Rachel Bennett - The Flood

Auryn, however, was skittish about being outside once it got dark, although she would happily tag along with her sisters during the day. Recently, Daniela had discovered Auryn’s night vision wasn’t good, and in the shadows beneath the trees, the poor girl was almost blind. Daniela led the way up the bank that sloped away from the house. At the top she glanced back. The house crouched in the pool of illumination from the windows of the front room and the kitchen. There were no streetlights on the road, and the house sat too far from the village to be included in its ambient glow. The only light was what it created for itself.

The woods were criss-crossed with pathways, lines of trampled mud that wove through the trees and undergrowth. Daniela had walked those paths so often she probably could’ve found her way blindfolded. She trailed her fingers over the damp ferns at the side of the path.

Franklyn picked a route seemingly at random, heading east. She didn’t bother looking back to make sure the others followed her.

Auryn was struggling to keep up. Loose roots conspired to trip her at every other step. On impulse, Daniela caught hold of Auryn’s gloved hand, in a way she hadn’t done since they were both much younger. She could just make out Auryn flashing a grateful smile in the gloom. Daniela helped guide her along the path, hand in hand like small children. Their proximity made Daniela realise that a strange distance had grown between them. They’d been close, almost as if they were twins, when they were younger. Was it just their mother’s absence that’d pushed them apart?

The rain started again as they walked. Water dripped off the leaves and dimpled the puddles that collected in every footprint along the path. Some of the footprints probably belonged to Daniela and her sisters from days before. The rest had been left by dog-walkers or fishermen or hikers. Even during the worst weather, there were always people out in the woods.

‘We should’ve invited Leo,’ Auryn said.

Daniela felt a flash of annoyance. Henry’s son Leo was in the year below Daniela at school, but up until recently that hadn’t mattered – he’d been best friends with both her and Auryn for as long as Daniela could remember. To all intents and purposes, he was the brother who was missing from their lives. The girls at school thought it weird that he and Daniela were friends but nothing more. They’d ask her, giggling, whether she’d ever kissed him, or thought about kissing him.

No, she’d never thought about it. Why would she?

But that answer marked her out, apparently. Her friends had looked sceptical, side-eyed her and whispered. So next time, Daniela said of course she’d thought about it. Why wouldn’t she?

After that, Daniela had started watching Leo. Trying to convince herself she felt something more for him than just normal friendship. As an odd side-effect, she’d become jealous of Auryn, who was in Leo’s class and therefore got to spend more time with him.

A magpie in a nearby tree let out a ratcheting cry, close enough to startle Auryn. Daniela said, ‘It’s just a bird, don’t worry,’ but the sound had rattled her nerves as well. That was the problem with those woods. They were usually so quiet that the slightest noise could be frightening. She squeezed Auryn’s hand again, but the hand-holding felt strange and childish now, so she let go a few moments later.

Inevitably, the path led to the water. To the north of the village, the River Clynebade forked and became the Clyne and the Bade, so if Daniela walked in pretty much any direction from Stonecrop, she would come up against one of the twin rivers that bracketed the village. On quiet nights, Daniela could hear the water muttering as it flowed not far from the house.

This path emerged on the banks of the River Bade, within sight of the bridge and the road that eventually wound its way to Hackett, the next town over. To their right, a fishing platform extended a few feet out over the river. After the recent rains, the waters were almost level with the planks. The structure thrummed with the force of the current.

Franklyn put a foot on the platform to test it. She leaned her weight and bounced twice. Since the boards didn’t immediately crack, she decided it was safe.

A wooden rowing boat had been turned turtle on the grass some distance from the river, where even the yearly flooding wouldn’t dislodge it. Daniela sat down on its hull rather than go anywhere near the fishing platform.

‘Where do we make the fire?’ Daniela asked.

‘What fire?’ Franklyn asked.

‘For the … y’know.’ The word funeral still felt melodramatic. ‘To get rid of this stuff.’

‘Too wet for a bonfire,’ Franklyn said. She took a few more paces along the platform, testing its strength with her weight. ‘Anyway, not everything will burn. Better to do it this way.’ She made an expansive gesture at the water with her free hand. ‘The river carries everything away.’

Even though it’d been raining pretty consistently all summer, the river wasn’t nearly as high as it sometimes reached. During the winter, it often burst its banks. At least once a year the bridge to Hackett would be closed because it wasn’t safe to cross when the water was at its highest. Daniela and her sisters had a healthy regard for the river, drummed into them by their mother.

Not that it was obvious from the way Franklyn was acting. She reached the end of the platform and leaned out over the water. She peered down as if she could see anything at all in the muddy depths.

‘Be careful,’ Auryn called. She’d stayed well back from the water, about equidistance between the river and the shadowy trees. She looked uncomfortable. Her hands were scrunched in the pockets of her blue waterproof coat. Drizzle beaded her blonde hair.

‘It’s fine,’ Franklyn said. ‘Come on out here.’

Auryn shook her head. Daniela didn’t particularly want to stand on the rickety platform either, but she wanted to prove she was braver than her younger sister. After all, Franklyn wasn’t scared.

As she stepped onto the boards, the platform groaned, and Daniela froze. But it was just the swollen boards acknowledging her presence. Like Franklyn said, the structure was solid. Daniela swallowed the nagging voice that said otherwise.

She glanced at Franklyn, hoping for encouragement or acknowledgement, but Franklyn had already turned back to the water. She’d set down the box. In her hand was a slim bundle of letters, secured with an elastic band. As Daniela watched, Franklyn took the elastic band off, slipped it around her wrist, and started flicking through the envelopes. She selected one and tore it into quarters, then eighths. Then she flung the handful of paper across the water. The white flakes settled onto the surface, turned dark, and were swept away.

‘Where’d those letters come from?’ Daniela asked. She was certain they hadn’t been in the garage among their mother’s other possessions.

‘Found them.’

‘Found them where?’

Franklyn didn’t answer. She tore up another envelope and scattered the pieces.

Who are they addressed to? Daniela didn’t ask aloud, because she was afraid of the answer. Instead she watched Franklyn methodically tear up each one and consign it to the river.

Daniela took the postcards from the box. Suddenly she wasn’t sure she was angry enough to start ripping things. ‘This is a weird kind of funeral,’ she said.

‘It’s a weird kind of situation. You want to say a few words? Will that help?’

‘You should do it.’

Franklyn blew out her cheeks. ‘All right. Let me think.’

While she thought, she finished ripping up the envelopes. Daniela glimpsed the writing on the front. Definitely her mother’s. Who were they for?