Dying Fall

to catch up with them.
    ‘You know who it is, don’t you?’ she pants to Elaine. ‘You know who’s got Kate.’
    Elaine looks at her. Ruth sees fear and – worse – pity in her pale eyes.
    ‘The woman. Who is she?’ As she asks the question, a picture appears in Ruth’s head. A suburban street and a blonde woman with a dog. The woman she has seen several times outside the cottage on Beach Row, innocent because she was a woman.
    ‘I’ve seen her before. She’s been watching me.’
    Elaine still says nothing. Ruth is about to yell at her, or strangle her, when Sandy calls over his shoulder, ‘What did the text message say again?’
    Ruth tells him.
    ‘And what’s the tallest ride? The Big One?’
    ‘Yes.’
    Sandy looks up at the track looping across the sky. Ruth sees that he has gone quite green. Perhaps he cares more than he is letting on.
    ‘Bloody hell,’ he mutters.
    They run past the Ice Blast and the flying machines and the people eating hamburgers and ice creams. Ruth finds herself elbowing past small children who are staring at the policemen as if they’re part of the day’s entertainment. Giant skulls, leering witches and grinning Cheshire cats seem to lurk on every corner. Above the sound of police sirens the rides still blare out their advertising jingles offering adventure, excitement, thrills to make your blood run cold. Ruth looks up at the towering structure of the Big One and thinks that her blood is already as cold as ice. Is Kate really up there, on the highest roller-coaster in the country? Is she scared? Is she calling for Ruth? And what will happen when she reaches the top?
    She is young to fall from such a height. Perhaps she will fly? Who knows?
    But Kate won’t fly. She will fall like a stone, like Icarus, onto the unforgiving concrete below. And then Ruth will kill herself.
    They reach the ticket booth. ‘It’s impossible,’ the attendant is saying. ‘No one could take a child onto the ride. You have to be over the height barrier.’
    ‘What if he smuggled her on in a bag?’ asks Nelson.
    ‘You’re not allowed to take bags on,’ says the attendant.
    ‘I don’t care what you’re allowed to do. Stop the bloody ride.’
    ‘I can’t,’ says the attendant. ‘Not in the middle of a circuit.’
    ‘What if my daughter’s on there?’
    ‘I keep telling you, she can’t be.’
    ‘Nelson,’ says Ruth. ‘Look.’ As the carriages go past them, preparing for their vertiginous journey upwards, they see a woman with shoulder-length blonde hair. She is wearing a Simon Cowell mask. As she passes the knot of policemen, she waves.
    ‘It’s her,’ says Ruth.
    ‘Is Kate with her?’ asks Tim.
    ‘I don’t know. I can’t see.’
    Nelson grabs the attendant by his lapels. ‘Stop the ride!’
    The attendant grabs at a switch. The carriages stop. But it’s too late. The woman is already high. She’s not at the top of the track but she’s above the Pleasure Beach and the surrounding houses. Ruth looks up and sees her silhouetted against the sky, blonde hair like a helmet. She waves again and seems to search for something inside the car. The other riders, realising that something is wrong, start to scream.
    Suddenly Sandy’s voice rises above all the rest. ‘What the fucking hell is he doing?’
    Ruth turns to look. Cathbad has sprinted past the police and the park attendants and is climbing the steel structure of the ride, hand over hand, his long grey hair flying out in the breeze.
    ‘Cathbad!’ Nelson calls. ‘Come back, you lunatic.’
    They all watch, frozen in horror. Cathbad climbs, higher and higher. A policeman starts to climb after him but Sandy, who has found a megaphone, yells at him to comedown. He yells at Cathbad too but Ruth isn’t surprised when her friend pays no attention. Since when has Cathbad done what he’s told? He’s a druid, a shaman, Ruth’s protector, Kate’s godfather. He climbs up and up, leaving the earth far below.
    Nelson turns on his old friend in a fury. ‘Do something!’
    ‘I’ve got a chopper on the way,’ says Sandy. ‘They should be able to see into the carriage, find out if your daughter is in there.’
    Nelson grabs the megaphone. ‘Cathbad!’ he bellows. ‘Come down, you bloody lunatic! They’ve got a helicopter coming.’
    But Cathbad is way beyond hearing. He is a black speck against the blue sky, an agile, almost unearthly figure, like Anansi the Spider in the stories that he likes to read to