‘I did say, didn’t I?’ says Constance. ‘His mother ages quickly, so it is even more pronounced that we do not.’
‘I did not know it was that noticeable,’ Verity says. ‘I thought we had a few years left before we need worry about our appearances.’
Almost to the edge of the lake now, the sisters are moments from turning their back on the winter scene when a boy with flame-coloured hair catches Constance’s eye. In a green-velvet coat that flips in the wind, he skates freely and without abandon, yet there is a wistful look upon his face that speaks volumes of how little he seems to be enjoying it.
Constance stops, paralyzed.
‘What now?’ Verity asks.
He looks younger than his fourteen years, not yet travelled through his adolescence.
Verity follows the trail to the object of her sister’s view.
‘Oh. Oh dear God,’ she says.
Constance feels her heart stop and then it kicks another beat. There is the shimmer of the golden chain that hangs down his waistcoat. At the moment they recognize the ring swinging from the chain, the boy casts his gaze towards them.
He shouts out, calling the names that he used when he was young and could not pronounce their names.
‘Auntie Connie! Auntie Very!’
How many people Constance pushes aside she does not know or care. The sisters shove and struggle to get closer to him, raising their voices to be heard over the raucous throng.
The Fowlers spot the sisters just as chaos erupts in the crowd.
‘Oh, Constance, those men! They make their way to Rafe!’
The men are bearded and stocky and practised skaters. One carries a club of some kind that he uses to push people away, clearing a path to his target. Finn Fowler grabs the coat-tails of one of them, who swiftly bashes him until Finn falls on the ice. The other man sends Clovis flying with a massive shove.
Another flash of swishing, black cloth appears, cutting through the bystanders. Benedikt skates magnificently towards the two men just as they make an attempt to sweep Rafe away. He knocks them off their feet.
The crowd, which impedes the sisters’ efforts to move in closer to Rafe, is stirred to protect the boy, but the weight of so many people on the same frame of ice is fatal. Beneath the pressure, the ice floor begins to bend and give. An awful cracking sound cuts the air. The sisters freeze in sheer terror and disbelief.
The men who were in pursuit of Rafe run away, lost amongst the stalls. Benedikt lets them go, his main concern is Rafe who is now sinking into the icy water. Benedikt dives in after him, both of them disappearing. Hundreds of people stand breathless, silent. A man unwraps his scarf and holds it above the break in the ice. But there is no hand to clasp it.
All are now certain of two deaths. The ice marshals try to break through the crowd but the density of the throng impedes their progress.
Constance whispers frantically into Verity’s ear. ‘I will not allow him to enter the frozen world of the dead. Not again. Never again.’
In the bitter cold of what is left of the day, Constance removes her shoes, then her cape, stole and hat. She slides in stockinged feet through the swarm of people. Not even Clovis can stop her now. Fearless, she approaches the edge of the ice break and steps down into the water. She vanishes.
Down, down Constance falls into the Serpentine. She begins to swim, her eyes open and searching. She swims until she spots Benedikt’s black coat. He is still alive and still searching. He sees her, shakes his head ‘no’ and points in the other direction. Constance turns and swims away from him. Benedikt directs his search to another area.
Constance spots the red hair first. Rafe is floating along as if asleep. She captures him and cradles him in her arms. Her fingers clasp his wrist. Alive. She should not have doubted. Benedikt has turned back to witness the rescue. Her view of him is obscured by dirty slush, but Constance catches something in his eyes – some superhuman emotion is on the verge of erupting from this strange man, and then it is gone. There is something else about his eyes, something she recognizes in a hair’s breadth and then it too is gone. She swims to find the opening, for she is unsure how far she has searched. Rafe’s eyes open for a brief moment. He recognizes Constance and squeezes her hand. She did not think it possible to shed tears while immersed in icy water.
Swimming with one hand towards the dim light that illuminates the opening in the ice, her eyes feast upon every surface of him.
When they emerge from the water and after they have been pulled onto the safe ice, the crowd roars, ‘Bravo!’
Then, when the moment passes, as if pulled by a magnet, they collectively step away – for how is this possible? How did these three people survive this ordeal? Impossible!
Clovis and a fully recovered Finn rush in and with brusque pushes against the remaining onlookers, they snatch the boy from Constance’s arms, swiftly removing him from the site of the commotion.
Willa and Jonesy cast a parting glance at the sisters. An acknowledgement of some sort is entangled within it, as if the four of them long to speak, but the young people are impotent under Clovis’s furious orders. They reluctantly trail off after their master and mistress.
Still more confusion besets the scene as a covey of journalists descend on Constance. They surround her, panting like thirsty dogs with hanging tongues. They want their story of the silver headed heroine who mysteriously and outrageously survived the icy water of the Serpentine.
Verity wraps her stole around Constance and tries to stuff her hands into her hat.
‘What are you doing? For God’s sake Verity, run after them. Follow the Fowlers.’
‘I will not leave you here like this, Constance.’ Verity is incredulous.
‘Go! Go! I am
