Whenever I was happy—as I was just then—I imagined my sister gliding rather than falling, with her arms outstretched like wings. I imagined her feeling free, the way I feel free when I’m drifting in the sea, only a thousand times more so.

The water churned. An arm swung onto my shoulder midbackstroke, flashing like a blade, and my skull smacked against the other swimmer’s. A gasp—was there even a scream?—and we were both splashing about and coughing and apologising and asking, with genuine concern and nervous laughter, “Are you OK? Are you sure?”

“I’m fine,” I said, and the woman with the swim cap said much the same. “Sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

I gestured at the expanse of ocean and sky. “You’d think there’d be just about enough room for two people, wouldn’t you?”

“You’d think so,” she agreed, and we both seemed to find this funnier than it was.

We trod water, side by side, while she caught her breath.

“I don’t stop often enough to take in the view,” she puffed, blinking the water from her eyes, and somehow that added to our amusement, although I think she meant it seriously.

We floated together for a while as our laughter subsided, gazing toward the shore, suspended in the beauty and oddness of the moment. We were facing Byrne Hall, and I was waiting for her to tell me how lovely it looked. I wanted her to know that those gardens and buildings were mine, in some small sense—I wanted her to know that I was with the man who owned it—but I couldn’t just come out with it and expect to be believed.

“I’ve never liked that place,” said the woman. “I always think it looks like an evil face.”

I stared, stupidly. The woman laughed and said something else—something friendly and light and unrelated—to which I made no reply.

“Well, anyway,” she said. “I’d better get on. See you!”

I rocked gently in her wake as she swam away, and I looked again at Byrne Hall.

Chapter 2

2

“Cory?”

He was always, always sleeping like a baby when I returned from my swim, so it felt strange to come back and find the bed empty.