Page 12

‘Keep going, we’re almost there – come on!’

‘Here!’ yelled Ben, appearing suddenly next to her, brandishing something long and thin in his hand.

A knife – a long carving knife, by the looks of it.

What is he doing with that? ‘Can we do anything with this – use it to dislodge the rocks, the mud, maybe?’ His voice was desperate; he waved the knife at them frantically.

‘Where did you get that?’ said Carly.

‘I brought it from the kitchen in the house – I just thought we might need it to get through—’

‘Never mind that,’ said Naya. ‘Forget the knife, that’s not going to help. Come on, we have to pull her out!’

Scott had hold of Mira, underneath her arms, was pulling, yanking her free of the tonne of sodden earth her body was encased in.

Now, Naya, Ben and Carly stopped digging debris off the top of her chest and came to join him, helping him haul her out.

For a moment, it felt like nothing was happening: she remained stuck, her body and the mud unyielding, and Naya wondered why Scott had called them away from their digging to help.

But then she felt it – a tug, at first just the slightest shift – and then a sudden release, and she was tumbling backwards, they all were – falling into the earth behind them, caking their whole backs now in the same gunky soil.

They all scrambled up to drag Mira away from the heap of mud and towards the clearing near the waterfall.

Carly placed her jacket onto the ground and Scott laid Mira down gently onto it.

Naya bolted forward, shoving the others out of the way, muttering ‘ Sorry, sorry... ’ as she moved.

‘I’m a nurse, remember? I told you last night – I know what to do,’ she said, as she leant over Mira, started to rub away the mud covering her nose and mouth, checking her pulse at the same time.

It was there, but it was faint – and even through the mud coating Mira’s body, she could see the bluish grey tinge to her skin, the disturbing lack of movement in her chest, her limbs.

Naya placed her cheek over Mira’s face, felt for breath coming from her mouth, her nose: there was nothing.

‘She’s alive, but she’s not breathing – watch her chest, tell me if you see it rise and fall when I’m doing mouth to mouth!’

Naya tilted Mira’s head back, pinched her nose closed, placed her lips over Mira’s – they were cold, and now she could see they had the same bluish tinge as the rest of her – and blew a steady breath into her mouth.

Then she stopped, waited to hear anything from the others, for them to see the rise and fall from Mira’s chest she was desperate for.

‘Nothing,’ said Carly. ‘I didn’t see any movement.’

Naya wasn’t giving up yet. She tried again, hoping, praying.

‘I think her chest – I think it went up a little that time, I saw it!’ called Ben.

‘She’s breathing – yes, Naya, look,’ said Scott.

Sure enough, as Naya moved slightly away from Mira’s mouth, she felt a whisper of air.

There was breath; there was life. I’ve done it.

Thank God. She turned Mira’s body into the recovery position, sat herself close to her face, kept her eyes on her.

Naya was hopeful: Mira’s breaths were coming steadier now, and deeper.

They waited as Mira’s breathing grew noisier, still a little rasping, but solid.

Naya allowed herself to shift her gaze from Mira’s face to look around the clearing; as she did, she felt a twinge in her stomach, reached her hand instinctively to massage the spot beneath her belly button.

The motion made her think of the way she rubbed Elodie’s tummy when it ached, which it seemed to on an almost daily basis.

Her little girl’s face swam before her. Had she really done this?

Left her precious babies behind – not with their pathetic excuse for a father, thank God; they only saw the man once every few months, and his idea of parenting was throwing some Chipsters in a bowl and letting them play Zelda until they passed out from sheer exhaustion at heaven knew what time.

At least they were with Naya’s maman , who she knew would take the same care of them as she had of Naya herself as a child – but for a whole week?

All to go halfway across the world and hang out with a bunch of strangers in a rainforest?

And then she thought: yes. She really had done this.

And yes , she’d needed to. She was exhausted; she was starting to burn out – though of course, some of her stress was self-inflicted.

Loud-mouthing to a patient about the failings of the French hospital system – not realizing the on-call doctor was standing right behind her, landing herself with a disciplinary hearing. ..

And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

She was doing things without thinking; things she knew weren’t right for herself or – even worse – for her kids.

