Chapter 35
The full stop
Connor
“I’m fine,” she insists, but her voice sounds different. “I love you.”
Finally hearing those words come from Tilly should fill me with joy, but all I have is a sinking feeling in my stomach. Something’s not right.
“I love you too. I’ll be there as soon as I can, hold on, okay? Just stay on the line…”
But the call cuts off. Tilly would never just hang up like that; it must be some sort of mistake. Trying to convince myself it was just the signal dipping out, I try to call her back.
Please answer, please answer, please answer…
She doesn’t. The call rings out, and that’s when I start to really panic. This isn’t like Tilly. I know something’s wrong; I can feel it.
What do I do?
The noise of the traffic, the smell of the ocean, the sea breeze on my skin; I’m overwhelmed by sensations. But I need to find Tilly and make sure she’s alright. I turn in the direction of the pier and start walking. Fast.
She was fine when I left her this morning, I try to reason with myself. It’s only been a couple of hours, surely nothing could have changed drastically in that time?
But what if it has? What if something’s triggered her and she’s spiralling alone without me to ground her? To pull her back?
I pick up my pace until I’m in a full sprint, dodging tourists and crossing roads without giving a shit if I get run over or not.
People around me carry on with their daily lives, eating fish and chips while dodging seagulls, spending time with their families on the beach.
How can they just go on while my world could be crashing down around me?
I finally arrive at the pier. I’m not moving fast enough. I need to get to the other end, but it’s packed with people buying doughnuts and queuing for fairground rides.
“Move!” I call over the chatter, trying to push my way through the crowd. “Get out of the way!”
I keep shouting, my voice cracking with emotion, and the throng finally starts to part, making a path barely wide enough to get through.
Panting, I reach the end and look around, hoping to see Tilly sitting on one of the benches reading her book or coming out of one of the huts carrying a souvenir. Or just to see her at all.
I scan every face, desperate to see hers smiling back at me. But what I find instead is her bag propped up against the railing. It hasn’t been dropped or thrown to the side. It’s been placed. This was intentional.
I try to swallow down my rising alarm as I walk over to her bag and bend down to check the contents. Purse, book, phone with a missed call from me: this is definitely her bag.
“Where the hell are you, Til?” I ask the open air.
That’s when I notice the brown paper bag next to Tilly’s belongings. With shaky hands, I open it, and my heart shatters when I pull out a love spoon with our names engraved on the back. She bought this for us. As a keepsake?
No. As a goodbye.
Realisation kicks in with a wave of terror so consuming I keel over and retch all over the boardwalk.
Pull yourself together. Tilly needs you.
Heaving myself up, my spinning head protesting the movement, I lean over the railing and scan the water for any sign of Tilly.
There’s nothing. The sea is eerily calm, and the sound of the world carrying on around me suddenly mutes.
The silence is crushing. All I can hear is the sound of my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.
Having scanned the entire sea, I turn towards the beach, and my blood runs cold. My eyes land on a figure near the shoreline – bare feet, arms limp at her sides, wind tugging at her wet hair – Tilly.
For a moment all I can do is stare, my brain refusing to connect the dots. Then my chest caves in at a single, crushing truth: She’s not okay.
Suddenly, I’m moving, racing through the swarm of people, not caring who I shove along the way. I trip over the boards of the pier, nearly falling, my legs not working fast enough. I shout her name once, twice – my voice raw and broken – but the wind steals the sound, and Tilly doesn’t turn.
She just can’t hear you from here. The lie doesn’t ease my dread.
When I finally make it down to the beach, my biggest fear is confirmed.
“Tilly?” I’m frozen in place, unable to move closer.
This can’t be real.
Tilly’s drenched, motionless body lies on the sand.
Her pale skin is verging on grey, her lips a shocking shade of frostbitten blue.
A woman – the mother of the two young children watching from a distance with their father, I assume – thrusts her overlapping hands into Tilly’s delicate chest. The woman turns to the others who have crowded around.
“Where’s that ambulance?” she pants, never letting up her pace.
Her call pulls me out of my own head and back into reality. “Get out of the way! I need to get to her!”
I race towards Tilly, drawn to her like a magnet, and land on my knees next to her. The woman performing CPR ignores me, focused instead on keeping Tilly alive.
“Tilly?” I repeat a little louder, hoping to see some sign of life.
I stroke the hair from her face and flinch – her skin is ice, even under the sun.
I take her hand in mine, rubbing it to warm her up, and I notice something’s different.
I realise immediately she’s taken her wedding rings off.
She truly meant this to be the end. The full stop on our short chapter together.
But that can’t happen. This isn’t the end of our story.
I lean down and whisper in her ear, “The ambulance will be here soon, you just have to hold on. Just hold on, baby.”
Stay with me, Tilly. Please.