The Girl From the Sea

  ‘Here.’ He places a steaming mug of tea on the counter in front of me, and I wrap my hands around it, the heat painfully good against my chilled fingers. He comes and sits next to me. Swivels around so my knees now face his. ‘Drink,’ he says.

  I take a sip of the scalding liquid, and grimace. ‘Too sweet.’

  ‘Good. It’s meant to be sweet. You need the sugar.’

  I make another face and take another sip.

  ‘Do you think it really was a memory?’ he asks. He leans forward and looks into my eyes, resting his hands on the outside of my lower thighs, just past my knees. I’m distracted by his closeness and I have to concentrate hard to make sense of his question. ‘Or could it have been another hallucination,’ he continues, ‘like the woman you saw in the graveyard and on the bandstand? Your mind was pretty messed up after the accident. You’re seeing a lot of strange stuff.’

  ‘That’s why I called you,’ I say. ‘I can’t seem to make sense of anything on my own. I needed to talk it through with someone.’

  ‘Did you recognise the person in the dream?’

  I shake my head. ‘No, I couldn’t make out their features at all. I told you, I only saw them through a layer of water. It was dark.’

  ‘Was it a man or a woman?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Where were you, exactly?’

  ‘In a boat, on the river.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ He frowns. ‘You were found on the beach. So how come you were on the river?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know. I suppose I could have beenout at sea. It was all so―’

  ‘So which was it, the sea or the river?’

  ‘I told you, I don’t know. It was dark.’ The images of the flashback crowd my mind again, my heart rate speeds up.

  ‘What were you doing out there at night?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s only a piece of the memory, I don’t know what I was doing before or after. Why are you asking all these questions?’

  ‘What were you wearing at the time?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know.’

  ‘What was the other person wearing?’

  ‘I don’t know . . . Please. Please stop asking me these questions.’ My head is pounding again, my stress levels through the roof. I don’t know why Jack is being so . . .

  ‘Are you on any medication?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Have you been drinking this evening? Taken any other substances?’

  ‘What? Jack! No, I haven’t taken anything.’

  He takes his hands from my legs and sits back upright. ‘Sorry, Mia. I wasn’t being aggressive on purpose. I was just asking you the types of questions the police will want to ask you. I’m preparing you for a long night of questioning. Do you think you’re up to it? I’m worried about you.’

  I can’t even answer, I’m so shaken.

  ‘Mia?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, taking my hand. ‘I overdid it. Forget those questions. I’ll take you to the station. If you finish your tea, we can go now.’

  I close my eyes for a moment. The thought of sitting in a cold police station at night, answering question after question about a scary memory is too overwhelming.

  Jack lets go of my hand and gets to his feet. ‘Shall we go?’

  ‘Do you think . . . Do you think it would be okay if we left it until the morning? It’s just . . . I’m so tired. If I could just get some sleep. Then I’d be fresher. Things might seem clearer.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ he says, with a frown. ‘Hopefully, they won’t be as forceful as I was. But I just wanted you to know what it might be like. I’m sure they’ll go easier on you.’

  ‘. . . I don’t know. I . . . Well . . . Okay. Maybe I should go. I guess the sooner I let them know, the sooner they can start looking into it.’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Let me get my coat,’ I say, standing up.

  ‘As long as you’re sure it was a real memory,’ he adds, ‘and not another dream or hallucination. Just be prepared – they might need you to speak to a psychiatrist, or someone in the medical profession to see if they can work out what’s true and what’s not.’

  ‘Oh God, yes. I suppose there’s all that,’ I say. ‘No, no. I don’t think I can handle it tonight. I’m too tired. And, you know – I guess it could have been another hallucination. The police did think it was an accident. Oh, I don’t know! I just don’t know.’ I put my mug back on the counter and cover my face with my hands.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I’ve made things worse.’

  ‘No, no you haven’t. I feel much better now you’re here.’

