'Max, will you to go back to England?'
Max looked at the senior partner in surprise. 'But Reuben, I've only been back in New York four months.'
'You worked through August. Everyone else was on vacation.'
Max grimaced. He'd avoided going to Virginia, despite his mother's reproaches. Mrs Wishart had made it clear she blamed him for Jenny's wish not to make their engagement public, and hinted he must change the situation without further delay. He was resigned but concerned about Jenny's reluctance. Perhaps she really was too young, and if so the less she saw of him the less she would be frightened.
'Why England, now?' he asked, and tried to dismiss the sudden reminder of Rosa's vivid beauty. He'd tried hard and unsuccessfully to forget her. Would it be possible to be in the same little island and not want to rush to her side? 'Our cinema designs were approved, and Mr Sambourne's firm can supervise the construction.'
'He'd like you to be there, as the designs were mostly yours. But the main reason is what's happening in Stratford-on-Avon. Every time I have a letter from England there is a fresh report that the Governors have announced a competition, or chosen an architect, or a design. I'm convinced they will have a competition, and we ought to enter. You need to go to Stratford and be on the spot to know the truth of it, and at the same time make preliminary measurements of possible sites and come up with a few ideas.'
'Us? A new theatre?' Max exclaimed.
'Of course. There haven't been many theatres built recently, it's all picture houses. One day people will want them again. We'd make our mark in theatre design if we built what's bound to be one of the most important theatres in the world. You knew the old one. You know the people there. They have reason to be grateful to you. We'll have discussions before you go, but you ought to set sail by the end of October. That gives time to consider various outlines, which we can adapt when the conditions become known. But from your experience you'll probably be able to guess the sort of requirements they'll impose.'
'Wouldn't it be better for someone else to visit Stratford too? Rather than rely on my judgement alone.'
'We're all busy on big projects at the moment. You've only had small ones since you came back, apart from the picture houses. We can spare you. But when we've seen the regulations and discussed preliminary ideas Abe and I will take a short trip. One of us can stay to help with the detailed work if we decide to go ahead.'
Max went to his own office and sat staring out of the window. He'd tried to forget Rosa, but fate wasn't going to permit it. Suddenly he was impatient to see her.
*
Adam's mother shook her head. 'You'll lose Rosa too if you insist on curbing her ambition,' she said gently.
Mr Greenwood frowned. 'But this wish to flaunt themselves in front of other people, I can't understand it.'
'Can't you understand ambition? Of whatever sort, whether it's to be the best pastry-cook in Stratford or a world-famous actress?'
'My daughters are better than any actresses!'
'There is nothing wrong with the theatre, Oliver. If you believed that you wouldn't have given so much to the Memorial Theatre.'
'That was for Anne.'
'I know,' she said gently. 'Perhaps you should blame Anne and myself for being so devoted to the theatre ourselves. Did you know Anne had always wanted to become an actress, until she met you?'
'She mentioned it, a girlish fancy.'
'She gave it up for love of you. Rosa, unfortunately, does not appear to be falling in with our wishes and Adam's. She won't give up her ambitions for love of my son. But if you grant her a little freedom, she might in the end do as we want. Let her act in the Festival next year, and let her come with us to the special matinee in London. I'll ensure she doesn't run away to join Celia.'
Mr Greenwood was looking uncomfortable. 'I knew Anne was once infatuated with the idea of the stage. That's why I allowed her to be involved with the Memorial Theatre.'
'It was a big sacrifice she made for you.'
He capitulated suddenly. 'Very well, Rosa may go, and thank you. I know you'll take care of her.'
'She's like a daughter. She's the daughter I still hope to have, if Adam can be patient.'
*
'He can't know how a woman feels,' Celia insisted. 'I know what a woman would do if her lover left her so suddenly, and behaved so dreadfully towards her.'
'Yes, darling, of course you do, but Cedric wants the part played in a particular way. He is the Director.'
'He was beastly to me this afternoon.'
Gilbert reflected that Celia hadn't the least idea of just how obnoxious Cedric could be. His rebuke had been mild despite her continued refusal to say the words in the way Cedric wanted. In Gilbert's opinion Cedric had taken one of his unpredictable fancies to Celia, and was letting her off extremely lightly. He couldn't depend on it lasting, however, for Cedric was a professional, and no personal prediliction would persuade him to retain an actress unequal to the part. He tried to cajole Celia into a more amenable frame of mind, to rehearse the scene with him, but Celia, drooping with tiredness, said she was too exhausted and simply had to go to bed.
