Deep Black

41

I pulled away the bigger shards of glass from between her breasts, gave her two more breaths, then put the heel of my left hand on to her sternum, and my right on top of that. I leaned over her, straightened my arms and started pumping steadily, counting off the seconds in my head.

Thousand and one, thousand and two, thousand and three, thousand and four . . .

I spat out another mouthful of blood and started to call it out loud: ‘Thousand and six, thousand and seven . . .’

I yelled across at Jerry, ‘Tell him her heart’s stopped and she can’t breathe for herself. I’m trying to do it for her.’

The husband struggled and yelled something back.

‘Tell him to get downstairs and find some help. Ambulances, medics, whatever . . . But fuck him off, I need you here.’

Jerry gave him a torrent of Arabic, pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped it round him, then virtually pushed him out of the door.

‘Squeeze her face together again – we need that seal.’

He dropped to his knees.

I got my mouth round hers, pinched her nose, and breathed hard. Fuck knows how long it had been since her brain had last had oxygen.

Her lungs fully inflated this time. Once. Twice. Then it was back to fifteen pumps over her heart.

‘Thousand and one, thousand and two, thousand and three, thousand and four . . .’

It was a whole lot quieter now the husband had gone. I could even hear a bird singing on the balcony.

‘Thousand and six, thousand and seven, thousand and eight . . .’

I pumped away, squashing the heart to move that oxygenated blood round her body on its own. A fair amount of red stuff was oozing out of her, but it wasn’t as bad as it looked. If you drop a bottle of Ribena on your kitchen floor it looks like breakfast turned into the Texas chainsaw massacre, but it’s only one bottle.

‘Start breathing, for fuck’s sake! Thousand and thirteen, thousand and fourteen, thousand and fifteen . . .’

Jerry and I bent down and I started to fill her again, one, two, big breaths. Each time, her chest fully rose and fell.

Another fifteen pumps. I checked for signs of life. Nothing. Not a flicker.

Head back, two more breaths.

‘Thousand and one, thousand and two, thousand and three . . .’

Jerry and I exchanged glances. Was there any point?

‘Thousand and four, thousand and five . . .’ I shouted it louder, as if that might help.

Helicopters careered overhead, then came back in to hover.

‘Thousand and fourteen, thousand and fifteen . . .’

There was a small tremor in her good cheek.

‘She’s pumping, she’s fucking pumping!’

I jammed two fingers into her neck as Jerry’s face broke into a grin. ‘Good things, Nick. Good things.’

Her carotid was quick and weak, but her heart was beating. All I had to do now was carry on the breathing for her – she would tell me when to stop.

I did two more breaths and checked. Her eyelids flickered.

Another two, and she coughed. A trickle of blood spilled from her mouth. Jerry was so excited his hands slipped. ‘Keep the seal closed, keep it closed.’

I’d just started to give her another ten short breaths when her hand came up and tried to push me away. She moaned softly, like a baby. She was in a lot of pain, which was a good thing. If she could feel pain, her brain was working.

I opened an eyelid and the pupil reacted. Not a lot, but enough.

‘Talk to her, Jerry. Make her answer. Try and keep her going. Wake her up.’