Page 46 of Reckless

I left my plate in the sink to worry about later and checked the time. It was still early, so I could fit in a house call before clinic hours. Not that I had any scheduled appointments today, of course. I still wasn’t sure if the Health Fair had made any difference to the Islanders’ resistance to attending a government medical clinic, but I hoped that it had.

I thought of Young Robbie Barnes, and his genuine, confused outrage when I’d told him about the free bowel cancer screening test he could do via mail.

“The government wants to look at my shit?” he demanded.

“It goes to a lab, not the government, The government just pays for the testing.”

“You want me to send my shit, in the post?”

I had a feeling the uptake on that particular test was not going to be very high on Dauntless Island.

The day was warm and the sun sparkled on the ocean. Gulls cried, the waves rolled against the harbour wall, and the air tasted sharp with salt. It was a beautiful morning, but there was a heaviness in my chest that only grew as I walked a familiar path through the tiny village.

I knocked on Archie Hooper’s front door, and it was opened by Harriet.

“Hi,” I said. “Is Dad here?”

She nodded and led the way through the house to the kitchen.

Archie was at the stove, heating up what looked like baked beans. Jemmy was sitting at the table in his pyjamas, his gaze wide and tear-filled. His nose needed wiping. Archie threw me a fraught look as Harriet led me to him, as though he was wondering how I was here to destroy his life again.

“How are you holding up?” I asked him.

A stupid question, and his expression told me. But he bit out, “Fine.” Stirred the beans aggressively.

I reached for the paper towel on the bench and tore off a piece. Crossed over to Jemmy and held it under his nose. “Blow as hard as you can.”

He did, and sniffled.

“Good job.” I put the paper towel in the bin and returned my attention to Archie. “Are you eating? Sleeping?”

“Yeah.” A shrug. A lie. “Enough.”

“How about the kids?”

“Making breakfast for ’em, aren’t I?” The words were defiant, but his tone wasn’t. He sounded slightly puzzled, and looked down at the pot as though to be certain he really was making breakfast and hadn’t just imagined it.

I remembered that part of grief all too well. The shock. The sense of unreality. The sheer lack of understanding of how to perform basic tasks when your entire world had turned on its head.

Beans in a pot, but nothing else. Not even bread or toast. No water or juice for the twins either.

“Sit down,” I said, and nudged him away from the stove.

He sat beside Jemmy, and Harriet climbed into his lap.

I lifted the kettle off the burner at the back and shook it. It was empty. I filled it and turned the burner on.

I knew this. I knew how to help here. Breakfast first, then making sure they were showered and dressed. And then perhaps Archie would be ready to talk, about Anna, or the kids, or how he could use something to shut his brain off long enough so that he could sleep. And, if he wasn’t ready to talk, then I was good at silence too.

Grief has its own rhythm, the same as the push and pull of the ocean and the slow sunrises and sunsets on Dauntless Island. And this part of it, the unreality, was the hardest, right up until the next part. This was the part that people stumbled through, blind, and needed someone at their side to remind them how to function. This was the part where you’d been punched, but the pain hadn’t registered yet. Any minute now, and Archie would feel the full force of that blow.

“I know Anna was your friend,” Robbie had said last night. Quiet, solemn, incisively perceptive Robbie.

And any minute now, so would I.

Chapter 15

ROBBIE