roots.
‘Absolutely.’ She reached the door and held it open. ‘I put the really good ones up on the noticeboard at work.’
‘Where’s work? Here?’
‘No – although yes at the moment. I’m the council’s arts and entertainment officer, but I’ve been seconded to give Will a hand until after the commemoration. The council’s invested quite a bit in the whole thing, you know.’
‘Yes, I’ve seen the billboards.’
She laughed. ‘James can’t miss a photo opportunity. Here we go.’
We paused before the Historical Society door and Deb reached out to give it a push. When it didn’t budge she tried the handle, then knocked sharply. We stood in silence for a few moments and she tried the handle again, as if the time delay might have made a difference.
‘That’s funny.’ She knocked once more. ‘Maybe he forgot to take his tag down.’
‘No problem, I’m sure he’ll be here soon. I’ll just go back down–’
‘Stay here. I’ll grab the master key so you can wait inside.’
I watched her set off back down the corridor at a trot and disappear into the stairwell. She seemed a lot more pleasant today, and not just because she admired my work. Although that certainly helped. I wondered whether the two sisters got on, and if she knew about the prospective addition.
Minutes later she reappeared with a large key ring in one hand. It was the one Will had dropped earlier. ‘Here we go.’ She unlocked the door, pushing it open for me to pass through. ‘I’ve just got to grab some stuff then I’ll leave you to it. Make yourself comfortable.’
‘Thanks.’ I stepped into the room and saw him immediately. My surprise burgeoned into shock, bringing me to an abrupt halt. Deb bumped against my back.
‘God, sorry, Nell. I didn’t –’
Urgency surged, as if it had required a two-second suspension, jerking my limbs to life. He was sitting at a desk, slumped forward with his head almost face down on the keyboard, one arm hanging limply with fingers trailing on the floor. I seized the hand, knowing even as I felt frantically for a pulse that it was too late. His flesh was frigid.
‘Ambulance, please,’ Deb was saying behind me. ‘Sheridan House. Third floor. Looks like a heart attack. Debra Taylor, from the council.’
I let my fingers slip from pulse to palm, and then clasped his hand between both of mine. It felt like defrosted chicken.
‘Will? It’s Deb. I’m upstairs and it looks like Sam Emerson’s had a heart attack. I’ve called an ambulance but, well … no.’
I let go of Sam’s hand, placed it gently on his lap.
‘Are you okay, Nell?’
I nodded, my eyes burning. ‘Bloody hell. I wonder how long he’s been here, like this?’
‘Since last night, I’d guess. That’s why the tag was still there.’
‘I’m surprised his wife didn’t call. Oh, poor Loretta.’
Deb bobbed down beside the chair. ‘Look.’
I followed her gaze to the computer screen. A frenetic blur of the letter D ran across the screen, speeding to the edge and then flashing into a new line, over and over. Deb reached out towards Sam’s head, hesitated, and then moved it, just slightly. The D barrage stopped, the cursor blinking expectantly beside the final one. Now I could see Sam’s left eye, half closed.
‘He looks like he’s asleep,’ whispered Deb. ‘I want to reach out and shake him. Wake him up.’
I nodded. I had known Sam Emerson for as long as I had been alive. He was part of the fabric of Majic, to be met walking down the street, or glimpsed on a variety of committees, or seen in the pages of the local newspaper. Always involved in something.
Will appeared in the doorway, breathing heavily. He was actually, literally, wringing his hands. He took a step forward, stopped. ‘Is he …?’
Deb nodded. ‘Heart attack maybe. His tag was still up so probably last night.’
‘God, I don’t believe this.’
Sam’s right hand suddenly juddered, stilled, and then juddered again. I
‘Absolutely.’ She reached the door and held it open. ‘I put the really good ones up on the noticeboard at work.’
‘Where’s work? Here?’
‘No – although yes at the moment. I’m the council’s arts and entertainment officer, but I’ve been seconded to give Will a hand until after the commemoration. The council’s invested quite a bit in the whole thing, you know.’
‘Yes, I’ve seen the billboards.’
She laughed. ‘James can’t miss a photo opportunity. Here we go.’
We paused before the Historical Society door and Deb reached out to give it a push. When it didn’t budge she tried the handle, then knocked sharply. We stood in silence for a few moments and she tried the handle again, as if the time delay might have made a difference.
‘That’s funny.’ She knocked once more. ‘Maybe he forgot to take his tag down.’
‘No problem, I’m sure he’ll be here soon. I’ll just go back down–’
‘Stay here. I’ll grab the master key so you can wait inside.’
I watched her set off back down the corridor at a trot and disappear into the stairwell. She seemed a lot more pleasant today, and not just because she admired my work. Although that certainly helped. I wondered whether the two sisters got on, and if she knew about the prospective addition.
Minutes later she reappeared with a large key ring in one hand. It was the one Will had dropped earlier. ‘Here we go.’ She unlocked the door, pushing it open for me to pass through. ‘I’ve just got to grab some stuff then I’ll leave you to it. Make yourself comfortable.’
‘Thanks.’ I stepped into the room and saw him immediately. My surprise burgeoned into shock, bringing me to an abrupt halt. Deb bumped against my back.
‘God, sorry, Nell. I didn’t –’
Urgency surged, as if it had required a two-second suspension, jerking my limbs to life. He was sitting at a desk, slumped forward with his head almost face down on the keyboard, one arm hanging limply with fingers trailing on the floor. I seized the hand, knowing even as I felt frantically for a pulse that it was too late. His flesh was frigid.
‘Ambulance, please,’ Deb was saying behind me. ‘Sheridan House. Third floor. Looks like a heart attack. Debra Taylor, from the council.’
I let my fingers slip from pulse to palm, and then clasped his hand between both of mine. It felt like defrosted chicken.
‘Will? It’s Deb. I’m upstairs and it looks like Sam Emerson’s had a heart attack. I’ve called an ambulance but, well … no.’
I let go of Sam’s hand, placed it gently on his lap.
‘Are you okay, Nell?’
I nodded, my eyes burning. ‘Bloody hell. I wonder how long he’s been here, like this?’
‘Since last night, I’d guess. That’s why the tag was still there.’
‘I’m surprised his wife didn’t call. Oh, poor Loretta.’
Deb bobbed down beside the chair. ‘Look.’
I followed her gaze to the computer screen. A frenetic blur of the letter D ran across the screen, speeding to the edge and then flashing into a new line, over and over. Deb reached out towards Sam’s head, hesitated, and then moved it, just slightly. The D barrage stopped, the cursor blinking expectantly beside the final one. Now I could see Sam’s left eye, half closed.
‘He looks like he’s asleep,’ whispered Deb. ‘I want to reach out and shake him. Wake him up.’
I nodded. I had known Sam Emerson for as long as I had been alive. He was part of the fabric of Majic, to be met walking down the street, or glimpsed on a variety of committees, or seen in the pages of the local newspaper. Always involved in something.
Will appeared in the doorway, breathing heavily. He was actually, literally, wringing his hands. He took a step forward, stopped. ‘Is he …?’
Deb nodded. ‘Heart attack maybe. His tag was still up so probably last night.’
‘God, I don’t believe this.’
Sam’s right hand suddenly juddered, stilled, and then juddered again. I
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