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.We might be able to pretend she’s gone missin’, or somethin’.Better that the child doesn’t see her like that.’She took off her apron and pulled the door closed behind her.‘Let’s go,’ she said.They set off together down the road that led to the neighbouring farm.Almost at once, Bridie spotted two figures hurrying off into the distance, something vaguely comical about their ungainly speed.‘Isn’t that Tom?’ she asked her husband.‘And Annie? What on earth are they doin’ runnin’ off like that?’Mick didn’t reply.He quickened his pace and Bridie put her arm through his, almost trotting to keep up with him.They reached the farm, but neither of them called out.As they crossed the front pasture, the total silence suddenly unnerved them.The air around them seemed to have stilled, as though time had stopped itself in its own tracks.All the doors of the house were wide open.Curtains bellied and sagged gently through upstairs windows.There was no one to be seen anywhere, no movement of man or animal.They made their way automatically towards the river, Bridie holding on very tight to Mick’s solid arm.Still they saw no one.Suddenly, Bridie heard a sound that made something chill inside her.She gripped Mick’s arm, hard.He had heard it too, and for an instant, his big face looked wide open, helpless.‘Come on, love,’ Bridie said, steering them both towards the sound, in the direction of the jetty.At first, all they could hear was the swell and hurry of water, indistinguishable now from the rush of wind through swaying, leaf-laden branches.Once they made their way around the gentle bend in the river, they saw them.Hoping, dreading, praying for it not to be so, Bridie saw May and Richard kneeling over something white.She didn’t need to look any closer.May’s body was despair made flesh.Richard was kneeling behind her, clutching her to him, holding on.A few more steps and Bridie saw, all too clearly, the small, drained face, the livid bruise, the lifelessness.‘Dear God, no,’ she whispered.She made her way on to the jetty, placing first one foot, then the other, carefully planting the sole of each sturdy boot, still holding on to Mick’s outstretched hand.She bent down, her face level with May’s.She looked for a moment into Richard’s eyes, and looked away again.She couldn’t bear to hold his gaze.She put her hands on May’s shoulders and squeezed them gently.‘Come on, love.’She caressed the cold arms, waiting until the younger woman looked up at her.Then she took one of May’s hands gently in hers.‘Come with me, pet.Let his dad carry him to the house.Come on now.’It made her sad, looking into May’s empty eyes.‘It’s John,’ she said, her voice full of wonder.Bridie swallowed.‘Let’s take care of him in the house.It’s warmer there.’May rose obediently, allowing Richard to take the full weight of the small, still body.She clung to Bridie’s hand, not letting go even when they had to scramble up the bank together.Bridie put her arm around May’s shoulders, keeping her moving towards the house.She didn’t want her to see as the two men struggled to climb the bank, holding on carefully to the now awkward, absent body of her dead child.May woke, her heart pounding.For a moment, she lay in the darkness, trying to piece together the fractured details of her dream.She let out a little cry of relief.‘Oh, thank God, thank God it was a dream!’Richard was awake beside her at once.But there was still something dark beneath the surface of her memory which she could not place.It puzzled her.Richard took her hand.‘May? Are you all right?’Something in his voice broke the spell and she wailed, clutching at him.‘Oh, no, no – I don’t want it to be real! Please don’t let it be real!’She sobbed harshly, holding on for comfort.When she felt the tears on his face, she knew she was lost.It had happened; it was real.He could not make this better.She could not make it better.They held each other for a long time.With John’s death, she felt part of herself slipping away.She watched it go, wondering how much of herself would be left.Wondering if she cared.Hours somehow slipped by, becoming days.Richard still fed the animals, tended the farm, but it was all too much for him.He worked the longest hours he could, welcoming the exhaustion of his labour, sometimes working until he dropped.He toiled savagely, punishing the soil.Shovelling animal shit was better, easier than watching his wife disappear bit by bit in front of his eyes.At night, he slept badly, an uneasy, dream-filled state which brought him no rest.He was aware of May’s weeping, of her wanderings around the darkened house.He felt powerless; they spoke less and less.May spent her days aimlessly.With no Annie and no Tom, the house gradually began to sag.Bridie still came and brought food.She tried to get May to change out of her nightgown, to clean up a little.May never said a word to her.She knew that Bridie would eventually go back to her own life, leaving her in peace.This morning, she sat listlessly, counting.She had taken to sitting in the rocking chair in John’s room, sometimes looking out the window when the bright sight of water had ceased to hurt.The first Monday without John; the first rainfall; the first full week, then the second week
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