One of the windows was lifted and a woman leaned out, her long hair trailing into the water. She waved to him and shouted words that were lost in the pounding torrent. Silas shook his head. The current was too fierce. He’d be swept past her window before she caught hold. It was certain. He cursed the woman for giving him a grain of hope. It was true he’d had the strength to catch hold of a tree trunk earlier, but he’d been less exhausted then. He should stay where he was, try to believe the flood would subside.

She was still shouting, waving, extending her hand. What was wrong with her? Why didn’t she leave him alone? Even if he managed to reach her, if he was able to grab her hand, he’d only pull her out after him, into the maelstrom, and they’d both be drowned. Another silhouette in the window, more shouts. Silas closed his eyes.

A voice whispered in his head. Why not strike out, aim for the windowsill? No. He should stay put, wait and see. He’d only be pulled under, he was convinced of it. But the voice wouldn’t let him be. Why not, it wasn’t so distant was it? How would it feel to hook his numb and exhausted arms over the ledge, to be pulled into that comforting square of light? Into the dry?

Harriet’s heart leapt as the man struck out, his head bobbing in the wrathful eddy and swirl of black water, and she saw he was not Uncle Walter, but he was a life she was determined to save. Walter was rescuing Alice from the bed, and would soon appear with the little girl whom Harriet would hold close to her and whisper sorry sorry sorry I left you and never let go, but first she would save this unknown life. Amid the horror, this made sense to her, and the man was here and his mouth was a grim line and his hands were gripping the windowsill.

He stared into Harriet’s face as she leaned over him, and their eyes met wide in fright, and Harriet saw that he was young, not much older than Adam, and he lurched an elbow over, then the other, and lunged forward as she grabbed him under the shoulders and yanked, and they were both on the floor of the bedroom and a yell was knocked from her lungs under his naked weight and his wet bare legs entangled with hers. She looked up to see Walter and the boys standing over them and her eyes searched the room while Polly screamed and there was no Alice.

Chapter 12

A tangle of limbs. Gasps for breath, and moans. Were they coming from him? Another body heaving beneath his.

Silas rolled onto the carpet, shivering uncontrollably, his teeth chattering so hard he thought they would break. Instinctively, he curled up, aware of his nakedness amid a roomful of people, one of whom was screaming, a high-pitched curdle that went on and on. The sound of an open-handed slap and the noise abruptly stopped. Near him, a girl struggled to sit up, her bloodstained nightgown rucked up to expose the white skin of her thighs. She had a foot like a misshapen bird’s claw and saw him looking and covered it with her hand. That was his blood on her nightgown. Blood from his chest where he had been squeezed and rubbed against the wall like a scrap of cloth. The room swung drunkenly from side to side and Silas closed his eyes.