‘What do you think I’m doing?’ There was a hint of real anxiety in Toshiko’s voice now. ‘I can’t move my feet. I’m sinking!’
Gwen looked back at the road. She couldn’t even see the car any more let alone the professor; but then she heard him — heavy splashes through the mud and a tall, lurching figure emerging like a caveman from the mist. He had seen Toshiko in trouble and was coming to help.
‘Keep still!’ she heard him call.
Gwen turned back to Toshiko. ‘Keep still,’ she urged. ‘Professor Len’s coming now.’
There was a horrible silence for a few moments as Toshiko sank slowly into the water. Gradually they heard the professor’s footsteps splashing towards them. He caught up, winded, panting, and immediately grabbed Toshiko around the waist. ‘Come on, girl! Up you come!’
But no matter how hard Gwen and Professor Len pulled, the mud just continued to suck Toshiko down. The rate of descent was becoming inexorable and she was starting to panic. ‘Gwen, it’s really cold! I’m sinking! Help me!’
‘We’re doing our best, girl!’ grunted Professor Len. His face was red with the effort above his beard.
Gwen moved around so that she could put her arms under Toshiko’s shoulders and heave. She strained hard but there was no moving her.
‘Lie down,’ gasped the professor, shifting position as well. He couldn’t get any decent leverage because he was trying to make sure he didn’t step on the same patch of marsh that Toshiko had. If they both got stuck there was no way out.
‘What?’
‘Lie down, spread your surface area across the moss,’ the professor instructed. ‘You won’t sink so fast.’
Toshiko looked at him wide-eyed. ‘Lie down? Are you mad?’
‘It’s OK,’ Gwen assured her, but she felt far from confident. Her own heart was thudding madly in her chest. ‘Lie down, quickly!’
Awkwardly, Toshiko started to lower herself towards the ground, into an uncomfortable squatting position.
‘You need to lie down flat, like you’re floating on the surface of a swimming pool,’ the professor urged.
Gingerly, Toshiko lowered herself even further, her face a mask of fear and revulsion. She was already soaked to the skin, a thick brown tidemark rising up the white top she was wearing beneath her leather jacket. Carefully Gwen moved around until she was behind her, checking each step, probing with the flat of her foot to see if the mossy ground would take her weight. ‘Lean back to me, and I’ll see if I can pull you out,’ she said. ‘It may be easier at this angle.’
Once again Gwen got a good grip under Toshiko’s arms and heaved. At first she seemed immovable, but then, with a sudden wet sucking noise, Toshiko slid out of the marsh’s grip and both Gwen and Professor Len fell backwards, dragging her with them.
They lay on the wet ground for a minute, Gwen gasping and laughing with relief. Professor Len was less amused. ‘I told you not go out on the moss!’ he roared. ‘You could’ve been killed!’
Toshiko crawled weakly away from the mud, shivering in the cold.
And then stopped.
‘Gwen.’
Gwen twisted around. ‘What is it?’
Professor Len had already seen it. He climbed slowly to his knees, his eyes wide in shock and horror.
‘Look.’ Toshiko’s face was drawn and mud-stained, but there was a look in her dark eyes that had an immediate, sobering effect on Gwen.
There was a face in the mud. Emaciated skin was stretched tight over the skull, yellow teeth bared as if with the strain of coming to the surface. The crusty eye sockets were full of silt and worms.
‘It was right beneath me,’ Toshiko whispered, her voice trembling. ‘Under the water all this time.’
‘We must have disturbed it,’ Gwen said, bending over for a closer look. ‘It’s male. Look — there’s the rest of the body, half-submerged. He was probably trapped under the moss. The struggle freed the corpse and it floated to the surface.’
Suddenly Toshiko was fumbling for her scanner. Her muddy fingers slid all over the controls but in a few more seconds she had it working again. ‘Chronon discharge,’ she said. ‘Signs of Rift fluctuation.’
‘No,’ said Professor Len, shaking his head fearfully. ‘It’s Sally Blackteeth. She’s coughed him back up from the depths.’ He looked up at them, his eyes wide and staring, full of fear. ‘It’s a warning!’
FOUR
Bob Strong went to see Iuean Davies first thing in the morning. The practice manager was sitting in his office with his feet up on the desk, aiming balls of screwed-up paper at the waste basket.
‘What’s up?’ he asked as Bob opened the door without knocking and strode in. ‘Can’t find your manners?’
‘Sorry. Problem.’
‘You look bloody terrible. Lay off the booze.’
‘No, it’s not that. I had a rough night — didn’t get much sleep.’
‘Don’t tell me: you’ve fallen madly in love with Letty Bird, and you can’t bear to tell her yourself. You’ve lain awake all night thinking about her. You’re bursting with this mad, dark and dangerous passion and you want me to tell her for you. Am I right?’
Bob closed the door carefully behind him and leant against it, arms folded. ‘I had Saskia Harden in my surgery yesterday morning.’
Iuean swung his feet off the table, eyes wide. ‘My God, free tickets to see Wales v England and then you get to have Saskia Harden in your bloody surgery too. You really do get all the luck.’
‘I mean she came to see me.’ Bob wasn’t in the mood for schoolboy jokes, although he did manage a faint smile after a moment’s consideration. ‘Actually, I could have had her. But I didn’t.’
‘Ah, professional detachment,’ Iuean murmured. ‘Only to be admired — but never practised. At least, that’s my motto. So — what did the Angel of Death want this time? Hurled herself off any tall buildings recently? Thrown herself under a bus?’
Bob shrugged. ‘I think her suicidal days are behind her — if they were ever there in the first place. I still have my doubts.’
Iuean scoffed. ‘Oh, come on! The police fished her out of Rhydwaedlyd Brook. Face down. She’s lucky to be alive. The paramedic actually pronounced her dead, if you remember the report. Frightened the life out of everyone when she sat up cool as a cucumber in A amp;E.’
‘She frightens the life out of me, to be honest.’
‘Rubbish. She’s a bit odd, that’s all.’ Iuean reconsidered for a moment. ‘OK, she’s got issues, shall we say. But, in the end, she’s just a woman, and they all have issues. She’s good looking. Available. What are you waiting for?’
‘I don’t actually know. But something’s not right. She says she’s never tried to commit suicide, not even once.’
‘The evidence would indicate otherwise.’
‘I’m not convinced. There’s more to her than meets the eye.’
Iuean let out one of his big laughs. ‘Bob Strong, the eternal romantic! You know what your trouble is, don’t you? Besides being English?’
‘Yes.’
‘There’s a medical term for it, actually. It’s called Hugh Grantism. You spend so long faffing around trying to do the correct thing that the chance to do anything at all just slips you by.’
‘I think she needs help,’ Bob said. ‘It’s just I’m not sure what with.’
‘You are now officially wasting the practice manager’s time. You are the weakest link, goodbye.’
Bob coughed, fishing for his handkerchief. ‘Oh no,’ he said miserably. ‘That’s all I need. Reckon I’ve caught a
