Thanks to dear Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and to Jennifer Pendergast for the photo.
WHAT IF ?
We wend our way in single file along the canal tow path, James my husband in front, me Olive behind. The verges are sprawling with elderberries, cow-parsley and blackberry runners. Bird song floats through the afternoon stillness. I’m lost in this summer’s day.
There’s a gentle splash, ducks ? I look ahead. You have disappeared, gone, as if you’ve never been there. I feel my heart lurch, paralysed for an eternity. Then your head appears from the water, spluttering, gasping. I’m there beside you, heaving you out of the water, to sit dripping on the tow path. We stumble home horrified.