When he brought her a cup of tea in bed the following morning she smiled prettily and apologised for her bad temper. 'I'm so nervous, afraid of being dragged back home.'
'You ought to be more afraid of being sacked,' he said bluntly.
'They wouldn't. Would they? They couldn't!'
'You have to do what the Director wants if you want to work for him. Until you are a famous star, of course,' he added hurriedly.
'No one will force me to go back home.'
'Of course not, but darling, do try. I can't endure the thought of losing you, or not being in the same play, on tour together.'
'Could you have a word with Cedric?' she asked.
'No. Celia, you have to mind him.'
'I can do it his way in rehearsals, and when we've opened I'll do it my way and show him how much better it is.'
'That would be fatal. You'd get a bad reputation and no one would trust you again, they wouldn't care what the reasons were.'
Celia frowned. Deep down she knew he was right. The important thing was to stay in this play, be a success, and return to Stratford in triumph. Perhaps she'd join the Festival Company next year. Her head full of visions of a glorious future, she forgot Cedric's criticisms and their dingy lodgings. One day she'd be famous.
*
Max arrived in London at the beginning of November. He was anxious to go to Stratford, but Reuben Crossman had arranged meetings with people who might collaborate on a theatre design. He booked a room at the Savoy and the following day went into the City. Although no official announcement had been made Mr Sambourne was confident there would be a competition, and they would hear about it soon.
After their discussion Mr Sambourne asked if he intended to go to the performance on the following Tuesday at Drury Lane.
'What performance?' Max asked.
'The Directors of the Theatre Royal are putting on a special matinee, "To Shakespeare", to raise money for rebuilding. Many major actors are taking part, unpaid. And the King and Queen will be there.'
'I doubt I could get a ticket so late,' Max said regretfully. 'It will be some occasion.'
'My daughter was coming, but she has been called to her mother-in-law's bedside. The old lady gets to death's door at least twice a year, but Dorothy's kind-hearted and always goes. Would you accept her ticket?'
Max demurred. 'You're kind, but surely other people have a better claim?'
'None of them will be entering the design competition. And if your firm wins we'll do well. I can introduce you to influential people. Viscount Burnham will be there, he's President of the Memorial Fund. You'll come?'
'With the greatest of pleasure.'
He walked along the Strand on the afternoon of November the ninth. The programme was enticing and he was looking forward to seeing people he'd heard of but not seen before, people like Brian Glennie, Yvonne Arnaud, Godfrey Tearle and Baliol Holloway, Edith Evans and Fay Compton. It was a tragedy that a fellow American, James K. Hackett, had died just the previous day in Paris, and would not be able to play Macbeth. Was this, Max wondered, another manifestation of the 'unlucky' play?
The performance was late starting. 'The crowds have delayed the royal car,' Mr Sambourne said as they sat in the stalls. 'I had difficulty in getting through myself.'
Max didn't hear him. He'd been glancing round the theatre, which he'd never visited before. His gaze suddenly become riveted to a couple in the front row of the dress circle. In all his dreaming he hadn't envisaged his first glimpse of Rosa to be like this. Nor had he known how painful it would be to see her smiling so warmly, so intimately, at the man beside her.
*
'Darling, you were wonderful!'
Celia turned and flung her arms round Gilbert. 'Really? You're not just saying it? You mean it?' She'd been unusually apprehensive, stricken with shivers of doubt, but everything had gone well. She would be good!
'Of course I do.' Gilbert concealed his relief that Celia, after her initial resentment at Cedric's criticisms, had decided she didn't, after all, know everything about acting. She'd curbed her impatience, tried hard to please, and won the approbation of the Director. The dress rehearsal had been her best performance so far, and Gilbert's dreams of a triumphant future for her, which he'd begun to doubt during the first few weeks in Islington, seemed about to come to fruition.
'One week in Manchester, and in a few weeks we'll be in Birmingham.'
'Will you visit your family?'
'No, I daren't, Father will try to drag me back home. I'm still only twenty. Though of course I'd love them to come to the play.'
'They'll forgive you.'
She was thoughtful. 'Darling, I know our friends – theatre friends – accept us, but my family are incredibly old-fashioned. They'd be very – condemning – if they knew we were living together.'
'You could marry me.'
Celia laughed and shook her head. 'Darling, neither of us believes in those old hidebound customs.'
'I'll be as discreet as you wish when we meet your family.'
'So long as we don't flaunt living together, they'll come to accept the situation.'
