The Tide Knot

by Helen Dunmore

  “No, Sapphy, you’ve got to go—”

  “I mean it, Mum. I’m staying here. You just need to get your strength up,” I go on as reassuringly as I can. “In a little while you’ll be able to walk.”

  I rummage in Mum’s drawers to find the warmest clothes I can.

  “Sadie, please! Stop pulling me. I want to go as much as you do, but we can’t, not now.”

  With what is clearly a superhuman effort, Mum begins to struggle up again. It’s not going to work, though. I can already see that horrible faint, dizzy look coming over her again. But this time Mum has an idea. “Brandy, Sapphy. Get the brandy from downstairs.”

  Sadie and I rush downstairs. Sadie won’t leave my side for a second. I pull open the kitchen cupboards and begin to search for the brandy. I didn’t even know we had any, but Mum keeps all the drink together, so it must be behind this weird-looking bottle of tequila somebody gave her after a holiday in Mexico—ah, yes.

  My hands are shaking so much as I slop the brandy into a glass that half of it floods over the worktop. No time to bother about that. Suddenly Sadie barks violently again, making me jump and spill even more brandy. Maybe she should have some as well, to calm her down. Can dogs drink brandy?

  Get a grip, Sapphire, I tell myself firmly. Just then, there’s a tremendous banging on the front door. For a muddled few seconds I think it’s Roger, come to shout, “Emergency! There’s going to be a tidal surge!”

  It’s Rainbow. She’s wearing her slicker but no hood, and her hair is soaked. Her face is frantic. “Quick, you’ve got to get out, Sapphire! It’s coming!”

  “What…now?”

  “The sea’s all wrong. The wind dropped, and suddenly the sea went all flat as if something was pressing down on it. And then it started going backward. It’s being sucked out, Sapphire. It’s horrible. Everybody’s running. I ran—”

  “Where’s Patrick?”

  “Gone with Conor.”

  “Oh, my God, Rainbow! Look…”

  Down at the end of the street, in the light of the streetlamps, something is standing. Black and glistening, a wall of water. We don’t speak; we don’t even think. We hurtle up the stairs with Sadie. A few seconds later there’s a shuddering crack as the water hits the house.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Just as we reach the top of the stairs, the lights go out. I grab Rainbow’s hand. “This way!”

  Sadie’s barking wildly. I can hear Mum’s voice too: “Sapphire! Sapphy! Are you all right?”

  “It’s all right, Mum. We’re here. Steady! Steady, Sadie.”

  “I’ll hold her,” says Rainbow, suddenly sounding calm and sure what to do. “All right, girl, everything’s going to be okay. Let Sapphire go now.” Rainbow must have caught hold of Sadie’s collar, because Sadie’s weight is off me. We all shuffle along the landing toward Mum’s room.

  The dark is as thick as a blanket. From downstairs come eerie, disturbing sounds that I have never heard inside a house before. There’s a suck and then a splosh. A thud, as if something has come loose and is floating about, bumping into the walls. The sound of water is everywhere. The sea has got into the house and is making itself at home downstairs, in our living room.

  Rainbow and I cling to each other’s hands, silent, listening. Sadie’s panting sounds very loud. Rainbow is shivering. “The water’s going to come up the stairs,” she says in a terrified whisper.

  We push open Mum’s door and stumble toward the bed.

  “Sapphy! Sapphy! Thank God you’re all right,” comes Mum’s voice out of the darkness. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s the tidal surge, Mum. We saw all this water coming down the street.”

  “I felt it hit the house,” says Mum. Her voice is sounding stronger. “Go to the window, Sapphy! Look out and see how deep it is.”

  “I can’t see anything. I can’t even see the window.”

  “It’s those blinds Roger put up.”

  Of course it is. Roger put up some blackout blinds so Mum could sleep in on the mornings after her late shifts. Maybe it’s not quite as dark as this outside.

  Suddenly I realize that I am still holding the glass of brandy. “Rainbow, hold on to this a moment.”

  “What is it?”

  “Brandy.”

  “I didn’t know you drank, Sapphire.”

  It’s so good to hear Rainbow trying to make a joke instead of sounding terrified. “It’s for Mum.”

