She turns to the wall, and I hate my sister in this moment. I will need help if I am to get the creature out of the fountain and back to the sea. I look over at Pip. Our brother is simple-minded, but he is stronger than he looks. Loyal as a puppy, Pip will do anything I ask him to. I reach for his shoulder to wake him.

Bryndis shoots up, her face angry in the tallow light.

“Do not involve Pip in this,” she hisses. “I will murder you if you get him in trouble.”

She will, too. As the oldest, Bryndis feels responsible for us all, but she is overly protective of our little brother.

Chastened, I blow out the candle and wait until my father’s snores deepen and everyone is asleep. Then I rise, carrying my shoes in hand until I am safely outside.

The moon is waning, but it offers enough light to see my way. I take the wheelbarrow from the yard and push it over the cobbles to the village square. I worry the racket will wake every household, but the eternal roar of the surf masks the clattering noise. This is my plan; get the mermaid in the barrow, wheel her down to the water, and tip her in. Exactly how I will get the creature out of the pool is another matter altogether. Leaning over the stone rim, I look for the mermaid, but the water is too dark to see anything. Has she escaped? That seems doubtful, considering how sickly she looked the last time I saw her. Perhaps someone else has rescued her? In my mind, I picture a scenario where all the village girls assemble to pull the creature from this filthy pool and wade her out into the waves. It seems almost holy, that image.

I am wrong in both assumptions. A form grows within the murky depths, floating to the scummy surface. Face down, back to the air, the way the dead float. Praying I am not too late, I grip the woman by the arm and haul and tug and strain until the great tail flops over the lip to dry land. Her eyes are open but milky. If the gills move, I cannot see it. I haul her into the wheelbarrow and fold the enormous tail around her. Scales flake away under my hands, slicing into my palms.

The route to the stony beach will be easier than the pier. All downhill, but the wooden wheel grinds against the pebbles and will go no further. Hooking my arms around her, I drag the mermaid into the foamy brine and let her go.