Free Water Born by Rachel Ward Page A

‘For me.’
    â€˜Ah, that’s so sweet. What a gentleman. You should say thank you, Nic.’
    â€˜Do I have to?’
    â€˜Never mind the flowers.’ Dad takes a teaspoon and stirs the water until it looks like the cloudy, brown stuff that came out of the tap earlier. ‘Look at the water. Look! It came from our tap, in our house.’
    Mum sighs and walks across the room. Her flip-flops scuff on the kitchen floor.
    â€˜Where are you going? We need to talk about this!’
    â€˜Nowhere,’ she says. She rummages in her handbag, brings out her phone and calls a number. ‘Denise? Hiya, love. Was the water off today at all? Ours has been running a bit brown. Yeah. Between twelve and two? Any warning? Hmm. No, that’s okay. Yeah, fine, thanks. You?’ She laughs. ‘I know. Thanks, love. See you later. Bye.’
    She ends the call and looks triumphantly at Dad.
    â€˜Off for a couple of hours at lunchtime,’ she says. ‘They sent a van round with a loudhailer half an hour before. That’s all it is.’
    He doesn’t look convinced.
    â€˜It was the whole street, Clarke. Not just us. What’s it like now?’
    He’s standing by the sink.
    â€˜I dunno,’ he says.
    â€˜Well, have a look, then.’
    â€˜No, I don’t want to touch it. I don’t want you to either . . .’
    He doesn’t move.
    â€˜Clarke, don’t be so stupid. I’m too hot and tired for this. Run the bloody tap or I will.’
    She lurches towards the sink, but he blocks her. She moves to the side to get round him, but he grabs hold of her, pinning her arms to her sides. I’ve never seen them like this before and all of a sudden I don’t want to be in the room, but maybe I need to stay, to protect Mum.
    â€˜For God’s sake, let go, Clarke! Don’t you dare put yourhands on me!’ Her anger is white-hot.
    He lets go and for a moment they stand there, half a metre apart, their faces mirroring each other in shock and dismay.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ Dad blurts out. ‘I’m sorry, Sarita, I’d never . . . you know I’d never . . .’
    â€˜I know,’ she says. ‘I know you wouldn’t. It’s okay.’
    She steps forward into his arms and they hold each other, rocking gently from side to side. Mum’s kind of buried in him and Dad’s resting his face against the top of her head. And now I do sneak out, but not before I’ve seen Dad’s face: his eyes closed, his eyelashes wet with the tears that are leaking out.
    I creep into the hall, but no further. I’m out of sight, leaning against the stairs.
    â€˜I’m sorry. I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I’d never, never hurt you—’
    â€˜I know. It’s okay.’
    â€˜It’s not okay. You’re my sunshine, Neisha. You make everything worthwhile. What’s happening to me?’
    Neisha? Oh God, he’s said someone else’s name. Another woman’s name! This is going to go nuclear now.
    â€˜It’s okay, Clarke .’ She hasn’t picked him up on it. She’s stressing his name like she’s reminding him what it is. What the hell? ‘It’s just too hot. Everyone’s going crazy with it.’
    â€˜I’m not crazy. Something’s happening. He’s coming back.’
    â€˜He—? What do you mean?’
    â€˜All these stories on the news. There are too many ofthem. Too many kids drowning.’
    â€˜Oh, Clarke, not this again. It’s a hot summer. Kids seek out water to cool off in – they always have. You know that. We know that, don’t we? And the more kids that are playing in water, the more likely it is that accidents will happen. That’s all there is to it. Accidents happen, Clarke.’
    â€˜It’s more than that, I’m sure of it. Look at the evidence. Girls the same age as Nic are dying. Mixed-race girls.