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65 | Felix
The beacon starts to transmit as the moon begins its second circuit. Right on the edge of his equipment’s reach, for the Princess Tatiana is a Maserati to his little skiff’s Fiat. He lost sight of it some time ago, but stuck doggedly to its bearing, assuming that it will have kept to its course, hoping for the best.
When the beacon springs to life, a bright little blinking dot on the outer lines of his radar, he floods with relief. He has loved Mercedes Delia, in his quiet way, since he was nine years old. To lose her to the water would end him.
He has never been this far from land before. Kastellani aren’t trawlermen, and the rich waters around their home provide more than plenty without ever losing sight of the western cliffs. The vastness of the world fills Felix with fear. But still he goes forward, grateful that he thought to load a few containers of diesel while he waited for the Princess Tatiana to put out. His fuel gauge is almost at the halfway point and soon, without them, there would be no turning back.
So lonely out here, on the endless water, in the dark. So beautiful. He watches the dot slowly move across the screen, and follows the path laid out by the moon to where she is.
He finds her as the sun is rising. She lies on her back, gazing up at the sky. So easy in the water, my Mercedes. So unafraid. She must be cold, but she doesn’t show it. Her black hair spreads out around her head like a reaper’s halo, and there’s a look on her face that he’s never seen before. Like the martyred saints depicted in the windows of the church. A glow of happiness. A serenity.
Peace, he thinks. She’s found peace.
He kills the engine and coasts the last few metres to where she floats. She flips over and swims to him with her strong, easy stroke. Treads water and looks up.
‘Is it done?’ he asks.
‘It’s done,’ she says. ‘Let’s go home.’
