by Dawn Brookes
“Fare, ma’am. Please?” The taxi driver was following her.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. How much?” Before he had time to answer, Rachel shoved a twenty euro note in his hand, turned towards the ship and ran.
Chapter 14
She had to queue to get through security for what seemed like an age. There were crowds of passengers waiting for the lifts, carrying bags of shopping following their day out, so Rachel decided to take the stairs. She ran up six flights to her deck and walked briskly down the corridor. By the time she got to her room, she was feeling panicky, and very cold.
Please don’t die, Marjorie. She kept saying the words to herself, over and over again.
Even in her state of panic, she realised that it would be quicker to take a hot shower to warm up before attempting to change into dry clothes. She put the shower on to the highest setting it would allow and stepped inside – removing her clothes once she was in the shower. She was shivering and her teeth were chattering, and in spite of the warm temperatures outside, she felt frozen. She realised this was partly due to the wet and partly the shock of the events that had just taken place.
Rachel spent a lot longer in the shower than she had intended because her legs had turned to jelly as the adrenaline kicked in, as well as the after effects of running up the six flights of stairs on top of all the walking she and Sarah had done. She gave in to exhaustion and sat down in the shower for a while until she felt warmer and her muscles stopped trembling.
She managed to slow her breathing, taking deep breaths to bring her mind and body back under control. Her heart, which had been racing frantically, slowed down as she did this, and she gradually began to feel normal again.
It had taken Rachel almost an hour to compose herself. Now that she was in a condition where she could leave the room, she dressed in a pair of jeans and a light summer jumper over a t-shirt. She then headed down to deck two where she found the medical centre and was greeted by a small, brown-haired girl, she assumed was Brigitte.
“Is Lady Snellthorpe here?” Rachel asked, dreading the reply.
“Yes, she is. Are you Rachel?” The French accent was unmistakeable.
“Yes.”
“Follow me. She is on the ward and sleeping. Dr Bentley has given her some sedation and she is being warmed up as her temperature had dropped below thirty-six degrees centigrade, which is not good for anyone, let alone a woman her age. She’s lucky she didn’t have a heart attack.”
“Will she be alright?” asked Rachel.
Brigitte didn’t answer.
They walked into the ward and Rachel saw Marjorie lying on a bed, completely wrapped from head to toe in the silver space blanket. There was a heart monitor beside her, and Rachel could see that Marjorie’s heart rate was just fifty beats per minute. She had a drip in her arm, and Bernard was sitting with her.
“I’ll leave you with her for a while; I need to go get another IV bag,” he said.
Rachel took a seat next to the bed and saw that Marjorie was asleep. The elderly lady looked deathly pale behind the oxygen mask that covered her face.
Bernard came back to the ward and smiled at Rachel.
“This one’s a tough cookie,” he said brightly. “My money is on her pulling through.”
Rachel wasn’t sure whether he believed this or whether he was trying to cheer her up, but it had the desired effect. She sighed a huge sigh of relief.
While sitting at Marjorie’s side, she had a chance to look around the ship’s infirmary and was impressed. It looked like a real hospital ward with four beds and all the modern equipment she was used to seeing when she was accompanying victims or criminals to a hospital on land.
She looked at her watch and realised it was six o’clock. They were due to sail.
“Sarah!” she exclaimed. “Where’s Sarah?”
“She’s aboard.” Dr Bentley entered the ward. “She’s had to go and get warmed up herself because she was soaking wet, too. That’s the last time she gets shore leave.” He was joking, but there was a look of concern in his eyes as he came closer. “She should really be in a hospital, you know, but I have called her son back in England and he has consented to us keeping her on board. He asked to be kept informed. The captain has agreed with my decision to abide by both of their wishes.”
As if on cue, the ship’s engines started up and Rachel felt slight movement as the Coral Queen set sail.
“Was her son alright? Is he flying out to join us at the next stop?” Rachel asked.
