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Rhuaridh looked up from where he was finishing talking to a child with a complicated medical history. ‘Can it wait?’
The teacher shook his head. ‘No, it definitely can’t.’ He was wringing his hands together and the worry lines across his forehead were deep.
Rhuaridh was on his feet in a few seconds. Thea was still filming on the other side of the room, so Kristie followed Rhuaridh and the teacher up some stairs to the second floor of the school.
The teacher had started tugging at his shirtsleeve. ‘I don’t know what to do. She’s been up and down. Apparently her father died last year and the school has been worried about her. Sometimes she just walks out of class. But today—she’s barricaded herself into one of the rooms. Her friend told us that she said she wanted to kill herself. To join her dad.’
Rhuaridh heard Kristie’s footsteps falter behind him. He turned around and raised his hand. ‘Maybe you should let me handle this.’
He could see the strain on her face, but didn’t get a chance to say anything further as the teacher stopped in front of one of the rooms. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘I’ve tried everything.’
‘Is it Jill Masterton?’ Rhuaridh asked. He knew everyone on the island—so unless someone new had just moved over, the only teenager he knew who had lost her father in the last year was Jill.
The teacher nodded. ‘I’ve been talking to her for the last half-hour. I didn’t think she was serious. I just thought it was attention-seeking. But...but then she said some other stuff, and I realised...’ he shook his head ‘...whatever it was I was saying just wasn’t helping.’
Rhuaridh could see the stress on the teacher’s face. ‘Have you contacted her mum?’
He nodded. ‘She’s on the mainland, waiting to catch the first ferry back.’
Rhuaridh took a deep breath. He didn’t know this girl well. He hadn’t seen much of her in the surgery. He turned to the teacher. ‘Do you have any guidance teachers or counsellors attached to the school?’
The teacher shook his head. ‘I’m only temporary. I came to cover sick leave. The guidance teacher—you probably know her, Mary McInnes—had surgery on her ankle. She’s not expected back for a few months.’
Of course. He should have remembered that. He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Has she told you anything at all?’
The teacher now tugged at his tie. It was clear he was feeling out of his depth. ‘She won’t speak to me at all. But she doesn’t know me. And the teachers that she does know haven’t had any reply. Last time someone tried to speak to her she said if anyone else came she would jump out of the window.’
There was a nagging voice of doubt in Rhuaridh’s head. He hadn’t seen this young girl since he’d got back here. She wouldn’t remember him at all. When he’d left the island she’d been barely a baby. He held out his hands. ‘I’m a doctor. I can speak to her. But I’m not a psychiatrist, or a psychologist. I don’t want to make anything worse. Particularly if she’s already made threats.’
‘Do you have any other counsellors on the island?’ Kristie stepped forward. The teacher shook his head.
She put her hand on her chest. ‘Then let me.’ She turned to Rhuaridh. ‘You know that I’ve been trained. Let me talk to her. Maybe I can relate. I lost someone I loved too, plus I understand what it’s like to be a teenage girl.’
‘I don’t want you to be out of your depth,’ he said quietly. He was thinking about her being upset the other week when the caller to the helpline wouldn’t speak.
‘I want to try,’ she said determinedly.
Rhuaridh turned back to the teacher. ‘Maybe we should wait. Maybe we should tell her that her mum is on her way back over on the ferry. Has anything else been happening in the school we should know about—any bullying?’
The teacher shrugged. ‘I’m sorry. I just don’t know. Nothing obvious.’
Rhuaridh let out a sigh. He was torn. Torn between looking after the girl behind the door and putting the woman he loved in a position of vulnerability.
