to fall on top of you.’
‘Is the car going to explode?’ Sue was crying so hard she had not heard anything.
‘No, darling, of course it’s not going to explode. Range Rovers can’t explode.’ If they could, presumably it would have done so by now. ‘Please, Susie, I want you to try and be brave. We have to get ourselves out of here. See if you can wriggle out of the windscreen. Then see if you can stand up.’ She was finding it hard to breathe now. ‘This is an awfully big adventure.’ Who had said that? Peter Pan, was it? But he was talking about death. ‘Please, darling. You must get out. If you can’t help me, you have to go down to Redall and get help. If I…’ she swallowed and choked, ‘… if I pass out, you musn’t be frightened. I think I’ve broken some ribs. It’s not serious -’ please God ‘- but it’s very painful. I think we’ve got to cut the strap.’ Everything was spinning round her. She frowned, trying to focus. She couldn’t see Susie at all now. Or hear. Why couldn’t she hear? She tried to lift her head and look round, but her eyes were blurred with tears. Hands. Where were her hands? Why couldn’t she use her hands?
‘I’m out, Mummy.’ Susie’s voice was further away, but it seemed to be stronger. ‘I think I’m all right.’ Suddenly her face was there, close to Cissy’s. ‘Can you climb out?’
Cissy tried to think. Climb out. It seemed like a good idea, but how? She seemed to be suspended by her pain, swimming in space.
‘I…’ She tried again. ‘I’m all right. My ribs. I think my ribs are hurt.’
‘It’s the seat belt. You’re hanging in the seat belt.’ Susie’s voice was extraordinarily strong. ‘I’ll see if I can cut it with something.’
‘No.’ Shaking her head hurt. Perhaps her neck was broken too. Her thoughts were scattered, like a flock of pigeons after a bird scarer has gone off. Regroup them. Bring them in. Make sense. ‘Can’t cut it. You’ve got to undo it.’
‘Mum, I can’t. Look, you’re pushing down on the slot.’ Susie’s hair was sweeping her face. ‘We’ve got to lift you up somehow. ‘Can you pull yourself this way?’
The girl’s hands were cool, competent. She would make a good nurse. Cissy pondered her hands for a few seconds. ‘Mummy!’ The voice was cross now; impatient. ‘Concentrate. You can’t hang there. We’ve got to get you out. Put your hand up here. Where mine is. That’s it. Now hold on. There. Tightly.’
She’s make a good commander too; firm. Positive. Calm. Lost in her endless pop music, it was easy to forget what the child was like as a person. She had become a shadow, walking round the house jerking to an unheard rhythm -
‘Mummy!’
Silly girl. Giving orders. Silly orders.
‘Mummy! Put your hand here.’
Impatient too. Stroppy little cow her father called her. Joe. Joe! Where was Joe?
She must have called out loud. Susie’s face was there, in front of her again. Concerned, swimming in brightness. ‘Dad will come soon, but we have to get you out.’
Susie had seen the slight dribble of blood at the corner of her mother’s mouth. It terrified her. It should be Cissy comforting her, not the other way round. She glanced yet again over her shoulder into the dark trees. There had been no sign of him, the kook who had stood in the middle of the track in front of them and caused her mother to skid, but he must still be out there. He must have seen them crash.
The name floated into her mind. Allie’s Marcus. The dead Roman from the grave on the beach.
‘Mummy!’ Her terror gave her strength and she turned back to the smashed windscreen, leaning against the bonnet, trying to get a purchase on her mother’s shoulder. ‘When I say, try and take as much of your weight as you can here, on the doorframe. I’ll see if I can free your belt.’ She took a deep breath and reached into the car through the shattered glass. There was blood on the seat belt; the catch was slippery, hard to press, the belt strained beneath her mother’s weight. She curled her fingers round the release and braced herself. ‘Now. Now, go on, lift yourself as much as you can. NOW!’ Frantically she pressed, wrenching the catch. Nothing happened. ‘Don’t let go. Pull up harder!’ It must open. It must.