“I’m afraid not,” whispered Dr Bentley. “In fact, he was rather abrupt.”
Rachel was horrified. She would have been on the next plane if it had been her mother.
Dr Bentley checked that all was well with Marjorie and then went to help with evening surgery as it was busy in the waiting area outside. Bernard asked if Rachel was happy to stay with Marjorie while he helped with the surgery as Sarah was supposed to be on duty. Rachel agreed – glad to be alone with her thoughts for a while.
What was it Marjorie was mumbling about in the taxi? “My fault – my coat.” None of it made sense. And did I really seen Carlos? If so, why had he been running away rather than helping?
All of the sinister thoughts of the past three days jumbled themselves around in Rachel’s tired mind.
A crew member entered the ward. “Senior asked me to bring you some food, ma’am,” he said and laid a tray down on a table which he pulled towards her.
“I’m not sure I can eat anything.”
“I’ll leave it there, ma’am, just in case. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“A strong coffee, please.” She smiled at him. A six-foot-tall Indian man, he had a solid build and was wearing black trousers with a white tunic over the top. His name badge said Raggie. “Is that your name?”
“No, ma’am, but no-one can pronounce my real name, so I decided on Raggie. People still call me Reggie rather than Raggie, though, so I can’t win! I am the medical team steward and I make sure they are all looked after good.”
Rachel looked at the food as Raggie left the ward. It was fresh salmon and spring vegetables with sautéed potatoes. In spite of saying she didn’t feel hungry, she actually managed to eat almost all of it.
Stress reaction, she thought as she drank the contents of a whole thermos of coffee.
Every now and again, Bernard or Brigitte popped in to check on Marjorie and write down observations on her chart. Rachel was pleased to see that there was a slight pinkness returning to her face, and her temperature on the monitor was now thirty-six degrees while her heart rate had come up to sixty. Rachel laid her head on the bed, and with flashbacks of lorries, a dead body and crowds of people whirring round in her head, she fell asleep.
“Wake up, sleepy head.”
Rachel opened her eyes. “Sarah! Thank goodness you’re alright. I thought you’d missed the sailing, but Dr Bentley told me you hadn’t.”
“It was touch and go for a while because the ship can’t wait too long for anyone. I made it in ten minutes before sailing. How are you?”
“What time is it?” asked Rachel, realising that there were no windows in the infirmary.
“Eleven o’clock. I decided to let you sleep.”
Rachel looked at Marjorie. The oxygen mask had been removed and she was still asleep, but her colour was back to normal.
“She’ll pull through,” Sarah said. “She’s going to sleep all night, though, after the sedation, so you should go to bed. Brigitte is going to take care of her for the night.”
“What happened to that poor woman?”
“No-one knows. Nobody seems to have seen anything. One minute she was standing waiting to cross the road, and the next minute she was in front of the lorry. The driver had no way of stopping in time in that rain.”
“Is he okay?”
“Yes, he went to hospital for stitches and was in shock, but no serious injuries. The lady who was killed had been with Marjorie, according to one couple who w
ere standing close by. The police have settled for tragic accident as far as I am aware, although it could have been suicide.”
“Or,” Rachel finally let out what had been nagging her all day, “she could have been pushed.”
Sarah looked shocked at the thought, “You’re tired, Rachel. Passengers don’t get pushed in front of lorries. By all accounts, she was travelling alone, was widowed and had a very close family.”
“Is she in your morgue?”
“No, if passengers die ashore, then it is down to the local police to investigate and the coroner will decide on the cause of death. The family have been informed and are flying out to Lisbon. They will be able to repatriate the body once they have identified her.”
“I thought Marjorie was going to die in the taxi.” Rachel’s bottom lip quivered. “She was losing consciousness before my eyes and I was completely helpless. It was horrible.” The tears that had been close to the surface came out now that the horror of the day was gone.
