Isolated. M. A. Hunter

when…’– he takes a moment to choose his words carefully – ‘when the incident occurred.’

      ‘That’s right,’ I confirm. ‘Have you come to take our witness statements?’

      He offers an empathetic smile. ‘That’s correct, Miss Hunter, but before I do, how are you both coping? It’s vital that we capture an accurate account of what you saw, but it’s also important that you both take whatever time and counselling you need to come to terms with what happened. There is a telephone number for confidential counselling that I’ll pass to you as soon as we’re done, but in the meantime, are you both up to telling me what you saw? If it’s easier, I’m happy for you to stay together while I ask you questions.’

      There is something about Sergeant Daggard that I instantly warm to. He has one of those voices you hear on late-night radio: relaxed, sincere and capable of putting you instantly at ease. It can’t be easy to remain so calm and compassionate in such a situation, and yet there is no trace of impatience or frustration in either his manner or his behaviour. He’s placed his hat on the stack of manuscripts and because there isn’t a vacant chair, he’s instead taken up a position resting on the edge of the filing cabinet.

      ‘I have a detailed statement from Inspector Marcziesk, who informed me that the two of you, and one’ – another pause to consult his notebook – ‘Sydney Bartholomew were already on the roof when she arrived. Is that correct?’

      I wait a moment to see if Maddie wants to engage with him, but she’s now rested her head in her hands and is avoiding eye contact with both of us. Knowing Maddie, she’s already started the mental inquest into whether she could have handled anything differently. There really was nothing more she could have done though. In fact, thinking back to what I saw, prior to the inspector’s arrival, Natalie sitting down on the ledge felt like progress was being made.

      ‘That’s right. I mean, if Sydney is the name of the guard,’ I answer for the two of us.

      ‘Can I ask what you were both doing on the roof?’

      ‘We wanted to help. Maddie received a call telling her that someone was threatening to jump, and as a trained suicide prevention counsellor, she wanted—’

      ‘A what, sorry?’ Daggard interrupted with an apologetic wince.

      ‘Maddie’s had training to help talk to people who are contemplating suicide, as part of her work with The Samaritans,’ I reply. At least that’s what I think she said to Clyde the security guard to convince him to let us up. Oh God, what if that was just bull on Maddie’s part? I didn’t question it at the time, but is that why she’s so quiet now? Surely not.

      ‘Is that right, Miss Travers?’

      Maddie doesn’t look up, nor respond.

      ‘Miss Travers?’

      ‘Maddie!’ I say louder, to snap her out of the trance. ‘Sergeant Daggard asked you a question.’

      Maddie looks up at both of us; her eyes are red and puffy, and shining with the light from overhead. I reach into my satchel, remove a packet of tissues I always keep in there and pass her one.

      ‘It’s all right,’ Daggard says to her calmly. ‘I’ll continue talking with Miss Hunter, and then speak to you afterwards.’ He looks back to me. ‘You were saying, Miss Hunter…?’

      ‘Um, yeah,’ I begin, trying to straighten the memories in my head. ‘We climbed up onto the roof and saw the security guard there, maybe five or so metres from the woman, who was standing close to the ledge.’

      ‘Were the two of them in discussion?’

      ‘I–I–I don’t really remember… She pointed at Maddie and me, and wanted to know who we were, so Maddie explained.’

      ‘How did the woman – Natalie – how did she seem to you? Was she upset? Angry? Worried?’

      ‘Anxious, I’d say, but yes, there was definitely fear there too. She seemed troubled.’

      ‘And how did she react once you’d identified yourselves?’

      I think about the penetrating stare she held on me for what felt like an age, but probably wasn’t more than a few seconds. ‘Maddie was the one talking to her; I was just observing the scene unfolding. I’m sorry, I really don’t remember. I never expected her to actually go through with it.’

      ‘I understand from Inspector Marcziesk that Natalie spoke to you. Can you tell me what she said?’

      ‘She told me she recognised me from the TV.’

      ‘Had you ever met Natalie before today?’

      I’m trying to place her face, but I genuinely have no recollection of ever seeing her before being on that roof. She was wearing a cleaner’s tabard, and God only knows how many times I must have passed her in this building without noticing her. If only I’d been less wrapped up in my own world, maybe I could have done more.

      ‘No, I don’t think so,’ I reply. ‘Did she work here?’

      He shrugs. ‘I believe she was working for a cleaning company who recently took over the contract for this building, but I couldn’t tell you if she’d ever stepped foot inside the place before today. One of my colleagues is checking that at the moment. Do you recall whether Natalie said anything else to you?’

       You need to find her. Find Sally. Tell her I’m sorry.

      ‘She mentioned someone called Sally Curtis, but I don’t know who that is. The inspector seemed to know though. When she first arrived, she asked Natalie if her being on the roof had anything to do with Sally.’

      Daggard is nodding, scribbling something into his notepad. ‘I don’t know all the background, but from what I understand, Natalie’s friend Sally Curtis disappeared when the two of them were adolescents, some fifteen years ago. Natalie was one of the last people to see Sally alive and blamed herself for Sally disappearing. Been in and out of psychiatric institutions for a number of years, and this isn’t the first time Inspector Marcziesk has been called to talk Natalie down from a building.’

      I can imagine some of the pain and guilt that must have been coursing through Natalie’s mind earlier today. I’ve felt the exact same thing.

      Through it all, there’s still a tiny bell ringing at the back of my mind; the name Sally Curtis is definitely gnawing at my subconscious, beckoning me to recall why it seems so familiar.

      ‘Anything else you can remember about what Natalie said before…?’ He is desperately trying not to reference the suicide, but I sense it’s more for our benefit rather than because he’s uncomfortable.

      ‘Nothing at the moment,’ I admit reluctantly. ‘It all happened so quickly.’

      He smiles warmly again before taking my contact details and passing me a business card with his. ‘If you do recall anything else, please don’t hesitate to call. If I’m unavailable, you can leave a message with a colleague who will ensure it is passed on.’

      ‘What will happen next?’

      He narrows his eyes as he looks at me. ‘An autopsy will have to be performed to check that she hadn’t ingested something that spurred on her decision, but after that the case will be closed. There’s no reason to think there was anything untoward, given her history and previous attempts at suicide.’

      ‘How’s the inspector coping?’

      ‘She’s obviously disappointed that she wasn’t able to keep Natalie alive, but she’ll receive specialist counselling… which reminds me—’ He reaches into a pocket, pulls out a laminated flyer and hands it over. ‘I highly recommend the two of you seek some counselling too. PTSD can be a silent killer in its own way.’

      I take the flyer, recalling the counselling I was forced to attend after Anna’s disappearance, and then my eyes widen in panic. ‘Oh God, I just remembered I’m