  Rainbow takes the glass, and I edge round the bed to the window. There’s a horrible moment when I get caught up in the curtains; then I find the edge of the blackout blind behind a fold of curtain and tug hard. With a tearing, rattling sound, the blind comes down.

  “Mum, I think I’ve broken the blind.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” says Mum. “I mean, when everything’s being flooded anyway,” and she laughs a bit hysterically.

  Mum was right. Once the blind is down, it’s not completely dark. There’s a faint bluish light. I look up, and there’s the moon again, riding safe and serene, as if nothing’s changed. I look down into the street.

  There isn’t any street. Only a black, glistening spread of water. It is halfway up the front door of the house opposite. As I watch, there’s a pulse in the water, and it rises a little higher, as if it’s licking the paint. Rainbow has come to the window to look out too. I hear her sharp intake of breath.

  “It’s okay. We’ve got plenty of time. I’m going to open the window,” I say.

  “Don’t, Sapphire!”

  “If I lean out, I’ll be able to see right down the street.”

  The window swings open. At once a smell of sea rushes into the room. With it come sounds that make me shiver. The thunder of the sea must have been there all the time, but without the muffle of the blind and curtains and window it sounds terrifyingly near. The volume’s been turned up as high as it will go. There’s shouting, sirens, gulls screaming somewhere in the black sky, more shouting, a confusion of voices in the dark. From all over town comes the furious, terrified barking of dogs.

  “Hold me round the waist, Rainbow. I’m going to lean out. I can’t see properly from here. Maybe there’s a boat coming.”

  I’m thinking of TV news pictures, where boats sail up streets to rescue people from the upper floors of flooded houses. Surely the lifeboat must have been launched by now. “Did you hear the signal for the lifeboat launch, Rainbow?”

  “No. Would the men even have been able to get down to the lifeboat station? The sea came in so fast.” Rainbow’s voice is steadier. She’s being so brave, controlling her fear. It’s not too bad for me because I don’t share Mum and Rainbow’s dread of the sea.

  “Hold on tight, Rainbow. Don’t let go whatever you do.”

  I lean out as far as I can, staring down the street, scouring it for a sign of life. A light bobs for a second right down at the end, but then it vanishes. The strange thing is that the wind has died down completely, as if the bursting of the sea’s boundaries had killed the storm. But the water is definitely rising. It’s not so wild now, but there’s a deadly seriousness about the whirlpool swirling below me and the slow, rising pulse of the tide against the houses. The sea looks as if nothing can stop it.

  There’s a light on next door. I stretch out just a little farther. Their window is open too. It’s old Mr. Trevail, peering out. His features are clear in the moonlight. He doesn’t look terrified. He looks like a sailor out at sea, staring into an oncoming storm.

  “Mr. Trevail!”

  He turns to me. “You all right in there, my girl?” he calls.

  “Yes, we’re all right. Is Mrs. Trevail okay?”

  “Gone up in the attic. Looks like he’s rising fast. You’d better get on up yourselves, high as you can. Lifeboat’ll be here, don’t you fret, my girl. Keep your powder dry.”

  Keep my powder dry? What does he mean? But with a wave Mr. Trevail disappears. He doesn’t seem too scared anyway.

  But we haven’t got a prop
er attic like the Trevails. I think about it for a second, then cup my hands and yell as loud as I can, “Help! We need help! Please, somebody help us!”

  Another swirl of water surges past the house, carrying something dark and bulky that I can’t identify. The house shudders under the weight of rising water. Is it going to be able to stand?

  “Please help!” I shout again, but the night swallows my words, and nobody answers.

  “There’s no one out there,” says Rainbow. She doesn’t say, We’ll have to help ourselves, but I know that’s what she means. “Come back in, Sapphire,” and she hauls me back into the room.

  “Candles!” says Mum. She’s struggling out of bed.

  “Careful, Mum—”

  But she stumbles to her chest of drawers, and I remember that Mum always keeps scented candles in her bedroom. “Here we are,” she mutters. A few seconds later the light of a struck match flares up, filling the dark spaces of the room. “Thank God, it’s a new candle,” says Mum. “It’ll last us for hours.”

