Dean was in the kitchen working and Nancy went to make him a drink. She opened up theRipton Gazetteshe’d got from the village earlier.
Both their eyes went to the headline.
‘I’m sorry about the sheep,’ said Nancy.
Dean shook his head. ‘That’s three this month. Hannah’s devastated.’
‘It must be difficult to keep an eye on them. I mean, people can walk the footpath at any time.’
‘Hannah’s spending a bit more time up there – checking every hour. I’ve told her to take the gun.’
Nancy started. ‘What?’
‘Shoot any dog that’s worrying the sheep. It’s her legal right.’ He saw her face. ‘It’s a last resort. But we’ve put up the signs, advertised the fact we’ve now had three dead. It’s still happening. Thanks for the tea,’ he said cheerfully as he put down the empty mug, then went back to work.
The sound of a drill starting up in another room made her jump. She sighed and put the mugs in the dishwasher. Still feeing unsettled, she decided she needed to get out of the house.
Nancy changed into her wetsuit and took her paddleboard down to the reservoir. The minute she got onto the water, kneeling to get her balance, she felt a little better. She drifted along, meandering her way across the water to the opposite bank in the far distance. She lowered her hand, letting the water flow over her fingers, enjoying the cool, rippling sensation. A small patch of algae floated on the water’s surface just ahead of her and she retracted her hand. Itlooked like the blue-green algae she’d seen on the noticeboards near Heron Water cafe. The algae was toxic and dog owners were warned not to let their pets drink from the water. It could be harmful to humans too.
The board drifted to a stop and Nancy sighed. She looked at her legs, motionless, dangling in the water and decided it was time to get moving. She was going to attempt to stand up. Slowly, carefully, she shifted into a kneeling position and then put her feet flat on the board and raised up from a squat until, amazingly, she was standing. She laughed to herself, then tentatively raised her head. She was doing it! She lowered the paddle into the water and pulled, moving gently forwards. High on the sense of achievement, Nancy looked around, thinking about where she would go. It was then she spotted the half-submerged church spire and the chimney pots.
She turned her board, then paddled over. It was exciting. An adventure! She thought of the number of times she’d gazed out at these relics from her balcony, wondering about them. Well, now she could explore properly. Energized by her progress, it was only a short time until she was upon the spire. She slowed, letting the board come against the stone. Up close, she could see it was covered with algae, the once grey stone now a pillar of dark green. Tendrils of algae and river weeds hung from the two arms of the cross on the top. Nancy reached out a hand, touching the top of the spire. It was cold and slippery. She withdrew her hand, wiping it on her wetsuit. She lowered herself down on the board, wanting to peer into the depths.
She got onto her knees and, hands on the edge of the board, she looked down into the water. It was dark, visibility only going about half a metre and then the spire seemed to disappear from view. She thought of how far down it went, the church it was attached to. Thought of the windows, their stained glass never again lighting up in the sun – or maybe they had broken under the pressure of the water. She imagined what had happened when they’d flooded the valley. Had the church doors been closed? How long before the water had crept under the cracks, inching along the stone floor, pooling amongst the pews, the altar? Places where people had sat and sung. Where they had gathered for weddings and funerals. The water would have started slowly at first and then the pressure pushing against the doors would have burst through, smashing everything in its path, turning it over, crushing it with its force.
The sound of a boat broke Nancy from her reverie. She frowned – it seemed loud – and then she caught a glimpse of it passing her, seconds before the waves barrelled their way across the water. She tried to right herself but it was too late and before she really knew what was happening, she’d plunged in head first.
She gasped, shocked by the sudden change of temperature. Sucking in a mouthful, the water rushed past her ears, adding to her disorientation. She was facing down, looking at the church roof. Many of the slate tiles were missing; the dark wooden skeleton of the rafters visible. It felt as if the sunken building was pulling her downwards and, in a panic, she fought to reverse her trajectory. She kicked her legs hard andflapped her arms until she rose above the surface again. Swimming to her board, she threw her arms over the edge and held on, her cheek resting on the fibreglass.
It’s just the shock, she told herself,of falling in.There’s nothing sinister about what lies under the water, nothing threatening.But even thinking about it made her chilled again so she climbed back onto the board, her movements ungainly as she seemed to be drained of energy, and then she started to paddle back to the bank, this time staying kneeling all the way.
TWENTY
Saturday 19 September
Lorna could hear voices coming through the open patio doors, people walking through the house heading for the back garden, and she quickly nodded to Phoenix, who was kicking a football against the wall of the house.
‘Now,’ she said, ‘and remember what we talked about.’
She checked her son had begun his performance and then turned swiftly to see Simon lead Nancy, Lara and Beth into the back garden. Carol had also arrived and was bringing up the rear.
‘You made it!’ she said. ‘Have you all been introduced? This is Carol, my mum, also married to James Whitman, your head teacher.’ As Simon went over to check the barbecue, Lorna introduced Pepper, who promptly dragged Lara off to the outdoor playhouse. ‘Can I get anyone a drink?’
Beth accepted a glass of the Marlborough Sauvignon Lorna had purchased especially from the village wine shop but, to her disappointment, Nancy stuck with sparkling water. Instead, Lorna tried to tempt her guest with someof the French charcuterie she’d got from the deli, and was pleased when Nancy accepted.
‘Does it still count as supporting local shopkeepers when it’s imported from Alsace?’
‘Why wouldn’t it?’ replied Beth.
She was so abrupt, thought Lorna, somewhat crushed. Perhaps Beth thought she was showing off, she thought, burying the faint nagging feeling that maybe she was. She glanced up at Phoenix, who had been passing the ball from knee to knee for what seemed like an impressively long time.
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘It’s still putting money into our local economy. Talking of which, I’m so excited for you, Nancy, on your home improvements. Have the builders started yet?’
‘I was lucky in that Dean had a cancellation, so he’s been able to begin work.’
‘And the pool?’
‘Well, it’s out of season so they’re able to start too. Next week.’
