Beneath the Boards

At the little pumping station Bente asked if they could stop. Sami put the crate on the path and changed hands. The towel was hanging over the edge. He tucked it back in.

Noor took out the map. A lone gnat clung to the pumping station window. Something hummed behind the fence. She turned her back to it so she could look at the water.

The broad branch was to the right of the reed island. A duck swam across it. To the left she could see pieces of the narrow channel, strips of water between the stems. Further on, the windmill’s sails stood above the reeds.

‘There,’ she told Bente, pointing to the channel on the map, then to the place ahead. ‘We can’t see the last bend from the path.’

‘We’ll look there in a minute, then,’ Bente said. She didn’t straighten the map or ask whether Noor was sure the model was there. She took the other end of the crate and carried on with Sami.

Noor folded the map until it fitted in her pocket again. Wim carried the boat hook low at his side, its point away from them. Sometimes they had to walk one behind the other to let someone pass.

At the old landing stage was the man from yesterday, wearing his glasses and paint-spattered overalls. He was untying the tape across the entrance. Beside him stood a paint tin and a bag of empty bottles.

‘Good timing,’ Wim said.

The man checked his watch. ‘One minute to go. Though it’ll take me that long to put the barrier away.’

He moved it aside, clear of the path, then walked onto the landing stage with Wim. They stopped by the railing. The man pointed out the things he still had to take away. Noor waited beside Bente. The letters on the sign were slightly crooked. LANDING STAGE REOPENS: SUNDAY, TEN O’CLOCK. She had looked at Sunday so often since yesterday that it was beginning to seem a peculiar word.

Wim turned and beckoned.

‘Come on. The crate can go behind the bench.’

Noor stepped onto the planks. They sounded hollow under her shoes. The top of the railing was wide enough for both her hands side by side. There were no broken boards or holes you could put a leg through. Only narrow gaps between the planks, dark with the water below.

Sami and Bente put the crate down. From this side of the reed island they had a better view of the windmill. Its flag drooped, then stretched out in the wind again. Noor didn’t need to take out her map to find it.

They started with the open water they could see from the landing stage. Wim walked past the bench. The children stayed inside the railing. Noor spotted a feather, a round leaf with a stalk, a post reflected in the water. She looked longer at a pale strip below the surface. Sand on the bottom. No white roof drifted across it.

‘It could be behind those reeds too,’ Sami said.

Wim looked from where he stood. ‘Could be. But I can’t see anything to point to there.’

Bente sat on the bench to tie her shoelace. Her hands rested on her knees for a moment. Noor was about to sit beside her when Sami raised one finger.

‘Can you hear that?’

A bicycle rattled along the path. Noor heard its tyres hum for a little longer, then a bird repeating the same short call.

‘What?’ she asked.

‘Tap.’ Sami waited. ‘Like that. Only not me.’

Noor held her breath. Her coat crackled as she moved her arm. She lowered it.

Tap.

It was very faint. She might have missed it if they’d kept talking. It seemed to come from under their feet, somewhere near the outer edge of the landing stage.

Wim laid the boat hook on the bench. The man in overalls was back on the path, carrying his paint tin to his bicycle. The noise wasn’t coming from him, then.

Sami stepped back towards the middle. ‘I can hear it better here.’

Noor looked at the boards. One gap was a little wider than the others. She crouched in the middle of the landing stage, keeping her hands on her knees. Through the gap she could see a dark patch of water and a beam just above it.

Something moved beneath the beam.

She shifted her feet a little to tilt her head at a different angle. The dark patch became a narrow strip of light. Something red was above it.

‘Bente.’

She said it louder than she needed to. Bente was beside her at once.

‘What can you see?’

‘Red. Here. You don’t need to go any further forward.’

Noor moved aside. Bente crouched in the same spot. Sami stayed behind them, holding the edge of the bench. Wim watched from the space beside the railing.

At first Bente said nothing. Noor looked at her shoe, resting exactly on a nail head. The faint tap came again.

‘It’s them,’ Bente said.

‘The boots?’

Bente nodded. ‘They’re both pointing the same way. Look, one’s lying a bit sideways.’

She moved back to let Noor look again. Now Noor could see two red shapes above a white edge. They touched as the water moved. Below them, the white roof shifted back and forth. Tap, against the low beam.

‘That’s it,’ Noor said.

She stood up. Her knees were stiff from crouching. Bente was on her feet already, pressing her hands together. Sami looked at her, then at Wim.

‘Can you reach it?’

Wim studied the model from where he stood. He didn’t bring the boat hook between the children.

‘If you go behind the bench, I can make some room here.’

Noor crouched by the gap once more before going to the bench. At the front of the model she spotted a dull yellow dot. She had to wait until a reed leaf cast its shadow over it to be sure. The light was that weak now.

‘Its lamp’s still on a tiny bit,’ she told Bente.

Bente went to the crate and opened out the towel. Noor helped with the corner tucked under the bottom. They kept the crate on the boards, behind the bench. This time they were getting it ready for a boat they could actually see.