Sun sparkled and glittered like diamonds spread over the sea. Zelda stood knee-deep in the water, squealing and jumping as each low wave broke against her. Ellen watched from the edge of the wash, where she lay with the foamy ends of waves lapping over her legs.
‘I want to practise swimming,’ called Zelda.
‘Daddy’s teaching you to swim,’ answered Ellen. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘I’ll show you. Come on. Please!’
Ellen got up slowly, untying her sarong and tossing it back onto the sand before wading into the water.
Zelda looked up at her naked body, her eyes moving in a triangle from one breast to another and down to the pubic hair. ‘Mummies wear bathers,’ she stated.
‘Some do,’ answered Ellen, ‘but not yours. Not on our own beach anyway.’
‘Why?’
‘Because there’s no-one to see.’
‘Lizzie always wears bathers.’
‘I know she does.’ Ellen sighed. ‘I thought you wanted to have a swimming lesson.’
Zelda nodded and pointed out to sea. ‘We have to go deeper.’ They faced the horizon and waded side by side. Zelda put a hand on Ellen’s thigh; outstretched fingers ready to grab if she lost her balance. ‘Now you have to hold me up.’
Zelda lay in the water supported by Ellen’s outstretched arms. Her skin was soft and slippery with suntan oil. Her waving limbs were pale thin shapes in the water.
‘What now?’ asked Ellen.
‘You have to stay like that while I swim,’ Zelda said. Her head was tilted back away from the water. ‘Don’t let me sink.’ She looked up at Ellen, her eyes dark and intense. Then her face screwed up with effort as she launched into a wild, splashy dog paddle.
Ellen held her arms stiffly. She looked out over Zelda’s head towards the horizon. Where the sea was cold and deep, and dark silent shapes slid beneath innocent boats.
Suddenly Zelda was gasping, struggling. Her body squirmed in the water. Then she screamed, choking on gulps of salt— fighting. Sinking. Small face tipped back, a white moon in the water.
Ellen closed her eyes. She knew what came next—it played out ahead of her like a familiar tune. Her hands pushing down on the small head, warm and hard. Hair swirling up like seaweed. Limbs flailing, useless. Weak fingers tearing at big strong hands. Ears filling with water. The small close underwater sounds …
A timeless agony, in which nothing, or anything, was real.
No! Ellen stood still, frozen, as she reached for strength with every part of her being. Then she clamped her arms rigid against her sides, refusing to follow the call. Making the song go on without her.
She looked up as Zelda disappeared. The waves closed over the child’s head and washed calmly by, leaving no sign that she had been there.
Zelda! The cry was buried deep, like a nightmare scream, fighting up through layers of sleep to pierce the quiet air.
‘Zelda!’ Ellen lunged after her. Throwing herself under the water to grasp the small body. Dragging her up—back to the air and the open sky. The small arms were still beating and the thin chest heaving as Zelda coughed up water and sobbed with fear.
‘Mummy!’ She cried, forcing the word out between choking coughs. ‘Mummy!’
‘It’s all right—I’ve got you. Mummy’s here.’ Ellen bowed her head as Zelda’s arms clung round her neck. She felt the small face pressing warm and wet against her breasts.
Ellen carried her out of the water and sank down onto the sand. She held Zelda close, tasting the salt on her skin, smoothing her cool soft flesh. Tears ran down Ellen’s face.
‘You slipped out of my hands, like a little slippery fish,’ she said, in a light voice that died in a gasping sob.
‘Mummy …’
‘It’s all right, angel.’
A long time passed. Sun burned their shoulders and seabirds made tracks around them. Finally Zelda grew calm and pulled away.
‘Mummy? Don’t cry, Mummy.’
Ellen stared down at the bright sand, the millions of grains, each cut and polished like a tiny gem. Her feet were buried, already lost. She was sinking, disappearing.
‘I want to go home,’ said Zelda. She began to cry, her bottom lip quivering, the tears glossy on her face. ‘Come on. Mummy?’ She backed away, looking.
Ellen’s eyes were locked to the sand. Only her hair moved, stirring in the breeze.
Slowly, Zelda turned and walked away.