“Best times are always the worst times, china plate,” I shoot back, strangely grateful for my foul mood, which at least keeps my mind off the questions clawing at me. Will we be too late? Will this dip in the sea be our first taste of a long and bitter drink to come?

Jamie grins at the Cockney term for “mate,” one we consider especially ours, even though we never like when others use it. “Well, china plate, I guess you must regret not getting off at Queenstown.”

“What I regret is having such a moody-pants for a brother. If you hadn’t had so much to prove, we wouldn’t be on this barge in the first place. See the stars, be a man,” I say, affecting a mocking, masculine tone, and am gratified to see him wince. “Freezing our bloody cheeks off herding minnows what dunno how to take care of themselves short of wiping their tails.”

He blows out an annoyed breath, but then he cracks a smile, wedging one out of me, too. “I’m sorry, Sis. I didn’t think it would be so . . . hard on you. I thought you knew we’d always be together, even when we’re not.”

Some warm emotion rises in my throat, but I swallow it back down. Now is not the time for sentiment but for action.

We reach the cabin, and the door is shut. I stick my fingers into the water and grip the handle, which is so cold, even through my gloves, that it feels like a burn.

Dreading what I’ll see inside, I put my shoulder to the door.

39

Inside Room 14, the water has risen to chest level, and one of the seabags is floating in the middle of the room. The ceiling light bulb blinks, somehow managing to stay lit. Water sloshes around like punch in a bowl. It grabs at my eyes and snakes up my nose. I don’t see the youngest Johnny anywhere.

That grey morning when I found Ba in the alley, I knew no life remained in him, that his spirit had departed soon after he’d suffered the fatal injury. Mum’s death had already pulled him into that murky space between life and death, his body in one place, his mind in another. And in that moment, his face looked almost tranquil, his body curled in a last slumber.

Unlike in that deserted alleyway, a pulse still beats here, even with the water tearing the place apart like a gang of thieves. I feel it, as sure as I feel Jamie splashing behind me. Wink is here. Somewhere.

Filling my lungs, I plunge underwater, trying to see in the dim light. A tangle of blankets billows like white seaweed. Another seabag materializes, this one . . . jerking?

I grab at the object, which feels solid, and not like a seabag at all. With my heart a frantic drum, I haul up the body.