‘Joel … I just wanted to call you with the news. Colton and Fintan got engaged! They’re getting married.’
Flora waited anxiously for his reaction. There was a long pause, over thousands of miles. Then she heard a massive exhalation of breath.
‘Of course they fucking are,’ said Joel. And he hung up.
Flora slowly put down the phone. Enough. She stared out over the sea. Enough was enough now. She turned to go. She wouldn’t say goodbye to the boys; their evident happiness was a little much for her right at the moment. She knew they’d be all right. In fact, better, she’d pop in on her dad in the morning and try and do some good. He hadn’t wanted to come out that evening – he slept in the farmer’s way, always had: 8 p.m. to bed, 4 a.m. rising. Not that she’d get much sleep tonight.
Bertie, who ran a boat around when they were at the Rock, was waiting at the jetty. He jumped up.
‘Hello, Flores!’ he said, going bright pink as always.
‘Can you take me home, Bertie?’
‘Aye, of course! Love to! Boat or car? Come on, take the boat. It’s a lovely night!’
‘Why not?’ thought Flora. It was hardly like it mattered and the fresh air might help her get some sleep at least. So she nodded and followed him to the jetty.
Chapter Thirty-five
Joel realised he was in a mess. But he didn’t know how to get out of it. Everything had come to a head suddenly, and he didn’t know how to cope. He couldn’t control his breathing.
Gulping, he felt a sudden skip in his heartbeat – a massive electrical jolt. He grabbed the phone like a lifeline. Before he knew what he’d done, he’d pressed the callback button, although in his confused, twirling state he wasn’t sure why, or even whom he was calling. His breath came in great shuddering gasps.
There was no signal out at sea, and Flora found a queer sort of quiet and contentment staring out over the wide ocean, feeling alone and facing the world by herself. Whatever happened, she knew, she wasn’t the same girl she’d been a year ago: timid, scared, upset to the point of paralysis by the death of her mother; angry at having to come back to the island.
Now, this was home, and despite its many inconveniences she loved it. She had a little business – well, okay, they were pretty much running on empty at the moment, but it was her business and she could manage. She was doing all right. She’d never be rich, but then she’d spent some time with rich people. She wasn’t sure it made them remotely happy. And there wasn’t that much point in having fancy dresses on Mure.
The worst feeling, she thought, was that she’d failed. She’d known Joel, she thought, as closely as anyone could know him. As close as anyone could get. And still she couldn’t crack it. She couldn’t get through; she couldn’t fix him. Everyone had been right. He wasn’t tameable, simply because he didn’t know what it was to be tame. But she had tried her hardest. She had.
It wasn’t until she got closer to shore, back into the range of Mure’s single lone mobile phone mast, that she realised her phone was ringing. She’d taken the voicemail off when she’d left London, not wanting to be a slave to her phone any more.
If anyone had ever checked the records, they would see that it had rung 138 times.
Flora stared at it as Bertie looked at her, a hopeful expression in his eyes that turned to disappointment as she answered it. ‘Joel?’
There was a short pause. Then just two words.
‘Help me.’
Chapter Thirty-six
Flora burst through the door of the Harbour’s Rest.
‘I need to use the hotel phone and the computer,’ she said. ‘Sorry, the signal is just too shitty. It’s an emergency.’
‘It is,’ said Inge-Britt as Flora scrolled desperately through the internet until she found a listing for the psychiatrist Mark Philippoussis in Manhattan and explained the situation to his receptionist, who patched her through. She remembered the room number and Mark got down there in record time, Marsha following on, plus a police officer in case they couldn’t get into the room. Flora had also called the hotel management and caught the receptionist who was in love with Joel and who had, too, been increasingly concerned by his weight loss, his late nights, his odd hours and habits and the glazed look in his eye whenever she tried to flirt or say hello. She could not have been kinder or more helpful to Flora then, and Flora was half glad and half absolutely distraught that she wasn’t there when they finally got through the door and found him, sitting on the balcony, looking over the edge, as if he wasn’t sure where he was, even with the huge pinkening city spread beneath his feet.
Chapter Thirty-seven
‘Well, fuck that, man.’
Flora couldn’t help but be impressed. Having not really contemplated, beyond the buying of holidays and possibly a little flat one day, what money could do, it was quite incredible to watch Colton in action.
He was talking to Mark Philippoussis, or rather shouting at him.
‘Let me talk to him!’
Mark was entirely calm about the whole thing. ‘One of your staff appears to be suffering from nervous exhaustion,’ he said politely, ‘while also being tremendously drunk. I think the last thing I’m going to do is let you talk to him.’
‘He’s my employee and I have a duty of care and if I have to fly him back, I will.’
Flora went up. ‘Please can I speak to them? Please?’ She grabbed the phone and moved to another part of the hotel. ‘Mark?’
‘Flora? Is that you?’
‘Yes … What’s happened?’
‘Did you know he was working so hard?’
Flora gulped. ‘He always does that.’
‘I know. It looks like … He’s dropped a lot of weight, Flora. I think he’s just exhausted. Did anything stressful happen to him at work?’
‘He never talks to me about work.’ Flora shot a look at Colton, who turned away.
‘What about you two personally?’
Flora paused long enough for Mark to pick up on it.
‘Listen, Flora. Why don’t you let me and Marsha take him to our place? Let him sleep it off?’
‘Then will you send him home, Mark?’ said Flora anxiously.
‘Do you think that would be the best thing for him?’
Flora wished she knew. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Can I speak to him?’
‘He’s passed out, Flora.’
‘Jesus,’ said Flora. ‘What is it? What’s wrong with him?’
‘I’ll need to talk to him, but I would say panic attacks and overwork. I don’t know what’s made him so anxious; he’s normally so controlled. As soon as he wakes up, I’ll call you.’
‘Are you taking him to hospital?’
‘Not tonight.’
‘Good,’ said Flora, relieved. He’d sounded so … so very desolate.
Colton snatched back the phone to make it very clear to Mark that he would pay for anything required and could have a jet on standby, but Mark was short with him and the call ended.
Flora sat by the window as, after ten, the evening finally began to darken, the moon at last to rise.
‘Did you know something was wrong?’ said Fintan gently, twisting the brand-new ring on his finger.
‘I … I just thought he was like that …’ She looked around, stricken. ‘He got further and further away. But … you know … Men do that.’
Fintan nodded. ‘I know.’
He placed a reassuring hand on Colton’s knee, even as Colton stared outside as they sat and waited the night through for news.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Saif’s boys hated his house, their new home. It was freezing cold and draughty. A flat handsome grey house made of expensive stone, it had beautiful outlooks, slightly out of the town.