“Isobel?” I said, incredulous. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“What did you think I was going to do?” she threw back, brusque as she advanced, her eyes locked on her son. “As soon as you’d finished talking to Jacob I drove up to Troon and got straight on the first ferry. I saw you driving on board so I never got off. Did you honestly think I was going to sit by and do nothing while my boy was in danger?” And with that she enveloped Jamie in a big bear hug that he didn’t look entirely comfortable with.
Sean and I exchanged glances. If Isobel had found us so easily, what about Eamonn? The anxiety that had almost dissipated after our fight and flight was suddenly at full rev again.
“We’ll leave you to your reunion,” Sean murmured. Mother and son were too preoccupied to answer him. I glanced at Paxo as we went past but his head was still tilted back against the seat and he seemed to be asleep. We left him undisturbed.
As soon as we were outside the lounge, Sean said, “We need to do a quick sweep of this place, just in case we’ve any other surprise visitors. You take the starboard side, I’ll go port. OK?”
I nodded and moved away.
The ferry had cleared the coast now and was moving into open water. I looked out of one of the large side windows and saw the sea flecked with white horses. The motion had become more violent and I had to match my stride to the roll of the ship. People were already gathering up their sick bags and one or two looked as though they were just about ready to use them. I wondered how Jamie was faring.
I found nothing untoward as I checked the bar and restaurant areas, the shop and the amusement arcade. I spotted Daz and William out on the deck, standing close by the rail with their backs to me. Daz was doing the talking, waving his hands as he spoke. I didn’t feel inclined to interrupt them.
I tried to be annoyed at William’s comments but what I really felt, I realised, was hurt. Hurt that he could look at me and see someone who would cold-bloodedly target the man’s arm purely in revenge for Gleet’s injury, when I hadn’t done so. I’d just reacted to circumstance. Hadn’t I?
And, with a jolt, I recognised that maybe that was why Sean had responded badly when I’d tackled him over his treatment of Eamonn that day at Jacob and Clare’s place. I’d accused him of going in too hard and he’d taken offence. Now I could begin to understand why. Not only that, but it dawned on me slowly, unpleasantly, that other people looked on me in just the same light.
Sean was already waiting for me outside the First Class lounge when I got back there. He cocked his head on one side.
“What is it?” he asked. “You look a bit fazed.”
“I suppose I am,” I said, rueful, pulling the door open for him to walk through first. “I was just—”
We both stopped dead.
The lounge seemed empty apart from the cabin crew member William had called Jo, who was sprawled across the floor in front of us, as though trying to crawl towards the doorway. Her tights were torn at the knees and her neat pillbox hat was askew. There was a trickle of blood rolling down the side of her face and she stared up at us with unfocused eyes that were wide with shock and fright.
Sean stepped round the pair of us as I crouched in front of her. “Jo! Are you all right? What happened?”
“I-I don’t know,” she said, her speech slurring a little. “I don’t—”
“Charlie,” Sean cut in. I caught the urgent tone and glanced up. He was over by the seating, kneeling over something – or someone – hidden from my view behind one of the tables.
“I’ll be back in a moment, Jo,” I told the woman with what I hoped was a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Just lie still. We’ll get you some help.”
I hurried over to Sean. As I rounded the end table the first thing I saw was a pair of bike boots, leading up to leather-clad legs. The sight filled me with a sense of deep foreboding. If the state of an innocent bystander like Jo was anything to go by, I knew what I would see at the other end of this wasn’t going to be good.
I was right.
Paxo lay on his back on the polished wooden decking with his hands spread slightly out from his body, palms downwards like he was having to hold on to stay there. A pool of blood haloed his head from some unseen wound. There was a lot of it, spreading fast.
Oh shit.
“Paxo,” Sean was saying calmly, not letting alarm leak into his voice. His self-control always had been better than mine. “Martin, can you hear me?”
Paxo’s eyes opened, very slowly, but he didn’t move his head. His breathing was shallow and seemed to require conscious effort.
I started to turn. “I’ll get someone,” I said. “They must have a medic on this damned ship.”
Sean glanced up at me and shook his head, just once. We’re too late.
At that moment the door opened and Daz and William walked in, jerking to a stop as they spotted Jo just inside the doorway.
“Go find a medic,” I snapped at them. “Now!” Daz took one look and bolted. William squatted down to comfort Jo.
“Come on, Martin,” Sean said. “Don’t give up. Stay with me, man!” Paxo didn’t seem to hear him. He was gasping now, the gaps between inhalations growing longer, more laboured. I could see his skinny chest vibrating with the stress every breath was causing him. His limbs began to shake, one heel dancing.
I looked at Sean again, helpless, my vision blurring.
I heard movement and then William dropped to his knees alongside me.
“Aw Jesus,” he muttered, raw pain in his voice. “What happened?”
Paxo’s lips moved and Sean leaned closer.
“I guess,” Paxo whispered, “you better keep that lighter . . .”
And then he simply stopped breathing.
“Oh, no. No you don’t,” Sean growled, and I felt his anger rising like my own. He twisted to rip open the zip on Paxo’s leathers, exposing the front of his T-shirt, and brought his clenched fist down hard, twice, on Paxo’s sternum, trying to shock his heart back into action. “Come on, you little bastard, you don’t give up on me that easy!”
With a kind of controlled violence, he linked his hands and began cardiac massage on Paxo’s chest, the force of each compression making the smaller man’s body jerk and twitch. I took over while Sean pinched Paxo’s nose and tilted his head back in a desperate attempt to breathe life back into him.
We kept going like that right up until the ship’s doctor arrived at a run and told us, gently, that we were wasting our time. The back of the skull had been fractured like an eggshell, causing catastrophic damage that even a fully-equipped hospital would not have been able to deal with.
Paxo was dead.
***
Daz took it hardest. Despite their differences on this trip, he’d been Paxo’s oldest friend. He slumped down on one of the corner seats, put his head in his hands, and wept. William had gone back over to Jo, who had also been moved onto the seating and was having her head wound dressed.