Page 4 of Oyster

“Right, in that case I’m phoning for an ambulance.”

That word got through her addled brain without any trouble. “No ambulance, Nico. No ambulance. No ambulance.”

Giving her another gentle shake, I stood over her. “Éti, listen. Look at me. What are these? What have you taken?”

“No ambulance, no ambulance, no ambulance,” she sang in a slur, her voice hoarse. “See? I’m fine.”

She curled up even tighter, chin tucked into the top of my zipped jacket. “No ambulance. No ambulance. I’ll be a good girl. Lemme be alone.”

“Tell me what these pills are.”

I grabbed the bottle, not understanding a word of the chemical shit written on the side.

“They are for my poorly leg. My very, very poorly leg. Which is much better now. That’s all. My doctor gave them to me. She said they’re not very strong.” Éti let out a hollow laugh. “She was right.”

“How many did you take?”

“Who cares? I’m a good girl, and I’m tryin’ to sleep. Nighty nighty.”

Dozing seemed like a terrible idea. What if she never woke up?

“How many, Éti?” Louder this time, my thumbs hovering over my phone, ready to dial. “Did you take an overdose?”

“Yes I did, Nico. As a matter of fact, I took two of them. Me and my rebel heart. Two whole tablets, although I chopped them in half because I’m not very good at swallowing. Said the actress to the bishop.”

She giggled drunkenly.

“Um… only two?”

My alarm bells ratcheted down a notch. Far be it from me to belittle anyone’s mental torment, but this didn’t have the feel of a serious overdose attempt, accidental or otherwise. Not unless the tablets were arsenic. And while not jolly, Éti didn’t seem down in the dumps either. I didn’t know how to describe her mood. Unpredictable?

“Two,” she repeated. “Because I am such arebelliousrule breaker.The correct dose was…” she beat an uneven drumroll on the sofa cushion… “one.”

With a theatrical drawn-out sigh, like explaining herself was a terrible chore, she added, “And I sicked them both up anyhow.”

Another attack of shivering seized her. Seeing as the doors had been left open half the night, the room wasn’t much warmer than the beach. At least nothing suggested she’d been burgled.

“Can I phone a friend for you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t want you to. Don’t have any. I’ll be fine. Just tired now. Wanna sleep.”

On a deep inhale, unsure what to do next, I glanced around the room. A recessed fireplace was prepped with kindling and logs, ready for a match. A couple of blankets lay strewn across the back of the sofa. Maybe I should phone my dad for advice.Him and Max would have finished oyster grading by now and be locking up for a few hours. Our working pattern followed the tides, this week condemning us to night shifts. Or I could phone Florian. He could always be relied upon in a crisis. He’d know what to do.

I looked back at the woman, hunched into a trembling tight comma. More strangers invading her home and seeing her at her worst.

“Okay,” I decided. “No ambulance for the moment. And no friends. But let’s get you out of these wet things and into something dry. And sort out a hot drink.”

A stubborn grunt. “Don’t want to.”

Kneeling on the floor, I gave her arm a firm shake, keeping well clear of the fall of hair and the suspicious matter clogging it. “Please, Éti. Change and then I’ll leave you alone. I promise. You’re so cold, sweetheart. You’ll make yourself ill if you stay like this.”

I tugged at the sleeve of my jacket. With a protesting moan, she unfolded a little. “Can you sit up for a second, so we can get this off?”

To my astonishment, she complied. Perhaps it was the promise of sleeping in peace. Or maybe the grubby ocean smell of the jacket worsened her nausea. With a last hurrah, she clutched the arm of the sofa in both hands and heaved herself upright, sitting almost primly on the edge. Or as primly as a girl could with vomit flecking her hair and tragic puddles of mascara smudging her cheeks. Lifting her chin in an imperious fashion, she pushed back the mop of wavy dark curls.

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