Your home, your way out.’
Her smile was tired and worn down to a lifeless curve.
They watched the others for a moment. Helen was sobbing like a baby as she hugged the boys. They in turn were firm-lipped, competing with each other to hold back tears in as manly a way as possible.
‘Take good care of her,’ she said again, squeezing Raymond’s hand. ‘If the boys decide to return to the rigs after London, they’ll be sure to drop by and say hello . . . if that’s all right with you?’ There was gentle caution in her voice.
He pushed a lank tress of hair our of his face. ‘Of course. And they’d be most welcome. They’re a nice pair of lads. A good laugh.’
‘They are.’
‘And I’ll look forward to seeing you along with them,’ he added.
‘Bye,’ she said, letting go of his hand, turning and starting towards the others.
‘Leona?’
She stopped and looked back at him.
He grinned awkwardly, looking like a child about to play a prank. ‘I left you a present in the trailer.’
‘What?’
‘No big deal, just a little something.’
She cocked her head curiously. ‘Uhh, okay . . . well, thanks.’
‘I hope it makes a difference,’ he said. ‘Changes your mind.’
Her brows arched curiously and a half smile momentarily stretched her mouth. She turned back round and joined the others, grabbing the handlebar of her bike and lifting it up off the hard shoulder.
‘Come on you two,’ she said, wheeling the bike forward until the tow rope pulled taut on the trailer. ‘I’m not pulling this bugger on my own.’
They joined her swiftly; the three of them pushing their bikes forward, the trailer rolling behind as they curved round the edge of the blockade, past the small jumble of abandoned cars and vans that had been brought to a sudden cluttered standstill ten years ago. Some were still loaded with family keepsakes, photo albums, birth certificates and passports - slowly fading and yellowing.
Leona looked back and saw Raymond and Helen standing side by side at the back of his truck. She waved at them. Raymond offered a coy nod before turning away, rounding the truck and climbing back into the cab.
Helen stood where she was a moment longer, watching their progress up the slip road towards the A11. Then she, too, turned away.
Chapter 34
10 years AC
‘LeMan 49/25a’ - ClarenCo Gas Rig Complex, North Sea
‘It’s all right, I know, Walter,’ said Jenny, her voice croaked weakly. ‘I know Hannah’s gone.’ She licked her lips, they were cracked and dry.
‘Jenny . . . I’m so, so, sorry,’ he said.
‘Water please, Walter.’
‘It . . . it . . . was an awful bloody accident. I just—’
‘Walter, please, get me some water.’
He stopped bumbling and reached for the tumbler beside her cot, gently tilting her head as she sipped from it. She winced painfully as he let her head back down on to the pillow.
‘Who . . . who told you?’ he asked.
‘I overheard you and Tami talking,’ she replied. ‘Some time ago, I think, not long after you brought me in from the explosion. I’ve known for a while.’
She could have told Walter that some time during the last few feverish weeks her dead husband Andy had come to tell her; sat down on the bucket chair beside her cot, just where Walter was sitting now, and explained to her that Hannah had died in the blast, and her son and daughter had decided to leave. But she knew how that would sound. Fever or not, hallucination or not, she knew all those things and she didn’t need to hear Walter’s fumbling, heavy-handed attempt at breaking the news; she really didn’t need to hear a stream of tear-soaked apologies from him right now. She knew what she needed to know. That’s all.
She grimaced and whimpered as she adjusted position slightly; the tight and raw skin on her shoulder and neck stabbed at her mercilessly.
‘How’s the pain?’
‘It’s manageable,’ she said, ‘when I don’t move.’
‘Dr Gupta’s lowering the dose,’ he said. ‘She’s worried about giving you too much.’
‘A little more,’ she said wincing, ‘a little more than she’s giving me now would be good.’
‘I’ll tell her.’
Pressing matters, Jenny, pressing matters - the community . . .
‘So, how are things?’
Walter’s face instantly darkened. ‘Things are getting messy.’
‘Messy? What does that mean?’
‘Morale is low. The explosion, the generator not working, no lights. And the schedule is beginning to break down. People aren’t doing their jobs properly. The kids sneaking off after Leona . . . I suppose