Page 36 of Reckless

Elias shifted a few seats down, leaving a gap of empty chairs between us like a buffer zone. The dog stretched out beside him, chin on its paws, one eye cracked open, watching me with the same untrusting gaze of its owner.

The day had dawned overcast. The water in the harbour was flat, the colour of old tin. Seagulls squabbled over something on the far pier, their cries sharp and thin in the still air. I could smell salt and diesel and the faint, sour tang of my own sweat and vomit and blood clinging to my clothes.

I curled my fingers into the soggy fabric and held on.

The barge wouldn’t come for hours. There was nowhere to go. Nothing to do except hold my shirt against my aching head, sit here on this cold plastic seat with a man who didn’t ask questions and a dog with stitches in its head and side, and wait to go home to Dauntless.

Chapter 12

ALASTAIR

The knock on my door came some time before dawn. I was still awake—I’ll confess I couldn’t sleep, worrying about Robbie in Newcastle. I opened the door, stupidly hoping it would be him. That he’d decided not to go.

But it wasn’t Robbie who stood there, though for a moment my weary brain didn’t compute it. At first glance it could have been him—in the darkness, the unruly dark curls and the longish nose had the rough sketch of him—but then the woman lifted her chin and said, “Doc Jones? I’m Katrina. Katrina Finch.”

His sister.

In that moment, my stomach plummeted. I thought she had news about Robbie—bad news. That he’d got himself killed winding up the wrong guy in Newcastle, or that the boat had capsized and Robbie had drowned. I imagined all sorts of horrible things in the few seconds before she looked at me, and I saw in the faint glow of the hallway light that her eyes were wet and red. But before I could ask her if anything had happened to Robbie, she said, “It’s Anna.”

I’d known this moment was coming. I wouldn’t say it was a shock, exactly. I’d seen Anna yesterday, and it was clear she was unlikely to last much longer. She hadn’t said much, and I hadn’t said much, but I’d sat at her bedside for a while after I’d given her some pain relief and waited until it worked. I could tell Archie Hooper desperately wanted me out of the house, so after a quiet goodbye to Anna, I’d left so she could spend her remaining time with her family.

“Let me get my bag,” I said, and went upstairs first and pulled on yesterday’s clothes. Then I got my bag from the clinic, not one of those old-fashioned black leather ones that gave itself away from the shape alone. This one looked like the sort the paramedics carried back in the city. It was green, with reflective straps and pockets and compartments all over the place. It was practical and utilitarian, but it had no gravitas, and I suddenly, irrationally, hated it. I slung it over my shoulder anyway and headed outside.

The dawn wasn’t here yet, but the blackness of the sky had softened into a hazy sort of greyness. The stars had faded, or perhaps they were simply hidden under an overcast sky. There was a chill bite to the air, the sort of weather Neal laughingly used to call brisk as he opened the door in his ridiculous cycling gear, wheeling his bike out of the house while I swore at him for letting the cold in.

Katrina Finch and I walked in silence up towards Anna’s house. We passed a few men on their way to the fishing boats at the jetty, men who turned to watch us as we walked, but most of the village was still asleep, doors closed and windows dark.

“You’re up early,” I said, when I couldn’t bear the silence any longer.

“Always am,” Katrina said. “But I’m to do the milking today because Robbie’s on the mainland. I had a cottage pie to drop in and wanted to catch Archie before he went out on the boat, to save Anna from getting out of bed.” Her mouth pressed into a shaking line for a moment, and then she said, “Archie asked me to fetch you. He says she’s very near the end.”

The lights were on at the Hoopers’ house, and the front door was unlocked when Katrina led the way inside. Although I suspected that nobody on Dauntless locked their doors.

Inside, Jemmy was sitting on the bottom step, a knitted rug tugged tightly around his shoulders and his bare feet paddling the stone floor. Harriet was seated two steps up from him, her hair a tangled mess and her expression set into a stubborn scowl that reminded me of her father.

“Come on, you two,” Katrina said. “Shift over so the doctor can go upstairs and see Mum.”

The twins both bum-shuffled to the side as I headed up the stairs.

Anna was in bed, her thin face bathed in the light from the lamp on the bedside table. She was propped up with three pillows, and looked as though she was sinking into them, even though she weighed next to nothing. She looked as frail and weak as an old woman. Archie sat on a chair beside the bed, one of Anna’s narrow, insubstantial hands clasped between his. He lifted his gaze when I entered the room, and then looked away again.

Anna did her best to smile at me. “Alastair.”

I sat down, the mattress dipping underneath me. I took her free hand, and pressed my fingers against the pulse in her wrist. It was weak. “How are you feeling?”

“I’d hoped to see one more sunrise.” She drew a shaking breath, her body jolting weakly with the effort.

“Are you in pain?”

She nodded and curled her fingers over to touch mine. “I’m ready.”

Archie’s shoulders shook.

I’d discussed palliative sedation with Anna previously, and it was clear that she was in the terminal stages of the disease. Without intervention, she would only have hours or days left at most, and the only thing I could do for her now was to ease her suffering with Midazolam and morphine.

I laid Anna’s hand back on the blankets and began to prepare the IV. “After this, you’ll stay asleep.”

We’d discussed this too; this would be her last chance to speak to Archie and the twins.