The Art of Drowning, page 33
Donald sat back and lit the last cigarette. He was trying to consider very carefully what to say, and it really was a bit tricky. A test of skills. Ah yes, no doubt the judge had wanted to touch her, one last time. Witnessed by the swans, he had kissed her forehead and murmured he was sorry. Like Donald had with his wife, without witnesses. Since when did loving one woman stop you loving another? Don’t argue with ghosts, live with them. Think of what it was like to clear up after the war. He shook his head. He felt better for shaving off his disguise of a moustache. It made his face even more ordinary and guileless.
‘I don’t think that had much to do with love, you know. He was on his last legs himself, but I had the distinct impression he was trying to reassure himself that she was really dead. That’s what that was about. And I couldn’t get her out by myself. And he did come to see you when you were out of it, you know. And there’s all these flowers. You’re on his mind.’
Her smile widened into a brief laugh.
‘How useful to be able to lie,’ she said. ‘Will I ever learn?’
‘Take your chances,’ he said. ‘Good men are hard to find. I know one when I see one. He really wants to see you. But there’s a lot going on there, aside from Sam. Same things as you. Regret, shame, feeling foolish. Failing to see what he should have seen. Worried to death about you. Also that ego thing. Not exactly looking his best when you saw him last, was he? Has to be fucking rescued by a woman, when he’s stinking with whisky himself. You know what that does for a man? And at least,’ he added, ‘you don’t get a pig in a poke – sorry I said that, but you know the history – which is more than you usually get. Better watch it, though. He knows fuckall about women, always the same when the mothers die young. At least my wife stayed the course. And he’s seen you in the raw.’
It was not in the best possible taste. He sighed as he left her. That was what being a friend was about. He could have been in with a chance himself. We men, he told his daughter, we’re just calculating animals. You want to watch out for us. We need looking after a helluva lot more than you.
They met in St James’s Park. The end of summer, recovery time, everything beginning to go back into the ground and change colour. The calm lake mirroring luxurious browns and yellows and greens, the view different and better for the shrinking foliage. Nature tamed beyond danger into harmony, and an early autumn sun, placid, beyond burning the skin. People getting on with it. Everything around them was taking the risk of dying, in order to come back and live again. Ivy had loved beauty as well as ugliness. God rot you and God save you, Ivy. May you not be in hell.
She might never be the first in anyone’s life. Second or third would do.
His quiet footsteps came to the bench beside her. He took her cold hand and kissed it.
‘I would like it very much,’ Carl said, ‘if you would teach me how to swim.’
About the Author
FRANCES FYFIELD has spent much of her professional life practicing as a criminal lawyer, work which has informed her highly acclaimed novels. She has been the recipient of both the Gold and Silver Crime Writers’ Association Daggers. She is also a regular broadcaster on Radio 4, most recently as the presenter of the series “Tales from the Stave.” She lives in London and in Deal, overlooking the sea which is her passion.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Also by Frances Fyfield
A Question of Guilt
Shadows on the Mirror
Trial by Fire
The Playroom
Deep Sleep
Half Light
Shadow Play
Perfectly Pure and Good
A Clear Conscience
Let’s Dance
Without Consent
Blind Date
Staring at the Light
Undercurrents
The Nature of the Beast
A Helen West Omnibus
Seeking Sanctuary
Looking Down
A Second Helen West Omnibus
Safer Than Houses
Sarah Fortune Collection
Blood from Stone
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This book was originally published in the UK in 2006 by Little, Brown Book Group.
THE ART OF DROWNING. Copyright © 2006 by Frances Fyfield. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition OCTOBER 2013 ISBN: 9780062300935
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
77-85 Fulham Palace Road
London, W6 8JB, UK
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
10 East 53rd Street
New York, NY 10022
http://www.harpercollins.com
Frances Fyfield, The Art of Drowning
