Free East Fortune by James Runcie Page A

she looked at Krystyna. ‘Jasmine’s fallen in.’
    The figure in the water was upside down and sinking to the bottom of the pool. Her dress billowed above her. The paisley darkened as it absorbed the water, spreading out over the surface, obscuring the girl’s head.
    Krystyna watched, intrigued at the pattern forming, the spread of the clothing and the weight of the material.
    Then she woke up. She realised that she had to jump in and save the child.
    She dropped her cigarette and dived from the side of the pool. She felt the cold of the water burst around her. I’m
pregnant,
she thought. What is this doing to my baby?
    The costume from the play was heavier than she had anticipated, pulling her down to the bottom of the pool. She should have taken the jacket off but there had not been time.
    Krystyna pushed herself forwards and turned on to her side. Then she reached out her right arm and felt for the girl’s waist, pulling her along.
    She stretched her left arm out wide, making half-strokes through the water, and used her legs to kick them forwards. Krystyna was running out of breath but wanted to surface once she was back within her depth.
    She felt the brightness of the day, the sun in her eyes. Then she could hear the child coughing, alive. No words, no call for mother, no tears.
    Krystyna stood up and stumbled back through the water, turning Jasmine round, holding her against her chest, patting her on the back as she choked back to life.
    â€˜
Uspokój siprosze,’
Krystyna said.’
Spokojnie moje dziecko, juz wszystko jest dobrze, cichutko.’
She was surprised how easily the motherly gestures came.
    Jasmine’s sister was standing where she had left her. No one else had seen them.
    Krystyna held Jasmine at a slight distance and looked into her shocked white face. Then she swept the hair away from her eyes.
    â€˜Better now?’ she asked.
    Her own clothes felt heavy and cold. She sat down to rest on the edge of the pool and noticed that Jasmine had cut her ankle.
    â€˜Bracey gone,’ Jasmine said. ‘All wet.’
    Krystyna took charge.
    â€˜Let’s find towels?’ She looked at Jasmine’s sister. ‘Do you know where they are?’
    â€˜Me show,’ said the girl.
    They walked back to the house, drying and changing in the scullery. Krystyna did not know whether she would say anything orif the incident would be kept as a secret between them. She tried not to think what it would have been like had she not decided to leave the play: the parental horror, the child floating, attempts at resuscitation, the ambulance called, people standing, activity redundant, lives ruined.
    â€˜Good heavens,’ cried Mrs Maclean when they returned. ‘What’s happened to Jasmine?’
    â€˜Jas-jas fell in the water…’
    â€˜Well, that was very silly of you, wasn’t it, darling?’ She looked at Krystyna but continued speaking to her daughter. ‘And did the nice lady fish you out?’
    â€˜Lost bracey,’ said the girl.
    â€˜Never mind, darling, we can buy you another one. Was it very frightening?’
    â€˜Cold now.’
    â€˜Let me see what we’ve got in the car.’ Mrs Maclean picked up her daughter and smiled briefly at Krystyna before walking away. ‘So kind of you,’ she said. ‘I hope you didn’t get too wet.’
    Krystyna realised that being foreign made her anonymous. The family and their friends were so settled that nothing unnerved them. She could not imagine what had given them such confidence or decide if it was all a façade. People could be so careless, she thought, so unaware of how quickly a life could change or be ruined.
    The play was nearing its end. Jack was singing about the wind and the rain. Krystyna stood and listened. She could not see him as a little tiny boy at all. All she could see was sadness, a lost man who never would ‘thrive by swaggering’.
    He was