*
Max halted abruptly and the man behind him exclaimed in annoyance. 'Do watch it, old man, my wife doesn't wish to bruise her face against your back.'
'Oh, I beg your pardon, Ma'am. I didn't know you were so close behind me.'
'It doesn't matter,' the lady said with a gentle smile. 'Come, Edward, we'll be late.'
They went on and Max immediately forgot them. He took a few impetuous steps towards the door through which he'd seen Rosa and Adam Thorn disappear, then halted and shook his head. It was none of his business. They must be married. Rosa wouldn't spend the night in a hotel room with a man she wasn't married to. Somehow he'd never thought of her being married. Adam had been an old friend yet she'd kissed him when they'd spent the day together. Would she have spent the night with him? He hadn't asked her, so how could he know. She wasn't that sort of girl. Thoroughly shaken he moved away, forgetting supper, and returned to his room. He'd done his utmost to dismiss Rosa from his thoughts ever since he'd known he was going back to Stratford. He was committed, he'd be bound to see Rosa there, see her happiness if she was married to Thorn, and if she wasn't he'd know what she was really like.
Max rose at six the next morning, checked out of the hotel and caught an early train to Birmingham. He'd stay there and hire a car, and go to Stratford when necessary. He need not spend all his time in Stratford, and his peace of mind would be greater if he avoided the risk of meeting Rosa unexpectedly. He didn't know how he'd behave if they met.
Despite his resolutions, immediately he'd settled into the hotel he made arrangements to rent a car and drove to Stratford. Parking on Waterside, beside the old theatre site, he looked gloomily at signs of activity. There had been considerable argument about the preferred site for the new theatre and he had, during the long, sleepless night at the Savoy, read through the Advisory Committee's recommendations.
They preferred the Tercentenary site, further down the river. This land in Southern Lane was now the kitchen garden of Avon Bank, and would be both drier and cheaper to build on, since the architect would not have to design a building that could be viewed from all sides. Only the front need be decorative. The old theatre could become a conference hall. The town Corporation disagreed strongly. They wanted the riverside site and Alderman Flower sided with them. The Governors had guaranteed the additional costs of deeper foundations to combat the risk of flooding, and to make the theatre an 'all-round' building.
Viewing both positions Max agreed with the Corporation. It would be a very important building of worldwide renown, it needed the best position possible. People would want to see it from the river, from the far bank which would remain, he trusted, an open site, and from every angle of approach. He walked across the bridge for a better view and perched on a low branch overhanging the water. Taking a sketch pad out of his pocket he began to devise plans, and was so absorbed he didn't pay any attention to the occasional passersby until he heard his name called. He imagined at first he was dreaming, but when he raised his eyes and looked up his heart leapt in instinctive joy.
'Rosa! I – I thought you were in London!'
*
'That was wonderful!' Rosa exclaimed. 'Thank you, Adam, for arranging such a marvellous surprise. What a pity your mother was ill and missed it. I wished it had never ended.'
'Thank goodness she persuaded your father to let you come unchaperoned.'
Rosa giggled. 'He's been trying so hard, for fear I'd run off too, but he found it difficult to agree.'
'The rooms are still booked at the Savoy. You can bath and change at leisure, then we'll have a sumptuous dinner. And before we go home tomorrow I'll show you some of London's landmarks.'
How blissful to get away from the multiplying problems at home, Rosa thought as she wallowed in a deep bath. Jack had insisted on keeping the black gelding he'd bought, despite the animal's stubbornness. Mr Greenwood refused to house it, so Jack rented a field and stable on the Alcester road. A young horse, he hadn't been schooled to pull a waggon, and he succeeded in kicking out the front boards of two and overturning another within a week. Jack refused to give in, and came home early every day to make another attempt to train the horse, aptly named Satan. Rosa knew Jack was refusing business in order to make time for this, and their profits were decreasing, but neither his father's remonstrances nor hers were heeded. She soaped her legs vigorously. Jack shouldn't spoil today. She'd forget him, and enjoy this unexpected treat.
Adam really was good to her. He made it plain he loved her in so many ways, yet she could not respond. She had turned to him when Max had departed so abruptly. She was fond of him, felt comfortable with him, enjoyed his kisses and felt safe and protected, yet she couldn't love him. She recalled how Celia glowed when Gilbert was there, how her difficult sister made only token protests when her wishes conflicted with his. He could manage her as no one else could. Rosa could not submit to Adam's judgement in such a way, though. Therefore she didn't love him. She sighed and climbed out of the bath. He'd been urging her to marry him, but she still wanted to act. One day, perhaps, she might agree, but not yet.
