The Girl from the Sea: A gripping psychological thriller (15 page)

It’s dark. Freezing. And I try to cling on to the edge of the boat as someone loosens my fingers one by one. This person means me harm. They want to hurt me, physically. I feel hands on my back – pushing. And now I’ve lost my grip. I’m flailing forwards, gasping in fear. There’s a sharp pain at the back of my head, blinding, throbbing. As I go under, I try to call out, but the water enters my mouth, my nose, my ears. I’m sinking, turning, falling. I thrash and spin around. The silent roar of water fills my head, and all I see is the wavery shape of someone’s face peering down through the black water at me as I fall away into the thick, cold darkness.

Chapter Twenty Four

My mouth is dry, my head pounding. My cheek pressed against the hard wooden floor. Where am I?

The office.

I’m in my office at home. The sun streams in through the windows, warming my cheek, though my fingers are numb. Icy. I clench my fists. What happened? I must have passed out. Fallen to the floor.

I grow cold as I remember the flashback. Chills down my spine. A knot in my stomach. The deep water. The terror of sinking. The river enveloping me in its chilly grasp. Someone pushed me into the water. Someone tried to kill me!

I stay on the floor, curling into a foetal position. Trying to remember, but wishing I could forget. It was real. Someone tried to kill me. I close my eyes and try to replay the memory. To visualise the face of my attacker. But I can’t. I open my eyes again and stare at the wood-grain of the floor, slide my hands between my thighs to warm them up. Blink. I’m too shocked to move. I don’t know what to do. The police told me they thought it was an accident. But I know now that it was deliberate. Someone was trying to harm me. To kill me.

But I’m not dead. I’m very much alive.

I uncurl my body and sit up, slowly. My brain feels as though it’s floating loose in my skull. Like I have the mother of all hangovers. A wave of nausea crawls over my scalp. I stop moving and take a steady breath. Thankfully, the sick feeling passes and I’m able to sit all the way up. As I grip the edge of the desk to lever myself to my feet, I recall my hands gripping the edge of the boat. The feeling of helplessness as my attacker pried my fingers free. Why would anyone want to kill me?

For my money?

Maybe.

But who? I can think of at least three people who don’t like me. But would they hate me enough to kill me?

I need Paracetamol. My head pounds so ferociously I can barely see. I lurch out of the office, my hands moving along the walls to steady myself. Head bowed, eyes half closed. Painkillers first. Then I’ll call the police.

I didn’t make it to get the painkillers, or to call the police. I fell asleep before I got there. Lay down on the end of the bed and closed my eyes. Now, I awake to darkness and silence. My headache has eased to a dull throb, and I shiver, wrapping my arms around my body. Remembering.

I should stir myself and call DS Wright, but what if my memory is unreliable. Jack said people with amnesia often have false memories. Maybe the flashback isn’t real. But it felt so vivid. I’m still shaking, for Christ sake. I stagger to my feet and reach across to hit the light switch. This place feels so empty and cold. My stomach is in knots. If my memory is real, then whoever tried to kill me might still be out there. They might try again. I glance out of the window at the darkness, at the glittering lights along the river, my thoughts looping back on themselves. I can’t think straight. I suddenly feel exposed standing here by the window. I check the doors to the balcony are locked, and pull the curtains closed, making sure there’s no gap for anyone to see through.

Leaving the bedroom, I make my way upstairs, switching on the lights as I go. My phone’s up here. My bag lies on the breakfast bar. I rummage around inside until I locate my mobile. There’s only one person I want to talk to right now – Jack.

I pace the lounge, waiting for him to arrive. From the sofas at one end of the room, I walk past the dining table and reach the balcony doors at the other end, then I turn around and walk back again, chewing the skin around the edges of my nails, and trying to get my scattered thoughts into some kind of order. My bare feet sink into the carpet as I pace, my skin prickles with nerves.

Am I mad? Do I need medical help? Am I in danger? Do I need the police? I’m too anxious to call the emergency services. I’ll be taken to the police station, or to the hospital. I’ll be all alone. I’m sick of feeling so lonely. Scared. I need someone to be with me. Someone I trust.

When I called Jack, he answered straight away. I heard the quaver in my voice as I asked him if I could come over to his place. He told me not to worry. To sit tight. That he would come over to mine in a few minutes. That I didn’t sound calm enough to drive, and it was too far and too dark for me to walk alone. So now all I can do is pace until the doorbell rings. Jack will know what to do for the best. I’ll tell him what happened and he’ll set my mind at ease.

