Sin by Josephine Hart Page A

surface of the water. Towards the sky.
    Stephen seemed to hug William to him. Like a lover. Unwilling to let go. Fierce in possession. Winning. They went down. And the muddy lake closed over them. How many times?
    How many times had the lake closed over them?
    â€œSave yourself, William” screamed out of me.
    And “Let him go” carried on the wind. Into nothing. The muddy lake closed over them. Again.
    And still I ran, Elizabeth after me, down the long hill. I fell into the water, and I swam to where it seemed to me they had gone down. I dived. Into black nothing. And murkiness. Why not blue waters clear for them?
    I dived again. And again. And again, nothing. Filth. Sediment. And darkness. And now pain. Physical pain. Something to fill me up. I came to the surface. And down again. And again. Over and over again. But I could not find their secret place. Elizabeth, far away from me, was frantically swimming around. Diving over and over again.
    We swam towards the bank. And fell on it.
    She held her arms out to me. Love and pity. Defeating me again.
    â€œDamn you, Elizabeth. Stephen brought him down. I know it. Stephen brought him down. My William. Trying to save him. Stephen brought him down. Oh, God. Oh, God.”
    Why should I call on You now?
    â€œOh, God. How I hate you, Elizabeth. My God, Elizabeth. You’ve done for me at last.”
    I moved towards her. And I spat water over her. Then I took stones. I threw them at her. I made my hand a weapon. The palm held sideways—like a knife—and I hit her jaw. I moved towards her neck. I moved, ready to kill. Then I saw a dead bird on the ground. I picked it up. And splattered it onto her chest.
    She lay there weeping and whispered, “Ruth. Don’t. Think of our boys. Our boys.”
    And I stopped at last. And looked down at her. Was something broken? I could not see through the blood. Whether I got to the bone or whether— again—I had only hurt soft tissue. The smell? That could have been the rotting body of the bird. Parts of which clung to her dress. And not something rotten in Elizabeth that I had at last burst open. Not exquisitely, as I had dreamed, but with sick, defeated, ferocious grief.
    Then, racing down the hill came the ambulance men. Carrying their useless stretchers. I ran towards them, screaming.
    â€œThey’re at the bottom of the lake. I can’t get them. The stretcher’s useless. There is no body.” Stephen’s face floated into my consciousness. “There are no bodies. ”
    They stood helpless. The willing helpers. Those trained to deal with dramatic death. They looked lost without a body. Carefully to move and place onto their precious canvas altar.
    â€œThe fire brigade … their divers are on their way.” A young woman in a suit spoke.
    â€œMrs. Garton?”
    â€œWho are you?” I almost spat the words at this intruder.
    â€œI’m Sarah Duncan and … this must be …” She turned towards Elizabeth.
    â€œElizabeth Harding, I’m Stephen’s mother.”
    â€œThe … phone call said … two boys … .”
    â€œStephen and William.”
    â€œYour sons?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI am so … so …”
    Sorry?
    â€œMrs. Garton. If we went to the house it would be … better.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œMrs. Garton … please.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œLady Harding?”
    Elizabeth shook her head. Blood dripped down and mixed itself with some particles of flesh from the bird. And Elizabeth’s shirt was blue. Not white as normal. I had not noticed this before. The doctor bent down and from her case took gauze and tinctures. And started to repair some of the damage I had done to Elizabeth’s face.
    â€œI fell,” she said. “Badly. Running towards the … boys. Onto the bird. And I fell onto the edge of the lake when I was getting out.”
    I said nothing. Someone had handed me a large