Later on he would try to piece it all together. James must have lost his balance, perhaps because Edward had pulled at him, but maybe he just slipped on some of the mackerel in the bottom of the boat, or the rocking of the waves had grown more violent. He would never know for certain. They had found some blood on the metal oar lock, so it was assumed that James had hit his head as he fell overboard and then his rubber wellingtons would have filled with sea water, dragging him down to the murky forest of seaweed that wafted placidly below.
Edward had begun to cry. This was awful beyond imagining. He couldn’t stay out at sea but equally how could he leave? He shouldn’t just give up on his brother. What would their mother say? The tears grew heavier and his sobs became howls that were swallowed by the wind and the darkness. He couldn’t go back to shore alone. It crossed his mind that he too should just jump overboard. Better that no one returned to Castle House than Edward without James. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his knees, paralysed by fear and grief.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat like that but when he finally managed to control his breathing and stop crying, it was fully night. In the distance he could see the light on the corner of the house and a glow behind the curtains in the front room. He would have to go back. He had no choice.
The oars felt much heavier than before and the sea had turned to treacle, but he slowly made his way closer to the shore. The steady slap and creak of the oars were his metronome. A groan on each pull, then stretch and down and pull again. James had taught him to row. He began to cry again.
As the boat neared the shore he could see a small light floating in the darkness. At first he couldn’t understand what it was but then he realised it must be someone on the beach with a torch. It would be their mother, worried and waiting. Soon she would hear the steady rhythm of the oars and the bow of the boat hitting the waves. He imagined her then, relaxing, thinking to herself that her boys were safe. He began to pull with less vigour, trying to delay what was to come. The horror as she stepped forward and saw that only one son had made it back to shore, and that boy was Edward. He began to shiver violently, the cold and shock and dread overtaking his body.
Finally he heard the crunch as the bottom of the boat hit the sandy gravel and he stepped out into the cold water. Ahead of him he could see his mother’s face, like a Halloween head, lit up by the torch. She was shouting across the noise of the surf.
‘I thought you were lost. What happened to you?’
Edward couldn’t speak. He just heaved the boat behind him, dragging it up onto the shore. His mother picked her way across the edge of the waves to help him, but then she froze. The torch jabbed at the darkness, poking into each corner and pocket of the boat. Her voice was thin and high as she called his name. ‘James? Where’s James? Edward, where is your brother?’
Edward dropped the rope and stood with his arms hanging by his sides. The waves swirled around his ankles. He opened his mouth to speak but was engulfed by grief and guilt. He let out a cry and it seemed to cut through the night, like an animal caught in a trap. He rushed to his mother, but stumbled so that he found his arms were wrapped around her knees.
‘No! No, no!’ Her voice decreed that this was not happening. Her son was not gone. She had not lost her baby.
Edward’s weight against her legs and the shifting wet shingle meant she had lost her balance and she fell backwards with a scream, her arms splayed out on the beach like Christ on his cross.
The waves rolled in and out. The two heaving bodies lay entwined with hearts that would be forever broken.
That was when everything changed.
Back in the bedroom, Patricia was staring at Edward, still waiting. He cleared his throat.
‘We were fishing out on a boat. It got choppy and James fell overboard. It was all fierce fast. I think Mammy has always blamed me.’
He raised a hand to wipe away a tear.
Patricia put her hands around his shoulders to comfort him and he fell against her. They lay on the bed, Patricia shushing him like a baby till they both fell asleep.
NOW
They didn’t sleep together. After about ten minutes of passionate kissing and roaming hands, Elizabeth pushed Brian away.
‘I can’t.’ She was panting slightly.
Brian reached up and cupped her face in his hands.
‘Are you sure? You seem to be enjoying it and, well,’ he moved a few strands of hair from her face, ‘you’re a fine-looking woman.’
She didn’t make eye contact. She liked him but the kissing had really just been a way to silence the noise in her head. A distraction from dealing with Zach’s news. ‘Yes. It’s too much. I should head back. I have to call my stupid fucking son.’