  I’ve never realized until now how comforting the light of just one candle can be. It wavers, then settles into a strong, steady flame. Mum sits down on the side of the bed and rests her head in her hands. A faint smell of vanilla starts to drift from the candle.

  It is the strangest moment, like an island of peace in the middle of a war. Sadie is perfectly quiet, pressing up close to me. Rainbow goes over and puts her arm around Mum’s shoulders. “You not feeling so good, Mrs. Trewhella?”

  “A bit shaky,” says Mum’s muffled voice. “Be all right in a minute.”

  Sadie thrusts her nose into my hand. She is still scared, but she isn’t panicking anymore. She nuzzles me, watching the candle flame. I can see it reflected in her eyes.

  “Conor!” says Mum suddenly, as if she’s only just realized he’s not here. “Where is he? Is he all right?”

  “He’s with Roger, Mum. He’ll be fine. Roger won’t let anything happen to him.”

  “I always knew something like this would come,” Mum goes on, as if she’s talking to herself. Suddenly I guess what she is thinking of, the fortune-teller. The fortune-teller who told her years and years ago that the man she loved would lose her by water and gave Mum the terror of the sea that has blighted her life. And now she thinks the prophecy is coming true. Beware the sea. The sea is your gravest danger.

  I remember the brandy. Where did Rainbow put it? Ah, yes, on the floor. Lucky I didn’t kick it over. I hold it out to Mum. She doesn’t seem too sure at first, but suddenly she lifts the glass, takes a swig, coughs, and chokes.

  “Are you okay, Mum?”

  “Mm…I think so,” gasps Mum when she can stop coughing.

  “Maybe we should all have some,” says Rainbow.

  “Definitely not!” says Mum, sounding quite a bit stronger.

  I go over to the window again. The water seems a little higher against the front door opposite. I watch carefully. Yes, it is still rising. Slowly, inexorably—

  “We’ve got to get up higher.”

  “How?” asks Rainbow.

  “I don’t know. I’ve got to think…Is there a loft?”

  “Yes,” says Mum, “the trapdoor’s in the bathroom.”

  “Where’s the ladder?”

  “Broom closet under the stairs,” says Mum. She is certainly sounding a bit better. “Listen, Sapphy, while you’re down there, get my mobile. It’s on that little table by the fire.”

  “Oh.”

  Rainbow and I look at each other. Obviously Mum doesn’t realize how high the water has come already. “I’m going to see how deep it is down there,” I whisper.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “It might not be that deep yet. Sadie, stay! Stay, girl. Stay with Mum.”

  Sadie doesn’t really want to come, I can see that. She knows there’s water down there, and she’s afraid. But she thinks she ought to be with me. Sadie’s so loyal, but this isn’t the time for it. “No, Sadie! Stay and look after Mum! Stay!”

  At last she obeys. We close the bedroom door behind us. I lift the candle high as we cross the landing and peer down the stairs. The water swirls below us, dark and oily. But the front door is still closed. The water must be coming in underneath it. It’s hard to tell how deep it is.

  “Count how many stairs are left,” says Rainbow.

  There are eight stairs rising from the water.

  “How many are there normally?”

  “I don’t know. Twelve or thirteen, I think.”

  Stuff is floating about: a book, an orange. All the wooden spoons have floated out of the jar Mum keeps on the worktop and are bobbing at the bottom of the stairs. As we watch, the water gives a little push and swallows another stair.

  “They’ll rescue us,” says Rainbow, but her voice trembles. “We’ve just got to keep calm and wait.”

  “I don’t know.” I want to reassure Rainbow, but there’s no point pretending. “If all the houses are flooded—all the houses on the level, I mean—there are all the old people, like the Trevails. They’ll have to rescue them first. They might not be able to get boats to us for ages.”

  Rainbow shivers. I realize again how incredibly brave she is being. She’s controlling her terror, trying to think what to do.

  “How deep do you think it is?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. Sapphire, you’re not to go down. Look how it’s swirling round. You’ll get trapped.”

  “We can’t get up into the loft without the ladder.”

