Night Swimmers by Roisin Maguire

Author:Roisin Maguire
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Profile Books Ltd
Published: 2024-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

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evan awoke to a strong and briny smell. Lying still, he checked to make sure it wasn’t emanating from himself. It wasn’t. Raising his head gingerly, he saw his son at the little kitchen table with a bucket, dipping his hand in and out, slowly. He let himself sink back into the pillows gently and pulled the duvet over his head.

When he awoke again the boy was gone, but the bucket was still on the table. The stink was still there too, pungent and rotten, but it didn’t matter. He had to get water. With care, he put his feet to the floor and noticed they were bare. That was something, at least. He sat up nice and slowly, and stayed very still for a very long time, until the room did the same. When the thirst got too great, he carefully stood and went inch by inch to the sink, which gleamed painfully white in the sun through the kitchen window. He turned the tap and the water rattled loudly into a collection of unwashed dishes, cutlery and pans. Feeling around in the mess and gloop he found a cup and let it fill to the brim, then drank every delicious drop.

He was leaning there, the warmth gentle on his back, sipping carefully and feeling the water run down cool into his burning belly, when Luca came back inside. It struck him straight away how brown the boy was already. How healthy he looked, flesh on his bones and a smile on his face, and this morning he seemed particularly cheerful.

Hi Dad, are you up?

Evan set the glass carefully down on the counter.

Yes at last. What are you doing? Having fun?

Come and see.

Luca went to the bucket and shook it a little, looking inside with a smile and then looking back up at his father, waiting for him.

Oh, god, Evan thought, not the bucket.

The stench rising from it was almost visible, a noxious swirl filling the room, but he went anyway, slowly. He wasn’t invited to come and see very often. Holding the edge of the table in both hands he leaned carefully over, breathing shallow through his mouth, and looked in from the corner of his eye. The contents seemed to be rotten seaweed with a little water – not as bad as he’d feared, as long as he didn’t breathe through his nose. He looked a question at his son, who eagerly pushed him out of the way and stuck his hand right in through the muck. When he pulled it back there were several little creatures on the palm, curled and transparent like toenail cuttings. As he watched, they dried out a little and began to move more vigorously. Suddenly one sprang like a flea, right off the hand that held it and onto the kitchen floor.

‘Arrghh!’

He jumped away from the table.

Luca! What IS that?

Bemused, he saw the boy laugh and shake the remaining creatures back into the bucket, then run to fetch a large

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