Page 58 of The Secret Christmas Bookshop
‘Besides, you can keep hold of me. I’ll wade out and get him, you make sure I don’t sink or get tangled up in weeds.’
‘This is a really bad idea.’
‘You have a better one?’ She stepped tentatively along the fence, still holding onto it, until she reached him. ‘Is your grip firm?’
‘Sort of,’ he said, ‘but I can’t feel my fingers.’ He swallowed. ‘I really don’t want you to do this.’
‘If it all goes wrong, use my phone to call for help. It’s in my coat pocket.’
Harry’s face was pale as she held onto his shoulders, then used him as an anchor while she moved carefully down the bank.
‘It’s too cold,’ he said, when she was nose to nose with him. Their breaths were mingling, but his were harsh, and she didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.
‘It’ll be fine.’ She gave him a reassuring smile, then took another step. Icy lake water filled her boot and seeped through her sock. ‘Fucking hell!’
‘Don’t do this,’ Harry said. ‘Don’t—’
‘Felix is going to try and swim back. He won’t stay out there much longer.’
‘I can’t hold on much longer,’ Harry gritted out.
‘We’ll be quick, then.’ Sophie turned away from the rise and fall of his chest, the stark look in his eyes, his clenched jaw. This, she told herself, was how she could be selfless. She could think about other people: she could help them even when it was uncomfortable for her. Gripping tightly onto Harry’s arm, she took another couple of steps into the water, until it was halfway up her shins. She gasped, the soft, oozing mud spreading beneath her feet, threatening to suck her in. Speed, she decided, was a priority.
She waded forward, clutching onto Harry’s arm, sucking in short breaths as the freezing water reached her thighs, her hips, her waist.
‘Sophie?’ Harry asked.
‘I’m O-OK,’ she stammered. ‘Nearly …’ But she couldn’t quite reach Felix and his island. She wasn’t going to be able to get him even if she was only anchored to Harry by his fingertips. Their arm spans combined weren’t long enough. ‘I’m going to have to—’
‘No,’ Harry said. She could tell every part of him was straining forwards.
‘It’s not very deep.’ She was shuddering now, and she wanted to let go of Harry so he didn’t notice.
‘The mud, though. The weeds, I—’
‘I’m going,’ she said defiantly, hoping it wasn’t obvious how much her teeth were chattering. Before he could say anything else she let go of him and waded further in, the water sloshing, the mud slurping and sucking around her feet, taking her deeper. Two, three sticky strides, and she was there: next to the island.
‘Felix.’ She reached out to him. The water was up to her shoulders now, seeping down inside her jumper.
The little goat bleated, and didn’t resist when Sophie reached up, pulling at the weed caught around his leg, tugging at it with numb, slippery fingers. It took her a few moments, but then it came away and his leg was free. She lifted him off the island, and Felix burrowed his cold head into her neck, his cries soft and panicked.
Now she had to turn around. She tried to lift her foot, tried to pull it out of the mud, but it was stuck. ‘Fuck,’ she whispered. Felix was nibbling her hair, and it was comforting, despite the madness of the situation, the intense cold.
‘Soph?’ Harry called. ‘Sophie, are you—?’
‘Just a minute!’ she shouted. She tried again to get her foot out, but it was fully wedged. ‘If I can just get my boot—’ She gasped as there was a surgeof water behind her, and then arms clamped around her waist and pulled, and she felt her boot come out of the mud with a bigsuck.
Harry dragged them to the edge of the lake, his movements fast and uncoordinated, as if he could beat the weeds and the mud by sheer brute force … and maybe he could because a few moments later they had reached the bank, and he was hauling her up with him, trying to find purchase on the slick, steep mud. Sophie tried to help, tried to pull them up with her one free hand, but then Felix wriggled out of her grasp, bounced up to the fence and leapt over it. He turned and watched them, skittering backwards and forwards, bleating.
Sophie flopped against the bank, breathing heavily, her clothes and skin covered in mud. Harry was facing her, his arm still loosely wrapped around her. He was trying to catch his breath, and he looked as muddy and soaked as she was.
‘Y-you OK?’ he managed, through chattering teeth.
‘Fine,’ she sighed out, exhaustion and cold making her feel sluggish.
‘We need to get you i-into the warm.’ From the way he was shuddering, she knew he needed the warmth as much as she did. ‘Don’t g-go anywhere,’ he said forcefully, and she realized he was talking to his goat.
Harry pushed himself onto his knees, crawled the rest of the way up the bank, then turned and held out his hand. Sophie grabbed it gratefully, even though her fingers were numb, and every part of her was rigid with cold. Harry pulled her unceremoniously up the bank, and then, using the fence for support, they both struggled to their feet.