  ‘Really? Well, if you’re absolutely sure you don’t want me to take you tonight, then let’s not think about the police anymore. Come here.’ He puts his arms around me and I stand and lean against his chest. Happy to be comforted for a moment. To let all my confusion and fear melt away for a few seconds while I listen to his steady heartbeat, and breathe in his scent. We stand like that for a moment, until he leads me by the hand over to the sofa.

  He sits down and I sit next to him, catching my breath as he gazes into my eyes and runs a finger down my cheek. I wonder if he’s going to kiss me. But instead, he stands and gently lays me down, lifts my feet so I’m lying along the length of the sofa. He tucks a cushion beneath my head, takes the woollen throw that sits decoratively on the sofa arm and drapes it over my body. Then he sits on the floor, by my head, and strokes my hair, soothing me, until I finally fall asleep.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  I’m woken by the doorbell. My body stiff, my head sore, my eyes raw. I’m on the sofa in my clothes, covered by my duvet. There’s a post-it note on the coffee table. I reach across to grasp it.

  Hey sleepy head,

  You were dead to the world, so I took off.

  Hope you’re feeling better this morning.

  Call me if you need anything.

  Jack x

  Shit. The events of yesterday come flooding back. My hallucination. Jack coming over. Me, freaking out all over him. He must think I’m a basket case. Have I wrecked any chance of us being together?

  Now morning’s here, the vision I had doesn’t seem quite as real, or quite as bad as I made out. I think I was probably overreacting. I’m pretty sure it was my mind messing with me. I mean, real memories don’t feel like that, do they. Real memories are like when Jack was here last night. Like going rowing, going up to London on the train, Piers, the party – all the stuff that happened after the accident. Those all feel like actual memories. But the weird woman on the bandstand, the drowning incident last night – they felt like something else. Like I was physically present in that moment – like they were hallucinations rather than memories. It must have been my mind playing tricks. It had to be. Because the alternative . . .

  The doorbell rings again. I throw off the duvet, run my fingers through my hair and answer the intercom at the top of the stairs.

  ‘Hello?’ I say.

  ‘Is that Mia? Mia James?’ A woman’s voice.

  I hesitate, and then: ‘Yes, I’m Mia.’

  ‘It’s DS Emma Wright here. And DC Blackford. Can we come in?’

  ‘Erm, yeah, sure. I’m upstairs, on the top floor. Come up.’

  I’m still half-asleep, but I press the buzzer to let them in. Then, I shove the duvet behind the sofa. Luckily, I’m still fully clothed from yesterday, but my mouth tastes vile. I’ll have to take care not to breathe on them. I scan the room, shove Jack’s note into my jeans pocket and tip my half-drunk cup of tea from last night down the sink. I don’t know why I’m bothering about the state of the place. I’m sure they’ve seen far worse.

  Footsteps on the stairs, getting closer, and then I see them. They’re both dressed casually in jeans. Him in a shirt, her in a t-shirt and baseball jacket. They seem younger today, without their smart clothes. What could they want? I thought my case was closed. It’s funny how they’re here no
w, today, when I almost called them last night.

  ‘Hi,’ I say.

  ‘Hello,’ DS Wright says. ‘Nice place you have here. Great views.’ We all turn to look at the view at the other end of the room.

  ‘Really draws your eye,’ DC Blackford adds.

  ‘How are you?’ DS Wright asks.

  ‘Okay,’ I say, feeling anything but. ‘Can I get you a cup of something?’

  ‘Tea would be lovely,’ she replies. He nods in agreement.

  ‘Please, sit down.’ I gesture to the dining table and they both sit facing the view, murmuring about the river, and the great position of these houses, while I busy myself making drinks. I check my mobile phone. No missed calls or messages. It’s already quarter to ten, I must have slept for hours. I should call Jack. Apologise for dragging him over here last night.

  I bring their drinks over, place them on the table. I’m too keyed up to sit down, so I stand by the breakfast bar, cradling my tea, wondering again why they’re here.

  DS Wright comes straight to the point. ‘Mia,’ she says. ‘Something has come to light that leads us to believe your rowing accident may not have been an accident.’

