He heard them before he saw them. Sirens, engines, voices. Then the bank came into view. They had boats and divers, paramedics and police officers. He didn’t know these people, and they were all watching him heading towards the bank. They didn’t look human, all in their different uniforms, each just the face of a function. He didn’t want to talk to them, he didn’t want to look at them. These heroes, these rescuers, they were the end to him, the end of all hope. Death. He pulled out his paddle and began to paddle upstream against the current, trying to turn back time, trying to find his daughter. It was a final battle with the river, and he went at it with all the violence and aggression he had left, but he was weak now, and the river was quietly strong, shaking its head at his desparation. He couldn’t stop the boat continuing down the river, towards the bank. He was being pulled away from one death, and towards more. He couldn’t fight it. He looked down at Sam. He was cuddled up close to his mother, looking at his father with wide dark eyes and shivering lips.
Then they were at the bank, and peope were crowding round them. He asked to be given a minute, and they moved away, still watching, waiting to do their jobs. He looked at Sam holding onto his mother, and he couldn’t bear for time to move forward, to break one more thing. He looked at Jane, and he said I’m sorry, and he knew that the little life he had left would be taken up with a lot more sorrys. He moved forward in the boat, and put his hand in Sam’s hair, and kissed his forehead. He took hold of Sam’s arms and pulled him away from his mother. He lifted him and stood up in the boat. He reached his spare arm out and touched Jane’s cold face. He placed a finger gently on each of her eyelids, and pulled them shut. Then he carried his son away from the river.
