He stared at the lake. ‘I don’t think we can cross, Daisy,’ he said, letting go of a skein of hair which caught the piny breeze briefly before settling upon her shoulder.
‘Let’s go down to the lake. It might be thawing.’
Albert looked at his watch: it was already one o’clock.
Sensing Albert’s hesitation, Daisy smiled. ‘At worst we can’t pass, at best we might find a path along the shoreline. We might be able to follow this to the Königsbach and up to Hochbahnweg. We’d make it back to Berchtesgaden in two hours, maybe three.’
Daisy led the way, pulling Albert by the hand towards the smell of pines where the Kesselbach met the Königssee – strong and sweet even though the shingle, which stretched for perhaps fifteen feet up towards the mountains, was free of trees and shrubs.
From where they were now stood, the small settlement had disappeared behind the long arm of a ridge sloping like a sleeve into the niveous water. Albert could just make out the church in the shadow of the Watzmann massif; the adumbration bruising its bacate roof. To either side the Königssee lay flat, white, and bright as the horizon.
Daisy walked up to the lake and carefully tapped the surface with the heel of her shoe.
‘It hasn’t thawed at all,’ said Daisy incredulously. ‘Look.’
She took a step onto the frozen surface and tapped the heel of her shoe again to prove her point.
‘Daisy, you shouldn’t stand on it. It’s not safe.’
‘It’s solid.’
‘I don’t care. Come back.’
Daisy beckoned towards her husband with her left hand whilst her legs, pulled towards the church of St. Bartholomew as if by ecclesiastical magnetism, began to take another step.
‘Careful. Just be careful. Please,’ said Albert.
Daisy looked at her husband.
Though the surface was covered with a top surface of ice, Albert knew that winter had not been cold as previous years and many waterways and rivers in southern Germany continued to flow unfrozen.
Albert remembered the rivers he had passed on the train. They had seemed motionless; he knew they were not.
‘Daisy, come back. You shouldn’t be doing this.’
‘It’s frozen. It’s safe,’ said Daisy.
She took another step, but the surface shuddered like a spine caught by a shiver.
Albert heard the noise too, faint and furtive. ‘It’s not safe,’ he whispered to himself, afraid that his voice might break the ice.
Daisy took a smaller step to the side, rather than forwards, placing the tip of her shoe down first, then the flat and finally the heel. A click like a lighters’ metal grinder was followed by the water, waking, grumbling.
‘Don’t go any further. Come back. You’ll make it back. Slowly. Just keep going slowly.’
Daisy listened, turning immediately.
Concentrating upon the fulmination which, loud as thunder, clapped beneath her feet, she hurried towards Albert.
When the noise suddenly stopped, Daisy looked up. A crack followed from her foot: the ice fracturing. A thin line travelled towards Albert who had stepped onto the lake.
‘Take my hand. Quickly,’ shouted Albert.
Daisy raised herself from where she had fallen. The sudden movement widened the soft, wet palate of the water and pulled her down.
Albert ran towards her, thrusting out a hand, but the cracked surface cried and collapsed.
*
Albert looked up.
The door of the pub had smacked against its frame and Barry was walking towards him.
‘Evening, Albert.’
‘Landlord,’ said Albert, wiping his eyes.
Barry stood next to Albert, reclining one arm upon the fence and looking out onto the gloaming, exhaling contentedly.
‘Beautiful night, is it not?’
‘Yes.’
The dark was dampened by a drizzle which had fallen surreptitiously from the night sky. Albert held out a hand, palm open, feeling the water run between his thumb and index finger.
‘Catherine and I are shutting up shop for the evening, Albert. Would you be leaving soon as well?’
Albert slowly closed his hand into a fist, squeezing the water onto the blackened turf below.
‘Yes, just waiting for Daisy to come out.’
‘I see,’ said Barry.
‘She’s just gone to the toilet. She’ll be out soon.’
Barry turned towards the road where a car was driving past. He watched the headlights weave across the clifftops.
‘People heading home after dinner,’ he said.
‘Yes, it’s probably that time already.’
The door of the pub opened and Albert turned his head to look. ‘Ah –’ he said, as Catherine stood in the doorframe, apron folded across her forearm.
Barry nodded and Catherine returned inside.
The lights of the pub were turned off. Darkness reclaimed the terrace and the sea shuddered within a conch shell.
‘We’re off Albert. The pub will be shut but you’re welcome to stay.’
‘Yes, that’ll be fine. Just waiting for Daisy to come out.’
Barry sighed and put his hand on top of Albert’s, feeling the skin steady from his touch.
Behind them Catherine had locked the doors to the pub, the clinking of keys unheard by the men as they watched the silver slivers of starlight striating the black breakers upon the shore. The bay had fallen into complete sleep, the waves washing day away.
Catherine gave Barry a kiss on the cheek, then Albert, and disappeared down the steps into the carpark.
‘Are you seeing family tonight?’ asked Barry.
‘Me?’ asked Albert, woken again from his reverie by the sound of a human voice. ‘Oh, not tonight. Just me and Daisy.’
‘Well, ok then, Albert. I’ll be off.’
Silence settled between them from which Barry, with a great effort, hauled himself.
‘Merry Christmas, Albert.’
‘Merry Christmas Barry, to you and your wife, from me and mine.’
Barry patted Albert on the back and left him alone.
Joshua Schouten de Jel is currently completing his PhD studies at Plymouth University. When he has a smidgen of time between work and research, he enjoys writing poetry and short stories and has had pieces published in Aesthetic Magazine, Octavius Magazine, and Popshot Magazine.
