Colleagues at Worldwide News said Elliott’s refusal to abandon Rexford in the fire was typical of her. “She’s selfless and determined and has always had a never-give-up attitude. Watching the drama unfold was highly traumatic for all of us, and while it had a positive outcome, we remain extremely concerned for Mattie and Jon’s recovery,” said news editor, Naz Khan.
A spokesperson at the hospital in the Kenyan capital of Nairobi confirmed the pair suffered significant injuries and were being treated in intensive care.
Nell realised she was holding her breath as she continued to read. After the bomb had gone off, Jon Rexford’s camera had somehow stayed upright on its stand, albeit at an angle, and continued to record, showing a widescreen view of the room as panicking delegates fled the chaos of rampaging flames, smoke, and tumbling pieces of the building. In the midst of it all, Mattie had somehow heaved a burning timber away from Jon Rexford’s prone body, even as flames literally licked at her, closing in on them both. That footage was embedded into the news story along with an advisory warning of upsetting content. One click and Nell could watch it, but she hesitated. What was holding her back? Was it because she now knew Mattie? No, she didn’t know her; they were acquainted. There was a distinct difference. In her work role, she was used to studying CCTV footage of people experiencing the most traumatic moments of their lives. Why should watching Mattie be any different?
Nell got up and paced the room, but it didn’t help. She made a mug of soothing fresh mint tea. Then she returned to the laptop and closed the website. She couldn’t watch the footage, not now. It would feel too personal and somehow intrusive, although she couldn’t explain how. Mattie would take tomorrow easy, if she had any sense. Not that it was any of Nell’s concern. Mattie was a grown woman, perfectly used to taking responsibility for her own decisions. She worked in war zones, for goodness sake. Yet the way Mattie had leaned into Nell’s touch when she’d come around lingered in Nell’s memory with an undeniable warmth as she washed the day away undera lukewarm shower. It was a precious moment she’d hold dear, albeit as a guilty secret.
Chapter 7
Mattie grimaced as she stretched out on the bed, the sheet rumpled at her feet and a fan aimed directly at her naked body. Everything hurt. Her head, her legs, even her skin. The ibuprofen she’d taken last night had helped her sleep, but they’d worn off, and now she needed more. She glanced at the clock radio on the bedside table: nine forty-five. That late already? She’d missed breakfast, which was a shame because, unlike yesterday evening, she was hungry. Her phone rang, and she saw it was a video call from Shona. She accepted it but covered up the camera. “Morning, Shona.”
“Put the screen on so I can see you,” said Shona.
Mattie grabbed a clean pair of boyshorts and a vest from her suitcase. “Hang on a mo. I’m naked, and you really don’t need to be seeing that. Talk while I throw some clothes on.”
“I see I won our bet. You couldn’t manage to stay away from work for even twenty-four hours.”
“Yes, yes, all right. You win.” Mattie appreciated Shona’s snarkiness. It was how their friendship worked. “Though to be fair, I didn’t go looking for work. That story found me. I’m modelling a particularly fetching shade of cherry red on my face right now as a punishment.”
“Show me.”
Decently attired, Mattie turned the phone and looked at the screen. “Told you.”
Shona snorted. “Classy.” Then she tsked. “You look crap.”
“I love you too.”
“Mattie, you’re sunburnt, bleary-eyed, and have the air of someone who had an argument with a ten-tonne lorry and lost. Have you seen a doctor?”
“I don’t need one.” That was her story, and she was sticking to it. No need to admit that she’d freaked the hell out of herself by fainting. Normally, she tended to be hardier than that. But what had she expected? Her decision to hike back to Cove House during the fiercest heat of the day had been seriously flawed and in turn, exacerbated every other poor decision she’d made, like failing to buy more water. She knew the dangers of dehydration and heat exposure, for fuck’s sake, so why had she ridden roughshod over the basics?Because of fear. Bloody Kenya. She shuffled on the pillows. “Thanks for the voicemail yesterday.”
“It helped?”
“I listened to it three times because it felt like you were actually with me.” Her voice wobbled.
“There’s no escaping me. It’s a good job you texted last night, otherwise I’d have been on the first train down,” Shona said. “How are you really feeling now? Because it’s not rocket science, is it? You, witnessing a fire, so close up. It’s going to mess with your head.”
Mattie sighed deeply. “I’m all right now. Really. I just... It was like there was a big collision in my head and I kind of lost it.”
“Tell me?”
“Seeing that woman trapped in the fire, knowing exactly how she felt. I was crap, Shona. I froze. All I managed to do was ring 999.”
“How would you rushing into a burning building help anyone?” asked Shona. “You’d have ended up needing rescuing yourself. Stop beating yourself up.”
“I don’t get why everything’s gone pear-shaped now. I mean, I’ve reported on other blazes since Kenya. There was the massive one at that tower block in Glasgow earlier this year. That didn’t trigger an anxiety attack.” Not much of one, anyway. She’d kept the panic-stricken moments to herself, otherwise Shona, or Simon, or her boss would have pressured her to return to counselling.
“There’s a big difference,” Shona said, her voice calm and measured. “With Glasgow, you already knew the outcome. Today, you didn’t know how things would pan out. You were watching it in real time. That’s what made it so scary for you. Please, Mattie, do yourself a favour and call your therapist.”
“Your help yesterday was enough. I’ll be fine.” Mattie ran her hands through her hair and winced. Christ, had she got sunburn on her scalp too?
“I’m no expert?—”
“Said one of London’s top paediatric rheumatology consultants.”
“Smart arse,” said Shona. “Tell me you’ll ring her tomorrow. I’m not a mental health expert, but I know when someone needs help.”
“I’m on holiday, Shona.” It was a lame excuse, and Mattie knew it.
