“An octopus does not have fingers.” Antonio’s voice quivered as he spoke.
“Then it’s a dead man. He’s risen from the sea to drag our souls down to Hell.”
“Then he will die again.”
Antonio pushed me aside, pulled the knife from his scabbard and raised it above the edge of the boat. He grinned at me. “I think we will all be meeting the devil tonight.”
“The other side, you fool!” the fisherman screamed.
It was not just hands. A body rose from the water, gripping the side of the boat. Antonio thrust his knife towards it. At that moment, the boat turned over. Once more, I was sinking. My hands were tied, so I couldn’t even try to push myself to the surface. Yes, I had been right. My destiny was to drown.
MAY DAY
I was flipped on to my back so my face was out of the water. Somewhere behind me, I could hear shouting and splashing, but it was getting further away. This must be the moment before I died. God was preparing me to take my soul. It wasn’t so bad, rocking on the water. I let my eyelids sink down. Soon, it would be just calm water and me gliding towards Heaven.
A hand slapped my face, not hard, but the sting made my eyes snap open. My body folded into itself like an arrow shooting down towards the bottom of the harbour. My legs kicked and my head went under. My mouth was like a ladle scooping up river water. I coughed hard and felt myself sinking again.
I was hauled to the surface.
“It’s me,” a voice said. “Jacques Francis. Be calm or we’ll both drown.”
Jacques Francis? I tried to lift my head to see, but my body rolled sideways.
“Calm,” he said. “Stay calm.”
He tilted me so I was on my back again. I took a deep breath and tried to stretch myself across the top of the water. Above me, the sky was blurry with stars. Below me, the river was rising and falling in its own quick tide. I breathed out, slowly. I was moving. No, I was being moved.
“You’re doing well,” Jacques said. “Can you kick your legs a little? It will help us move faster.”
I tried, but my skirt was weighing them down. The cold, the fear, the sodden wool of my clothes, it was all too heavy for me. I closed my eyes again.
“Stay awake, Eve! You’re nearly there. You’ll be with your mama soon.”
Mama?
“I heard you singing, Eve,” he said. “As you walked down French Street. I followed you and waited. I hadn’t heard that song for so many years. Portuguese mothers sing it to their children when they’re trying to make them sleep. Can you sing it now for me?”
Could I sing it now? My throat was rubbed dry and my tongue was a dying fish, flapping around in my mouth.
“Let me help you,” he said.
He sang the first few words. His voice was rough and he had to stop to cough out water. I mouthed the words. No sound came, but I carried on, making the words come alive in my head. Soon my heels were dragging against stones and mud and I was lying still. It was as comfortable as the best bed I’d ever slept in. I let my eyes close again.
“Stand up, Eve!” he said. “We can’t stay here.”
Jacques Francis’s voice seemed to come from a faraway place. Stand up? I just wanted to lie, slowly sinking into the mud.
“Eve! Come on!” His voice was sharp but I still couldn’t move. He stooped down and lifted me up from under my shoulders. “We have to walk to stay warm.”
We had come ashore by the salt marsh. Jacques Francis propped me up as I tried to stumble beside him. Night pressed the cold into my skin. I was shivering again, so hard I must have made his bones rattle too. My feet were too numb to feel for the ruts and holes beneath them. My foot jarred against the bottom of a ditch and I almost brought us both down. Jacques snapped a long stick off a bush and swept the way ahead of us.
“One more step, Eve. Just one more.”
Left, right. Left, right. Just one more step. Just one.
I was sunk into a hollow of warmth with blankets tucked around me. I tried to raise my head, but my neck was tight and sore. It had been two days now, with Widow Primmer and Mama taking turns to sit by my bedside. This was the first time I’d woken up and found myself alone.
“I’ve made some porridge,” said Widow Primmer, appearing at the doorway.
She came and sat on the chair next to my bed and held the bowl out to me. I shook my head. The thick, rough mixture would grate my tender skin.
“You have to eat.”
I knew that even if I swallowed a small spoonful, I wouldn’t be able to keep it in my stomach.
“Try it,” she insisted. “There’s half a jar of honey on it. That should help it go down.”
She brought the spoon to my lips again. I opened my mouth and let her feed me. It was very sweet and my stomach seemed to like that.
“Where’s Mama?” I said.
She leaned in close. I realized no sound had come out of me.
“Mama?” I tried to say again.
“Oh! Your mother! Don’t worry, she’s eating breakfast with Claire.” Widow Primmer sighed. “I’m so sorry that she won’t be able to care for Claire much longer.”
I tried to push myself up, but my arms were as weak as a baby’s. Widow Primmer smiled and shook her head.
“Lie down, Eve. If your mother can care for my daughter, I can care for you.” She pulled the blanket back round me. “The priest at All Hallowes has recently lost one of his servants. I suggested that your mother might like to take her place.
