Ellie took a shaky breath and looked away from the screen. Cars roared at her back, strangers she would never meet going places she would never visit. The surface of the Forth was choppy with the wind. The water was sepia today, a thin muddiness, white smudges of waves everywhere. It gave the impression of constant movement. She spotted a train heading south across the rail bridge, a small two-carriage affair, and beyond that three oil tankers were lined up at the fuelling depot. Ellie imagined pressing pause on the world, two vertical lines flashing in front of her eyes, the train freezing on the track, waves stalling, traffic behind her suddenly motionless, caught in that instant, the glorious moment before everything went to shit. She imagined the silence of it, no traffic roar, no rush of the ocean, no clack of train wheels. No thoughts in her head, none whatsoever.

  She looked down at the screen.

  Pressed play.

  Logan stepped off the bridge and dropped out of view of the security camera.

  She closed her eyes. Counted in her head.

  One elephant.

  Two elephants.

  Three elephants.

  Four elephants.

  Five elephants.

  Six elephants.

  He had hit the water.

  She went online months ago and found out how long it took. Easy enough to get an answer. Falling from a forty-five-metre bridge took approximately 5.6 seconds. Less than six elephants.

  What went through his mind? Happy and serene as he plummeted through the air, or full of regret? Panic and terror, or his mind still racing with all the clutter and debris that we each carry around with us? Maybe he passed out, pissed or shat himself, screamed until his throat was torn.

  She looked out over the firth and breathed. Put a hand against the railing to steady herself as a gust of wind swept up the walkway.

  She looked at her phone, swiped off Videos, opened Facebook, went to his page. Two messages since last time, both girls, just kisses and hearts. Girls were better at that than boys, better at remembering, not caring about looking soft. She didn’t recognise either of the girls who’d posted. That was Logan’s world, not hers. They had the same world to begin with, but we all make our own worlds as we grow up, create our own universes, propagate our way through the madness alone.

  She typed quickly:

  Miss you more every day. Love you always. Mum xxx

  It was pathetic and insignificant and inadequate.

  She stared at the words for a few seconds then typed Sam’s name into the search box, clicked through. Checked his page for messages then flicked through his pictures. Zoomed in on a few. He had a cute smile, beautiful eyes that he hid behind that fringe. He would be a handsome man someday soon.

  Ellie put her phone away and strode off the bridge. It was time for action.

  31

  The marina was quiet. After the roar of the bridge Ellie always felt an emptiness, a vacuum in her waiting to be filled. She walked past the Bosun’s Locker, not open yet, then Karinka’s Kitchen, no one inside. The door to the sailing clubhouse was padlocked, and the only place she spied activity was in the coastguard Portakabin where a guy was hanging up his bulky jacket, starting his shift.

  She pictured Ben back in bed. She liked being up and about while he slept, enjoyed being awake before the world, something about the isolation gave her power, a subtle authority. She imagined Sam and Libby in the boat, still wrapped in bedcovers, maybe just coming round. She tried to picture Jack and Alison at Inchcolm Terrace. Had Alison believed anything Ellie told her? If so, surely she couldn’t share a bed with him. Or maybe she’d ignored the accusations, put them to the back of her mind. Maybe she’d brought it up but Jack had talked her round. He was persuasive, Ellie knew that from the car yesterday, he could make you feel sorry for him, as if he was the victim. She was glad she went straight to Sam and Libby afterwards. The look on Libby’s face wiped away any sympathy she might’ve had for Jack, any doubt she harboured about what had happened.

  She was at the gate to the pier now. Keyed in her number, Logan’s birthday, reminders everywhere. The door clicked open and she walked down the steps. She wasn’t looking forward to today. Libby would have it tough, but Ellie would be there, support her. She wouldn’t let any harm come to Libby or Sam.

  She made her way along the pontoon, the ebb of the waves making it rock underfoot. The wind was stronger at sea level, a westerly straight down the Forth into her face as she walked, twenty knots maybe. Decent sailing weather, as long as it didn’t get any stronger.

  She got to the Porpoise. No sign of activity on deck. There was one old-timer on his dinghy further up the pontoon, someone Ellie knew to say hello to, and she nodded and raised a hand in reply to his greeting.

