‘Promise you’ll leave, Mum. The water’s coming.’
I remember my disbelief at Lena’s words even as I promised her.
I still cannot believe it. Lena used to ride her tricycle round the bandstand for hours. Later, I took her here to practice the tuba. It doesn’t seem so long ago.
The water is swallowing the first step of the bandstand.
‘It’ll flood half of London,’ Lena said.
She didn’t say where she’d gone.
‘I’m safe. I want you to be safe, too.’
But I don’t believe anywhere is safe anymore. Here, at least, I’ve got memories to keep me distracted.