  I put my tea down on the counter top and look from DS Wright to DC Blackford. He has his notebook out, but both of them are staring at me. I remember the terror of yesterday’s episode – of sinking beneath the water, of the face staring down at me. I know I dismissed it just now, but could it have actually happened?

  ‘What,’ I whisper, my voice caught in my throat. ‘What’s come to light? What do you know?’

  ‘We’ve found a body in the river,’ she says. ‘The body of a woman.’

  I go cold. I grope behind me, feeling around for one of the breakfast stools, which I manoeuvre myself onto. ‘A body? You mean . . . a dead body?’ Of course they mean a dead body. What other kinds of bodies are there? ‘Who was she?’ I ask.

  ‘We haven’t identified her yet,’ DC Blackford answers. ‘She was in the water for quite a while, so we’ll have to use dental records.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Chris.’ She shoots him a black look. ‘Now, at this stage, we’re not saying this discovery and your amnesia are connected. But, we do believe the body went into the water at about the same time you were washed up on the beach. And she also has a head wound.’

  ‘So, are you saying that this body you found and my accident could be connected?’ My mind whirrs. Could someone have tried to kill us both?

  ‘Two independent boating accidents at the same time in the same area would seem very unlikely, so, yes, they may very well be connected.’ She takes a sip of her tea. ‘But we haven’t found another boat to tie the deceased to a rowing accident, so it could be that the boat we found last week was one used by the deceased and not by you. It was only rigged up for one rower, so you couldn’t both have been rowing. Your accident may have been non-rowing related – particularly as you were found on the beach, and not on the river. Anyway, the point is, we’re pursuing all lines of enquiry.

  ‘Have you managed to regain any of your memories? It would be extremely helpful if you could remember anything. Even the smallest, most insignificant detail could help us.’

  Now is the time to tell them. With this new development, I realise I have to let them know what I . . . experienced.

  ‘There is something,’ I say.

  DS Wright sits up straighter, and Chris’ pen hovers over his pad. ‘Go on,’ she says.

  ‘I was actually going to call you this morning, because yesterday I had some kind of flashback. I don’t know if it was an actual memory, but it felt pretty real.’ They don’t interrupt me, so I continue. ‘It was night time, and I was in a boat. I was gripping onto the side.’ As I speak the words, I feel myself pulled back into the vision. I take a deep breath to steady myself. ‘Someone was there with me. Behind me. Prising my fingers off the edge of the boat. They pushed me into the water. I had a terrible pain in my head as I went in.’ I hear the rise in my voice, the tremble and quaver, but I need to keep calm. ‘I felt weak, but I managed to spin myself around in the water and look up.’

  ‘Did you see the person’s face?’ she asks.

  ‘Yes, but I couldn’t make out their features at all. I was looking up through the water. And it was dark.’

  ‘Was it a man or a woman?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m sorry. I wish I could remember more.’

  ‘Would you come back to the station with us now? Give a full statement? Maybe something else will come back to you.’

  I nod wearily. My eyes are scratchy, my body stiff and uncomfortable from sleeping on the sofa.

  ‘We can drive you,’ she says.

  ‘Do you mind if I meet you there?’ I say. ‘I have a couple of errands to run, but I can be there within an hour.’

  She nods. ‘Let’s say eleven o’clock.’ She takes a few more swigs of tea and stands. DC Blackford does the same

  Good. At least that gives me a few minutes on my own. Some time to grab a shower and a piece of toast. To gather my thoughts before I go. I don’t know whether to feel relieved or frightened at this turn of events. Could I be closer to finding out what actually happened to me?