“You did the right thing, Rachel. Graham said you saved her life by wrapping her up and using body warmth. He was impressed, and he also said that he wouldn’t want to argue with you. What was that all about?”
“I wouldn’t know!” Rachel managed a laugh as she remembered how she would have pushed the trolley on board ship herself, or at least been arrested trying, if he hadn’t agreed to care for Marjorie.
“Come on, Rachel, it’s time for bed. I for one am dead beat.”
Rachel kissed Marjorie’s forehead, and then Sarah took her arm and led her away. They parted at the lifts and agreed to meet up the next morning as Rachel would be down to check on Marjorie.
“Some holiday you’re having so far!” Sarah looked uncertain. “I’m almost feeling guilty for persuading you to take this cruise, and I can assure you that nothing like this happened until you came on board.”
Rachel returned to the comfort of her room, feeling stiff from falling asleep in an awkward position, and opened the balcony doors to listen to the sea. She loved the sound of the waves crashing against the ship. She looked up into the sky and could see that it was clear again and the night was warm.
As she lay on her bed, she started to rationalise the events of the day. Tragic accidents did happen, and the old lady could have just tripped into the road. Or maybe she had wanted to end it all and kill herself. It wouldn’t be the first time Rachel had come across a widow who couldn’t go on after the death of a partner.
Or she could have been pushed. The thought popped into her head as she drifted off.
Chapter 15
Rachel woke at six in the morning and decided to go for a run then to the gym. She pulled on her light cotton sports trousers and a t-shirt and headed up to deck sixteen. The ship was relatively quiet with just a few people milling around. Crew were already hard at work washing down decks and putting out fresh towels. Today was a sea day, and the ship was due to arrive in Barcelona the next day.
Rachel ran around the whole of deck sixteen three times, feeling the need to clear her head. She had put the thoughts of the awful accident in perspective, but she remained concerned for Marjorie. The old lady had looked so frail the day before.
“Good morning.” She was dragged back to reality by the presence of another jogger at her side. He was a tall, thin man dressed in shorts and jogging vest with dreadlocks tied in a pony-tail.
“Good morning.” Rachel smiled back.
“It’s a great morning for a run,” he continued in his lovely Jamaican accent. “I like to get out before it gets too hot, and as you can see, I don’t need a sun tan.”
Rachel laughed politely, but remained distracted. Any other time, she would have been happy to chat with this lively man, but she stopped running when they got near the gym.
“Enjoy your run,” she said.
“Have a great day,” he replied and continued jogging.
After a forty-five minute workout, Rachel headed back to her cabin where she showered and changed into a sleeveless cotton sundress before going to deck fourteen for a buffet breakfast. By this time, people were already claiming sun loungers with towels and books before going for breakfast themselves. Children were swimming and calling out gaily to one another. The reflection from the sun created dancing shimmers of light on the sea below, and the clear blue sky promised a beautiful day ahead – very different from the day before.
Rachel was wondering how hot it was going to be today when, as if on cue, the captain’s voice came through over the loudspeaker. The sea would be calm and the temperature likely to reach 32 degrees this afternoon. There was a reminder about sun cream, then some other announcements that Rachel couldn’t hear over the noise of conversations and the clattering of dishes in the main buffet area.
Rachel helped herself to fruit and muesli and found a table by a window. She could hear a Jamaican man singing as he brought around teas and coffees, and recognised him as the happy jogger she had met earlier.
“Coffee, tea?” he would ask in between lines of a song she didn’t recognise.
“We meet again, beautiful lady,” he said as he poured her a coffee from the thermos on his trolley.
Rachel smiled at him. He was singing about sunshine as he moved away, and he certainly did bring sunshine into a room. All of the guests appeared to know him and he had short conversations with each one, complimenting the ladies and joking with the men. Rachel liked the buffet on deck fourteen because it lacked the formality of the reserved restaurants. She had not yet had breakfast in the restaurant for that reason. It was nice to start the day in an informal, albeit frantically busy part of the ship.
