Vacant
‘We used to have it on the outside loo in the garden until I insisted we have a new door fitted with a proper lock,’ he had said with a grin.
‘Do you ever go out onto the roof?’ Tabitha had asked.
‘Occasionally,’ he had replied, ‘the view is stunning and, on a clear night, when there’s a full moon, it’s magical. I’d planned to propose to Lucia up here, but she refused to even look, so I did it in a restaurant, which was what she’d hinted she’d prefer.’
The idea of standing on the roof in the moonlight with Gulliver had remained with Tabitha for several hours, then her mind had drifted to her late husband, Blake, and Gulliver’s wife, Lucia, and she had pushed all thoughts of a romantic celestial tryst aside.
Now, as Tabitha ran towards the door to the roof, she pulled her phone from her pocket.
‘Tamar,’ she exclaimed as her sister answered on the second ring, ‘what do I do to dissuade someone from suicide?’
‘What?’ said Tamar, her voice incredulous. ‘Tabs, where are you?’
‘Gulliver’s on the roof, he’s threatening to throw himself off,’ her voice rose and she could hear the edge of hysteria in her words.
‘Tabs, no,’ shouted Tamar. ‘Stay away from him; call the police and an ambulance. Are you there alone?’
‘His mother and Edith are outside with Seb, the gardener, but no one else thought to come up here. I’m sure they will any second, though.’
‘He could be dangerous—’ Tamar began, but Tabitha cut across her.
‘He isn’t,’ she insisted. ‘He’s in pain. The roof is his favourite place in the house, I don’t think he means to throw himself off. If I talk to him, I could help. In case I’m wrong, though, you’ve been trained to deal with suicidal patients – help me, Tay, please!’
She had reached the door, the card indicating whether anyone was outside lay abandoned on the floor but, to her relief,when she tried the handle, it was unlocked, he had not barred entrance to the roof.
‘This is a terrible idea, Tabs,’ said Tamar, ‘but you’re going to do this with or without me, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
Tamar groaned. ‘My advice is: stay a good distance away from him, out of grabbing range, engage him in conversation and use his name as often as possible, it will help him to focus. Don’t offer advice, be empathetic, allow him to speak and listen, it might give you the key to how he could be persuaded to come inside.’
‘Thanks,’ said Tabitha. ‘I’ll call?—’
‘I’m staying on the phone,’ her sister said in a voice Tabitha knew not to challenge.
‘Fine,’ Tabitha replied. ‘I’m going outside.’
She pushed her phone into her cardigan pocket, hoping it would cut Tamar off, and as quietly as possible opened the door. The full might of the storm hit her, cold spiky rain scraped at her skin, plastering her hair to her head, long tendrils winding around her face like seaweed. Her jeans were like ice on her skin as the rainwater drenched them and her trainers slid on the puddles, water sloshing inside, soaking her socks, but she ignored her discomfort and edged forward, searching for Gulliver.
The light was terrible, made worse by the raging storm, each raindrop was a dagger of destruction, fierce, sharp, hurling itself to its own demise. In the distance, the thunder roared, followed by zig-zagged lightning, turning the darkening afternoon into an ethereal light show and, as it screeched around her, she saw the figure of a man silhouetted against the tempestuous sky.
He stood, arms outstretched wide on either side of his body as though on a cross, the embodiment of the lettertau, the nineteenth letter of the Greek alphabet and the symbolic sign oflife and resurrection. His head was thrown back, his eyes shut. Dark hair whipped his face as the wind howled around him. He wore only a pair of sodden black jeans and around his throat a necklace of hand-carved wooden beads, no shirt, no shoes, and he was immobile, a living statue absorbing the power of the storm.
There was a savage beauty in his despair. Another rumble of thunder crashed across the sky and Gulliver stretched his arms wider as though trying to embrace the wildness of the elements. Tabitha watched, transfixed, and in her heart she knew, this man was not here to destroy himself, he had come up here to heal, to pour his pain out to the raging weather, to let it blow away his loss.
‘What’s happening?’ Tamar’s voice was small, tinny, lost to the weather.
‘He’s fine,’ Tabitha said pulling the phone from her cardigan as she stared at Gulliver. ‘You don’t have to worry, Tay. I’ll call you later with an update.’
She cut the call and pushed her phone back into her pocket, then, with great care, avoiding the puddles and hanging onto the safety rails that ran around the roof, she edged forward, each tiny step taking her closer to Gulliver but keeping her from his eyeline as she did not want to startle him. Tears sprang to her eyes, his emotions raw, primordial; she understood his pain. The loss of a spouse was not simply the absence of the person, it was the destruction of a dream, a future, the plans and the path you had set out upon together, the promises you had made to build a life, to care, to share, to be a team, the two of you against the world. Betrayal on this scale could be catastrophic.
A noise behind her caused her to turn. Seb stood in the doorway, his face blanched white with fear, but Tabitha held her finger to her lips to silence him. She beckoned him forward and he joined her, Gulliver’s pose was softening and Tabitha hopedhe would return inside, but if he edged forward, then she and Seb might have to act.
‘What do we do?’ whispered Seb.
He was a short, stocky man in his fifties with a grey crew cut and gentle brown eyes. Days outside had given his skin a weather-beaten look and years of manual work had broadened his shoulders; he exuded strength and calm but Tabitha could tell he was scared.
