had left in her wake as she danced through life. The question had broken the spell and her serious eyes were now focused without blinking on Joanne.
“I will make the decisions while I can. I am not going into a hospice.”
Joanne paused to remove a fish from Sandy’s hook. She carefully rebaited and let out the line before replacing the rod in the holder and returning to her seat.
“It has nothing to do with you going into any facility let alone a hospice. I thought we had discussed that a long time ago.”
Joanne smiled warmly. The tension melted from Sandy’s face.
“You know how grateful I am don’t you? I am not sure how I would have managed without your help.”
A slight sparkle had appeared in Sandy’s eyes. She made no effort to brush away the moisture as it slowly trailed down her cheeks.
“I don’t always show my gratitude.”
Joanne laughed, taking the opportunity to distract Sandy before she became angry or morose.
“You don’t ever show your gratitude.”
Sandy wrinkled her nose and waited for Joanne to continue.
“It is not necessary for friends to acknowledge or show gratitude.”
Joanne looked up pointedly at the sky. Soft grey masses were clumping together, gathering like towers of cotton wool. Small white capped waves had formed and gasps of wind ruffled the surface between.
“It really isn’t urgent that I speak to you.”
Sandy’s head had fallen to one side and rested against a thin shoulder. Dark circles were etched under her once vibrant eyes and her mouth had set in a peaceful content line. She no longer had the appearance of a wounded animal fighting against its own inevitable demise. Was this acceptance? Sandy was battle weary and worn, like the final chapter of a well-loved and often read book. Joanne struggled to find words to describe the new quality radiating from the once wild, rebellious redhead she had grown to love as a sister.
Sandy’s eyes opened and a slight smile formed when she found Joanne was watching her intently.
“Sorry, I am really tired. Really tired.” She moved against the folds of her life jacket in an effort to find comfort.
“Stop dramatizing. I should have thought to bring your medications. If I had we would have had the option of staying on the island for the night.”
“Now who is dramatizing? It really isn’t that bad.”
Sandy swivelled around slightly and narrowed her eyes against the glare to look down the channel. “There is a launch in the distance, you can tuck behind that to go over the channel.”
Joanne nodded. The wind had started to gust, sending a whistling noise around the boat. Waves played on the wooden hull and clouds continued to gather in the threatening, ink-coloured sky above.
“The weather seems to be changing earlier than they predicted.”
“Then you had better start pulling up the anchor. If you leave it much longer you will miss the opportunity to follow that launch.”
Sandy spoke in a level even voice that went some way towards calming the anxious feeling that had inexplicably gripped Joanne.
“Are you warm enough?” Joanne checked Sandy’s hand before carefully making sure the life jacket was secure and the snap attachments were fastened.
“I can get you a blanket if you need it?”
Sandy slowly shook her head.
“It will only take a minute to bring up the anchor. If you need me you will have to yell to be heard.”
Waves were slapping on the side of the hull. The wind gathered foam and tossed it like candyfloss on the small whitecaps that crowned each swell of water. How long would Sandy have the strength to enjoy this part of her life? How long until the conditions were too harsh and the risk of infection too great for her wasted body?
The anchor chain slowly ground its way up, clattering on the bow of the boat. Joanne raised her eyes to the gathering clouds. The weather was changing and changing quickly. It was then that a glossy white curtain obscured her view. The launch had appeared only a small insignificant speck a few minutes earlier. Now, as it passed within metres of Lucky Lady, the size and elegant sweep of the hull looked both beautiful and frightening. There was an airy stillness before the wake hit and Joanne felt her arm crash on to the unforgiving wooden hatch. She cursed, bracing herself for the next surge of water disturbance that she knew would cause the small vessel to violently buck and swing.
“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 detached 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 i
nto 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?
Her 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 same 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?”
There 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 but 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?”
Again 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?” He 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.”
The Quilt Page 28