She felt her sister’s arms around her and let herself be held.
‘I’m getting snot on your shoulder,’ she said eventually, laughing through it.
‘I’ve had worse. Some guy puked on my shoes last night at closing time.’
Surtsey pulled back and looked in Iona’s eyes.
‘What are we going to do now?’
‘I don’t know,’ Iona said. ‘Just keep going, I guess.’
Surtsey swallowed hard, wiped at her eyes and nose.
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Maybe that’s all there is to it.’
29
They spoke to Effie at reception who came round and gave both girls a hug, then took them in a different direction to Louise’s bedroom.
‘Where are we going?’ Surtsey said.
‘They moved her,’ Effie said.
‘Why?’
‘It’s just what they do.’
They turned left then went through a passageway to the back of the building. Effie stopped at a door.
‘Your mum’s in here,’ she said, touching Surtsey’s arm. ‘Take as long as you need.’
She left them to it. Surtsey watched her walk away.
‘Why did they move her?’ Iona said. ‘Do they need the bed already?’
‘Don’t.’
‘Maybe they don’t want to scare the other inmates, avoid the Grim Reaper’s touch.’
‘Iona, please.’
The air was colder here, overhead vents leaking air.
Surtsey stared at the ceiling grid for a moment.
‘Are you ready?’ she said.
‘Fuck no.’
Surtsey touched Iona’s face. She could still smell the vodka on her breath, her hair greasy at the roots. Last night’s make-up was smudged in the corners of her eyes.
Surtsey pushed the door open. The air was colder in here, two lamps casting delicate light on to the ceiling. Louise was neatly tucked into a bed in the middle of the room, three cheaply upholstered chairs alongside.
It was obvious straight away she was gone. The skin of her face was waxy and pale, a grey tinge to the lips.
Surtsey struggled to swallow.
With just her head and arms showing, Louise looked like she was being consumed by the bed, sucked down into a soft underworld of sheets and pillows.
There was nothing after this, no heaven or hell, no afterlife, just silence. Louise had believed that with all her heart and Surtsey did too. Religion was false comfort in the face of oblivion, a respite against our own insignificance. But being free from that was comforting in its own way. If you weren’t waiting for the afterlife you could concentrate on living.
Did her mum do that? Do any of us? It’s handy for eulogies, a beautiful lie, but really we all just stumble along from one day to the next without dying or harming others, without too much embarrassment or awkwardness, without confronting anything too shocking. Something from a play at school came to her. ‘I can’t go on, I’ll go on’.
Her mum didn’t look happy or sad or relieved or anything. Just dead. Gone.
Iona touched her mum’s hand and jerked away.
‘Christ, she’s cold.’
‘What did you expect?’
‘It’s just freaky, that’s all.’
Surtsey reached out and placed the back of her fingers against her mum’s hand. She moved her hand to Louise’s cheek.
They stood in silence.
Goosebumps rose on Surtsey’s arms from the air con. Of course, keeping the body cool to reduce decomposition. So matter of fact, the logistics of death.
‘Do you want to say anything?’ Surtsey said eventually.
‘Like what?’
Surtsey shrugged. She had no clue how to do this. ‘I don’t know.’
She turned to the body, took the cold hand in hers, gripped it. She felt her sister staring at her as she took a deep breath and spoke.
‘What do we do now, Mum?’ She slackened her grip, touched the bedsheets then spoke again, this time under her breath. ‘What do we do now?’
*
They scuffed over the floor tiles, Iona trailing a finger along the wall. Surtsey wanted this to mean something, to connect with her sister. But we can’t ever know someone else’s mind, we can’t even guess what others are thinking. We certainly can’t make them feel what we want them to.
She wondered what Louise had thought of them. Did she think she’d been a success as a mother?
Effie was out of her seat before they reached reception, her head tilted in sympathy.
‘You girls OK?’
Iona shook her head, making it clear the question was meaningless.
‘Fine, thanks,’ Surtsey said.
‘Nurse Steel says she’s sorry she couldn’t be here to meet you,’ Effie said.
Surtsey had to think hard who that was. The woman on the phone.
‘She’ll be in touch about all the paperwork,’ Effie said.
‘Paperwork?’ Iona said, as if Effie had mentioned aliens.
‘Just a few forms, nothing to worry about.’
‘Thanks for everything, Effie,’ Surtsey said.
Effie smiled and went back behind the reception desk, then held up a rucksack. It was Louise’s, a sturdy hillwalking thing she used for fieldwork for years. They’d used it to bring Louise’s clothes and other belongings when she first came here. So here it was again, now they were leaving.
‘All her stuff’s in there,’ Effie said. She lowered her voice. ‘I made sure they washed the clothes she was in.’
Iona stared at her. ‘Why?’
Effie looked awkward. ‘It’s just better.’
The body soiled itself, Surtsey realised, once the heart gave up.
‘Thanks.’
She lifted the rucksack onto her shoulder, enjoyed the weight of it on her back, and headed for the door with Iona.
‘You girls take care,’ Effie said as the door closed behind them.
‘Fancy a drink?’ Iona said.
30
Surtsey sat on the wall outside the Espy staring at the sea. The rowing club were out again, half a dozen of them dipping their oars in unison, heading east towards Fisherrow in Musselburgh. She pictured the water spraying on their hunched over backs, the tang of the air in their nostrils. She wanted to be out there, not anchored to the
