By Laura Wilson
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Extra info for An Empty Death
She lay with one hand bent behind her head and her legs pulled up so that she formed a gentle S curve. She was entirely grey - like a plaster relief, Stratton thought. Peaceful, like something one might see on a gravestone. Smithie took up her unresisting hand and felt the wrist for a pulse. ‘Still there,’ he said, ‘but only just. No room for a doctor in here. Have to get her to the bottom of the shaft before the bloody lot caves in. ’ Stratton looked at him doubtfully. ‘Come on,’ said Smithie, irritated, ‘get on with it - don’t want the whole fucking lot down on your head, do you?
Don’t be impatient,’ said Jenny. ’ Jenny giggled. The water was like black soup by the time they got out. By then they were too engrossed to go back downstairs to the Morrison shelter. Stratton simply picked Jenny up, ignoring her protests, carried her across the landing, and laid her down on their double bed. Three Stratton was exhausted, and it was only seven in the morning. Hardly surprising since he’d been up most of the night, and his raw knuckles ached like buggery, but dragging himself to the bathroom had seemed to take the same amount of effort as climbing a mountain.
Just then, there was a single, sharp bark. ’ ‘They’ve found someone. ’ The dog was removed, and the rescue squad retreated from the rubble to fetch baskets before forming a chain. Some of them, on the opposite side to the crowd, didn’t bother with the baskets, but simply threw the bits of debris back between their legs, as rabbits do. There was a tense silence, broken only by the thud of bricks hitting the earth and the panting breath and curses of the men as they worked. Stratton went to find Jenny, who was standing with Doris.