Pull. Cissy closed her fingers around the windowframe where Susie had positioned them. Pull. Good idea. Take her weight. Take the strain off her ribs. She pulled again and the pressure had gone.
‘Done it!’ The shriek in her ear was ecstatic. Then she was falling. Frantically she clung on again. Susie’s arm around her took her full weight and she felt the girl stagger; the arm closed around her and the pain was renewed in force but somehow she was half out of the windscreen. Flailing with her hands she felt grass and brambles; her weight was sliding her out of the car across the bonnet to the ground and suddenly she was lying on the mud, huddled, hips high, hugging her pain.
‘Well done!’ Susie was triumphant. ‘Now sit up comfortably. Lean against the bank here.’
The girl glanced up into the trees again. There was something there. It moved slightly in the darkness of the shadows. She stood up, letting her mother slump back to the ground, her eyes straining to see what it was.
‘Who’s there?’ Her voice was shaking. ‘Greg? Paddy?’ Please let it be one of them. They must be near the farmhouse. She glanced round, confused. How far had they come before they crashed? She couldn’t remember.
It was there again. The movement in the trees. She could feel her mouth, dry as sandpaper; she couldn’t breathe properly. Her knees were beginning to shake. ‘Mummy.’ It was a reflex action, this desperate whisper for help. She knew her mother couldn’t hear her. ‘Mummy, can you see him?’
The figure was tall; the face, dark, aquiline, cruel. Strange, she had always thought ghosts would be transparent, insubstantial, traversable should they cross one’s path. Without fully realising she had done it, she sank to the ground beside her mother and reached for Cissy’s hand. ‘Mummy. Help me. He’s coming.’
Cissy heard her. She tried to move her fingers but they didn’t seem to work; her words of reassurance were lost as blood seeped into her throat.
LII
Joe frowned and glanced once again at his wristwatch. Strange that they weren’t back.
He could smell the beef. The whole house was full of appetising scents which made his juices flow. Perhaps she didn’t realise the time; she always got carried away, did Cissy, when she went down to Redall; something about that house that made one forget the time – he had felt it too. But if she was bringing them back, surely they should be here by now? He glanced at his watch once again; it was after three. The meat would be ruined. He glanced at the oven and shook his head. Tempted though he was to start without them perhaps he’d better get down there and see what was wrong. Grabbing an oven cloth off the rail he pulled open the door and pulled out the meat pan. The meat was dry, shrunk on the bone, the potatoes almost black. He shook his head sadly and pushed the trays of food onto the counter. Spoiled anyway.
Outside he glanced up at the sky. The light was nearly gone already, the cloud black and threatening, the wind – he sniffed knowledgeably – coming a degree or so round to the north. That would bring real snow; the kind they hadn’t seen for four years on this coast. Thoughtfully he hauled himself up into the old Land Rover which stood by the barn and leaned forward to turn the key.
At first he didn’t recognise what he saw; his eyes refused to make sense of the axles, the wheels, the exhaust which were all he could see of his Range Rover, on its side in the ditch. In the headlights, through the driving sleet, all he could see was a pattern of shiny mud and steel. Then he realised and his stomach turned over. He skidded to a halt, and leaving the headlights trained on the wreck, he levered himself out of the driving seat and jumped down into the slush. ‘Cissy?’ Dear sweet lord, where were they? ‘Susie my love?’ He jumped into the ditch and clambered round to the far side of the vehicle, his boots sliding and squelching, catching in the brambles.
The black silhouette of the wreck cut out the powerful beam of his headlights and it was a moment before his eyes adjusted enough to the dim light to see Cissy, sitting, leaning against the bonnet, her eyes closed. Susie was curled up close to her, her arms wrapped around her knees, rocking slowly from side to side.
‘Susie?’ Joe called.
The girl tightened her grip on her knees. ‘She’s dead.’ She did not look up. ‘She’s dead.’ Tears were streaming down her face.