The minutes slide by and still no Jack. Is he coming? Did something happen? Where is he? I brave the balcony and peer down. No car headlights coming down the lane. My teeth are chattering, I’m so cold.

‘Mia! Is that you?’ I’m startled by my name being called from below. I squint down through the railings.

‘Jack?’

‘You okay?’ he calls up.

‘I’m coming down,’ I croak. Instantly, my shoulders relax. He’s here. He’s going to help me sort this out. Untangle my jumbled mind. Sieve through what’s true and what’s not.

I ignore the intercom, and lurch down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor, careless of the steepness of the staircase. Almost losing my footing several times. But I finally make it to the front door without mishap, wrench open the door to see a concerned-looking Jack standing there, his hands dug into the pockets of his jeans, his grey hoody zipped up against the chill night air.

‘What’s going on?’ he says. ‘You sounded scared on the phone. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Was it another hallucination?’

‘Come in,’ I say, taking a step back to let him through. ‘I’m not hurt. Just freaked out. Thank you so much for coming. I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call. You said if I needed to talk, you didn’t mind. But if you’re busy, don’t worry. I’m sorry . . .’

‘Hey, hey, calm down.’ He pushes the door closed behind him and wraps me in his arms. Instantly, I feel calmer, safer. I take several deep breaths, in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to get my panic under control. ‘You’re shivering,’ he says. ‘Here . . .’ He unzips his hoody, slides it off and drapes it around my shoulders. I pull it close to my body. ‘Let’s go upstairs,’ he says.

I slip my arms into the sleeves of his hoody, and I follow him up.

We sit on the sofas opposite one another. He’s leaning forward so the distance between us isn’t too great.

‘Tell me what’s happened, Mia?’

The images crowd me and I’m scared to put them into words. To give voice to the terror. But Jack came over to find out what’s wrong, he’s staring at me, waiting for me to begin, so I need to be brave and tell him.

I push my hair away from my face with both hands and hold it there for a second, cradling my skull. Then, I let go, return my hands to my lap and glance up at him. He’s staring at me intently, so I begin.

‘I was downstairs in the office, on my tablet, looking at rowing courses. You remember I said I wanted to start coaching?’

He nods.

‘So, I saw this picture of a girl on the river, and I started to feel a bit weird, like I was going to faint.’ I break eye contact with Jack and drop my gaze to my lap. ‘I held onto the desk to steady myself, but then, all of a sudden it was dark, and I was outside in a boat, holding onto the side, while someone was . . .’

There’s a long silence while Jack waits for me to compose myself. I look up at him and bite my lip.

‘There was someone else there. They were behind me in the boat. And they . . . they pushed me into the water. It felt so real. Like I was there in the cold water. Sinking. I couldn’t swim back to the surface. I looked back up and I saw their face looking down at me through the water.’

‘Who was it?’ Jack asks. ‘Was it the girl from your hallucinations?’

‘I  . . . I don’t know. It was too dark. I couldn’t see. But I remember feeling shocked that they had done it. Like, I couldn’t believe they would try to . . .’

‘God, Mia. That must have been terrifying for you.’ He stands and slides in next to me, his arm coming around me. I lean my head on his shoulder, feeling a little calmer now. It helped to talk about it. To tell him.

‘What should I do?’ I say. ‘I should call the police, shouldn’t I? Tell them I’ve remembered something important. They dismissed it as a rowing accident before. But it wasn’t an accident, was it. Someone tried to . . .’ I can’t finish the sentence. I’m shaking again.

‘Shh, shh. It’s okay, Mia. I’m here. You’re safe.’

‘Will you call them for me? Tell them what happened?’

‘Of course. Of course I will. Let me make you a cup of tea first. With sugar. You’re in shock, and you’re cold. It’ll warm you up. It’ll help. Come on.’ He stands up and extends his hand. I let him pull me up and follow him across to the kitchen. ‘Sit here.’ He pats one of the bar stools and walks into the kitchen, busying himself with the kettle.

I sit and watch him move around the kitchen, finding the mugs, the tea, the milk, the sugar. His dark t-shirt accentuates his shoulders and his strong rower’s arms. I’m enjoying gazing at his body as he moves. It takes my mind off the other thing.

‘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 s
o
―
’

‘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.