Free The Lazarus Hotel by Jo Bannister Page B

soften the guilt. The whine in his voice turned heads. ‘I told them – the police, even Fran – I told them the tide pulled her out of my hand. But it’s not true. I let her go. I could have held her, and I let her go.’
    â€˜And you’ve let it haunt you ever since. You damn fool. What’s been happening to you, it’s nothing to do with Bosnia. It’s that – having to choose between your life and that of someone who was depending on you. In that river you were forced to confront your limitations, and you still haven’t come to terms with it.’
    â€˜But that’s more than a year ago!’
    â€˜And your problems started soon afterwards, yes? – the next time you found yourself under stress, which in your line of work was always going to be somewhere like Bosnia. You came face to face with your own mortality in that river. In order to do your job you’d persuaded yourself that death didn’t apply to you, and now you knew it did.
    â€˜Till then you’d got by on a cocktail of skill, luck and youthful self-confidence. Robbed of that you went into withdrawal. Suddenly there was no magic screen between you and death, and that scared you rigid. Trying to work it through instead of seeking help made it worse.’
    â€˜I thought, if the other guys could cope – and I used to be able to—’
    â€˜But they hadn’t been where you had – drowning by inches while you tried to save someone who couldn’t be saved. Then you tried to purge the fear by getting straight back to work. You thought that if you could do your work you couldn’t be a coward, whatever happened in the river. Only it backfired. Your subconscious decided that if you were a coward you couldn’t do your work. All the time you were fighting the wrong dragon – no wonder you kept getting the back of your neck fried!’
    Richard stared at her, ashamed but almost daring to hope. Was she saying what he thought she was saying – that there was an answer? ‘So?’
    â€˜Forget the job for the moment. Tackle the root cause. If you won’t take my word there was nothing more you could have done, find someone you will believe – the River Police maybe or the Coastguard. Talk about it, understand it, accept it. You don’t need forgiveness, Richard. Not being Superman isn’t a crime. You couldn’t hold on to her, that’s all; and now you can’t let her go. But you have to. She’s been dead for fifteen months: let her go. When you do you can start rebuilding your life. Not the way it was – you’ll never feel invulnerable again, that’s the prerogative of youth and you’ve grown up. But you’ll be able to work. You’ll be as good as anyone else. You can learn to live with not being better.’
    She smiled at his expression, put her cup back on the table. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I want a word with Joe.’ She took a purposeful stride across the room.
    Then the door of the conference room banged open, the handle chipping the new plaster, and Sheelagh stalked in, her face red with fury. Her cobalt eyes blazed round the room, ignoring the women present, striking sparks off the startled faces of the men. ‘Which one of you perverts ,’ she demanded in a voice quaking with anger, ‘has been playing with my underwear?’

Chapter Nine
    If she hadn’t been so clearly upset the response might have been ribald. Miriam looked quickly at Tariq, in her judgement the man most likely to light the blue touch-paper; but Tariq was watching with an absorbed expression and whatever he was thinking of it wasn’t a witticism.
    Tessa was nearest. ‘What’s happened?’
    â€˜My things!’ Sheelagh sounded close to tears: tears of rage, the sort that come with knuckledusters. ‘Someone’s been messing with my things. One of these bastards !’ Her eyes flayed the