tell us? William, will you explain?’
Keep him talking, Grady thought. Great going, Morag. If they could get him engaged…keep his mind off the jump…
‘I’m just… Hell, it’s all such an effort,’ William was muttering. ‘I’ve been fighting this for months now. Over and over. I can’t think. I can’t make myself do anything any more. Everything’s just a huge effort. You know, just figuring out the commitment to ring my agent takes me days, and often I just can’t do it. It’s just…like living in black sludge. I can’t move. And now my dog is dead.’
‘You don’t know your dog is dead,’ Morag said sharply. ‘They’re still searching.’
‘Yeah.’ William’s voice was a jeer. ‘One dog. Twenty-four hours in the sea. You know, I would have killed myself months ago but for Mutt. He… Hell, he keeps me sane.’
‘So if you jump now and Mutt’s found, what are we going to do with him?’ Morag asked.
‘Get your nephew to keep him. And his friend. Hamish and Robbie, they’re always pestering me to take him for walks.’
‘You really think your Mutt would want to live with a nine-year-old rather than live with you?’ Morag asked incredulously, and there was a moment’s pause.
But then there was the sound of dragging-a door being opened above them-and Grady saw Morag wince. He guessed that William was opening the door to the ledge outside.
‘William, you know we’re both doctors,’ he called, and there was another moment’s silence, as though William was considering whether to answer them or not.
But finally he did.
‘I know that. So you can help Morag with…with the mess. I need to-’
‘You know you’re suffering from depression.’
‘I’m not suffering-’
‘You are, mate,’ Grady called urgently, knowing that time here was horribly limited. ‘What you’re describing sounds like real, dark and appalling depression. If I’m right, what you have is not just a bit of temporary sadness but a medically treatable, chemical imbalance. It’s not just a bleak mood. It’s depression as in a major clinical illness. Depression with a capital D-as in an illness that can be cured.’
‘Cured…’ There was a harsh laugh. ‘Don’t be funny. Cured. What a joke. It’s been months. The times I’ve told myself to snap out of it…’
‘It doesn’t work, does it?’
‘Of course it doesn’t.’
‘Treating yourself for this sort of depression is impossible,’ Grady called. ‘You can’t do it. The more you try to tell yourself to snap out of it, the more you can’t and the worse it gets. You feel a failure because you can’t make yourself operate. You can’t make the most minor decisions. You can’t think forward with any glimmer of hope at all.’
‘Yeah.’ The door dragged again.
‘But we can help,’ Grady called strongly and urgently. ‘It’s not something you can cope with alone, but you can move forward. There’s new antidepressants…’
‘Yeah.’ William’s voice was a mocking cry. ‘I’ve read about ’em. They knock you right out. You smile and wave but there’s no one at home.’
‘The old ones were like that,’ Grady told him. ‘Not any more. I swear. There’s all sorts of people operating normal, optimistic lives while they’re on antidepressants. While they’re being cured. People you can’t believe would ever need them. Depression’s insidious and everywhere. They call it the black dog. William, believe me, it’s treatable, and we can help you.’
Silence.
‘It’d be an awful shame,’ Morag said softly into the stillness, ‘if we found Mutt tonight and you weren’t here to welcome him home.’
Another silence. And then a rasping sob, choked back.
‘If I go away,’ Grady said, casting an urgent look at Morag. ‘William, if I go downstairs, will you open the hatch to Morag?’ He hesitated. ‘It’s over to you, mate. We’re here to help. I swear we can help.’
‘You can’t.’
‘Will you give us the chance? For Mutt’s sake at least?’
‘I…’
‘Look, I’m going down,’ Grady called, with a silent, urgent message to Morag. They had to act fast while William was hovering in indecision. Endless talk wouldn’t help-not when there was no eye contact. The longer he stayed up there…Well, it was over to Morag. ‘I’ll stay down below,’ he called. ‘Either to scrape what’s left of you off the rocks or to welcome you down when you come down with Morag. Your call. Over to you, Morag. See you below, mate.’
He turned and deliberately started the long climb down the stairs, allowing his boots to scrap on the worn steps so William could hear him going.
Please…
And before he’d gone twenty steps he heard the trapdoor being dragged back.
Morag was being allowed to enter.
He was brilliant.
With Grady present, William might have maintained a front. He might have played the man. But with Grady gone, all pretence disappeared and as Morag climbed the last few steps into the lightwell, he crumpled against her.
William had been one of the two men Morag had dated in the years she’d been back on the island. For a while things had looked possible, but in the end… He was trying really hard not to be gay, William had told her, and she’d decided pretty fast that this wasn’t a strong basis for a relationship.
Plus, there was the fact that he hadn’t made her heart flip as Grady had.
No one had. Ever.
But now… Morag knew William enough to hug him and to smooth his hair and hold him close until the ragged sobs subsided. This had been a serious attempt at suicide. She was under no illusion that if she and Grady had arrived ten minutes later they would have found a body at the base of the lighthouse.
But now…thanks to Grady…
She couldn’t think about Grady. She needed to focus on William.
How much of his isolation had been caused by undiagnosed depression? she wondered. He held himself aloof and most of the islanders thought he was an intellectual snob. Once she had him started on antidepressants, would it be possible to pull him more into island life? Have him help in the planning for the rebuilding? Run a course for islanders interested in creative writing? Maybe…
Maybe nothing. There wasn’t going to be an island, she told herself.
It was finished.
But now wasn’t the time to say that. She held him for as long as he needed her. Finally William hauled back and looked at her with a smile that was half-ashamed. ‘I’ve been a fool.’
‘You’ve been ill,’ she told him. ‘You are ill. I should have seen it. I should-’
‘You’d blame yourself?’
‘Heck, William…’
‘I’m a grown man. It’s up to me to ask for help.’
‘Are you asking for help now?’ she asked, and there was a long silence. She met his look square on and waited-for however long it took.
And finally it came.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I am.’
Marcus was waiting with Grady when they emerged from the lighthouse. They walked out the door and William put up a hand as if to shield his eyes from daylight. He’d walked up these stairs expecting never to climb down, Morag thought, and it must be quite a challenge to start again.
And here were Grady and Marcus. Marcus had been a tower of strength over the last twenty-four hours. The
