Gabe has stopped vomiting, at least temporarily. He looks up at me.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask.
But my question is lost in the crash of the ocean, and the sound of the sliding doors as the police and paramedics file outside. I recognise them all. Johnno and Aaron; Fiona and Amir. They’re not my friends, exactly, but definitely acquaintances. We’ve drunk countless cups of tea together at the end of evenings like this. I even purchased a packet of English Breakfast tea after Johnno turned up his nose up at my Lady Grey. But on those nights, there was never a body at the bottom of the cliff.
Johnno and Aaron walk directly to the cliff’s edge with torches. They know as well as we do that there is no point, but they go through the motions anyway. No person who’s jumped from The Drop has ever been retrieved alive （I’d read that in the news article, but having seen the cliff I would have known anyway）。 Still, I suppose they need to be sure.
‘Have you called out?’ Aaron asks.
Gabe and I shake our heads. Gabe is trembling visibly now.
‘Tide’s in. We’ll have to call Water Rescue,’ Johnno says.
‘Hey, Gabe,’ says Fiona, the paramedic, kneeling beside him and wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. ‘Why don’t we go inside and get you something warm to drink?’
Gabe allows her and Amir to help him to his feet.
As we step inside, I hear the bath running. There is no sign of Kat and the girls, and I thank my lucky stars for my sister. Knowing Asha, she’s likely to be dishing out some tricky questions and there’s no one I trust more to field them than Kat.
Fiona and Amir settle Gabe on the couch, still wrapped in the blanket, and I bring him a glass of water and wet facecloth to clean up. I flick on the kettle, then find a large plastic bowl in the kitchen and put it at his feet, just in case. Gabe nods his thanks, even smiles a bit, but he’s still worryingly pale.
After a few minutes, Johnno and Aaron come inside.
‘No signs of life,’ Johnno says. ‘Water Rescue is on their way. They’ll have to retrieve her via the beach.’
‘Anything we can do to help?’ I ask.
He shakes his head. ‘The crime scene team will be here soon. They’ll do as much as they can tonight: photographing and fingerprinting – if there is anything to fingerprint. They may have to come back in the morning when it’s light.’
We all nod soberly. I wonder what the girls will make of it, having the house swarming with police.
‘We’ll need to get a statement from you, Gabe,’ Johnno says after a moment. ‘Are you okay to do that now? It’s better to get it sooner rather than later.’
Gabe nods, and Johnno pulls out a chair from the dining table and sits. Aaron also drags out a dining chair. Gabe stays on the couch. I deliver cups of tea to everyone.
‘So, what happened?’ Johnno asks. ‘In your own words. Take your time.’
‘We saw a woman on the cliff. I don’t know what time it was, but Pip called you as I headed outside.’ Gabe is gazing straight ahead, at the coffee table, and his fingers are steepled together. ‘As I got near, I asked if I could help her with anything.’
Johnno picks up his tea and blows on the top to cool it. ‘Can you describe the woman?’
‘Dark hair, in a ponytail. Clothes were all black. Black pants. A black puffer jacket.’
‘Young or old?’
‘Youngish . . .’ Gabe says. ‘Maybe thirty-five? Forty? Maybe even fifty. She was . . . well looked after. Seemed young at first but then you realise she’s older than you thought, you know?’
Johnno nods his understanding. Sweet Johnno. I think of all the times he must have showed up on doorsteps in much worse circumstances than these. Situations where he has had to give people bad news, telling them that they have lost a loved one. It reminds me that someone is going to be getting bad news soon about this well-maintained woman aged thirty-five to fifty. A husband, partner . . . maybe even a child?
Johnno makes a note, then looks up. ‘Did you get her name?’
Gabe shakes his head.
‘Then what happened?’
Gabe looks at his own cup of tea but doesn’t pick it up. ‘She said her husband was unfaithful.’
Johnno writes this down. ‘Did she say his name? The husband?’
‘No.’ Gabe goes on: ‘It was hard to hear her, because of the wind. I think she was mostly ranting about her husband. I came closer, to see if I could talk to her. And she just turned and . . .’ He inhales, closes his eyes. ‘It was so fast. She was there and then . . . a scream . . . and she was gone.’
There’s a quiet moment, a respectful silence. Johnno writes furiously on his notepad. After a few more seconds, he looks up again.
‘She screamed then, did she?’
Gabe frowns, then appears to reconsider this. ‘I mean . . . I think so. It might have been the wind. To be honest, it’s all a little blurry.’
‘Why?’ I ask Johnno. ‘Is that unusual?’
‘Not necessarily. Just worth noting.’ Johnno duly makes a note of it. When he looks up, he says, ‘Anything else that might be important?’
Gabe frowns as he appears to think about this. After a moment, he shakes his head. His eyes close.
Johnno puts down his pen. ‘It’s not your fault, mate. Frankly, it’s amazing that you’ve saved as many as you have. So don’t blame yourself, okay?’
Gabe nods, his eyes still closed. Johnno shoots me a look and I nod as well.
‘Well, we better go secure the site,’ he says, and he and Aaron stand. Johnno takes the notepad over to Gabe. ‘Have a read over this, and if you’re happy it’s accurate, sign and date it at the bottom.’
The two men make their way to the back door. Just before he slides it open, Johnno pauses. ‘You didn’t see anything, did you, Pip?’
It’s an afterthought. His gaze is on me, but light, as if his thoughts are already outside.
The question takes me by surprise. It’s straightforward enough, but I don’t know how to answer it. The fact is, I did see something. I saw Gabe, cliffside, talking to the woman. I saw her throw up her arms, and I saw him take a step towards her. Then I saw Gabe alone, his arms extended, palms forward. The more I think about it, there’s something about his stance that bothers me. I can’t get it out of my head. He was holding his hands the way you would if you’d pushed someone.
Johnno is still looking at me, waiting for my response. Gabe’s head is still hanging, clutching Johnno’s notepad, his eyes closed again.
‘No,’ I say. ‘I didn’t see anything.’
3
PIPPA
NOW
I lied to the police. No matter how many times I tell myself this, I still can’t get my head around it. I lied to the police. Why did I do that?
Admittedly, it’s quite common, if police procedural dramas are anything to go by. In every one I’ve watched, at least the first three suspects are lying about something. Usually, it’s an affair. Or another, more insignificant, crime. I’m hiding neither. And yet, here we are.
I’m not the kind of person who lies to the police. I am the epitome of a good citizen. I have no unpaid fines of any sort. I ceased parking my car in the mother-and-baby spaces the moment the girls grew out of the pram. The time I found a cash-filled wallet I handed it to the police immediately, even though I was a student at the time and desperately needed the money. More importantly, I am a lawyer. I understand the importance of being truthful, and I know that providing a false statement to the police is against the law. I could be struck off the register for it, I realise, with sudden horror. I could lose my ability to practise law. And for what? Gabe didn’t even do anything wrong!