After that dinner at Salt Cottage Motl and you handed out the watches the three of them now wear on their wrists. ‘We’d been saving them for the summer hols,’ you rasped, your voice filling up, ‘but, hey, you might as well have them tonight.’ Then you clamped each of them tight like you were trying to breathe in their skin, to imprint it onto your own so you’d always have it close; their particular smell, each one so different, that you’ve known their entire lives. Trying to soak them into your dress so that in the future you can hold it to your face and breathe them back.
Later that night Motl and you curled around each of them and put a hanky over their mouths and clung to their lovely trusting warmth like they were life buoys in a vast ocean of fear and neither of you knew when land would be reached. Then everything went black — ‘like death, I guess’ — and the three of them woke in this other world entirely, this pale, waiting place. Cast adrift, your fragile boats, and you all hope for landfall so much.
You had assumed Motl had told them what was happening; you trusted him to lead them to safety; where is he in all of this? What happened? Is he all right?
Your memory, just before your own world went black: Motl and you waiting, holding hands, side by side in your armchairs in a quiet the cottage never has. The arc of a car light. ‘They’re here.’ Your husband, quiet. A quick squeeze of your hand. They came in through the unlocked door; no knock. A blast of cold wind from outside blew through you to the embered place inside they cannot reach, they can never reach. You blazed life. As you sat there waiting with your eyes shut for whatever was ahead. Because it was the only way it could be done. To save the children, to free them, that’s what Motl had told you; otherwise the family would be hunted down like injured animals and the pursuit would never stop, there would never be any rest, any peace. ‘Trust me,’ he said, ‘I have a plan. It’s only you they want.’
So. You were gently but firmly grabbed from behind. Pulled to your feet. Pinioned by your wrists which were then cuffed to a belt and a hood was placed over you, cutting off any light. Shortly afterwards, a sharp blow and your world went blank, everything addled, your family lost. And now you are here, in this place.
Mouse jerks awake.
Okay, okay. Something else. From that last night at Salt Cottage. Dad crying but trying not to. His tiny spasms held in. I’ve never seen him cry before. I WISH I HADN’T REMEMBERED THAT. I wish wish WISH we were all back there. Back. Please, get us back.
Now is the time when what you believe in is put to the test.
Set me as a seal upon thine heart.