  She pulled the painter rope attached to the bow, the boat nudged against the pontoon and she stepped on board. Over the secured rigging and round to the door of the cabin. The door was slid back, the two of them must be up and about inside.

  Ellie started down the stairs.

  ‘Morning,’ she said. A flash of memory came to her, shouting into Logan’s room as he lay under his covers, motionless. Time to get up for school and all that.

  Ellie reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped.

  Three people were staring at her.

  Sam, Libby and Jack.

  ‘Hello, Ellie,’ Jack said. He had his hands out in supplication, almost pleading.

  Ellie looked from him to Libby, who was cowering on the edge of the bench. Sam was standing between Jack and Libby. The four of them now in the cabin made it cramped, the air thick.

  ‘Get out,’ Ellie said.

  Jack shook his head. ‘I just want to talk to my kids.’

  He put one hand to his stomach, pulled his face into a grimace.

  ‘They don’t want to talk to you,’ Ellie said. ‘Get off my boat.’

  ‘They’re my kids,’ Jack said. ‘Of course they want to talk to me. This is all a misunderstanding.’

  Sam had his hands tense at his sides. ‘You heard her, get the fuck out of here.’

  Jack raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t talk to me like that, please.’ His voice was level, quiet.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ Sam said. ‘I can’t believe you have the nerve to look either of us in the eye after what you did.’

  ‘I haven’t done anything,’ Jack said. ‘Ask Libby.’

  He turned to her. She was like a turtle trying to duck inside its shell, her legs pulled up tight, shoulders hunched, head turned to the side.

  ‘She’s scared to death of you,’ Sam said. ‘Leave us alone.’

  ‘I can’t do that,’ Jack said. ‘You’re my kids.’

  ‘We don’t want anything to do with you,’ Sam said.

  Jack turned to Ellie, pleading. ‘Can’t you speak to them?’

  Ellie took a step forward. ‘Why should I?’

  ‘This is all a mistake.’ Jack’s voice wavered now, breaking up. It looked like he might start crying. He took a step towards Libby. ‘Lib, come home with your dad, please. It’ll all be fine, I promise.’

  Sam moved closer to Jack. ‘Get the hell out of here.’

  ‘How did you find us?’ Libby said.

  The sound of her voice made everyone pause.

  Jack looked round the cabin, like a quiz show contestant searching for the right answer.

  ‘I’m a police officer, honey,’ he said. ‘It’s my job to find out things. I discovered Ellie had a boat. As soon as it was light I came down, on the off chance. I got lucky.’

  ‘Unlucky for us,’ Sam said.

  Jack reached out to him but Sam batted the hand away. ‘Sam, I know you’ve had problems.’

  Sam shook his head. ‘Don’t turn this round, this isn’t about me.’

  Jack was still talking. ‘I know you’ve heard voices, been depressed, tried to kill yourself.’

  Libby sat forward. ‘What?’

  ‘Three times, Lib, that we know of.’

  ‘You mean apart from the bridge?’ Libby said.

  Jack looked puzzled. ‘What happened on the bridge?’ He turned to Ellie, a look coming across his face. ‘That’s where you met him. He was going to jump. I bet it was the morning he stabbed me.’

  ‘I can’t believe I didn’t finish the job,’ Sam said through his teeth.

  Jack was still staring at Ellie. ‘You see how unstable he is? How he talks?’ He turned to Sam. ‘Son, it’s OK, we can get you help. I haven’t told the police about the stabbing, I said I couldn’t remember.’

  Sam shook his head. ‘That’s only so they don’t find out why I did it.’

  ‘That’s not true, nothing happened.’ Jack looked at his daughter. ‘Tell them, Lib.’

  She didn’t speak. She cowered back, trying to squeeze her body into the crevice at the side of the cabin.

  Jack took a step forward. He could almost reach out and touch her. Sam intervened, put a hand on his dad’s chest. Jack looked at the hand, then at Sam’s face.

  ‘Don’t,’ he said.

  ‘Or what?’

  Jack’s eyes were welling up. ‘I just want my family back.’ A crack in his voice.

