The Retreat(14)

She flung the hip flask with all her strength towards the river. It fell short, landing on the edge of the bank. They both stared after it.

‘If you pick it up, that’s it,’ she said.

‘I’m not going to.’ But she saw the way his eyes flicked sideways, could see the longing there.

‘I’m going to catch up with Lily,’ she said. ‘We can talk about it when we get home.’

The final part of the path was steep, forcing her to run to avoid slipping again, and she skidded to a halt among the trees. Bare branches, slimy leaf mulch on the ground, more puddles of mud.

But no sign of Lily.

She strode ahead towards the far edge of the copse, aware of her heartbeat accelerating while following a trail of footsteps. Michael was a few steps behind her as Julia called out, ‘Lily?’

There was no response. Logic told her she would find Lily just beyond the trees, but logic couldn’t quell the cold eddy of fear in her belly.

‘Lily,’ she called again, trying to keep her voice light. ‘We’re going to have hot chocolate when we get home.’

And you can watch as much YouTube as you like, she added silently.

Julia emerged on the other side of the copse, sure the sky had grown darker during the few minutes she’d been beneath the trees, the clouds more swollen with rain. Ahead, the path rose, steep but not as muddy as before. And the churning in Julia’s stomach intensified.

Where was she? Where the hell was Lily?

Julia ran up the slope to a crest that overlooked the river. The water foamed and snapped at the bank. And that was when she saw it, the sight that almost stopped her heart.

Big Cat, floating on the water.

‘Michael!’

His name emerged as a scream. She ran back to him, grabbed hold of his arm and pointed at the river, at the black-and-white stuffed toy. He saw it immediately and their eyes locked, mother and father, before he tore off his coat and ran down the bank, across a ledge of flat grey rocks that stretched out to the water. He paused for a second, shouting for their daughter as the river dragged Big Cat beneath its surface.

Michael plunged into the water. Julia had no idea how deep it was, but her husband was swallowed up as if he’d never existed. It must have been only seconds later that his head reappeared, but it felt like forever. Julia paced the bank, wringing her hands and trying to focus on the water, searching among the grey and white for a glimpse of Lily. If she thought throwing herself in would save her daughter, would even give her a tiny chance of survival, she would do it without hesitation. But she was helpless. Useless.

‘I can’t see her,’ Michael called, the panic in his voice reflecting the sick sensation in Julia’s stomach. The water rushed around him, crashing over him like waves hitting rocks.

‘Keep trying!’

He went under again, then came back to the surface almost immediately, gasping and fighting to stay afloat. The frigid water squeezed the breath from his lungs and his voice was weak as he called out for Lily. He caught Julia’s eye and she knew what he was thinking. He was going to give up.

She had to do something.

‘Over there!’ she yelled, pointing to the centre of the river. ‘I saw something.’

He struck out towards where she had pointed, against the current. Water pummelled him and he went under, gulping down air before he kicked out, turning in the water. He was four or five metres from the bank, clearly struggling, fighting the river as it tried to claim him. In her panicked state, Julia imagined creatures beneath the surface, clutching at Michael’s ankles, dragging him down. She pictured Lily down there too, wrapped in a river creature’s deathly embrace.

Michael was getting weaker – Julia could see it on his face, in his sluggish kick – and a burst of foaming water caught him, sweeping him away from where Julia stood. It didn’t cross her mind that he might drown. As a non-swimmer she had an inflated idea of his abilities. All she wanted was for him to keep trying, to find Lily. As he headed for the far bank, submerging for a moment before coming back to the surface, she remembered her phone in her pocket and woke it up with shaking hands, punching 999, yelling at the operator who answered, their calm voice doing nothing to soothe her.

When she looked up, Michael was gone.

Julia dashed down to the edge of the bank, onto the rocks, expecting Michael to emerge, trying not to panic. She swept her gaze along the river, left, then right. Where was he? Where was he? It was cold, so cold on the riverbank, but she barely felt it, in the same way she couldn’t feel the tears on her cheeks.

She couldn’t feel a thing.



There was silence in the room after she’d finished, the weight of her words thickening the air between us. I groped for something to say, something more than a platitude.

Should I tell her my own story now? Show her that I understood exactly how it felt to have someone you love ripped from your world? For a great boot to stamp on your life?

Julia spoke before I could make up my mind.

‘I shouldn’t have threatened to chuck you out,’ she said. ‘But you have to understand it’s still raw. All of it.’ There was a long pause. I wondered if she knew I might have heard her during the night. I guessed she hadn’t thought about it; it seemed she was compelled to spend her nights in Lily’s room, communing with her missing daughter, in the same way an alcoholic is drawn to the bottle.