Brought to Book

‘I’ve seen the wild patch. Overgrown. Very out of place.’

‘That’s the one. But no house?’

‘Of course not! A wooden shed in a nice area like this? Really, Rosemary, you and your stories. Now, mind out of the way. I must get to the oven.’

‘What’s she baking?’ You are agitated again, clutching at something only you can see.

‘Er … cheesecake.’

‘Shortcrust pastry?’

‘What else?’

‘The oven … too hot! Left it too long –’

‘Look, the cake isn’t important. All right? Now, let’s get back to Olga.’

‘Must we?’ You hold my gaze, as though afraid of what I might say next. ‘Olga … is she real?’

Do you want her to be? I take your hand. Suddenly I feel so tired. I want to lie down and somebody tell me a story. I want the doorbell to ring and our fairy godmother to arrive. I want her to wave her magic wand and take away your fears. When your fears go, so do mine. Only right now they’re rampant; formless shapes growing in my stomach, billowing into my throat, mirrored in your eyes as they plead with me. Don’t you understand? I’m not brave and strong and all-knowing. I’m as much in the bloody dark as you are.

You mutter something.

‘What was that?’

‘Fly …

‘Flying?’

‘Window …’

‘You mean Rosemary? When she floats out of bed at night?’

You nod.

‘Would you like her to describe it to Olga?’

You nod again.

‘Listen to the story, then. Are you listening?’ You draw one longer, deeper breath. At last the pattern is broken. For the moment we both feel easier.

Every afternoon Rosemary explored the lake with Olga. They swam from the shore in the warm shallows, or rowed out and dived into the cool depths. One day Olga took her to a tiny island inhabited only by birds and insects. Rosemary paddled and collected pebbles which she put in her swim hat. Then she joined Olga in the shade of the only tree and emptied the contents of her swim hat onto the grass. ‘Look at these colours! I bet Henry would have trouble matching them if he tried to paint them.’

Olga examined the pebbles in the dappled light. ‘Under water they would look even brighter,’ she said.

‘Under water? You can’t see a thing under water. It’s all muddy.’

‘It is in daylight,’ smiled Olga, ‘but I mean at night.’

Rosemary looked at her friend in amazement. Then she thought about her nightly travels. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘every night I have the same dream. At least, it must be a dream, although it feels so real. I float out of bed, fly through the window and over the lake. I swoop and soar and even see myself in bed, asleep!’

Olga didn’t seem in the least surprised. ‘What kind of feeling does it give you?’

Rosemary hesitated. ‘At first it makes my heart kind of jump, as though I shouldn’t really be doing this. Then I just take off and feel free and peaceful. I also feel that I’m on the edge of something important, that there’s a secret in the lake and that it’s only when I’m flying that I come close to finding out what it is. I’m almost there, yet never quite learn it.’

‘Would you like to?’

‘So there is a secret!’ Rosemary stared at Olga. ‘Do you know what it is?’

‘Yes. I do.’

‘Can you tell me?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Like everyone else, you have to find out for yourself.’ Olga took Rosemary’s hand in her own. ‘I think you’re ready,’ she said at last.

‘Ready?’

‘To learn the secret of the lake. I can’t tell you what it is. But I can show it to you.’

‘Now?’ Rosemary jumped up.

‘No, no!’ Olga laughed. ‘Don’t be in such a hurry. Come on, sit down. I can only show you at night. When the lake is empty again. When the people have finished bathing and sailing and fishing. When the ripples have settled and the surface is smooth. When the reflection of fire from the setting sun has been doused by the silver light from the moon. Only then can you learn the secret. And once you’ve learned it, you can’t unlearn it. The knowledge will change you. Your mother, father, brother and sister will appear different to you. Are you sure you want to?’

‘Yes!’ cried Rosemary. ‘Staying the same is boring, Bella would say.’

‘Then meet me at my beach tonight. We’ll row out to the middle of the lake where it’s deepest. And, although it will be dark, I promise that, when you dive, you’ll be able to see what is closed to you in daylight and what you’ve come nearest to in your night-time travels. Tonight you’ll learn the secret of the lake.’

‘No!’ You’ve sat bolt upright. ‘Rosemary shouldn’t! Suppose the boat floats away! And they can’t … return.’ You lie back, exhausted.

‘Perhaps Rosemary won’t want to return.’

Should I have said it? Too late now. Your face is without expression. You say nothing.

‘All right. We’ll stop.’ I hold your hand again, only this time the gesture is mechanical. A wall has suddenly reared up between us. If you won’t let me tell the story, I don’t know what else to do. How many stages are there to this dying business, for goodness sake? Which one are we at now? How often I’ve felt: this is it! Only to find that it wasn’t.

Then I see you’re lying at a funny angle. I can do something about that. ‘Are you uncomfortable?’

‘Possibly.’

‘Shall I sit you up a bit more?’

I place your arms around my neck, my arms about your waist, brace myself and lift you up. As your head comes forward, you kiss my neck. That kiss says everything you no longer can. In that instant I know it will have to last me a long time.

‘Shall I tell you about Rosemary spending the evening at home, then? A cosy evening with the family?’

‘Cosy. Family. I like that.’ You close your eyes. You can already see the lakeside house in the evening, with lamps set on low tables. The golden glow from the sitting room spills out onto the porch and the edge of the lawn beyond.

Father was late home that evening, so the family ate without him. Mother grilled trout and called when they were ready.

Henry carried his plate over to the conservatory where he had at last set up his easel. With the plate balanced on his knees, he simultaneously ate, applied paint and spat out fish bones.

Bella was on a diet, so refused food. However, she did allow herself a few pralines from the box given to her by boring Bernard from next door. She draped a towel over Father’s footstool and settled in his chair.

Mother ate her trout while standing by the kitchen range testing a simmering saucepan of redcurrant jelly.

Rosemary sat alone at the kitchen table to eat her meal. She had some misgivings. ‘I hope I don’t swim into any of your family tonight,’ she told her fish, and chewed without enthusiasm. Then she went upstairs to prepare.

She put on her woollen swimsuit, her shorts and a blouse. Then into her knapsack she placed, along with a towel, her babushka dolls. I’m all ready, she thought.