Where the Memories Lie

 

She’s alive and well.’ I pulled my hand from his and laid it on top, patting his cold skin. ‘You couldn’t have buried her.’

 

He shook his head angrily, a spray of spittle flying from his mouth. ‘No, no, no. Not Georgia!’

 

74

 

Where the Memories Lie

 

‘What are you talking about? I don’t understand,’ I said, trying to keep my voice calm and even.

 

‘It wasn’t Georgia, it was Katie.’

 

‘Katie?’

 

‘Yes. Katie. You know her. Your friend.’

 

I dropped my hand from his and sat upright. ‘You’re talking about Katie Quinn? Are you . . . You killed Katie? Is that what you’re saying, Tom?’ A bitter taste washed through my mouth.

 

‘Why did you think it was Georgia?’ He gasped and tears fell from his eyes. ‘It was Katie. I had to do it, though, don’t you see?

 

I buried her.’

 

Despite the hot sun beating down, my core temperature dropped. Goosebumps broke out on my skin.

 

He wiped his eyes with the cuff of his shirt and nodded, looking shrunken and shrivelled and broken, like a seventy-five-year-old child.

 

His words snatched my breath away for a moment before I forced myself to breathe. ‘Where did you bury her, Tom?’ My voice came out a gravelly whisper.

 

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I had to do it. It was an accident. It was—’

 

He clutched his chest and fell sideways on the bench.

 

‘Tom?’ I crouched over him.

 

His eyelids fluttered as he rasped for breath. ‘It . . . hurts . . .

 

chest.’

 

‘Tom!’ I patted his pale cheeks gently. ‘Stay with me, Tom.

 

You’re OK, do you hear?’ I put my arms around him and sat him up.

 

‘There. You’re going to be more comfortable sitting. Now, breathe.’

 

I stared him in the eyes, taking exaggerated breaths for him to copy.

 

‘That’s it. Just keep breathing. You’re doing great.’

 

He moaned.

 

I felt his pulse for rhythm and strength. His skin was grey and sweaty. There was a blue tinge to his lips. I was pretty sure he was 75

 

Sibel Hodge

 

having a heart attack. ‘I’m going for help now. Keep breathing. Just keep breathing.’

 

He moaned again, clutching his chest.

 

‘I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry. You’re doing all right. We’ll get you sorted in no time.’ I ran across the garden and burst through the front doors to reception. I knew that we couldn’t resuscitate him if his heart stopped. Tom had a DNR attached to his medical records – a ‘Do not attempt resuscitation’ order to tell his medical team not to perform CPR should the need arise, although it didn’t affect other treatment. It was Tom’s choice, one he’d made when he was first diagnosed, and it supported his autonomy past the stages when he could no longer clearly express his own wishes. But at least we could get him into bed and make him more comfortable and hopefully pain-free.

 

‘I think Tom’s having a heart attack. We need to get him into bed and start him on oxygen and Aspirin NOW,’ I shouted at Kelly and rushed back outside. At least if he did go, I’d be by his side at the end.

 

Kneeling on the grass beside him, I monitored his breathing which was slow and laboured. ‘Tom? Can you hear me? Tom?’

 

His eyes opened. ‘I’m . . . s . . . sorry.’

 

‘Shhh. Don’t talk. Just breathe, all right?’ I brushed his hair off his sweating, chilled forehead. ‘You’ll be OK. You’ll be fine.’

 

76

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

 

 

I’m so sorry, Ethan, but Tom’s had a heart attack,’ I said down the phone.