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208 pages, Library Binding
First published March 29, 2010
At a time she judged to be noon she heard shuffling feet and hoarse whispers in the shelter. Scavengers had crept in and were sniffing and scraping through the wreckage. They would find Mam's knife - she heard them find it - and some rags of bedding and a shirt and hood and sandals worn through on the soles. Little more. There was smashed wood that might be used on fires, and the iron pot sitting on ashes in the corner. No food in the pot. She heard their grunts of disappointment. Let them eat frogweed. The frogweed was still on the shelf. They went away and soon afterwards more whispering and creeping came, but this was a family, a man and a woman and two children seeking a better home than the one they had. She heard the woman sigh with pleasure - this was a much better place. Hana wished the scavengers had left the pot and rags for her.
Ben slid under Queenie's body, pushing eels out of the way. He surfaced in the gap between her and the reeds. The shouting of men, the sound of oars, came closer. He chose a reed, cut it below the water, and snapped off its top. Then he slid under Queenie, his head beneath hers where it butted into the reeds. He thrust the reed upwards through her hair, blew it free of water, and began to breathe. It was hard. For a moment he thought he would not get enough air. He changed to shallow breaths, using the top of his lungs. He could last that way if the boats were quick. He felt one bump Queenie's body. Her hair drifted, circling his throat. Eels thrashed away. Ben imagined he heard shouts and wondered if he was blacking out. He held on. There was enough air.
An oar scraped his side as the boat backed out of the reeds. Ben waited. One minute. Two. They were still close. He felt water shift as spearmen trod in the rushes by the shore. Then the movements stopped. Only the eels moved. He felt them nibbling the wound in his thigh.
Slowly he let his face rise through Queenie's hair. Blue sky, a reed wall, half her face, one eye. ...
Ben sank again. He stabbed at the nibbling eels with his knife - and all afternoon he kept it up, rising, breathing, sinking, repulsing the eels. Queenie's body wanted to float away. He took a handful of her hair and pulled it back each time. The sun edged down the sky - taking its time. When night came he would move, swim silently down the length of the swamp to the place where it drained into the sea. Until then he must lie alongside his companion.