The Empty River

At nine o'clock, Farah was holding the library door open with her foot. She had sticky tape in one hand and a notice in the other. One corner kept curling up.

‘Give me a hand?’ she asked as Noor came over.

Noor took the bottom corner. Sami held his bike. They had arranged to sit at the reading table first. He wanted to see the pictures in her otter book. Noor had left the other three books in the bag. By the bike stands she had handed it to Sami, who had stretched the elastic straps over it again.

Farah taped the notice inside the window. Noor read the top line close up.

MISSING BOAT.

Below the words was a photograph. A little ferry, with windows along the side and a white roof. At the front was a yellow lamp.

‘Sami.’

‘I can read.’

‘That's it.’

She took a step back. In the photograph, the boat sat on a wooden table. Its lamp was off, but suddenly she knew what the yellow circle had been. She took the receipt from her coat pocket. It was tucked between her gloves, with just one fold in it.

‘I saw that. Yesterday evening, by the bridge.’

Farah put the tape in her cardigan pocket. ‘Hang on. I'll get Bente.’

Inside, the table by the window was in the same place. The chairs had been moved. A blue river ran across the wooden board between two painted banks. Tiny bushes stood on it. In the middle of the blue was a rectangle with no dust on it.

A girl sat at the reading table with a sign in front of her. She was touching up a letter. Beside her, a man was putting coffee cups in a crate.

‘Bente,’ Farah said. ‘Noor thinks she's seen your boat.’

The girl put down her brush at once. A streak of blue paint marked her sleeve.

‘Where?’

‘By the bridge. In the reeds on the other side.’ Noor unfolded the receipt. ‘It had its light on.’

The man put the last cup in the crate. ‘Yesterday evening?’

Noor nodded and told them about the yellow circle. She pointed at the white roof in the photograph, then at her own little line. It looked smaller on the receipt. She could not quite make out the red thing on top in the photograph.

‘I'm Wim,’ the man said. ‘Bente's grandad. Come and sit down. She can show you what you're looking for.’

‘We're not looking for anything,’ Sami said, glancing at Noor. ‘Not yet.’

Bente turned the sign round to keep her arm out of the wet paint. It said THE FERRY. The Y was shinier than the other letters.

‘It goes there.’ She pointed to the dust-free patch on the blue board. ‘There'll be labels too. And photographs of the real ferry.’

‘Was it this big?’ Noor asked, holding her hands apart.

Bente moved them a little closer together. About the length of Noor's forearm. Grandad Wim had worked on the full-sized ferry, she explained. He had taken people and bicycles across the water before the bridge was built.

‘Did you build it yourself?’ Sami asked.

‘The bridge?’ Wim said.

Sami glanced at the photograph. ‘The boat.’

‘We did it together,’ Bente said before her grandad could answer. ‘I did the windows.’

She took a tiny figure from a tray. It wore a dark green coat and had a round nose. One arm stuck out sideways.

‘There wasn't room for this one. The other passengers are inside. This one goes on the card by the ferry stop.’

Noor was allowed to hold it. It was lighter than she expected. She tried to stand it on her finger, but its feet were not flat enough.

‘Just put it on the table,’ Bente said.

Noor set it down. ‘What about the lamp?’

‘I fitted that,’ Wim said. ‘Two batteries. There's no motor. We did want it to float properly, though.’

They had tried it out yesterday afternoon at the landing stage beside the library, keeping the boat close to the bank at first. Bente had pressed the passengers into place before they started. Noor looked at the empty rectangle on the board. So nobody had been in danger. Only the little people in their painted coats.

‘It floated really well,’ Bente said.

Then the string had come loose. Wim had gone home for his long boat hook. When he got back, they could just see part of the white roof among the reeds. He and Bente had searched from the path until there was too little light to see anything more.

‘So it could still be out there somewhere,’ Noor said.

Wim pulled up an empty chair. ‘We hope so. There's cork underneath the hull. It's a tough little ferry.’

Bente took back her passenger and put it by the sign. She did not look at her grandad when he said that.

Farah returned with a stack of bookends. She set the bottom one on the table, holding the rest against her chin to stop them falling. Sami took the top three.

‘Thanks. Over there, by the map.’

An old photograph of the ferry hung on the wall. Noor recognised the windmill in the background. There was no bridge yet.

‘We open the exhibition at two tomorrow,’ Farah said. ‘Even if the boat isn't back. I've got plenty of photographs, and Bente can show people how she made the windows. It would be nicer with the boat, though.’

‘Then we'll look for it,’ Noor said.

Bente looked up. ‘I'm coming too.’

‘Of course.’ Noor had never meant anything else. She felt the receipt she was still holding. ‘I can show you the place.’

Wim went to the window with them. They could see the bridge and the start of the waterside path. Further to the right was the lock. Wim thought the boat might have gone that way. The water usually flowed in that direction.

Noor wanted to go straight out. Farah asked where they were going, and whether anyone at home knew.

‘Dad can pick me up here at twelve,’ Noor said. ‘I'll ask him.’

She rang Daan. Sami messaged his mum, read the reply and showed Wim his screen. It was all right as long as Wim went too. They had to be back before lunch.

Bente took her coat from the chair. A thin strand of blue wool was caught on the zip. She picked it off and put it in her pocket.

Farah took the crate of cups to the kitchen. There was another empty crate beneath the reading table. Wim laid a folded towel inside. If they found the boat, they would not have to carry it back dripping in their arms.

‘We need to know where to look,’ Bente said.

Noor looked at the old photograph on the wall. Beside it hung a map of the village.

‘We could use that.’