“Fine, imagine the desert.”
“Hard to imagine a place you’ve never been to.”
“Well, aren’t you a nelly naysayer, rabbitin’ on, all gloom and doom.”
“You always mouth off at the worst times.”
“Best times are always the worst times, china plate,” I shoot back, strangely grateful for my foul mood, which at least keeps my mind off the questions clawing at me. Will we be too late? Will this dip in the sea be our first taste of a long and bitter drink to come?
Jamie grins at the Cockney term for “mate,” one we consider especially ours, even though we never like when others use it. “Well, china plate, I guess you must regret not getting off at Queenstown.”
“What I regret is having such a moody-pants for a brother. If you hadn’t had so much to prove, we wouldn’t be on this barge in the first place. See the stars, be a man,” I say, affecting a mocking, masculine tone, and am gratified to see him wince. “Freezing our bloody cheeks off herding minnows what dunno how to take care of themselves short of wiping their tails.”
He blows out an annoyed breath, but then he cracks a smile, wedging one out of me, too. “I’m sorry, Sis. I didn’t think it would be so . . . hard on you. I thought you knew we’d always be together, even when we’re not.”
Some warm emotion rises in my throat, but I swallow it back down. Now is not the time for sentiment but for action.
We reach the cabin, and the door is shut. I stick my fingers into the water and grip the handle, which is so cold, even through my gloves, that it feels like a burn.
Dreading what I’ll see inside, I put my shoulder to the door.
39
Inside Room 14, the water has risen to chest level, and one of the seabags is floating in the middle of the room. The ceiling light bulb blinks, somehow managing to stay lit. Water sloshes around like punch in a bowl. It grabs at my eyes and snakes up my nose. I don’t see the youngest Johnny anywhere.
That grey morning when I found Ba in the alley, I knew no life remained in him, that his spirit had departed soon after he’d suffered the fatal injury. Mum’s death had already pulled him into that murky space between life and death, his body in one place, his mind in another. And in that moment, his face looked almost tranquil, his body curled in a last slumber.
Unlike in that deserted alleyway, a pulse still beats here, even with the water tearing the place apart like a gang of thieves. I feel it, as sure as I feel Jamie splashing behind me. Wink is here. Somewhere.
Filling my lungs, I plunge underwater, trying to see in the dim light. A tangle of blankets billows like white seaweed. Another seabag materializes, this one . . . jerking?
I grab at the object, which feels solid, and not like a seabag at all. With my heart a frantic drum, I haul up the body.
Wink’s not breathing. His face is blue, and there’s a bump on his forehead. Something’s twisted around his neck.
Jamie digs his finger under the ligature, untwisting it, and hauls something up from the water—the slipper bag!
At once, I understand what must have happened. Wink hung the slipper bag filled with the money around his neck, probably to make it easier to carry. He opened the door, and with the water pressure building on the other side, it clipped him on the head. Down he went, the bag acting like an anchor.
“Move him to the bunk,” Jamie growls.
We haul him up, then scramble after him. Jamie kneels by his chest, with me at Wink’s head. The water has not yet crested the top bunk but climbs as surely and steadily as a rising curtain.
“What do we do?” I peel off my gloves and feel for Wink’s pulse, wishing his arm didn’t feel so rubbery and cold. But I saw him jerk. It can’t be over yet.
Jamie places his right palm over Wink’s chest and pumps with a series of quick beats. “A man fell off the steamer a few months ago. We brought him back to life doing this.”
“What if it hurts him? Don’t make it worse.”
“It can’t get much worse than this. Come on, Wink.” He rests a beat, then starts pumping again.
Not feeling a pulse, I open Wink’s mouth and listen for breath. “Your time’s not up yet, lad.” My voice comes out sounding too tight, and I try to relax. “Your best mate’s waiting for you. Olly needs you, or he’s going to have trouble. We’re going to America, remember?” A sob rises in my chest. But as it reaches that tight spot in my throat, I growl it back. “We’re depending on you. Don’t you let us down.”
Jamie continues to pump. He’s lost his cap, and a blue vein jags like lightning across his forehead. Water streams down his face. He flips his hair back with annoyance.
“Let me take over,” I tell him, scooting to take his place. My two hands will be better than his one.
With one palm over the other, I pump with quick beats, blinking away tears. Wink’s chest bends and flexes, but he doesn’t breathe on his own.
Jamie grabs Wink’s hand. “Come on, mate,” he orders. “Do this for your mum. Think of how proud she is of you. She’s up there in heaven right now, sipping tea, and waiting for you to build that tree house. But you have to make it. Hear that, you stinkin’ minnow? You have to make it.” His voice cracks, chipping off a piece of my heart.
I keep pumping. The water rises to the mattress, pooling around Wink. The light bulb wanes, like a pale winter moon.
“Val,” Jamie’s voice tiptoes to me. I avoid his eyes.
My tired hands have gone numb, but I can’t stop. I’ll stay here, pumping Wink’s chest, until my own chest stops. Wink’s still in there, and he won’t die alone, like Ba. I’m not a leaver. People can leave me, but I’ll never leave them when I’m still needed.
Jamie puts a hand on my arm, and I look up. But just then, the water churns up a playing card. The eight of spades. The card that changes the wind. Surely it’s a sign I must keep going.
With renewed vigor, I pump again.
At last, Wink coughs.
I gasp. “That’s it, Wink, that’s it.”
Jamie turns Wink on his side, and he spits out the briny, poisonous seawater. His eyes roll back in his head, but he’s alive. Hot tears paint warm stripes down my cheeks.
We help him to sitting, and soon he’s blinking and twitching and hurling out his guts. It is a blessed sight.
“We need to hurry. You ready to move, mate?” Jamie asks.
Wink nods, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “I’m sorry.”
“None of that now.” I swim for the lifesaver, which is floating near the other bunk. Wink shrugs it over his head and arms, holding it weakly.