  ‘It’s too late for that,’ Sam said. ‘We’re going to the police, right now. That’s why Ellie’s here, she’s taking Libby to tell them everything you’ve done to her.’

  Jack reached out to the girl. ‘Libby, honey, don’t do that. Don’t lie to them.’

  Sam pushed Jack in the chest and he rocked back on his heels. ‘Fuck off.’

  Jack still had his eyes on his daughter, crouched in the corner.

  ‘If you tell them those lies, I’ll have to tell them about your brother trying to kill me,’ Jack said. ‘It’ll all come out.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Libby said, shaking.

  ‘He’ll probably go to prison,’ Jack said. ‘Is that what you want?’

  ‘That’s enough,’ Ellie said.

  Sam looked at his sister. ‘Don’t listen to him, Lib. He’s just trying to save his own skin.’

  ‘I’m not, honey, honestly,’ Jack said. ‘Come home and we can put all this behind us.’

  He inched closer to Libby. Sam pushed at him but Jack didn’t budge. Ellie stepped closer, took hold of Jack’s arm but he didn’t respond, didn’t even seem to notice.

  ‘Your brother won’t survive in prison,’ Jack said.

  ‘Shut the fuck up,’ Sam said.

  ‘He’s already tried to kill himself all those times,’ Jack said. ‘He won’t get the right treatment in prison, the right medication. He’ll either kill himself or someone else will do it.’

  Libby’s face was scrunched up, tears on her cheeks.

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘You heard her,’ Ellie said. ‘Leave. Now.’

  Jack turned. He looked for all the world as if he was sorry, a lost little boy looking for his parents.

  ‘I can’t leave without Libby,’ he said.

  ‘You’ll have to,’ Sam said, his hand still on Jack’s chest.

  Jack reached past Sam and grabbed Libby’s wrist. She tried to wriggle free but he held on easily. Sam pushed at his arm as Ellie had her hands on his shoulders trying to pull him away.

  ‘Get your hands off me,’ Libby shouted, the sound echoing round the cabin.

  ‘Come on.’ Jack yanked at her arm and Libby was lifted off her backside, sliding on to the floor then staggering to her feet. Ellie thought she saw something glint on the bench behind her. Libby was feeling at her back, fingers grasping air then scrabbling across the top of the bench.

  Jack gave her wrist a heave and Libby lurched forward. Sam pushed Jack who stumbled but then righted himself, Ellie still tugging at his back, trying to pull him away. Libby took a step back, picked up the scissors she’d been searching for on the bench, and gripped them tight in her fist. She lifted them above her shoulder and plunged them down into Jack’s stomach just below his ribcage.

  ‘No,’ Ellie shouted, reaching for the scissors.

  ‘Get off,’ Libby screamed, pulling the scissors out then thrusting them back in again. She repeated the movement, in and out, in and out. Ellie grabbed for the scissors and felt a slice of pain up the palm of her hand. Jack fell backwards making Ellie lose her balance. She pushed a hand out to catch herself from falling. Jack went forward again, but he fell right into Libby’s fist gripping the scissors.

  ‘Keep your hands to yourself,’ Libby said, pushing the scissors into Jack’s stomach one more time.

  Sam hauled her back. ‘No, Lib.’

  The scissors clattered to the floor. Jack roared and threw Ellie off his back, launching himself at Libby. His hands went round her throat and he squeezed, Libby’s neck straining as she tried to take in air. Sam pushed at his dad’s face and neck, trying to prise him off, then shoved at his arms, but he couldn’t release Jack’s grip. He reached to the floor and picked up the scissors then plunged them into the flesh of Jack’s neck just above his collarbone. Jack staggered backwards, grasping at the handle of the scissors, blood spraying between his fingers. He couldn’t get a purchase on them, kept fumbling at it, his throat gurgling, eyes wild, snot dripping from his nose. He stumbled to the doorway of the cabin, his palms slapping on the banisters, then began hauling himself up the stairs, moaning and grunting.

