His eyes widen.
‘It wasn’t like that,’ he says, shaking his head.
‘According to Paul it was,’ I say, Paul’s words still ringing in my ears. ‘He said Sally told him that I . . . I drowned David.’
‘Oh Jesus,’ says Ray, putting his head in his hands.
‘Ray, please,’ I say, squeezing his arm. ‘You have to tell me what happened.’
He lifts his head and looks out of the window. His voice quivers as he starts to speak.
‘I was in my boat,’ he says. ‘Moored up just by the rocks. I had a day of fishing ahead of me and I was just setting up my line when I heard children’s voices. Happy voices. I looked over towards the beach and I saw a little girl with black hair. You.’
My heart is pounding and I can taste the saltwater in my mouth as he continues.
‘Your brother was with you,’ he says. ‘Tiny little thing he was, with a mop of dark hair. I smiled as I sat there casting my line, watching the two of you playing. You were holding hands and jumping the waves. And all the time I could hear your laughter. It was such a lovely sound.’
His voice catches and he gulps then goes on.
‘I got a bite,’ he says. ‘I could feel it tugging on the end of my line and I started to reel it in. But just as I was about to bring it overboard something made me look up. You see, the voices had stopped.’
‘Voices?’
‘Yours and your brother’s,’ he says, clutching his teacup. ‘It was silent. Oddly silent. I could see you on the shore. You were bending down to pick something up though I couldn’t see what.’
As he speaks a shiver ripples through my body and I’m back there. I can see it as clearly as if it were yesterday. I’m bending down in the shingle to pick up the pink heart-shaped shells that clustered on the beach. Years later I would see those shells and feel an odd sensation, a fearful feeling, yet I never knew why. I do now.
‘Shells,’ I murmur. ‘I was collecting shells.’
I look up at Ray. His mouth is open. We pause for a moment to take in the fact that I have remembered something.
‘Yes,’ he says finally. ‘I think you were.’
I nod my head. I can still feel the rough shell in my hands as Ray continues.
‘But as I watched you my heart froze,’ he says, his eyes widening. ‘You were alone. There was no sign of the littl’un. Something was wrong. I dropped my line and stood up in the boat to get a better look. That’s when I saw him.’
He stops and takes a breath.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘It’s just . . . it’s still so fresh in my mind.’
‘You said you saw him,’ I say gently. ‘Where was he?’
‘He was . . . he was floating face down in the water about ten feet from where you were,’ says Ray. ‘When I saw him I rowed like the clappers. I looked up at the beach and saw your mum running towards you. You put your hand out to her. I think you were showing her your shell.’
Mummy, look . . . it’s heart-shaped.
The memory burns in my chest as I sit at this sticky table waiting to hear what comes next.
‘Your mum called out David’s name and I looked up,’ says Ray. ‘I was expecting to see her running but she was just standing there, stock-still, looking out on to the water.’
Mummy, look . . . look at the shell.
I see my mother standing looking out to sea. Something’s the matter. Why is she not moving? She’s like a statue. I follow her gaze and see my brother floating on the surface of the water. And I remember now the sense of urgency that has stayed with me my whole life, the feeling that someone is in danger and I have to go and help.
‘It was you that ran,’ says Ray, interrupting my thoughts. ‘Not your mum. As I rowed I could see you running through the waves, trying to get to your brother. Your mother stayed where she was. It was like she was in a trance.’
Mummy, look . . .
‘When I got near I couldn’t see the little lad any more. It was just you sitting in the shallows. I jumped out of the boat and ran to you and that’s . . . that’s when I saw . . .’
‘What?’ I cry, my hands trembling. ‘What did you see, Ray?’
Tears are coursing down his cheeks and he swipes his gnarled red hand across his face.
‘He was in your arms,’ he whispers. ‘And when you saw me you said . . .’
He pauses to wipe his eyes again.
‘You said: “I’m trying to keep him warm.”’
He takes my hand and squeezes it tightly.
‘You thought you’d saved him.’
My body goes cold.
‘So it’s not true then?’ I stammer. ‘I – I didn’t drown my brother?’
‘No, Kate,’ he says, looking at me clear in the eyes. ‘You never drowned him. I had a view of it all and I saw him face down in that water minutes before you got to him. You didn’t drown him, love, you brought him back to shore.’
I nod my head as the enormity of his words begins to sink in.
‘Then why?’ I say. ‘Why would my father tell Sally that I did?’