  “Maybe if we get a chair and stand on it, and then one of us pushes the other up from behind, and then the one who’s up reaches down and pulls—”

  “Mum won’t be able to do that. She’s ill. Rainbow, I’m going down to get the ladder. Hold the candle up high.”

  “Please, Sapphire, don’t—”

  “I’ve got to.”

  I strip off my jeans and top and throw them back onto the landing. The water eddies coldly around me. Black, scary water. Not Ingo, but something very different. I take a deep breath and lower myself into it. It’s very cold. I want to shut my eyes so as not to see what might be lurking in the water. Something brushes against my leg and I stifle a scream. Look down, Sapphire. Be brave.

  It was only the wooden fruit bowl. You’ve got to stop this, Sapphire. You can do it. Let go of the banister.

  I swim away from the stairs. All I have to do now is dive. The broom closet is immediately under the stairs, only a couple of meters away.

  I dive. But at that moment the front door gives way under the pressure of the flood outside and bursts open. The rush of incoming water scoops me up, drags me across the room, and pins me to the wall. I kick desperately, fighting my way to the surface. How deep is the water? I can just touch the floor, but I can’t stay on my feet.

  “Sapphire!”

  “’M okay.”

  I spit out water and brace my feet against the wall. My right foot slips into space. A flash of fear goes over me. Maybe the walls are caving in! But then my foot strikes metal, and I realize what’s happened. I have put my foot into the back of the fireplace, that’s all. The fireplace where the log fire was burning just a short time ago.

  “Sapphire! Sapphire! Hold on, I’m coming.”

  “No, don’t—”

  But she’s already plunged off the stairs, and she’s swimming toward me. The candle flame flares behind her. Water is still pouring in through the front door, but more slowly now, without the terrifying pressure behind it. We’ve got to get the ladder fast, before this room fills up to the ceiling and we’re trapped.

  “Can we still get the ladder out?” gasps Rainbow as she reaches me.

  “We can try, but I’m afraid we’ll get trapped. Water’s rising fast.”

  The swilling water is full of rubbish swept up from the streets. I don’t want to dive down into it, but I’ve got to. We doggy-paddle across the room.

  “Under the stairs, that’s where the door is. I’ll swim down…see if I can op
en it—”

  “I’m coming too.”

  We each take in a deep breath and dive. It’s so murky I can’t see the broom closet door. I’ve got to feel my way along the panel, but my fingers keep getting pushed away. I kick harder. The water’s trying to carry me away from the broom closet. And then my fingers catch on the closet door handle. I pull as hard as I can, but it won’t open. Rainbow is beside me. I grab her hand and guide it to the handle. We both pull with all our strength, but it’s impossible. The door won’t budge.

  We shoot up to the surface. The water is slopping up the walls, higher than my head now. Whatever happens, we mustn’t get cut off from our escape route up the stairs.

  We swim back to the stairs to rest for a moment. “I think it’s the pressure that’s stopping the closet from opening,” Rainbow says. “We need to smash the door. Once the pressure on the inside is the same as the pressure on the outside, the door should open.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m not sure, but it’s worth trying.”

  I scour my mind, trying to think of something that we could use to smash the door. But everything’s already under the water. Maybe we’re going to have to abandon the ladder. What’s Mum going to do then? She’ll never be able to climb up to the trapdoor from a chair, even if Rainbow and I hold her. And there’s Sadie. She’d panic. She wouldn’t understand what we were trying to do for her. I’m not even sure that Rainbow and I could climb up without a ladder. The bathroom ceiling is pitched, and it’s high. But if Mum and Sadie can’t get into the loft, then I’m staying in the bedroom with them.

  “Let’s try again.”

  Down into the dark water. The same struggle to find the door, the same agonizing, hopeless battle to open it. It won’t open. We pull and pull, and by the time we surface Rainbow is choking. Back to the stairs.

  “This isn’t going to work.”

  “I know.”

  And at that moment I realize something. I knew it already, but now the knowledge starts to mean something. “Rainbow, the front door’s open.”

  Water isn’t rushing through it anymore, but it’s still pushing steadily in, as if there’s an endless flood behind it, waiting.