‘I don’t believe you, she wouldn’t have gone like that without saying goodbye.’
‘What do you think our trip here was?’ Donna sliced cheese and placed it on the bread. ‘You saw how happy she was.’
‘Why should I believe you?’ Surtsey said. ‘After everything you’ve done.’
‘You can choose to believe me or not,’ Donna said, adding the second bread slice and halving the sandwich. ‘I know the truth. She wanted to end it herself and I helped. I did what you couldn’t do because you’re family. I did you a favour.’
‘The post-mortem will find out the truth.’
Donna put both sandwich halves on a plate and came over to the bed. ‘There’s no post-mortem, you know that. A terminally ill patient dies in a hospice during the night. Hardly grounds for suspicion.’
She held out half a sandwich. ‘Here, you need to eat.’
‘Go to hell.’
Donna sighed and sat down, took a large bite from the sandwich and chewed. After a few moments she spoke. ‘I don’t expect you to come round straight away but a bit of appreciation wouldn’t hurt.’
‘You’re insane.’
‘After all I’ve done for you.’
Surtsey felt the pressure on her bladder, all that wine still sloshing around. She thought of the chemical toilet just outside the hut. A chance to get away.
‘I need to pee.’
Donna frowned. ‘It can wait until I finish this.’
‘I really need to go.’
Donna brushed crumbs from her hands and stood up. She went to the holdall and pulled out something white and plastic. A bedpan.
‘No,’ Surtsey said. ‘I need to go to the toilet.’
‘Nonsense, I can’t take that chance. This will be fine.’
‘I can’t go in that.’
‘Of course you can, there’s no need to be embarrassed, we’re friends. I’ve done this a million times with patients. I’ll be discreet, I promise.’
Donna came to the bed and placed the bedpan on the blanket. She reached for the button on Surtsey’s jeans and undid them.
Surtsey squirmed. ‘I’ve changed my mind, I don’t need.’
‘Don’t be silly, it’s just me.’
Donna pulled her jeans and pants down to her tied ankles.
Surtsey felt the draft on her legs, goosebumps on her skin at the exposure. ‘Don’t.’
Donna pushed at her buttocks, rolled her torso over as far as it would go with the constrained legs, slid the bedpan under her bum and rolled her back.
‘On you go.’
‘I can’t.’
Donna smiled. ‘I won’t look, how about that.’
She turned and faced the door of the bothy.
Surtsey released her bladder, the relief overwhelming. So humiliating. She couldn’t get her legs spread enough and the pee ran in rivulets down the inside of her thighs and buttocks into the bedpan, uncomfortable warmth mixed with shame and relief. She seemed to pee forever and worried the bedpan would overflow. Eventually the stream stopped, the last drips trickling into the pan wedged under her bum.
Donna turned. ‘Good girl.’
She rolled Surtsey over and removed the bedpan, placing it on the floor. She went to the holdall and took out toilet roll and wet wipes.
‘I’ll sort you,’ she said. She dabbed with folded up squares of toilet paper, then a cold wipe against Surtsey’s buttocks. She dropped the paper and wipes in the bedpan and eased Surtsey’s hips straight. Her fingers lingered on the skin of her waist for a moment, then she went to the bottom of the bed and wriggled Surtsey’s pants and trousers up, Surtsey lifting her hips to let her.
‘I’ll get rid of this,’ Donna said, picking up the bedpan from the floor and heading out the door, which stayed open.
Surtsey angled her head to see out. She could make out a swathe of volcanic rock, the black bubbles and jags of it sweeping towards shore. She looked for the jetty, a boat, anything out on the water, but couldn’t see from here. She strained at her wrist and ankle ties but they didn’t budge. She flopped back on the bed exhausted, head thumping, heart jumping in her ribs, the skin on her face tingling.
Donna filled the doorway, silhouetted against the thin cloud outside, the shimmering sea. Surtsey tried to think what time it was, what day even. She’d slept for seven hours, at least that’s what Donna said. Did that mean it was early morning of the next day?
‘What’s your plan?’ she said, as Donna came in and pulled the door behind her.
‘What do you mean?’
‘We can’t stay here forever.’
‘Why not?’
Surtsey shook her head. ‘There will a research team on the island soon.’ She raised her eyes to the roof, thinking. ‘The next one is scheduled for tomorrow, I think. They’ll come to the hut.’
Donna laughed. ‘It’s so sweet you think you can lie to me.’
‘I’m not lying.’
‘I checked the research trip schedule online, there isn’t one for ten days. But it doesn’t matter, the police have put a stop to any island visits because it’s a crime scene.’
‘But they already did forensic tests.’
Donna shrugged. ‘Who knows? Anyway, we won’t be discovered for a long time, and by then I’ll have another plan.’
Surtsey was about to speak when the ground shook under them. Another tremor. Donna braced herself against the roof and the doorframe. Surtsey felt vulnerable, spread-eagle on the bed. The aluminium legs of the bed scraped and rattled against the concrete floor and the bed shifted a couple of inches away from the wall and into the room.
The quake kept going. Normally a few seconds and these shocks were over but this grumbled on, a low level buzz of the earth amplifying to a shiver then jerks, each one making Surtsey’s muscles clench. The loaf of bread fell over on the table, the knife bumped off the plate where it had been placed, the water bottles arranged along the wall shimmied and danced, nudging each other as if sharing a secret. As long as the bothy didn’t shake apart, as long as the stove stayed in one piece and the windows in their frames, they were OK.
After a minute or more
