Isolated. M. A. Hunter

shirt and trousers, is a couple of metres ahead of us, stooping, arms outstretched in the direction of the woman dressed in brilliant white robes who is standing just short of the edge of the roof. She looks almost angelic.

      ‘Who are they?’ she calls out, pointing at us as we approach the security guard. ‘I said nobody else was to come up here.’

      Keeping his eyes on the woman, the guard turns his head to address us from the side of his mouth. ‘This is no place for you. Go back downstairs.’

      Maddie ignores the command and stands directly beside him, zipping up her tracksuit top as it continues to flap and float on the wind. ‘My name is Maddie Travers,’ she calls out to the woman, ‘and I work in this building on the sixth floor. What’s your name?’

      ‘She doesn’t want to give her name,’ the guard replies quietly, still talking through the side of his mouth.

      ‘That’s okay. You don’t need to tell me your name,’ Maddie calls out again. ‘I’m just here to listen to you.’

      ‘Leave me alone!’ the woman fires back.

      ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, sweetheart,’ Maddie says, surprisingly calm given the pressure of the situation which I can only watch unfold.

      It feels as though I’m not even here, as if I’m sitting alone somewhere watching it play out on a screen, knowing there is nothing I can do to influence proceedings. Maddie, on the other hand, seems intent on taking the bull by the horns.

      ‘Can you tell me what’s brought you up to this roof today?’

      The woman glances back over her shoulder, her body trembling as she does, though it isn’t clear if it’s nerves or the chill in the air.

      ‘It’s okay, sweetheart,’ Maddie calls, ‘you don’t have to answer my questions. Really, I just want to understand what could have happened to make you think that this is the only way out.’

      She turns back to look at Maddie again and I suddenly realise both Maddie and the guard have moved half a step closer to the woman. ‘You wouldn’t understand!’

      ‘I think you’d be surprised,’ Maddie challenges. ‘My father felt the same way once – that everything was so bleak that there was nowhere else for him to go. But do you know what? He found a way out.’

      It feels like we’ve reached a stalemate. If Maddie and the guard charged at the woman now, there’s no way they’d get to her before she had the chance to hurl herself backwards over the ledge, and yet I can’t say for certain that she definitely wants to jump. Having never been faced with a situation like this before, I can’t tell whether this is a serious attempt or just a cry for help. Regardless, I’m not sure Maddie is the right person to be trying to talk her down. They have trained professionals for this kind of thing in the police force, who must be on their way by now.

      The woman is watching Maddie carefully, but then her gaze falls on me and she stares so intently that I desperately want to look away. It takes all my willpower to hold her gaze.

      ‘There’s no way out for me,’ she shouts, still staring at me. ‘I’m cursed.’

      ‘Tell me about that,’ Maddie encourages.

      ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

      ‘Try me. I’m a well-educated woman with a vivid imagination. I think you’d be surprised at how much I can understand.’

      The woman glances back over her shoulder again as the sound of approaching sirens fills the air. Oh my God, I think she may actually jump right now. She is so close that a trip or slip would send her headfirst over the ledge.

      Relief floods my body as she turns back to face us again.

      ‘You’re not up here by choice, are you?’ Maddie tries again. ‘Who put this curse on you?’

      The woman’s eyes are shining in the early morning sunlight. ‘We brought it on ourselves. We made a pact not to tell anyone what we did.’

      ‘Was that you and a particular person? A husband? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?’

      The woman promptly sits down, her bottom on the ledge; it’s impossible to know whether this is a step forwards or backwards. Has she sat to engage, or so it’s easier to throw herself back?

      ‘A best friend?’ Maddie guesses next. ‘What did you and this person make a pact about? I’m assuming it’s something you consider bad if you’re not prepared to tell me?’

      ‘I can’t tell you because then you’ll be cursed too.’

      ‘Okay, okay, sweetheart, if you really don’t want to tell me, then that’s okay, but I won’t be able to help if I don’t know what help you need. Does your friend know how you feel?’

      ‘They don’t care. Nobody does.’

      ‘I care, sweetheart. Even though we’ve just met, I promise I care about what happens to you. And so does my friend Emma here.’

      My eyes widen at the mention of my name. Why drag me into it?

      ‘Emma cares about people who think they’ve reached the end of the road. She has a special gift for helping them.’

      A noise behind us has me turning to look, and now I see a woman clad in black emerge from the hatch. There is a badge and warrant card hanging from a chain around her neck. The trained negotiator. Thank God.

      ‘No more people,’ the terrified woman calls out, standing up again and pressing her ankles against the ledge.

      The police negotiator’s hair is silver in colour despite the youthful appearance of her features; I can only assume doing this kind of work, and the stress-level involved, has an aging effect on those who undertake it.

      ‘Natalie, my name is Inspector Marcziesk. I know why you’re up here and I’ve been sent to help you. Is this about Sally? Sally Curtis?’

      That name rings a bell but I can’t place why it sounds so familiar.

      The woman – Natalie, by all accounts – steps back and up onto the ledge. I can’t watch and yet cannot take my eyes from her. One sudden gust of wind and she’ll be over.

      ‘Steady there, Natalie,’ the inspector cautions. ‘Nobody wants to see things end this way. I’m here to listen to anything you want to say. Please don’t do something you’ll regret.’

      Natalie doesn’t respond, merely looking from the inspector to me. She’s burning a hole into my subconscious again.

      ‘Think about your mum and dad,’ the inspector tries once more. ‘Think about Louise and Jane. What would they think if they could see you up here now?’

      ‘You’re Emma Hunter, aren’t you?’ Natalie calls out. ‘I recognise you from the television. Can you help me?’

      I don’t know what to say, or how best to answer – not that I have much choice as the words can’t get past the lump in my throat.

      ‘You need to find her,’ Natalie continues. ‘Find Sally. Tell her I’m sorry.’

      Before any of us can react, Natalie closes her eyes and falls back off the roof.

      Chapter Seven

      Then

       Bovington Garrison, Dorset

      Natalie had waited for her mum to depart – off to have her hair cut and blow-dried – before venturing from the house, her limp far more pronounced than she would have cared for. Her dad hadn’t stuck around after breakfast, and even when her mum was asking questions about Sally, it was as if he was in a world of his own, kissing them both on the head before hurrying away, citing some exercise he had to prepare for. It was the life they lived: army business before all else. Not that Natalie