— I’d love a swim, the little girl said.
— Why didn’t you bring your togs?
— I think I’ll go in in my skin.
— You will not.
— If I met some fellow swimming underwater wouldn’t he get a great shock?
Giggling she tucked the hem of her dress into her knickers and waded into the sea. She splashed about, drenching herself. Her cries winged out over the water like small swift birds. The boy watched her, then he turned away and moved on again.
— Wait for me, she cried, and came thrashing out of the sea.
At the end of the pier a bent old man was sitting on a bollard, his back turned toward them. The girl ran ahead and began to dance excitedly around him. The boy came up and stopped behind the old man. He put his hands into his pockets and stared out to sea with studied indifference, softly whistling. A distant sail trembled on the horizon.
— And did your auntie let you go? the old man was asking of the girl, mocking her. He had a low, hoarse voice, and he spoke slowly, as though to hide an impediment.
— She did, the girl said, and laughed slyly. It was such a grand day.
— Aye, it’s a great day.
He turned his head and considered the boy a moment.
— And who’s this young fellow?
— That’s my brother.
— Aye now? he said blankly.
He turned back to the sea, grinding his gums. The boy shifted from one foot to the other. For a while there was silence but for the faint crackling of the seaweed over on the beach. The old man spat noisily and said:
— Well, they’ve took him out anyway.
The girl’s eyes flashed. She looked at her brother and winked.
— Did they? she said casually. Today, eh?
— Aye. Fished him out today. Didn’t I tell them? Aye.
— What did they do with him, Jimmy? I suppose they took him away long ago.
— Not at all, said the old man. Sure it’s no more than half an hour since he come in. Ah no. He’s still down there.
He waved an arm toward the beach at his back.
— Did they just leave him there? asked the girl in surprise.
— Aye. They’re gone off to get something to shift him in.
— I see.
She bit her lip, and leaned close to the old man’s ear and whispered. He listened a moment, then turned and stared at her from one yellowed eye.
— What? What? You don’t want to see a thing like that. Do you? What?
— We do. That’s why we came. Isn’t it?
She rammed her elbow into the boy’s ribs.
— O yes, he said quickly. That’s why we came.
The old man stared from one to the other, shook his head, then got to his feet, saying:
— Come on then, before your men come back. Begod, you’re the strange ones then. Hah. Aren’t you the strange ones? Heh heh.
They walked back along the pier, the girl rushing excitedly between the old man and the boy, urging them to hurry. When they reached the sand the old man led them down behind the sea wall. At the edge of the waves a bundle covered in an old piece of canvas lay in the shade of the pier. The girl rushed forward and knelt beside it in the sand. The old man cried:
— Wait there now, young one. Don’t touch anything there.
The three of them stood in silence and gazed down at the object where it lay in the violet shade. Out on the rocks a sea-bird screeched. The old man leaned down and pulled away the canvas. The boy turned away his face, but not before he had glimpsed the creature, the twisted body, the ruined face, the soft, pale swollen flesh like the flesh of a rotted fish. The girl knelt and stared, her mouth open. She whispered:
— There he is, then.
— Aye, the old man muttered. That’s what the sea will do to you. The sea and the rocks. And the fish too.
The boy stood with his back to them, looking at his hands. And then a shout came from far up the beach.
— Hi! Get them children away from there! Get out of it, you old fool!
The boy looked up along the sand. Figures were running toward them, waving their fists. The old man muttered a curse and hobbled away with surprising speed over the dunes. The girl leaped to her feet and was away beside the waves, her bare feet slapping the sand and raising splashes that flashed in the sun like sparks. The boy stood motionless, and listened to her wild laughter that floated back to him on the salt air. He knelt in the sand and looked down at the strange creature lying there. He spoke a few words quietly, a message, then with care he gently replaced the canvas shroud. Then he ran away up the beach after his sister, who was already out of sight.
Some time later he found her, sitting under a thorn tree in the fields behind the beach. She was rubbing the damp sand from her feet with a handful of grass. When she saw him she sniffed derisively and said:
— O, it’s you.
He lay down in the warm grass at her side, panting. Bees hummed about him.
— Did they catch you? she asked.
— No.
— That’s a wonder. I thought you were going to stand there all day.
The boy said nothing, and she went on:
— Jimmy was here a minute ago. He said I was a right little bitch getting him into trouble. He’s worried as anything. That fellow’s not a bit mad. Anyway, he’s gone now. I don’t care.
She looked down at him. He was chewing a blade of grass and staring into thorns above him. She poked him with her toe.
— Are you listening to me?
— No.
He stood up, and said:
— We’ll have to go home. Tantey will be worried.
— Ah, sugar on Tantey.
They found their bicycles and started home through the glimmering evening. Clouds of midges rode with them. The tiny flies found a way into their hair and under their clothes. The girl cursed them and waved her hands about her head. The boy rode on without a word, his head bent.
The old woman was indeed angry with them.
— I warned you before you went, she said, and glared at them from her chair beside the stove. I warned you. Well now you can just hop it off to bed for yourselves. Go on.
— But what about our supper, Tantey?
— You’ll have no supper tonight. Get on now.
— I’m tired, anyway, the girl said carelessly when they were climbing the stairs.
By the window on the first landing the boy stopped and looked out over the countryside down to the sea. The sun was setting blood-red over the bay. He stood and watched it until it fell into the sea. When it was long gone he heard the girl’s voice calling plaintively from above.
— Where are you? Where are you?
He climbed to her room and stood at the end of the bed, looking down at her.
— I have a pain, she said, as she twisted fitfully among the rumpled sheets, her legs thrown wide, her hand clutching her stomach. He leaned his hands on the metal bedpost and watched her. As she twisted and turned she glanced at him now and then through half-closed eyes. After a moment he looked away from her, and with his lips pursed he considered the ceiling.
— Do you want to know something? he asked.
— What? O my stomach.
— You know that fellow today? The one that shouted at us on the hill? Do you know who he was?
She was quiet now. She lay on her back and stared at him, her eyes glittering.
— No. Who was he?
— He was the other fellow. The one that got drowned. That was him.
He turned to go and she leaped forward and clutched his hand.
— Don’t leave me, she begged, her eyes wide. I’m frightened. You can sleep here. Look, here, you can sleep here with me. Please.
He took his hand from hers and went to the door.
— All right, the girl cried. Go on, then. I don’t want you. You didn’t need to be coaxed last night. Did you, mister? Ha ha. Mister.