‘Okay, keep the pressure on,’ said Jo.
She gently pulled back Ferman’s chin, and bent her lips to his. Two breaths, ten compressions. She’d done resuscitation once before for real, off-duty, on a toddler pulled from a swimming pool, and it had worked. With children you had to be gentle – it was easy to break the breastbone. With adults, not so much. She put all her weight into the thrusts, driving the heel of her palm to get Harry’s heart beating again. Nothing after the first round, so she tried again. Not good, but she was nowhere near ready to give up.
‘Come on, Harry!’ she said. The sound of competing sirens drifted from the distance.
The third round of breaths and compressions became the fourth, and she was aware of hope seeping out of the room. His body was so utterly inert – it already felt like she was pumping dead meat, not living flesh. A look in the eyes of the nurse confirmed her own pessimism. Then suddenly there were more people in the room wearing paramedic uniforms. Jo vaguely recognised faces from past scenarios, but her brain didn’t have space to remember names. No time for pleasantries. She bent to deliver another set of breaths, but a hand gently and firmly pulled her back.
‘I’ve given five sets of breaths and compressions,’ she said.
‘Okay, we’ll continue.’
Jo watched, still seated on the ground, her fingers digging into the carpet as the paramedics took over, placing an oxygen mask on Harry’s mouth. They spoke to each other in urgent, professional tones. The nurse originally on the scene stood beside Jo, eyes glued to their work.
Too quickly, after only a few attempts, the paramedics looked at each other. There was a shake of the head, a mumbled phrase, and a replying nod, then a checking of watches.
Harry lay completely still on his lounge floor, eyes still open and focused intently on the ceiling.
Jo buried her head in her hands.
* * *
‘Josie, he’s beautiful.’
‘You have to say that.’
‘True, but I mean it.’
She was rocking Theo up and down. He’d been crying since the moment she brought him inside.
‘He’s got your eyes too.’
‘You need to stop with the clichés. You’ll be telling me how well I look next.’
Harry smiled. ‘Well, you do.’
‘I’m desperate for the loo. Can I put him down on the floor?’
Harry held out his arms. ‘It’s all right. I can hold him.’
Jo hesitated. Not because she didn’t trust Harry, but because the offer took her by surprise.
‘Here, catch,’ she said.
She moved closer to him, and with a little fumbling, he slid his arms between hers and lifted Theo to his chest.
‘Don’t take the crying personally. You sure you’re okay?’
He stroked Theo’s cheek with a large, nicotine-stained finger. ‘It’s been a while, but yes.’
‘I won’t be long.’
She went up the stairs to the only toilet in the house. The C-section had healed, but there was still a twinge as she reached the top of the steps. Strictly, she shouldn’t even have been driving for another week, but she’d had to get out.
It was while she was washing her hands that she realised the crying had stopped. On the landing, she could hear Harry singing quietly, croakily, below.
‘You are my sunshine, my only sunshine …’
For a few moments, she stood and listened, filled with an odd mix of emotions. It was a song her own dad had sung to her. She descended quietly so as not to break the spell.
Harry stopped abruptly as she stepped onto the bottom stair. She found him sitting in his armchair, cradling a sleeping Theo.
‘Show off.’
‘I have that effect on people.’
Her stomach rumbled. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘I missed breakfast.’
‘Well sit yourself down, lass! I make a mean slice of toast.’
* * *
Time didn’t exactly stand still inside number 21 Canterbury Road, but it felt like it was circling, not sure when to get involved again. Uniformed officers arrived, the familiar faces of PCs Oli Marquardt and Andrea Williams. Jo had drifted outside in a daze, and only recognised Andy Carrick when he was right in front of her on the pavement, talking.
‘It’s Harry,’ she mumbled. ‘He’s dead.’
Carrick went straight inside. A crowd had gathered across the road, and another uniform was keeping them at a distance and answering questions. Jo walked back to her car. She hadn’t cried – she felt too caught up in the moment still. Too confused. She’d made a call to Amelia, asking her to pick up Theo. As the minutes ticked by, the urge to rush away and hold him was becoming almost painful.
Her boss emerged from the house, making a beeline for where she sat in her car with the door open.
‘I’m sorry, Jo,’ he said. ‘Can you tell me what happened?’
His voice seemed to be coming from somewhere distant, like she was hearing it on a time-lag.
‘What happened?’
‘Yes, from the moment you arrived.’ He was speaking to her like a vulnerable witness, and his coddling tone pulled her out of her reverie. I’m not a witness. I’m a police officer. She went over the details as she remembered them. ‘The nurse was the first on the scene, I think,’ she said.
Carrick nodded. ‘She’s not a nurse. She’s a dental assistant. Just happened to be passing by.’
That explained the reluctance to carry out CPR.
‘Who called it in?’ said Jo, mind still playing catch-up. She felt the burn of shame. I shouldn’t be sitting here. I should be helping.
Carrick glanced back towards an elderly woman, being spoken to by a uniformed officer. ‘The neighbour, Mrs Milner.’
‘There was a report of a disturbance, wasn’t there?’
‘That’s right,’ said Carrick. ‘Mrs Milner heard raised voices around three o’clock, but she didn’t look in until four-thirty. Harry had already been assaulted. He was alone.’ He paused. ‘Jo, are you okay?’
She wasn’t. Her feet and hands were like frozen blocks. Her brain was a mess of thoughts about Theo. What would he be thinking, picked up by his aunt? Would he be okay?
‘Sorry, Andy. I’m back with it. You’re sure he was assaulted?’
She realised that she’d assumed a fall.
‘We found the poker from the fire. There’s blood and hair on the end.’
‘Oh Christ.’ A wave of nausea rose from her gut. Who on earth would hurt Harry? She’d sat by that fire and used that poker on a winter night during her pregnancy.
‘Jo, I think you’re in shock,’ said Carrick. ‘Do you want to go?’
He was giving her permission, but there was a hint of disapproval in his voice, so rare for Andy. He was finding this hard, too. He hadn’t known Harry like her, but they weren’t strangers. She knew she wasn’t being herself, the Jo Masters he trusted and respected. Snap out of it, she told herself. Do your job.
‘Of course not,’ she said. She took out a bottle of water from beside her car seat, stood, and took a deep swig. ‘Can we go in and look around?’
‘Scene’s secure. They won’t move him until we’ve done.’