Free River of Destiny by Barbara Erskine Page A

again with every second. ‘Exciting. Listen
to those waves crashing over the shingle. I timed it a bit early, that’s all. We should have waited, but with the storm coming …’ His voice trailed away as he saw Zoë’s face. ‘Were you scared? There was no need. I was in control.’
    ‘Yes, I bloody was scared!’ she said with some force. ‘I was terrified. God, I hate this boat!’
    ‘My fault. I was an idiot,’ he conceded unexpectedly. He screwed up his eyes against the glare, passing the red marker buoy and heading up the channel. ‘You don’t really hate it. You know you don’t. I always forget you’re not as experienced as I am. But you are very good. You are learning.’ He grinned again.
    It was dark before, under power and with the sails tightly furled, they nosed up to their mooring and made fast to the buoy. Zoë was still shaking with cold as she gathered their stuff together. The wind was still strong, the trees thrashing, the water choppy as Ken released the dinghy and pulled it alongside.
    ‘Can you find the torch?’ He was exhausted too, she could hear it in his voice as he lowered the first of their bags over the side. She passed the empty food basket across to him, then suddenly she froze. Over the noise of wind and water she could hear the sound of oars. ‘Ken!’ Not again. Please, let it not happen again.
    He stopped scrabbling amongst their bags and looked up. ‘What?’
    ‘Listen.’
    He couldn’t see her face but he could hear the tone of her voice. He straightened and stared out across the river. For a moment both of them were silent. The squeak and pull of the oars was close by; several oars; the sound of a sail flapping and the thud of metal on wood. Ken scrabbled for the switch on the torch and, turning it on, shone it out across the water. The powerful beam lit up the empty river. Carefully he swept it first one way and then the other. The sound had stopped. All they could hear as the wind died for a moment was the lapping of the waves against the side of the
Lady Grace
. ‘Where is it?’ he whispered.
    ‘There’s nothing there.’
    ‘There has to be.’ He swept the torch round again then he stood up. ‘Ahoy!’ he shouted. ‘Who is out there? You are too close to the shore.’
    There was silence. No oars. No sail. She could feel the emptiness. Whatever, whoever had been there before, had gone. Zoë sat down on the thwart. ‘It’s a ghost ship.’
    ‘Oh, yes,’ he scoffed. ‘Or men from Mars. More likely someone bringing illegal immigrants up-river.’
    ‘No. It is a ghost ship. People have seen it before.’ She hadn’t told him about Leo’s story or the picture. What was the point? He wouldn’t have believed it last night any more than he believed it now.
     

     
    The mare was very lame the next morning, her legs swollen her head hanging listlessly. She had ignored her feed. Dan ran a hand down her near fetlock and shook his head grimly. He doubted she would recover.
    ‘How is she, Daniel?’ The soft voice at his elbow made him jump. He stood up too quickly and put out a hand to reassure the horse, but it wasn’t necessary; the animal had hardly moved.
    ‘Likely she’ll have to be shot,’ he said harshly. ‘Whoever did this has a lot to answer for.’ He turned to face Lady Emily.
    ‘It was your fault, Daniel. You didn’t see the injuries when I brought her to you.’
    He clenched his jaw, keeping his temper with difficulty. ‘No, my lady, you are right. I was very remiss.’
    ‘It’s a shame. She was a nice horse.’ Her voice was light and careless. ‘Do whatever has to be done.’ She turned and walked back towards the large barn doors which stood open to the sunlight. Outside, a sprightly breeze tossed wisps of hay around the yard. The working horses had gone out early into the fields and the yard was deserted save for the roan pony tied to a ring by the forge. ‘I will need help to mount, Daniel,’ she called over her shoulder.
    He gritted