Lake of Sorrows

“You don’t find it a bit…I don’t know—cramped? When I used to stay there, I always found it a bit confining. Old houses are like that, I suppose. Some people like quaint. I always preferred something a bit more up-to-date, myself.” They’d reached the shed, and Ursula cast a frankly lubricious glance over at Charlie Brazil, who was building a new staircase for the supply shed out of broad planks, his shirt loose and unbuttoned in the afternoon heat. He was about ten yards away and couldn’t have heard Ursula’s remark, yet Nora felt her face unaccountably burning for his sake, or perhaps her own. Was it true, what Margaret Scanlan had said about him last night? She hadn’t even tried to imagine what “terrible things” had been done to those animals. What she really wondered was whether Charlie Brazil was a true misfit, or just one of those unfortunate people whose odd behavior naturally draws suspicion—a scapegoat.

The afternoon’s work was slow and hot. Like footing turf, Nora thought; you’re better off not looking up. At a quarter past three, she climbed to her feet and set out for the nearest lavatory, a portable toilet with no running water. It was swarming with bluebottles and the floor was caked with peat. She had just closed the door of the Port-a-loo when she heard noises outside under the vent to her left. The compartment suddenly rocked as a body was shoved up against it, and she heard a struggle, like two people wrestling. Male and female, from the silhouettes on the fiberglass walls. Was she a witness to violence or lovemaking? Even at this proximity, it was almost impossible to tell. Finally the tussling stopped, and Nora recognized the voice: Ursula Downes, out of breath. “Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me. That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it, Charlie? To tell the truth, I like it a bit rough. What about you?”

Charlie Brazil didn’t respond, but Nora could hear his ragged breathing. Through the louvered vent, she could see them outside on the ground, Ursula astride Charlie with her knees pinning his arms. He couldn’t move without shifting her off him by force.

Ursula leaned forward and extracted something from the front of Charlie’s shirt. “What’s this—some sort of good luck charm? It’s very like the one your uncle Danny was wearing when we found him. Only it didn’t turn out very lucky for him, did it now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Charlie said. “What do you want from me?”

“Why do you think I want something, Charlie? Maybe I have something to give you. Did you ever think of it that way?”

“Whatever it is, I don’t want it.”

“Is that any way to talk? You haven’t even heard my offer. I’ve been up at your place, Charlie—the place where you have the bees. People have told me Danny used to keep bees there as well.”

“What about it?”

“Randy little devils, aren’t they, bees? I heard once that the drones put it to the queen while she’s flying, ride her in the air. Is that really true?”

“I don’t know. Let me go.” He struggled again, but she held him fast.

“I think you do know, Charlie. I think you know all about that and much more. I’ve been watching you, Charlie. I know what you’re hiding.”

He writhed beneath her, but she leaned forward into his face and whispered, “It’s not as if you’d get nothing in return. I wouldn’t tell anyone, for a start. And I’m very inventive, Charlie. You’ve no idea. I can be very sweet when I want to be, and I know you appreciate sweetness, Charlie. I can feel it. There’s just one thing I have to mention, and it’s that little girlfriend of yours, Helen Keller—”

Out of Charlie’s throat came a deep groan full of anguish, swelling into a roar as he heaved Ursula from his midsection and scrambled to his feet to make an escape. She couldn’t resist one parting shot: “When you do come and see me, Charlie, wait until after dark. You know how people talk.”

When he was gone, Ursula sat on the ground and began to laugh to herself, a dusky sound in which Nora thought she recognized a bright note of triumph. Eventually Ursula climbed to her feet, brushed off her clothing, and went back around the side of the shed. Nora kept still for a moment, trying to think. She felt somehow stained by having witnessed the scene. She couldn’t shake the sound of Ursula’s laughter from her head, and she felt it setting loose the darkness that sometimes welled up inside, washing through her. She felt as though it had the power to turn her blood a deeper shade of red, and it was something she could not just wish away.

A few minutes later, when she headed back to the parking area, Nora found a jar of dark golden heather honey sitting on the hood of her car. A solitary bee had found it as well, and was tracing a circle around the edge of the lid, trying to find a way in.

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