After breakfast, she returned to her cabin to collect her camera and a book before going down to deck two to see how Marjorie was. Rachel entered the ward and was relieved to see Marjorie sitting up in bed, wide awake and chatting to Dr Bentley.
“My dear,” she smiled at Rachel, “I understand you saved my life yesterday.”
“Hardly,” replied Rachel. “It was Dr Bentley and his team who did that, but I am so pleased to see you looking better. How are you feeling?”
“A few creaking bones and a bruise on my arm, courtesy of the good doctor here.” Marjorie laughed and looked very much like the proud and capable woman Rachel had come to know.
“I’ll leave you two to it. I think the patient is back to her formidable self, and I am no match.” Dr Bentley smiled. “You will be pleased to know that she has made a full recovery and insists on returning to her stateroom later today, as she says my fees are too high.” He walked away laughing, obviously as pleased as Rachel was to see Marjorie well again.
Rachel sat down at the bedside and gave Marjorie a small bunch of dried flowers she had managed to pick up from one of the gift shops on deck five.
“Thank you, my dear,” Marjorie said. Rachel noticed that in spite of her good humour, Marjorie was looking tired and drained, with a hint of sadness behind the smile.
“I’m so sorry about yesterday,” said Rachel. “It must have been awful for you to witness the accident. I understand the lady was with you at the time?”
“Yes, she was. Her name was Freda McDonald. We had met the day before and were spending the day together. Two old widows – sharing stories of times past.” Marjorie’s voice faded away and her eyes became watery. “We were about to cross the road and get a taxi back to the ship, when suddenly, I heard the horn—”
Rachel didn’t say anything; she was allowing Marjorie to relate the story in her own time and didn’t want to interrupt.
“I must have dropped my umbrella. As I saw Freda lying in the road, I realised at once that she was dead. Death is expected at our age, but what a violent way to go—”
Again Marjorie’s voice trailed off for a moment while she seemed to be recalling the event.
“She said she wanted to die, you know, to be with her husband.”
“Do you think she did it on purpose?” asked Rachel, barely able to comprehend the thought.
“No, I don’t. She said that she had contemplated suicide in the past, but that she would never do that to her children and grandchildren. Besides, we had had such a lovely day and she was laughing and talking.”
Rachel was relieved that it was unlikely to have been suicide. “An awful accident then,” she concluded.
“It would appear that way,” said Marjorie, but she seemed to Rachel to be holding something back.
“Was there anything else?” she probed.
“You’ll think I’m a crazy old woman, but I can’t seem to shake off the feeling that I am being watched. It started at the beginning of the cruise, and I kept telling myself that it was my imagination because I was travelling without Ralph for the first time. At times, I wondered if it was Ralph watching over me, but as well as not believing in that sort of thing, I feel it’s menacing rather than reassuring.”
Rachel could hardly breathe. “Go on,” she encouraged. “I don’t think you’re crazy at all; tell me more.”
“It sounds odd, I know, but I had the same feeling yesterday in Lisbon. Quite a few times I looked around to see if there was anyone watching me, but apart from lots of faces from the ship, I couldn’t find any evidence. The awful thing was that as Freda lay there in the road, I kept thinking it was my fault and that it should have been me instead. And what was worse, I was relieved that it wasn’t me – is that terrible? I was filled with terror and shock and couldn’t move.”
At this point, Marjorie broke down in tears and Rachel gave her a handkerchief.
“It’s not terrible to think like that. I think it’s quite normal, in fact, to feel a sense of relief mixed with guilt at surviving an incident like the one you experienced. One thing I am certain of, though: it wasn’t your fault.”
“But it was my coat and hat.” She almost whispered the words, and the significance of what she was saying finally dawned on Rachel. Remembering seeing Carlos running, she felt sick at the thought of him being involved in this.