“We have to go,” Esther said. “You’ll die if we don’t go now. We’ll both die.”

“I can’t swim,” Mary said.

“You don’t have to,” Esther said. “I’ll keep hold of you, I promise.”

The girl turned her terrified eyes to Esther’s. “What about Mummy Joy? Mummy Noreen?”

Esther grabbed Mary’s shoulders. “We’ll come back for them. I promise, I’ll get us away from here, I’ll keep you safe, then we’ll come back for them. And we’ll take them to the seaside, I swear on my soul, we’ll all go to the beach together, I promise. Mary, I swear on my life, we’ll come back. Now come on.”

Mary allowed herself to be pulled to the river’s edge. Esther waded into the water, felt the cold of it climb her calves and her thighs as it deepened, felt the current pull her away from the house. She fought to stay upright. A cry escaped her as the water reached her groin, the cold reaching into the very core of her, deep into her gut, into her bones. She cried out again. Looking back, Mary clung to her hand, the water up past her belly, creeping up to her chest. Her eyes and mouth wide with the shock of it, and Esther knew how it felt as her body threatened to rebel against the cold.

Movement at the top of the bank. She looked up, saw Tam pushing his way through the hedge, the rifle in one hand. He knelt on the grass, raised the gun, the butt against his shoulder, sighted along its length.

“No,” she said, “no, no.”

Esther turned to the far bank, saw only that, felt only Mary’s hand in hers. Nothing else. Nothing else in the whole wide world. No cold, no current trying to drag her feet from under her. Only the other side. Nothing—

She heard thunder, and something punched her hard in the middle of her back. The bullet tore along the surface of the water in front of her. He missed, she thought. The bullet missed and hit the water. Thank the Lord Jesus, he missed.

Then she looked down and saw the scarlet ribbons flaring from her belly, the water blurring red, pieces of her dress floating. Pieces of her.

Cold now. So cold. Her arms and legs are stone. Ice. She can’t feel the rocks and silt on the bottom. Only the cold. It is everything.

She floats, sees the dimming sky, the great white streaks of high cloud.

Water laps at her neck, the sound of it filling her ears, touching her cheeks.

She sees Mary, looking down at her.

Mary’s hand still in hers.

Hold on.

Hold—

24: Mary

24: Mary