Fin’s mobile phone buzzed and made her jump. She opened her eyes, rolled off the sofa and fell onto the floor. She tried to stand. Felt sick. Far too much whiskey. Where was her phone? It had been sitting on the coffee table the last time she’d seen it. There. She reached for it; surprised the battery wasn’t dead because she couldn’t remember the last time she charged it. This isn’t going to be good, she thought. Probably Jill Brennan checking up on her or that reporter woman again, the one who claimed she knew Robbie. She was after a human-interest story, a close-up account of a grieving sister who’d lost her copper brother to suicide. She looked at the screen. It was Adam. She hesitated then answered it.
‘Fin? Fin, it’s me.’ His voice was panicky. ‘Are you okay? I just saw Robbie on the news. Man, why’d he go and do a thing like that?’
Fin couldn’t speak. Her heart thumped. The only thing she could think of was Robbie lying in the mud.
‘Fin? Are you there? I know you must be freaking out. Why don’t you come and see me. I could do with some visitors. I’ve got all these tubes in my chest. They make me look like some sort of freakin alien. They’re supposed to suck the blood and air from my chest to get my lungs working again.’
Fin closed her eyes. ‘Fin? You there?’
‘I’m here.’
‘So, you wanna come and see me?’
Fin swallowed. ‘No, can’t face anyone now.’ She pressed the end button through a drunken fog and slumped back on the sofa.