The biggers remodelled the pond so a naked figure looked as if she was emerging from the water.
Big Bertha was scandalised.
“Ain’t you cold.”
“I’m freezing.”
“Come here and we’ll find you some moss or something.”
“I can’t move. They cemented my feet to this rock.”
Nardo and his little boat left the stream and he rowed the pond with a cold chisel grasped in his plaster lips.
When he had freed the maiden she walked along the bottom of the pond and just kept walking.
They never knew where she went. But wherever it was Nardo went too.
Jane Jago’s Drabbles – Five Hundred
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