Page 108 of Serenity Falls

‘To put it mildly.’

‘Division, wars, disease. And people are disconnected from reality because they spend all their time connected to phones or screens. Every day a flood of hatred, negativity, propaganda, flooding their brains.’

‘So, you approve of the no-phones rule here?’

‘I do. Sometimes, we need to reprogramme our brains. Especially young people. I know a lot of them don’t like the restriction on phones, but I think, in the future, it’s going to save their lives.’

She raises her glass and takes a long sip. I smile, although for some reason I feel a weird ripple of unease. Maybe the use of the word ‘reprogramme’. Sounds a little too much like conversion therapy.

‘Interesting,’ I say. ‘Although I’m pretty sure my brain is beyond help these days.’

She laughs. ‘Oh, I think there’s still hope.’

‘And did you ever consider leaving Serenity Falls and working somewhere else?’

She looks down. ‘Well, yes, of course. But there’s something about this place … I don’t know. I applied for other jobs, but when it came to it, I realized I couldn’t leave.’ A shrug. ‘Maybe that makes me unadventurous.’

‘No, not at all. What’s the saying – wherever you go, you can never escape yourself.’

‘Exactly. I’m doing good work here. Making a difference. And I like it, despite or maybe because of its quirks.’

I nod again. ‘I think I’m still adjusting to them.’

She laughs. ‘It may take a while. I’ve had forty years to get used to it. This is my normal.’

‘You know, I’m starting to think there’s no such thing.’

‘As a therapist, I’d have to agree.’

She grins and tips back her glass. I realize mine is empty. Our eyes meet.

‘Another?’ I ask.

‘Why not and, you know, it’s probably cheaper to get a bottle.’

‘Well, I’ll drink to that.’

Serena

Milo was right (he usually was, which pissed me off). Soon the river had narrowed so much we couldn’t go on. I could feel the kayak not so much scraping as sinking into the swamp of the riverbed.

‘Guess this is the end of the line.’ Milo grinned.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘We’d best stop before we get wedged.’

We used the paddles to dig in and shove the kayak closer to the bank. Steadying myself with one hand, I clambered out and indicated for Milo to follow. We threw our rucksacks on to the bank and then hauled the kayak up afterwards. It was hard work, but eventually we’d cleared it of the water. We both sat down, panting. I was sweating, clothes sticking to my body, hair wet like I’d had a shower. I checked my watch and was shocked to see it was only 8.20 p.m. It felt like the paddle down the river had taken far longer.

‘So,’ I said. ‘How far to Harold’s cabin from here?’

Milo took out his map and flashlight, squinting at it. ‘I reckon we head east and it should be a couple of miles, maybe.’

Maybe.

‘Okay, you’ve got the compass?’

‘Of course.’

I gave him a look. ‘We walk for half an hour. If we haven’t found it by then, we turn back.’