The Power of Five Oblivion

fixed on the water ahead.
    “The secret is not to do too much,” he said. “Small turns! Don’t push too hard. I’ll be right back.”
    And then he was gone and I was on my own. At first, I was angry. How could he just leave me like that? But almost at once I understood what had really been in his mind. I was so focused on what I was doing, so desperate not to crash into either of the banks, that I had to leave all my other emotions behind. It was exactly what I needed and I found a kind of peace, feeling the vibrations of the engine running through my hands and with the deep throb of the engine in my ears. There was something quite awesome about being in control of so much power. Even the electric light, skimming over the water, always a few feet ahead of me, was something wonderful.
    I don’t suppose I was there for much more than twenty minutes, although it felt longer. Then the Traveller reappeared and told me to get some rest. I didn’t think I’d sleep. I might have been worn out but I didn’t feel tired. I started to argue but the Traveller wasn’t having any of it. “Go to bed, Holly,” he said. “You can crawl into the bunk opposite Jamie. He’s already out like a light. And you’re going to need all the sleep you can get.”
    He was right. My head touched the pillow and that was that. I didn’t so much fall asleep as plummet.
    When I opened my eyes, Jamie was already up and grey light was streaming in through the windows. I looked out and saw the riverbank moving slowly past, drab and muddy with just a few tufts of grass. It might once have been beautiful, only it wasn’t now. The weather was bad and the water was so very black. I didn’t have any idea what time it was. If I’d been in the village, I’d have been in the orchard by now or else I’d have heard it from Mr Bantoft, and that was my first thought that morning. I’d never hear a word from the farm manager again. Not from any of them. That was over.
    I got up and made my way through the boat, making sure not to hit my head on the pots and pans that hung down from the ceiling. Everything was very low and very narrow – like a miniature house, where everything has been squeezed together. Jamie was on deck with the Traveller, the two of them standing together by the tiller.
    “So you’ve finally made it!” the Traveller muttered. “You’ve missed breakfast but you’re just in time for lunch.”
    Lunch? Had I really slept that long? I looked around me at the unfamiliar surroundings – fields stretching out on one side, with a thick mist hanging over the grass and a few stunted trees twisting up, and a scrubby hillside on the other. It wasn’t much of a view but for me it was new – the first time my eyes had had something new to see in fifteen years. I imagined that people coming out of prison would feel the same.
    “What is for lunch?” I asked.
    “Tinned salmon. Tinned tomatoes. Tinned beans. Tinned stew. It’s really whatever tin you want to open.”
    We’d run out of tins in the village ages ago so the Traveller could have been describing a whole banquet as far as I was concerned.
    “Are you OK, Holly?” Jamie asked.
    I nodded. I should have been feeling worse but the sleep had helped – that and the distance we had come. I had managed to leave some of the nightmares behind me.
    We came to a humpback bridge with a lane crossing the river and the Traveller lowered our speed and pulled in so that the old brickwork covered our heads. He seemed to know what he was doing, which was just as well because I had no idea where we were heading or what we would do when we got there.
    “Take the ropes, Jamie…”
    We tied up under the bridge so that if one of the helicopters happened to pass, we would be out of sight. The Traveller turned off the engine and we all went down to the galley, crowding around the table – me and Jamie on one side, the Traveller on the other. He opened various tins and also boiled the kettle and made real coffee out of a jar, which was only the second time I had ever drunk it, although I’m sorry to say I didn’t much like the taste. The salmon was amazing though; soft and juicy and filling. It made my head spin to think that the river might once have been teeming with fish like this.
    So there we were, the three of us, sitting in that cramped but cosy living space, hidden under the bridge, perhaps forty or fifty miles from the village. I waited for the Traveller to speak and eventually he