You’re capable of extraordinary things, the same as everyone else

When Finn asked how she became a trauma counsellor, Janet’s face fell for a moment. “I had trauma of my own,” she said softly. “That’s how most people get into it.” Finn looked at her. “You don’t have to tell me.” “It’s fine. When I was 10, my mother left me in the car with my little sister while she went to get her messages from the shops. I was playing with the handbrake and I took it off. The car began rolling and I couldn’t stop it. There were no seatbelts in those days. I only had a few bruises but Caitlin broke her neck.”

“Christ,” Finn said. Janet glanced at him then out the window. “It was a long time ago.”

“Still.”

“I held that with me, took years to get over it. Of course, you never really do, something like that. We never had any therapy or counselling up here in those days. Social services didn’t really know how to cope. Neither did my folks.”

“I can’t imagine,” Finn said. “I think you can, after what happened the other night. Anyway, that’s why I do this.”

“Is that all there is to it?” Finn said. “Experiencing the awfulness of life?”

Janet shrugged. “Do you believe in God?” “No.”

All random

“Me neither. Christians like to say that God gets you through hardships, that without him you feel alone and helpless. But that’s rubbish.

“I’ve always found the opposite,” Janet said. “The fact that there isn’t any great master plan makes it easier to take all the c*** that life throws at you. Once you realise it’s all random and doesn’t matter in the scheme of things, it’s much easier to get distance from the awful things that happen to everyone all the time.” “This is some pep talk,” Finn said.

“It is what it is.” Janet got up from behind her desk and came round to Finn’s side, perched on a corner. “I don’t pretend to have answers and to do so would be dishonest and disrespectful. How do you feel about the accident?”

Finn stared at the lines around her eyes, the grey in her hair, the traces of a life lived. “Kind of numb.”

Janet nodded. “It’s early days, that’s to be expected. It’s a long road, Finn. That’s not the kind of advice you young people want to hear, but it’s true. It can take months or years before you come to some arrangement in your mind with what’s happened. Sometimes you never do. It certainly never completely disappears. I know that with Caitlin.” “This really isn’t pick-me-up banter.”

“If you want that, go find a cheerleader or a life coach. That’s not what I do.”

Finn looked out the window. The faint sound of church bells floated into the office in between the whipping of the wind. “I don’t know anything about those people,” he said.

“The ones on the plane?” Finn nodded. “Seven dead.”

“And the girl still missing.” Finn looked Janet in the eye. “Yeah.”

“Still no word on her from the police?” “Nothing new.”

“I hope she turns up. It must be hard for her, wherever she is.” Finn held his hands out. “Seven people dead because of me. That’s seven times what you managed with your sister.”

“You didn’t kill those people.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No, and I think you know it.”

“You have more faith in me than I have in myself.”

Insistent

Janet shook her head. “No, I don’t. You just don’t know yourself very well at the moment. You’re capable of extraordinary things, the same as everyone else.”

“I wish I believed that.”

The church bells were louder now, more insistent. “You will,” Janet said.

Finn stood up and went to the window. He felt her eyes on him. “So what do I do now?”

“That’s up to you.”

“Isn’t there a 12-point plan or something?” “There’s no single way of dealing with what you’ve been through.”

“Some therapist you are.”

“I’m a counsellor.”

“Some counsellor, then.”

“You want me to wave a magic wand?” Janet mimicked a fairy godmother, sweeping her hand in front of her. “Whoosh! There, all better now.”

Finn gave her a sideways look. “Does this method work with other trauma victims?”

“It’s a starting point.”

Something was nagging at Finn. “Why are they ringing the cathedral bells at this time of day?” “I presumed you knew.”

Finn frowned for a second then it came to him. “The memorial service.”

Janet nodded. “The police told me not to go,” Finn said. “That’s good advice, I suppose.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“Some of the relatives will be feeling very angry. If you show up, you could be a focus for that.”

“So I shouldn’t go?”

“I didn’t say that. It’s up to you.”

“If I don’t go it looks like I don’t care. I want to show that it hurts me too, everything that’s happened. I want to show respect for those people.”

There was just the tumble of bells falling through the wind outside. Finn looked back out the window. “I didn’t kill them. I didn’t do anything wrong. I want to go and pay my respects.”

“OK.” Finn looked at Janet and took a deep breath. “Will you come with me?” She replied without missing a beat. “Sure.”

Babble of voices

Broad Street in front of St Magnus Cathedral was rammed. Several television broadcast vans were parked outside the medieval sandstone building. The babble of voices and the bright lights were dizzying. The road was full of people, the whole of Orkney must be out.

There was an air of sombre propriety among the older ones, but kids were mucking around too, teenagers acting cool, mums trying to control toddlers, occasionally a face that Finn recognised from visiting the islands over the years.

His phone pinged in his pocket. A message from Ingrid wondering where he was. In fact, three messages from her in the hours since he avoided her outside the police station. In amongst them was a message from Amy saying she was on her way north. He typed a reply to Ingrid: Heading to memorial.

Then he put his phone away and looked around. Crowds were backed all the way along Albert Street and West Castle Street, hundreds of people out to show support.

His phone pinged again. Palace Road side entrance. Meet you there. He touched Janet’s arm. “Round the back,” he said.

More tomorrow. Crash Land is published by Faber, paperback priced £7.99. dougjohnstone.co.uk