‘Help,’ he said.
Eleanor was thinking, Yes, I’ll help you. I will do whatever you want …
‘Help!’
Her eyes snapped open because it wasn’t Sam but Bella.
Her fingers were raking at the sea as she slipped under, disappearing.
Like Sam had disappeared.
No, it was wrong. All wrong!
Eleanor yanked an oar from its rowlock and thrust it towards her. ‘Grab on!’
Bella lunged for it, gasping, thrashing. Her fingers reached it – and Eleanor braced herself against Bella’s weight as she pulled her towards the boat.
When she was near enough, she reached down, grabbing Bella by the shoulders and dragging her upwards. The boat rocked wildly, Bella’s breath hot in her face, wet fingers grasping at Eleanor’s clothes. She felt herself unbalancing, leaning too close to the water. She couldn’t go over! Couldn’t swim!
Eleanor ripped Bella’s hands away – slamming back to the far side of the boat, hearing the splash as Bella plunged back into the sea. She cried out, her voice desperate, fingers clawing against the hull.
Eleanor knew she should help her.
She really should.
Eleanor had spent a long time hating this woman. She’d wanted her to suffer, just like Sam had, yet now – in this moment, when she had the choice of whether Bella lived or not – she knew she couldn’t let Bella Rossi die.
She crossed the boat, keeping her knees bent and her body braced against the rocking. Then she reached down, grabbing Bella firmly by the shoulders. With a fierce surge of exertion, she hauled her over the side.
They both collapsed into the boat, a tangle of limbs, Bella soaked and gasping, a sodden red wrap knotted at her neck.
Eleanor peeled it free, then gathered the dry blanket from the boat floor and draped it around Bella’s shoulders.
Bella was shaking hard, sobbing, unable to catch her breath. Her face was wretched in the moonlight, hair pasted across her forehead, lips peeled back, breathing hard. ‘I could’ve drowned.’
Eleanor stared at her. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You almost did.’
73
Bella
Bella hugged the blanket tight around herself. Her entire body trembled. She kept replaying the moment she’d gone over the cliff edge: the dry-mouthed plummet towards the sea, then the punch of water slamming into her body – like something solid, not liquid. She must have blacked out for a few moments, as all she remembered after that was floating on the surface, winded, alone, certain she was going to die …
But Eleanor saved her.
She took a breath. Air, beautiful air in her lungs! She pressed her feet into the solid wood of the boat. Drew another breath. The sea rocked them steadily, like a mother’s touch against a cradle.
‘Thank you,’ Bella said after a time, looking at Eleanor. ‘You saved my life.’
‘And you,’ Eleanor said, her voice low, thoughtful, ‘ended another.’
Bella blinked, uncomprehending.
‘Sam Maine,’ Eleanor said.
Just two words. A name that echoed in the darkest corner of Bella’s mind. She waited, unsure whether this was real … whether Eleanor had said that name … whether it was the shock of falling … She shook her head. Tried to speak, but no words came out.
Eleanor said, ‘Sam Maine was my fiancé. You’re the nurse who killed him.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You … you were his fiancée?’
She nodded.
‘My God … I … I had no idea …’ A hand lifted to her throat. ‘How long have you known who I am?’
‘Since you sent the email about the hen weekend. I recognised your name. It was in the disciplinary report.’
Her head spun. ‘That’s why you came on the hen weekend?’
‘Yes. I needed to see you. Look you in the eye. Know who you were.’
Bella felt her wet hair soaking into the blanket. ‘Eleanor … I … I don’t know what to say …’
Eleanor’s hands gripped the edges of the wooden bench. ‘I want you to tell me what happened.’
Bella wiped a hand across her mouth. Tried to focus. She was still shivering hard and pulled the blanket tighter. ‘I was on nights at the hospital,’ she began, her voice hoarse. She swallowed. Tried again. ‘I’d been out the evening before with Lexi. I should’ve gone to bed the next day, slept, but the sun was out and I spent the afternoon in a beer garden. I didn’t drink,’ she added, looking square at Eleanor. ‘I never, ever, drank before a shift.’