Chapter 18
We run – down the steep path to the beach, rocks and scree scattering under our feet.
A man is gesticulating, his voice raised.
I recognise him immediately – Will Penhelion.
He seems to be trying to direct the paramedics.
He pushes one away and goes to the body, leaning over.
He immediately starts CPR. One of the policemen goes over to him, but he doesn’t stop.
My legs liquify. I grab Bridget; she grabs me.
Then, in unison, we let go of each other, skid down the final few metres to reach the sand, and start to run.
‘Connor!’ I scream. But even as the words leave my mouth, I breathe in the salt air of relief.
Connor is on the beach skulking near one of the paramedics, his clothes dripping wet.
He glances in our direction, then turns and legs it towards the other end of the beach.
‘Connor!’ Bridget cries, but I stop running.
‘Let him go,’ I say. ‘He’s OK. But someone’s not.’
As we approach, a female police officer holds up a hand. ‘No closer, ma’am,’ she says. Bridget and I back off to a discreet distance.
‘What happened?’ I ask her. But she’s already turned back towards the body and the paramedics. Meanwhile, another noise grows louder. A speedboat coming to shore… one I instantly recognise.
Ollie jumps out of the boat into the lacy surf and pulls the craft onto the shore. I wave but he doesn’t see me. Instead, he goes over to his cousin.
‘Will!’ he shouts. ‘What’s going on?’
‘See for yourself,’ Will shouts back. He lowers his voice and says something else that I can’t make out.
‘Come on!’ Ollie goes up to him and gets in his face. ‘You know this is nothing to do with me.’
‘I wish I did.’
I stare from one to the other. Ollie clenches his fists, looking like he’s about to punch his cousin. One of the paramedics seems to think so too, because he goes up to Ollie and tries to intervene.
‘You can’t be here, sir,’ he says. ‘Please can you step away.’
‘What about him?’ Ollie points at Will.
‘He’s a doctor. He’s here to help.’
‘I’m here to help too.’
‘I’m sure you are,’ the paramedic says. ‘But right now, the best way to do that is to give us some space.’
‘Fine.’ Ollie glares at Will, but he does move away.
I’m taken aback by what I’ve witnessed – I knew there was bad blood between the Penhelion cousins, but it seems worse than I’d thought. But just then, Ollie catches sight of me and the lines of rage on his face ease.
‘Juno.’ He comes over. ‘Hey, it’s great to see you.’ Leaning in, he gives me a peck on the cheek. ‘Do you know what happened?’
‘No.’ I try to hide my flushed face from Bridget. ‘Just what it looks like: a body washed up on the beach. I’m not sure if they’re alive or dead, just that Will tried to give them CPR.’
‘Sure he did.’ He frowns.
I regret mentioning his cousin, but this is not the time for me to get involved in the feud. One of the paramedics pulls a sheet over the body on the stretcher.
Will checks his watch. ‘Time of death, 8.52 a.m.,’ he says.
Bowing his head, he turns and begins walking away down the beach in the direction of his house. No one makes a move to stop him.
‘Bloody knob,’ Ollie says under his breath.
‘Stop it.’ I’m startled to hear Bridget speak. ‘Someone just died. Be respectful.’
Ollie looks at her, clearly surprised.
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘You’re right – it’s just, he winds me up. Just because the rest of us aren’t fancy surgeons doesn’t mean we’re dirt beneath his shoe. Or that he’s never put a foot wrong…’
‘Someone. Just. Died,’ I say through my teeth. ‘Please, Ollie.’
His face shadows with anger, and the people pleaser in me wants to back down. But I’m not going to. I stand my ground, refusing to lower my eyes from his.
He blinks first. ‘Yeah, OK, sorry, Juno. I need to go now, but I’ll call you. I know I should have done it earlier – we’ve just been really busy with the tourists.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say, though really, it isn’t. ‘I understand.’
‘Great.’ He gives me a brief smile and no kiss, and heads back down the beach to his boat. The police are gathered around the paramedics, who are putting the corpse into a body bag, but the female officer follows after Ollie. ‘Mr Penhelion,’ she says. ‘Do you have a moment?’
‘Not really.’
‘It’s about your cousin.’
Ollie pauses and I’m sure he’ll use the opportunity to slag off Will as some kind of criminal.
But instead, he shakes his head, refusing to engage.
He yanks the rope of his boat and launches the craft into the surf.
A second later, he’s jumped aboard. The boat roars off, splashing the policewoman in its wake.
‘What a great guy,’ Bridget says. ‘You sure know how to pick ’em.’
‘Stop it,’ I say. ‘Ollie’s perfectly nice. And anyway, this isn’t about him.’
‘No, it’s not,’ she says. ‘But we’d better hope it’s not about Connor.’
‘What do you mean…?’
‘Excuse me, ma’am.’ A plainclothes male officer comes over to us. ‘Are you Mrs Cartwright?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Where’s your son? He was here a few minutes ago, was he not?’
‘Yes.’ I look at Bridget; she gives a little shake of her head.
‘We’d like to speak to him.’
A dark hole of panic opens up in my stomach.
‘Speak to him? Why?’
‘He found the body.’
‘Connor found…?’
‘Yes. It seems he saw a figure bobbing in the surf and waded out to help him. He tried to drag the body to shore, but was struggling with the undertow before Mr Penhelion came along. He pulled them both out and called 999.’
‘Is Connor OK?’
‘Far as I know.’ He looks annoyed that I’m focusing on my living son rather than the deceased. Clearly, he doesn’t have kids.
‘And the… person that was pulled out…’
‘Unfortunately, they didn’t make it.’
‘Yes, but who were they?’
‘There was no ID on the body,’ the officer says.
‘But if it was a swimmer or surfer,’ I say, ‘surely that’s not unusual.’
‘Or a victim of trafficking.’
‘Trafficking.’ I look at him, open-mouthed.
‘Your son has been seen in the company of another potential witness. When he returns, we’d very much like to speak to him.’ He hands me his card. ‘Call me and I’ll come back out. I assume your boy will return home when he’s hungry?’
‘Yes, he will.’
‘It’s not Med, is it?’
I turn to look at Bridget. She stares at the officer and then points to the body bag.
‘Med?’ The officer and I speak at the same time.
‘He’s a few years older than my brother. Maybe fourteen?’
‘The deceased was a grown man,’ he says. ‘Probably early thirties.’
‘Not him, then,’ I say, relieved.
‘No, but this “Med” may be the other boy we’re looking for. Do you know where I can find him?’
‘I think he comes from the caravan park,’ I say. ‘But I can’t be sure. I keep asking Connor to bring him round so I can meet him, but he hasn’t done so. I’ve actually wondered if he was Connor’s imaginary friend.’
Bridget shakes her head. ‘No. He’s real. I’ve seen him. But I don’t think he comes from the caravan park.’
‘Look,’ I say, tired of her – and Connor – withholding information. ‘If you know something, Bridget, then please tell the officer.’
‘I don’t know anything,’ she says. That invisible teenage wall slams down between us. ‘Are we done here?’
‘That’s all for now,’ the officer says. ‘But let me know when your son returns, Mrs Cartwright. Or if you see his friend.’
‘I will,’ I say.
Bridget and I turn to go. I’m suddenly aware of the cold wind coming off the ocean hitting me full in the face along with the force of what’s happened. A body washed up on the beach.
And somehow, Connor’s involved.