Free In World City by I. F. Godsland Page A

thought she had it in her.
    â€œIt’s so cold,” Miranda screamed out between squeals and gasps.
    â€œYou gotta move,” Dion urged from behind his rock, “Swim about. Get your arms and legs moving.”
    There was a sound of furious splashing and the gasps began to fade. Then there were just ripples he could hear.
    â€œYou okay?” Dion called out.
    â€œHmm.”
    She sounded okay. Dion let his gaze unfocus still further.
    â€˜Breathe,’ his grandmother had told him, ‘Just do your breathing. You do that and only that and then you get to hear and see what’s really there. Not what you want to be there, or what you looking for, or what you don’t want to be there, all that. Just what’s there.’
    Dion breathed like he’d done so many times since his grandmother started telling him things. And, like so many times before, as he breathed, the sounds around him became clearer; and the sensations in his body, and the patterns of light, and the shapes of leaves he could see through his half-closed lids. He could begin to feel the slight variations in the warm breeze that played against the skin of his face. He could begin to pick up the subtle changes in the scents those variations in the breeze carried: the green smell of hot leaves in the late afternoon, the slightly danker smell of moist earth from around the pool, the tang of spray and vapour from the water tumbling over the rocks. He could hear the occasional ripple from the pool as Miranda kept herself floating. He imagined her floating on her back, gazing up through the leaves that reached over the pool, looking into the wide blue of the late-afternoon sky. A bird whistled from close by and Dion felt an overwhelming sense of having been there before. He knew this place, knew that bird, knew the patterns of light he could make out through the fronds of the tree ferns. He knew the sound of the water splashing over the rocks and the sounds of the ripples from Miranda floating in the water. This was his place. This was where he knew his feelings were completely his own, where he could live forever.
    Then there was the sound of a dog barking and bodies crashing through the undergrowth. Dion was crouched on his feet in an instant, caught between a need to see who it was, and to keep his word to Miranda not to look. “Someone coming, Miranda,” he called. “You better get out. Shout when you’ve got your clothes on.”
    Whoever it was arrived before Dion got the all-clear, so he was stuck crouching behind the rock.
    â€œI was just having a swim,” he heard Miranda say in response to gruff, anxious questioning.
    A man’s voice said, “Your father’s been worried sick with you gone so long. He sent me and the dogs to track you down. What was it you were thinking of, Miranda? If you want to go off, you need to tell someone. And you don’t go off on your own either. This is a wild place. There’s no knowing what there is around here. Now, give yourself a rub down with this and get your clothes back on.”
    Dion left what he judged a reasonable time for her to get dressed then emerged from behind his rock.
    The shock and anger from the big white man and the furious barking of the dogs froze him.
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing here, you filthy little nigger boy? What’s he doing here, Miranda? Did you know he was here?”
    And she said, “No, I didn’t know he was here.”

6

    Miranda’s father invited her to join him for an evening meal. “I need to let you know something of what’s going to be happening shortly. Hold off from your usual snack and then we’ll be able to talk over dinner. I’ll make it early – I’ve got Lefevre coming round for a drink later – some things to sort out before he leaves tomorrow – and early means you won’t get too hungry.”
    Miranda hoped this was the first sign of their return