Page 115 of Washed Up

‘If it was from the statue that day,’ piped up Dylan, who had been listening intently.

Lily stared at him, eyes wide. ‘Yes. Exactly. He hasn’t been right since that day. What if he did himself some damage?’

Frankie nodded. ‘It’s a possibility. Let’s see what Dr Mac says.’

Lily put her head in her hands on the table. ‘This damn island. If we were on the mainland, he’d be in hospital already.’

Frankie rubbed her shoulder. ‘But he’d be utterly miserable,’ she said quietly.

‘That’s true,’ said Lily.

They waited and waited and eventually Dr Mac emerged, his face lined with worry. He looked round at them all.

‘He’s alive,’ he said. ‘All thanks to Lily. But he’s seriously ill, I’m afraid. It looks like internal bleeding to me. Potentially that’s what’s caused the heart attack.’

Frankie let out a sob and Dylan squeezed her hand. Sally put down the mugs and slipped onto a chair at the end of the table, adding her own hand to the pile.

‘So, what now, Doc?’ said Dylan.

‘We need to get him to the mainland as fast as we can.’

‘Speedboat?’ said Frankie. ‘But he’ll be so uncomfortable.’

‘It’s the only way I can think of,’ said Dr Mac. ‘Time is of the essence. Every minute we talk is potentially a minute’s more damage. The main issue is, how do we get him to the harbour?’

Frankie did some fast calculations in her head. ‘I can get the tractor and trailer or the ATV, but we’d have to drive so slowly or all the bumps and potholes might make things worse.’

‘Could we carry him?’ said Lily, looking around at them all.

‘He’s heavy,’ said Sally. ‘But we could try.’

‘Hold on,’ said Dylan, and all eyes turned to him. ‘What if I had another way?’

Frankie stared at him for a moment or two, her shell-shocked mind on go-slow. ‘The helicopter,’ she breathed, a seed of hope swelling in her chest.

Dylan nodded. ‘I can have someone here in fifteen minutes if they scramble.’

‘What, do you have a helicopter on standby or something?’ said Sally incredulously. ‘That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.’

But Dr Mac’s voice was urgent, his brown eyes intense. ‘Dylan, do you have a helicopter on standby? Please tell me you do.’

Dylan shrugged. ‘Yes. Basically. As good as. We have someone on contract, but it’ll depend on where they are right now. It’s not a medical helicopter or anything, though. Does that matter?’

‘It’ll have to do. He’s not in full arrest, I think he could manage to travel sitting up, so long as we’re quick.’

‘Let me make a call,’ said Dylan.

‘Do it,’ said the doctor, although they could see he was already dialling.

Dylan was even better than his word. In less than ten minutes they were carrying her father across the grass to the meadow, ducking under the whirring blades of a helicopter, hearts in their mouths.

They strapped Brian into a seat as best they could. Lily and Frankie were helped up into the cabin, Dr Mac facing them, and Dylan clambered into the front seat next to the pilot. Sally waved them off from the field, tears staining her cheeks, Blondie having appeared at her side like the excellent emotional support dog she was. As they took off, it occurred to Frankie that she’d ordinarily be excited for her first ride in a helicopter, but all she could think about was her dad, slumped beside her, breathing heavily.

His skin was still a funny kind of grey colour but although he didn’t seem able to talk, he had managed a little smile when he’d laid eyes on Frankie, and that, that smile, was everything.

It was also potentially the shortest helicopter ride in history, as within minutes they were passing over the only hospital on Guernsey. Frankie frowned at Lily, then patted Dylan on the arm.

‘Aren’t we stopping here?’ mouthed Frankie into her headset, which they’d been given to help them hear over the noise of the propellers.