  Ellie looked around. Libby and Sam were on the bench, wide eyed. She darted forward, grabbed a cable from the equipment box then lunged at Jack halfway up the stairs, wrapping the cord around his neck, criss-crossing it over and heaving herself backwards, pushing against the wall with her feet until Jack’s grip on the banister came loose and he fell on top of her. The boat rocked with the force of their landing, Jack’s hands reaching behind his head, scratching at Ellie’s face as she pulled the cable tighter. She held on as his breath shortened, his legs thrashing at the bottom of the stairs, trying to get purchase on anything. He pushed himself into Ellie, sending them both shunting along the floor until Ellie’s head bumped the leg of the table, but she held on, struggling for breath under his weight. Jack’s hands reached for the cord around his neck, pushing his fingers against it, trying to pull it away from the skin, blood pulsing out the wounds in his stomach and neck. But he couldn’t get any relief. Ellie pulled tight, the muscles in her arms burning, her neck taut, every sinew stretched as far as it would go, every ounce of strength in her body used.

  Jack stopped struggling and slumped, his head falling back and smacking Ellie in the mouth. She moved her head sideways, spitting his hair from her teeth, gasping, her chest struggling to rise and fall under his weight. She kept tight hold of the ends of the cord, waiting, listening, expecting something, but nothing happened.

  She let go of the cable. Heaved air into her lungs. Shoved at Jack’s body, rolled it to the side and began shuffling out from underneath, sliding away from him.

  She was covered in blood. She panted, gulping in air, her legs shaking, her body trembling from shock and adrenalin. She looked at the bench. Sam had his arms round Libby, her face buried in his chest. She was sobbing, hands pressed into her lap. Sam was staring at Jack. He turned to Ellie with a look.

  Ellie held her hands out in front of her and stared at them. The skin was raw and moist where she’d gripped the cable. Jack’s blood was smeared in the creases and folds of her skin. One palm was sliced by the scissors.

  She crawled on her hands and knees over to Jack’s body. Blood was oozing from his collarbone, pooling under his back, his clothes wet from the wounds to his stomach and chest.

  Ellie put two fingers to his neck, felt for a pulse. Then she took his wrist, did the same. Waited, trying to regulate her own heart rate. Finally she knelt by his face and put a hand over his mouth and nose, feeling for breath.

  She slumped down on her haunches and looked at Sam. Shook her head.

  Libby lifted her face out of her brother’s chest and saw Ellie. Ellie looked at the scissors sticking out of Jack’s neck, the cord still digging into the skin around his throat. She put one hand against his shoulder and pulled the scissors out, dropping them on the floor. Blood came bubbling out the wound and down his back. Then Ellie lifted the back of Jack’s head and unwrapped the cable. It was only with the cable in her hand that she realised what it was. The kill cord, for cutting the power to the engine if you fell overboard, so you didn’t get chopped up by the propellers.

  Libby was crying, shaking, trying to squirm into Sam’s body. Sam had a glassy look on his face, staring at his dad’s corpse in the middle of the cabin.

  ‘What do we do now?’ he said.

  Ellie wiped her hands on the thighs of her jeans, felt the pain on her palms as she did so. She looked round the cabin, shook her head then pulled her phone out.

  32

  They waited on deck. It was risky out here, the kids could get recognised, but none of them could stay another moment below with Jack. Libby had been freaking out, hysterical, Sam just staring, so Ellie had shoved caps on their heads and pushed them upstairs and out the cabin. Now the pair of them were hunched in the stern, Ellie pacing up and down the starboard side, pretending to check the rigging, trying to stop her hands shaking as she looked out for him.

  And there he was. Ben.

  She watched him approach the boat and tried to freeze-frame the moment, imprint it on her memory, the instant before she dragged the man she loved into this shitstorm. Maybe she should still protect him, turn him away, stop him coming on board. She hadn’t told him anything on the phone, just that she needed him straight away. She could force him to turn round right now but the truth was she needed him, she couldn’t do this alone.

  She didn’t stop him climbing on board.

  He frowned when he saw her face. ‘What’s up?’

  She felt herself close to tears.

  He looked at Sam and Libby. ‘That’s them?’

  Ellie nodded.

  He turned to them. ‘Hi.’

 

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