  Chapter Twenty Six

  I’m exhausted. I could do with spending the day in bed, but I want to see if I can catch Jack at the rowing club. I head along the river path in a daze, the mid-morning sun occasionally peeking out from scudding white clouds. It’s probably too windy to row, but he might be up at the club anyway. I hope so. I’ve been checking my mobile every five minutes, and he hasn’t called or texted. I haven’t seen him since Friday night when he came over to calm me down, and I feel weird about calling him again. I don’t want to be the type of girl he thinks of as annoying, or clingy. He’s already done far more for me than anyone else I know. So, my reasoning is that if I go to the club, maybe I’ll just happen to bump into him, and then I can gauge from his reaction whether or not he’s pleased to see me.

  I spent ages at the police station yesterday. I was there by eleven, like they asked. But it was gone twelve by the time DS Wright and DC Blackford were able to see me. They conducted the interview on camera and I told them pretty much what I’d told them back at home, about being pushed into the water. But this time, the process was more drawn out, and they asked me way more questions – most of which I didn’t have the answers to, because of course I don’t remember anything. They couldn’t – or wouldn’t – tell me any more about the body they found.

  By the time I got home it was mid-afternoon, and I was drained. Shattered. Too tired to eat, or cry, or even feel scared anymore. All I wanted to do, was climb into bed and sleep for a thousand years.

  I’m halfway to the club when I see a familiar figure up ahead walking towards me. Shit. It’s my charming neighbour – the lovely Suki. Possibly my least favourite person in the world – not that I know that many people. It’s too late to change course or turn around as I’ve already caught her eye. I suppose I could ignore her, but she’s my neighbour, for God’s sake. I’m not going to be rude. If she wants to blank me, then that’s her prerogative.

  I plaster a tight-lipped smile on my face and nod my head, but, as expected, she totally ignores me and walks on past. Stupid cow. I wonder what on earth I could have done to offend her. Surely she can’t believe that I was actually trying to seduce her husband the other night. I suppose I should let her go, leave her to her low opinion of me. But she’s riled me and I want to find out what her problem is. Before I can change my mind, I turn and call out.

  ‘Suki!’

  She stops, but doesn’t turn around. Then, she carries on walking away from me, her usually sleek bob ruffled by the wind.

  ‘Suki, wait!’ I hurry after her. ‘Suki,’ I say passing her and planting myself in her path.

  She gives a long-suffering sigh. ‘What is it, Mia? What do you want?’ Her expression is withering, and I cringe beneath her gaze.

  ‘I . . . I just want to know what I’ve don
e to offend you. Why don’t you like me?’

  ‘I just don’t, okay.’ She makes a move to go past me, but I put my hand on her shoulder to stop her.

  ‘Please,’ I say. ‘You know I have amnesia. Just humour me. Refresh my memory.’

  An elderly couple walk past, giving us a curious sideways glance. I’m tempted to stick the Vs up and tell them to mind their own business.

  ‘Have you really lost your memory?’ Suki says. ‘Or is that just bullshit?’

  ‘Why would I lie about it?’ I say, amazed that she would ask such a thing. ‘If you must know, it’s been awful. I don’t remember anything. Anything at all.’

  ‘Maybe that’s a good thing,’ Suki says. ‘Although . . .’ She sneers and shakes her head, ‘some things never change, memory or no memory.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I know what you’ve been up to with my brother,’ she says, her fists clenched like she’s about to punch me.

  Okay, maybe she really does have a screw loose. Now she’s making random accusations.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ I say.

  ‘You’ve been having an affair with my brother,’ she says, her eyes boring into mine, her arms folded across her chest.

  ‘I don’t even know your brother,’ I reply.

  ‘You don’t know Jack?’ She lifts an eyebrow.

  My stomach lurches. I try to process what she’s telling me.

  ‘I saw him coming out of your place on Friday night. His taste in women has gone way downhill.’

  Jack is Suki’s brother? This news stuns me. I don’t know why. Maybe because Jack is so lovely and Suki is such a cow.

  ‘You’re not a very good liar, Mia. You’ve gone bright red.’ She shakes her head. ‘He and Lucy were happy until you came along.’

  ‘What are you on about?’ I say. ‘Jack and I aren’t together. We’re just friends. I’m nothing to do with his marriage break up.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really.’