The Sister(204)

A thought popped into his head. In those last moments, you don’t see your whole life flashing by, but if you’re lucky, you get to make some sense of it all.

Reflex took over. Gagging on the first influx of water, he didn’t have the strength to do anything but die.





Chapter 154



Miller’s world rose within a bubble, mercurial, ballooning upward, dark waters kept at bay, as breath and air deserted him.

The water no longer stung his eyes. A last trail of silver bubbles escaped his lips and nostrils. He watched them go.

With no hope of rescue, he resigned himself to Fate. He’d always known when the end came it would come by water…the end of living on borrowed time.

At last, he felt redeemed. Did you save her? Maybe not, but at least I would have died trying.



The water churned about him. A funnel formed, dragged him along in its vortex. All the things he’d ever done flashed before him fast, faster, running backwards. You are receding…

It all made sense.

A strange sensation crept over him. Detachment, but in a way he’d never experienced before. His cold and heavy clothing fell away as the rope of life unwound, releasing him strand by strand, thread by thread. For a moment, he floated above himself, free and untethered, but not wanting to let go. From the corner of his eye, a bright copper bloom appeared in the murk of the water beneath him. He sensed rather than felt something press into the palm of his hand, and he willed his fingers with all his might, overriding disconnected synapses, to hold onto it. Spirit hadn’t left him yet. Words formed in his head. I’ve got you mate…

Darkness stole him away into nothingness.

A void, black and unyielding held him fast. How long have I been here? In the distance, he thought he heard Stella’s voice. Is she here too? Heart filled with dread; he searched for her in vain.





His father was laughing. Out in the field they picnicked. Bruce laid on his front; face turned into the grass, studying the fine ribbed detailing of its blades close-up, imagining himself as an explorer in the jungle, hacking his way through, beating off monstrous ants and spiders. A feeling descended upon him. Thoughts, not his, intruded. It was the first time he could remember having the sensation of being watched. He rolled over and stared up at blue skies that stretched out forever. High above, a tiny cross-shaped fleck rode the air. He blinked against the brightness, and holding his eyes closed, suddenly felt lighter, more buoyant than the breeze. In his mind’s eye, he could see himself and his family far below on the ground. I am the bird! Soaring higher, he scoured the land with eyes sharper than a telescope, taking in rocks and trees; everything came into focus in a way he’d never experienced before. Finally, he zoomed in on a girl in a purple dress marching purposefully down the hill into the valley below; she stopped to remove her rucksack—

The sound of his mother’s voice drew him back.

Don’t go any further, Bruce!





Miller opened his eyes; the glare forced him to shut them again. Blinking, he tried to sit up.

‘Don’t.’ Stella leaned over and restrained him with light fingertips against his chest. ‘You almost died, you need to rest.’

His voice lodged in the dryness of his throat and failed. He swallowed hard and winced at the soreness in his chest. Confused, he pinched at the skin of his thigh beneath the bedclothes. Not entirely satisfied he wasn’t in the throes of some elaborate dream he’d concocted to fool himself into thinking he was still alive; he pinched again, this time harder.

Noticing the movement under the covers, she said, ‘What are you doing under there?’

‘Just checking to see if I’m still alive.’ The last jumbled remnants of his memory jostled to make sense. ‘But how...how long have I been here?’

‘Since yesterday,’ she said.

‘What happened to Kathy?’

‘You saved her.’

Almost overcome with relief, voice barely above a whisper, he said, ‘I did? Thank God.’

‘Yes, you did. I thought you told me you couldn’t swim.’

He frowned and said, ‘I can’t.’

‘Well, you did a good job of pretending you could when you swam—’

‘Whoa, I did not swim,’ he insisted, concentration knitting his brow as he collected his thoughts. ‘I bounced along the bottom, and then pushed her up out of the water, that’s what happened. I didn’t swim!’

‘But you did, you were struggling on your back with one arm round her, holding her head clear. Don’t you remember? You got her as near to the shore as you could, then you both went under. You must have panicked. I don’t know how you did it. You propelled her up out of the water – a guy in a boat grabbed her, but then you went under again. You were gone for ages. When help arrived, they found you half out of the water in the reeds on the other side, unconscious. If you didn’t swim, how did you get there?’

‘I don’t remember exactly.’ A shape, a form, just before he’d let go in the murky waters… A flashbulb went off in his memory – The bright copper coloured hair. No, it couldn’t have been. That would be crazy.

‘I think you’re mistaken about what happened,’ he said.

‘Still in denial, eh?’