Right now, she was not the mother they needed her to be.

She needed to take time for herself, get some space – to faites le plein , to replenish herself; that’s what that support worker said the last time she’d come round.

She needed to receive Hannah’s healing, her wisdom, the tailored support that she had promised would make such a difference to their lives.

If only Hannah were here to actually deliver it.

‘Naya!’ said Carly, stirring her from her thoughts. ‘Mira’s waking up.’ Naya looked down, and sure enough, Mira’s eyelids had flickered open; in the same instant she tried to lurch upwards, taking huge, rasping breaths. Naya gently moved her back down.

‘You’re OK, Mira – you can breathe. We’re here with you. Just rest.’

Mira made a small noise, a slight nod of her head, closed her eyes again.

When she opened them a few minutes later, there was a sudden look of panic, of horror, spreading across her face, as she lifted a hand to touch her scalp.

Naya’s eyes followed her motion; in the desperation to get her breathing, in the thick coating of mud and filth covering Mira’s body, she hadn’t noticed it, not fully, until now.

Her hair was gone. Mira’s bare scalp was now slicked with dark brown mud, like the rest of her body.

It was a wig. She’d suspected it was; she’d noticed the way Mira’s hair sat solidly on her head.

She’d wondered, vaguely, what it might mean; she’d heard Mira mention over dinner that she was Jewish, and thought perhaps it could be related to that – she was sure some religious women covered their hair.

She stared at Mira. ‘You look lovely without it,’ she said, meaning it.

Mira’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Thank you,’ she said, still slow with her words, still full of effort. ‘I had... cancer – stage two – I’ve... finished my treatment.’

Naya nodded, clasped Mira’s hand. That makes sense.

She wondered, now, why she hadn’t also considered that as a possibility.

Her exhaustion; how pale she was. Naya had met cancer patients who took months to recover from chemo, even once the cancer had gone.

She wondered if Mira had managed to disguise it in her video somehow – surely Hannah couldn’t have known?

She’d never have agreed to her coming here if she had – would she?

‘I’m so impressed you still managed to come here,’ said Carly, reaching a hand to Mira’s shoulder.

‘Thanks,’ said Mira, her hand moving down from her scalp.

‘And I’m glad the wig... is gone, actually,’ she said, a small smile on her lips.

‘I was never sure... it was because Ezra – my husband – he thought it would help me feel better, when all my hair came out...’ She shook her head.

‘But it always felt wrong... I feel more myself without it.’

‘That’s good you’re having a break from treatment now – did you have to go through a few rounds of chemo?’ said Ben, before tailing off. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry – my mother had cancer, so I know a thing or two...’

‘Yes, I did, and it was... brutal,’ breathed Mira.

‘But the last round... was the worst.’ She stopped talking, tried to sit up again, then grimaced in pain and grabbed at her chest. ‘My chest – it hurts so badly,’ she gasped.

Naya leaned forward, felt for Mira’s pulse. It was weak, but steady.

‘I don’t think it’s your heart,’ she said. ‘It’s most likely bruising to your ribs from where the mud landed on you. One of us must have some painkillers...’

‘I have some in my bag, hold on a second,’ said Ben, unzipping the side pocket of his rucksack, rifling through the compartment.

‘Here,’ he said, brandishing a pill packet, holding it in Naya’s direction.

She reached for it, was about to pop one of the tablets from the pack. Then she looked at the label.

‘These?’ she said. She held them up. She saw Scott glance at the packet and frown, then Carly’s eyes flicker towards it, both of them taking in the name on its side.

‘These aren’t painkillers,’ she said, ‘they’re—’

Ben grabbed the packet back from her hand before she could finish her sentence. ‘Sorry, not those,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve got too much shit in here. Look – I’ve got some Panadol, here.’

Naya took them from his outstretched hand; nodded. It was none of her business what medication Ben was on, but it was difficult to get hold of the kind of drugs she’d just seen – he must have had a good reason to be on them. She handed Mira two of the Panadol and her water bottle to swig them down.

‘Thanks,’ said Mira. ‘I need to lie down – in a bed – can we walk back to the house?’