Dragged her by her clothes, lurched up the bank and fell, dropping her on the mud. The little girl was on her hands and knees, gasping and crying. Sarah began to cough as soon as she hit the ground. He crawled over, cradled her head, pushed the soaking hair away from her face. Waited to see the storm when she opened her eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’

What Remains

I know I am not dead. I’m too cold and sore. My chest hurts and I’m chilled to the bone.

‘Annie.’ I try to shout but it comes out as a croak.

She crawls over and climbs on to my lap. I wrap my arms around her. Both shivering. ‘I don’t want to see the moon fish,’ she says.

‘All right.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Daniel says. ‘I’m so sorry. I know it was Gabriel.’

I nod. He knows it, and I’m glad, but that will not help us. I cannot face the water again. He hasn’t saved us, but taken our last escape.

‘What will you do?’ he asks.

‘This was our only path.’

‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘No, it cannot be. I will not have it so.’

Just as Bett said. He can do no more than she. I hold Annie close.

‘I should have believed you all along,’ he says. ‘Stood by you. Married you and gone away, like we said.’

‘You couldn’t. Seth was dead before we had the chance.’

‘I will wish it always.’

I stare out over Annie’s head. Dare not wish it, even. That life so far out of reach now. All I wish for is to save Annie from the magistrate, and I have failed.

He stands abruptly, pulls me to my feet. ‘Go,’ he says. ‘Return in dry clothes, bring your mother and all you can carry. Come back here, wait for me. I shall not fail again.’

‘Where are we going?’ Annie asks, over and over.

‘Away,’ is all I can answer.

She is dressed in rags, but they’re dry at least, grasping the whispering shell. Her most precious possession. I check her arms, her legs, the underside of her feet and between her fingers, looking for injuries from the beck. Scratches, bruises, but nothing that will last. I wrap a blanket around her. Change into my old clothes, the ones from before the mop.

Mam sits on the stool where we left her. I kneel at her feet, take her face in my hands. She looks at me, but I see no recognition there.

‘Mam,’ I say. ‘Come with me.’

She looks towards John’s bed.

I shake my head. ‘I’m sorry. He’s gone. Annie and I remain. You must come with us now.’