The dinner was luxurious and leisurely. Adam looked distinguished in his evening jacket, and Rosa felt elegant in her simple tube dress in pale green silk with its overdress of fine lace, the matching green slippers, and the long row of pearls which had been one of her mother's bequests to her, and which reached to her waist. The food was delicious, and Adam ordered different wines with each course, insisting she sample them all, saying she deserved to finish the day lavishly, so that she'd always remember it.
'I shall do that anyway, Adam. I can't thank you enough.'
'You could, if you'd marry me,' he replied.
'Not again, Adam. Please. I thought you understood. I don't want to marry. I must try to act.'
'You could act in Stratford, I wouldn't object,' Adam said, but smiled resignedly when Rosa shook her head. 'All right, my darling, I'll not speak of it again – for at least a day.'
Rosa laughed. 'You're very good to me. Where shall we go tomorrow?'
Adam gestured at the window beside them which overlooked the river. The curtains hadn't been closed, and lights along the Embankment gleamed, mysterious and enticing. For once there was no fog, and Rosa could see a myriad of reflections in the water, from buildings and street lamps and the lights aboard boats moored by the banks or still plying up and down the broad waterway. 'Shall we take a boat first?'
Rosa nodded. 'That would be fun.'
'Then we'll walk in the parks, if it's fine enough, and look at the Houses of Parliament and the Abbey and the Palace. We'll go to Bond Street, and do some shopping.'
They were still planning exactly where they would go as they went upstairs to the adjacent rooms Adam had booked. As he opened Rosa's door she turned to say goodnight, but he put his arm round her waist and gently pushed her into the room. Inside, he shut the door, then took her in his arms and kissed her hungrily.
'Rosa, darling, take pity on me,' he whispered into her ear. 'I need you so much.'
For a long minute she relaxed, but when he picked her up and carried her across to the bed, slipping the small strap of her dress over her shoulder, she sat up and tried to push him away.
'No, Adam. Please, I can't!'
'Don't you love me?' he asked, his voice thick with emotion. 'Rosa, I'm crazy about you! I've waited so long to be alone with you, to make love to you.'
Rosa protested but his kisses were sweet, and she'd felt terribly alone since Max had left her. When Adam eased off her dress and began to caress her naked body she turned towards him. What did it matter? He loved her, he wanted to marry her, she could have a good life with Adam, with no more worries about Celia or Jack. And then she thought of Max again. She'd done her utmost to forget him since he'd left Stratford. It had been hard, but he'd forgotten her and she'd begun to hope she was succeeding in dismissing him from her mind. There were whole hours when she didn't think of him. But he came between her and Adam. She struggled free of Adam's embrace and rolled off the bed, reaching for her dressing gown.
'I'm sorry, I can't,' she gasped. 'Adam, please go!'
*
Rosa thought she was dreaming. She'd lain awake all night, and crept out of the Savoy to catch the first train home. Deeply ashamed of her behaviour, knowing she had almost succumbed to Adam's entreaties, she had to act with all her skill to reassure her father she had enjoyed London. Winnie, she suspected, had known she was putting on a brave face, and to avoid her questions she'd made the excuse of Moonlight eating her head off, and gone to ride beside the river.
'Max? Is it really you?'
He forced himself not to drag her from the saddle, take her into his arms and cover her face with kisses. He had to remember he was promised to Jenny. 'I'm not a mirage,' he said. 'Did you enjoy the performance yesterday?' Max went on, trying to sound natural but failing miserably.
Rosa frowned at his tone. 'I didn't see you there.'
She took off her gloves and smoothed back her hair, and Max saw that she wore no rings. So she wasn't married to Thorn. Yet she'd been using the same bedroom. 'You were no doubt too preoccupied,' he said sharply. 'It was a wonderful performance, wasn't it,' he added swiftly, seeing her slight frown. He had no right to be jealous of Adam, he reminded himself fiercely. He was so confused. He was not only engaged to Jenny, who had done nothing to deserve his disloyalty, but he didn't want to marry Rosa, or anyone. He simply couldn't forget her.
'Yes, wonderful. But why are you back in England? I wasn't even sure you'd left,' Rosa added, and Max groaned inwardly, hearing the hurt in those few words.
'I had to return to New York in rather a hurry,' he tried to explain, but even he could hear the lack of conviction in his voice.
'Then why are you back?'
