Towards the Lock

At the start of the path, Noor had to unfold the map again. She had put the river at the top and the library below it. Now they were going right on her drawing, but their feet were going straight ahead.

Sami peered at it. ‘Try turning it round.’

‘Then the writing'll be upside down.’

She gave the sheet a quarter-turn anyway. The lock was at the top now. That matched the way the path went. She could always turn it back later.

They left their bikes at the library. Sami carried the book bag on his back. Bente held the crate in both hands, picking her way round puddles on the paving stones. The towel had to stay dry for the boat.

Wim walked on the water side of the path, carrying the hook low beside him with its point facing back. He had brought a litter picker too. When they stopped, he rested both against his leg.

In daylight, Noor could not fit yesterday's yellow glow into the view at all. The water was grey. There were gaps in the reeds she had not been able to see from the bridge. She peered through every one they passed. Some were only wide enough for a bird, others for a whole row of model boats.

‘Can you look behind us?’ she asked Sami. ‘So we aren't all looking at the same bits.’

He turned, took three steps backwards and nearly caught his heel on a loose paving stone. After that he walked forwards again, turning his head now and then.

Bente was watching the low edge of the reeds near the bank. A red line showed on her arm where the rim of the crate had pressed. She put it down and changed sides.

‘Perhaps the light's off in the daytime,’ Noor said.

‘It doesn't go off by itself,’ Bente said. ‘There's a switch inside. But I don't think you'd see it very well now.’

Noor shaded her eyes. She could not find a lamp, even one that was off. She would have to look for the white roof.

A woman with a dog on a long lead was walking ahead. The dog wanted to sniff a blade of grass in exactly the spot where Bente wanted to put the crate. The woman shortened the lead and asked what they were looking for.

Bente answered before Noor could. ‘A model ferry. With a white roof. This big.’

She put down the crate so she could show her with her hands.

The woman had not seen a boat. She had come from the lock and stopped a few times to let the dog drink at the water.

‘I think I'd have seen it, then.’

Wim thanked her. As she walked on, Bente picked up the crate again. Noor drew a small circle where they had met the woman. She did not write boat beside it.

‘She hasn't looked through every gap,’ she said.

Further on, the path curved towards the houses. Noor looked through a gap between two bushes. From there she could see along the outer edge of the reeds.

A patch of white stuck up at an angle above the water.

She stopped.

‘There!’

Bente put the crate straight down. Sami came to stand beside Noor. One corner of the white thing bobbed up and down. A reed crossed in front of it, making it look for a moment as though it had a narrow window.

‘I can't see a bow,’ Bente said.

‘It could be behind there.’ Noor pointed at the reed. ‘The roof's tipped over.’

Wim walked a few steps further. From there he could see past the reeds without leaving the path. He beckoned them over.

From the side, the white patch was very thin. One corner was jagged. Noor could see the bit she had thought was a window. It was a tear.

‘A lid,’ Sami said.

Wim took it with the litter picker. The plastic folded in half as it came out of the water. Bente held the bin bag open. Three last drops ran down the picker before Wim let the lid fall into the bag.

Noor had already nudged the crate closer with her foot. She moved it back. There was nothing to put on the towel.

‘It was white enough from where we were standing,’ she said.

Bente closed the bag above the lid. ‘The boat's roof has square corners.’

She just said it. Noor nodded. She should have looked from the side first. She made a tiny mark on her map where the white thing had been, then rubbed it out. They did not need to remember where a lid had been floating.

The water widened at the lock. Behind the fence stood metal cabinets and a red-and-white barrier across a service path. Wim leant his hook against a bench. From the public path they could see into the corner where leaves and twigs had collected.

Noor counted three white things. Two were pale leaves, the third a loose feather. She did not call anyone over.

Sami sank onto the bench and slipped the book bag off his shoulders. He took out his apple. One side had been squashed a little flat beneath a book.

‘If it came this way,’ Bente said, ‘shouldn't we be able to see it here?’

Wim looked at the water. ‘I don't know. It might have got caught before it reached here. Or it could be somewhere we can't see from the path.’

Noor spread the map right out. The thick arrow stopped near the lock. There was still a lot of blank paper. She could have drawn a bigger area, with more bends in it.

‘We'll have to check the other gaps on the way back,’ she said.

They did. Bente pointed out places where they had mostly looked at the low bank on the way there. Sami looked over Bente's shoulder now. Wim waited whenever someone stopped. Nobody called out that they had found anything.

When the library door came into view again, Noor checked her watch. They were back in plenty of time before twelve. It still felt as though they were too late.

Bente straightened the unused towel in the crate. Noor smoothed out the map. They had checked the whole way to the lock. The boat must just be caught somewhere between her blue line and the real water.