Paparazzi by Jo Fenton (best free e reader .txt) 📕

“I don’t suppose any of you are medical?”

“I don’t know if a qualified first aider counts? What’s the matter? Is he okay?” He’s obviously not, or Gaz wouldn’t be asking, but sometimes we say the most inane things.

“He’s lying on his bed with his eyes closed, but he doesn’t look as though he’s sleeping naturally. Can you come and have a look?”

I follow Gaz into his spare room, where Troy is slumped on the bed. He’s pale and still. I move closer and listen for his breathing. It’s there, thankfully, but shallow and quick, and I’m concerned enough to suggest that an ambulance might be a good idea.

“What should I tell them?”

“I would say that your friend is unconscious, and his breathing is shallow. That should get them moving. They won’t expect a diagnosis, but call from here. They might ask questions that are more easily answered while you’re here. Meanwhile, I’m going to put him in the recovery position.” It takes a bit of effort because of the way he’s positioned. Gaz leaves the room with his phone clamped to his ear, and returns a moment later with Will. I mouth ‘Thanks’ and let Will help me manoeuvre Troy into the safer position.

“Yes, he’s still unconscious, but another friend has just put him on his side… Okay, thanks… how long do you think it’ll be? Oh great, thanks.” He looks at me and moves the phone away from his mouth and ear. “They’re going to stay on the phone in case there are any changes.”

I give him a thumbs-up and he returns his attention to the ambulance controller. I glance at my watch out of curiosity.

“Where’s your mum?” I whisper to Will, not wanting to distract Gaz.

“Sussing out the lounge.” He grins. “I can get her if you want?”

“No – let her carry on sussing.”

The ambulance is only ten minutes. I’m taken back for a horrible moment to Matt’s heart attack, but push the thought away. It’s not the time to fall apart, and anyway, he’s doing really well now.

Gaz lets the paramedics into the flat, and we move aside to allow them access to the patient. I watch as they check his pulse, oxygen levels and blood pressure.

“Has he taken anything?” The pretty blonde looks gentle, but must have a core of iron to be doing this job.

“He doesn’t normally take drugs, if that’s what you’re asking.” Gaz sounds faintly defensive.

“I’m not suggesting he does. Has he been depressed or not sleeping?”

“His wife and parents have just been murdered, so yeah, he’s depressed and not sleeping.”

“Oh gosh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” She glances at Troy again, then at her phone which I assume has information from the call centre. “Of course. Troy Cassidy. Sorry, I should have realised, but we don’t usually get calls out to famous people, so I don’t pay much attention to the names other than as a mode of address.”

“We’ll have to get him to the hospital and run some tests.” The other paramedic, a tall, broad chap in his forties, stands up and goes to the door. “I’ll get the stretcher. We need to get him downstairs.”

Gaz goes in the ambulance with Troy to the hospital, after getting our phone numbers, and promises to keep in touch.

Back in the car, we discuss the situation and possible next steps.

“Do you think he’s deliberately overdosed?” I settle into the back seat.

“With a young kid? I doubt it,” says Will. “Most likely he took something to help him sleep, forgot he’d taken it, and then took a second dose. A friend of mine at uni did that once. He had to have his stomach pumped. There were no lasting effects though. I guess it will depend on what he’s taken.”

“Absolutely. They’ll do a tox screen when they admit him, and hopefully Gaz will keep us posted. Joanna, do you think we should interview Dean and Sarah again? Find out if they knew Troy’s parents?”

“It’s worth a try, but I think just a quick phone call to each of them should be enough. Maybe we should include Gemma too. It depends on whether you want to suss them out beyond that quick question.”

“I don’t know. They’re all suspects, although I’m less sure about Gemma. I just think we ought to keep closer tabs on them.”

“I reckon we need to discuss all this with Finn later. He might be better-placed to ‘keep tabs’ as you suggest.” Joanna checks her watch. “It’s nearly four. Why don’t we head home and reconvene later?”

“Shit! Yes, I need to speak to Cheryl. Yes, please, let’s get back.” I give them a brief rundown of what’s been happening at school.

“Bloody hell! I think you should give her a call and let her know you’ll be back soon. Otherwise she’s going to get seriously fed up with you.” Will glances around at me as he turns the key in the ignition. “You call her. Me and Mum will sort out navigating us back.”

Cheryl doesn’t answer, but messages me a moment later.

‘Hi Mum. I’m hanging out with Joel. All went okay. Talk to you at dinner. I’ll be back for 6. x’

‘Great. See you then. x’

“She seems to have made a new friend out of this anyway. She’s out with the lad whose mum sorted everything out. I’ll get all the details later.”

“Sounds good.” Joanna smirks at me. “Boyfriend?”

“Who knows? Possibly. I shall gently extract information from her over dinner. If I pick up chocolate pudding from the shops on my way home, she’ll tell me everything.”

“I’m liking your techniques, Becky. Whenever Mum wanted me to tell her anything, she’d sit in my room until I revealed all. It was painful. The first time she did it, she sat there for six hours on a Saturday, without cooking or anything, and I don’t think she even went to the loo. After that, if she was still there after fifteen minutes, I gave in. It wasn’t worth the hassle.”

“You should