Page 142 of The Love Letter
‘Excuse me?’ Marcus turned to look at the old man, who was nursing his stout beneath a thick moustache.
‘Saw his car going off down the causeway towards the Deasy girl’s cottage – what’s he want with her? She’s best left alone.’
‘No clue, mate, we’re just trying to find my girlf—’ he broke off, a lump building in his throat. She was missing and here was he, sitting on his backside doing nothing . . . ‘Who is this Deasy woman? Where does she live?’
‘About half a mile down, opposite the big house in the estuary. A pink cottage that you can’t miss,’ said Margaret.
‘Right.’ Marcus drained his whiskey and made for the door.
‘You’re not going out there, are ye?’ said the old man. ‘’Tis dangerous down there on nights like this.’
Marcus ignored him and stepped out into the howling wind. He braced himself to walk against it, the rain soaking him through after only a few steps. The whiskey and anxiety burnt inside him, and he broke into a run, his heart pounding. The street lights reflected off the puddles in the uneven road, and to his left he saw the black water of the estuary rising up, the waves breaking against the sea wall.
A scream pierced the night, making him freeze. In the distance he saw a dark house standing alone in the estuary. The screaming seemed to be coming from there. As he drew closer, he stopped to catch his breath and listened. The wind had suddenly died, and there was silence. Running again, and approaching the house, he heard a loud splash and looked down into the water next to him. He could see two figures in the moonlight, and recognised Joanna’s dark hair, now wet like a seal. The second figure in the water was fast gaining on her.
Terror gripped his whole body. ‘JOANNA!’ Marcus ran round to the spot where he could jump in closest to them and launched himself into the sea. He swam towards them, barely feeling the freezing water, and watched as the second figure grabbed Joanna from behind and pushed her under. Marcus recognised Ian immediately. ‘Let her go!’ he screamed, as he reached him.
Ian kept a firm grip on her body, which had stopped resisting. He began to laugh. ‘Thought I’d dealt with you in London, mate.’
With a howl of anger, Marcus jumped onto him, both of them going under, a tangle of limbs as they fought. Marcus was half blind, the saltwater stinging his eyes as he tried to get a grip on Ian’s jacket and get in a kick, when he saw a flash of steel and reeled back. He heard two shots echo out over the water and felt excruciating pain reverberate in his abdomen.
He tried to force his limbs to fight against it, but could no longer marshal the strength. He blinked and looked up at Ian’s triumphant face as he felt himself fall back into the water like a stone.
Simon swung the car to a halt, and, hearing the gun shots ring out in the now silent night, followed the sound to the water’s edge. Shining his torch on the water, he saw two figures. Jumping in, Simon swam as fast as he could across to them.
‘Don’t come any nearer, Warburton. I’ve got a gun and I’ll blast you where you stand.’
‘Ian, for Christ’s sake! What are you doing? Who just got hurt?’ Simon swept the torch beam around him and saw a body resting against the estuary steps, and another floating face up in the water.
‘Your friend led me straight to it, just like I knew she would.’
‘Where is she?’
Ian nodded to the steps. ‘Bloody awful swimmer,’ he chuckled. ‘But I got it. Reckon I’ll have my old job back next week, don’t you? This’ll show them I can still cut it, won’t it?’
‘Course it will.’ Simon nodded, wading forwards and seeing the gun in Ian’s trembling hands aimed directly at him.
‘Sorry, Warburton, can’t have you stealing—’
Simon raised his fist and punched Ian on his nose, hearing a satisfying crunch and sending him backwards into the water, the gun flying out of his hand. Swiftly, Simon reached for it and two further gunshots rang out in the night air. A few seconds later, Ian disappeared beneath the waves for the last time.
Simon waded over to Joanna and saw that the tide had carried her onto a set of semi-submerged steps, which were supporting her body. He carried her up to safety and checked her pulse. It was weak, but it was there.
His training automatically kicked in and he pinched her nostrils closed with his fingers as he administered several breaths mouth-to-mouth, before commencing CPR.
‘Breathe, for God’s sake! Breathe!’ he mumbled, as he pumped his flattened palms rhythmically against her chest.
Eventually, a lungful of water spewed from Joanna’s mouth. She coughed and choked, and Simon thought he had never heard such a beautiful sound.
‘You’re going to be fine, sweetheart,’ he soothed as she began to shiver uncontrollably.
‘Thanks,’ she mouthed and gave him a weak smile.
‘Stay there and rest. Someone else needs help,’ he said as he stood up and waded back in to collect the other body.
‘Marcus – Jesus Christ!’ Dragging him to the steps, Simon hauled him out. Marcus’s face was white in the moonlight, and a slick dark liquid was seeping out of his mouth. His pulse was weaker than Joanna’s, but he was still alive. Once again Simon began resuscitation, holding out little hope. Yet Marcus finally stirred and his eyes flickered open.
‘So this is what it’s like to get shot,’ he whispered. ‘Joanna?’