'We hear there may be a competition for designing a new theatre. My partners wish to enter, and sent me back to wait for the details.'
'I don't think they'll be out for some time. And there isn't a festival to help with at the moment.'
'I – I have work in Birmingham too, I won't be in Stratford very often.'
'Then I don't expect we'll meet. Good luck with the competition.'
She touched the mare with her heel and urged her into a trot. Max took a few impetuous steps after her, then stopped. What could he say? What did he want to say? With a deep sigh he tore up his sketches and slowly walked back to his car. The anticipation he'd felt, all the way across a stormy Atlantic, had dissipated. Now he couldn't even summon the enthusiasm for the new theatre design.
*
'Have you heard from Celia?' Agnes asked. She and Rosa had met at the house of one of Stratford's leading citizens, at a Christmas sale of work to raise money for the Memorial Theatre fund. Rosa, determined to suppress her longing to follow Celia to London, fear of meeting Adam and his reproaches, and misery at the odd meeting with Max, when he'd seemed so unfriendly, had become absorbed in projects for raising money. She spent all her spare time making cushion covers, nightdress cases, pin-cushions and the many other items which found a ready sale at such events.
'She won't write until she's twenty-one,' Rosa said with a frown. 'If my father had any idea where she was he'd be off to fetch her home. She won't feel safe until after her birthday.'
'She'll be able to marry then, too,' Agnes mused. 'She won't need your father's permission.'
'Celia never wanted to get married.' Unlike Agnes, Rosa thought with an inward spark of amusement. She and Celia had often giggled together at Agnes's obvious but futile attempts to attract Jack's attention. Rosa wondered if they'd been too unkind. The girl was ethereally lovely, but her limp, the result of a childhood illness, made it impossible for her join in normal pursuits. Her resentment was obvious, and Rosa knew people grew tired of offering continuous sympathy.
'Do you think she went with that actor, Gilbert?' Agnes persisted eagerly.
'I really have no idea.'
'Don't be cross, Rosa. Everybody knew they were walking out together, so that's what people think. If it's not true we could tell them. Otherwise Celia could never come back.'
'I really don't see what Celia's actions have to do with anyone else, Agnes.'
'No, but if she's a fallen woman she'd never be accepted by the best society.'
'Meaning you and your parents?'
Agnes was oblivious to Rosa's sarcasm. 'She'd be like Mrs Corbin.'
'Mrs Corbin?' Rosa asked quickly.
'Everyone knows what she's like. I heard yesterday she was planning to go to Birmingham for a few weeks, and my father saw that American in Birmingham a few days ago. They were friendly. Perhaps she's gone to be with him.'
That is very likely, Rosa thought bleakly, and then took herself fiercely to task. She had no claim on Max, and he'd made it perfectly clear he'd regretted kissing her. She wouldn't think of him again.
'If she has it's none of our business, and none of yours what Celia's done, Agnes. Are you going to help me arrange this stall, and stop indulging in nasty gossip?'
*
It was a miserable Christmas for the Greenwoods. Rosa was making no headway in persuading her father to permit her to act, except for a promise that if she stopped demanding to go to London she might take part in the 1927 Festival. She had to be content, but on a few occasions her resentment at the unfairness boiled over. She knew it was fuelled by her distress over Max's coldness, the fact he hadn't attempted to visit them. When the competition was announced in January she assumed he would have returned to America, and her unhappiness increased. At least she had accepted Adam's abject apology, and they were once more on cordial, if wary terms of friendship.
The weather didn't help. Gales and floods swept the country at the end of February, and a raging influenza epidemic added to the general gloom.
'I am still thinking of buying into a boat-hire business, and I need to try out their boats,' Mr Greenwood said one morning at breakfast. It was the first bright and unusually warm day in March, 'Come with me, Rosa?'
Listlessly Rosa agreed, and they set off to walk towards the Tramway Bridge. They had turned into Waterside when Adam, mounted on a prancing bay gelding, drew alongside.
'I see I'm too late,' he said. 'I was hoping to tempt you out for a ride, Rosa. It's been such a long time since we rode together.'
'I'm sorry,' Rosa said. 'I'm going on the river with Father.'
'Perhaps tomorrow if it's still fine?'
'If you wish.' She was apathetic, not caring how her time was disposed of. Yet the thought of riding made her smile suddenly, and she nodded. 'I'd like that. Thank you Adam.'
'We could postpone the river,' Mr Greenwood said. 'You could go home and change now.'
Adam shook his head. 'I'm sorry, I can't wait. I must get to Charlecote within the half-hour. Tomorrow.'
With a wave he left them. Mr Greenwood looked after him thoughtfully.
'He's a good lad, Rosa. I'd be very pleased if the two of you could make a match of it.'
Rosa shook her head. 'I don't want to marry,' she said firmly. 'You know I want to act professionally.'
Mr Greenwood frowned. 'No more, Rosa, for pity's sake! I am tired of hearing about nothing save the theatre.'
Rosa relapsed into a hurt silence. Her father did not press her to talk.
At the boatyard Mr Greenwood spent some time in discussion with the owner, then elected to try out one of the punts first. Cushions were spread for Rosa, and she sat back as her father poled the boat into the middle of the river. It was swollen with the recent heavy rain, and no doubt the old Memorial Theatre was flooded. The stark ruins stood, blackened and desolate, on the far bank, and Rosa felt a stirring of interest as she tried to envisage a new building rising in its place.
'I wonder how soon the new theatre can be built?' she said suddenly.
'Not this year, but perhaps by 1928.'
'We'll have the Sothern gift to begin with,' Rosa said. 'Wasn't it generous of them, to present us with their scenery and costumes?'
'And of the American English Speaking Union to pay for their transport over here.'
Rosa lay back, watching fluffy white clouds chasing across the sky. It was a perfect day, cold but bright, with a slight breeze that caused tiny ripples on the water. The smooth motion almost lulled her to sleep, and her thoughts, which normally she disciplined rigidly, strayed to Max Higham. Where was he now? Was he still in England, or back in New York? Perhaps he too was on the water, in a liner crossing the Atlantic, going further and further away from her every minute. Would she ever see him again?
Her lips were framing the word 'No' when she became aware of the punt swinging round. Opening her eyes she started up in alarm.
'Father, what is it?'
'The pole broke, and I can't reach the longer part,' Mr Greenwood said, suppressed anger in his voice. 'It must have been cracked, and that fool at the boathouse hadn't checked it.'
Rosa glanced behind her. 'What can we do?'
'Scull with our hands and pray we can steer towards the bank before we reach the weir! Otherwise we'll have to hope we can jump onto one of the islands.'
Rosa knelt and followed his example, dipping her hands into the icy water, but their efforts couldn't move the punt out of the main current. No other boats were nearby, and the only people on either bank were too far away to have noticed that they were in difficulty.
'We'll have to swim,' Mr Greenwood said grimly. 'If we wait until we are too close to the weirs we may be swept over before we have a chance. Let yourself over the side gently, don't jump in. There may be weeds or submerged branches. Do you think you can make it?'
Rosa had kicked off her shoes and was already sitting on the side, ready to slide into the water. 'Yes. I've swum further in the sea,' she said swiftly, shivering as the cold water numbed her legs. 'But you can barely swim ten yards.'
'I'll hang onto the side of the punt, and so long as that holds me up I can try to push it to the side. Go, Rosa, don't wait for me!'
She obeyed and struck out for the bank, her teeth chattering, her heavy winter clothes instantly waterlogged and dragging her down. She might be able to find something there which she could use to help. If not, surely she could attract someone's attention, higher up from the surface of the water.
After a few yards she turned her head to see where her father was. She was just in time to see him fall in as the punt turned over, and she cried out a warning. For some reason, perhaps an eddy in the water, perhaps the shifting of weight as he jumped, the punt slewed round and drifted broadside on. Rosa couldn't see her father, and she prayed desperately he would be able to catch hold of it. Then as she twisted in the water she saw her father surface the far side of the upturned punt, and fling up his arm to ward off the now wildly swinging boat. Frantic with fear she tried to swim back, but the current was against her. Her father was no longer moving of his own volition, but part of his clothing had caught in some projection of the punt, and he was being swept downstream by the flood water more rapidly than she, in quieter water, could follow.
Rosa could see foaming water on the edges of the weir. She hoped the lock gate was closed, and she wouldn't be swirled into it. With luck she'd be swept onto one of the islands which separated the lock and the two sections of the weir. The rocks which broke the surface were looming up remarkably fast, and she knew she was being borne along by the current. She could not overtake her father, but maybe if she could reach the bank she could run faster than the stream. There was so little time left, but she had to try. Perhaps the punt would jam across the rocks, and her father might be saved. With all her strength Rosa tried to swim for the bank, but it receded visibly, and she feared that she too would be swept over the vicious path of the weir.
***