People in the village still talk about her.

“Jake’s wife? She was crazy.”

“Absolute batshit.”

“Mad as a hatter.”

That evening the village pub, The Black Bull, was, as usual, buzzing with the tale.

“Why, what did she do?” Paula wanted to know. She was new in Todworth, having moved there only recently to look after her elderly great aunt.

Donna happily supplied Paula with the information. “She flooded his house down.”

“Flooded?” Paula’s eyes went wide. “Not burned?” Usually, when you heard of crazy wives, they burned houses down, not flooded them.

“Flooded,” repeated Phil. 

“Did she turn all the taps on and blocked the doors and windows or—?” 

Phil, Donna and Don shrugged in unison. “Nobody knows,” Donna answered. “One day he came back from visiting his cousin and water was flowing out of the windows. Nobody knew what to do, we could only all come out and watch.”

“A few of us tried to get into the house,” said Phil. “But when we opened the front door, we were hit by a wave and landed on our asses on the lawn.”

“But how did she manage to do it?” asked Paula.

“We don’t know,” Donna said. “Afterwards, even the health and safety inspectors were afraid to go near the house. It was too damaged for any repairs and did actually end up burning down—a gas leak, I believe. Insurance wouldn’t pay out.”

“Jake had to move back in with his mum,” Phil said. 

“He lost everything, poor bloke,” Don said. 

“He used to be really fit and sporty,” Donna added, “he used to run and swim, played football in Whitleybridge. Now he’s a shell of a man.”

“Because of a house?” Paula asked in disbelief. 

“It crushed him, you know,” Donna said. “He put a lot of himself into it.”

Okay, maybe that’s fair, Paula thought, what I do know of house ownership. “Were the neighbouring houses affected?” Paula asked.

“Oh no,” Donna exclaimed, “Jake’s house was that cottage by the Clough, away from the rest of the village.”

Todworth Clough. Paula meant to visit the place once she got more settled. She had passed it before and had to fight the urge to explore it—she couldn’t at that moment, he aunt needed her. It was a designated Site of Biological Importance, whatever that meant, bordered on one end by a lake. She had seen the lake, she had had a walk along the bank opposite the Clough shortly after she had first come to the village. Staring into its waters, she would have believed it was magical. She imagined that, underneath the numerous water lilies the lake was home to, a realm of water nymphs existed. Maybe, if one waited patiently, at the right time of the day, or month, or year, they would emerge to the surface. 

She had laughed at her own childish fancies. One could never completely outgrow them.

Phil’s voice brought her back to the present. “It was his dream house.”

“Dream house?”

“Yes,” Donna continued. “You see, he’s from the City. He had one of these high tech jobs, like a programmer or something, earning big money. But his dream was to buy a house outside of the City, in a nice countryside, but near enough to be able to commute to work, for himself and a girl he would marry. Don here thinks it’s ridiculous but I rather think it’s quite romantic.”

So Jake, too, had his own fancies.

“The trains are good,” Don interjected. “The Blakeford station is only five minutes walk from the Clough.”

“He wasn’t exactly looking for a place here,” Phil said. “I think he only came to Todworth by chance.”

“He got lucky,” Donna said. “The house just happened to be on sale.”

“Old Mrs Tomlinson had just died,” Don added. “She used to live there.”

“Must have been expensive,” Paula commented.

“It was,” Donna said. “But he could afford it.”

“He earned big money,” Don said. “He’d already had enough for a deposit—“

Paula, uninterested in the financial matters of the unfortunate Jake, pretended not to hear Don’s line and asked: “So he met his wife here?” She had expected the crazy woman to come from the City as well.

“That is so,” Phil said. “Although…” He went quiet.

“Although what?”

The three all looked at each other. “We’re not sure where they met exactly,” Donna said. “But we’re sure she was not from here, if you know what I mean, she wasn’t one of us. Nobody knew her.”

“She was from the City too?”

Phil shook his head. “No, she was not a City person.”

“Was she,” Paula asked, hiding a bunched fist under the table, “from another country?”

“Oh no, not that,” Donna answered quickly. “But,” she lowered her voice and leaned closer to Paula. “I often thought she was from a different world.”

A different world. Realm of imagination opened up in front of Paula again, but she could not go there right now. Not with these three.

“Like an alien?” she suggested.

“Who knows.”

Here, the conversation broke. A man approached their table to greet Don and Donna and exchange a few words with them. Phil went to get another round of drinks. Paula went to the ladies’ room. When she returned, the man was gone, fresh drinks were on the table and Don was in the midst of his real estate monologue. 

Paula, who had no interest in the minutiae of Todworth’s house prices, grabbed the chance when Don took a sip of his drink and remarked: “And now Jake’s dream house is no more.”

“It was such a nice house too,” Donna said with a sigh. “Three bedrooms, an open plan kitchen and dining area. Mullioned windows.” She sighed. “If a man bought a house like that for the two of us to live in, I wouldn’t flood it, you bet your life on it.”

Paula glanced at Don. This time, he didn’t launch into real estate talk. He drank up his pint, acting as if he had not heard his girlfriend’s lamentations.

“Because you’re not crazy,” Phil said. 

Paula asked: “So what happened to her, actually?”

Phil and Donna answered at the same time. “She vanished,” came from Phil and “she disappeared” from Don.

“Never to be seen again,” Donna concluded. “I reckon she went back to where she came from.”

“And where was that?”

“Who knows.” Donna shrugged her shoulders. “Wherever the loonies live.” 

Loonies. Or…

A house near the Clough. The Clough, with its irresistible pull. A lake with magical properties. 

Paula shook the thoughts away. Maybe she was a loony too.

Donna’s last line closed the case on Jake’s crazy wife. Paula was to find out no more from the trio in The Black Bull. The subject of the conversation changed to Mr and Mrs Jones, whom the gossipers suspected were heading for a divorce, so Paula excused herself and left the pub. 

Great Aunt Angela would know about Jake’s wife. She would ask her tomorrow.

*

Once upon a time, in the northern lands of our kingdom, a young knight was driving from the City to the town of Whitleybridge. The knight was a lad from the City, he was tall and handsome, with good employment and even better prospects. Tired of the City’s incessant noise, he longed for a quieter life in the country. And so he started looking for a dwelling to purchase in the neighbouring towns and villages, nestled among the green hills that surround the City.

On this particular day, our knight was driving  to Whitleybridge for an appointment with an estate agent. An accident on the main road forced him to take the long way through the village of Todworth. Amazed at the beauty of the place, the knight decided to stop by and have a look around; after all, he had plenty of time. 

Todworth charmed him at once, as it has so many other people who have had the luck to cross the village, as you well know, dear child. In need of refreshments, he headed to the inn. And it was that he heard from a local man about a house that was on sale.

Because he still had enough time, the knight asked the villager if he could point out the house to him. The villager explained that the house was a bit away from the village, but he could take him there if the knight wished so. The knight agreed, and the two men set off from the inn to the wooded area known as the Clough. 

The knight liked the house at first sight. It was a quaint little cottage, built sometime in the 19th century, but all modern inside. Making quick enquiries, he found out the price was within his budget. He was able to view the place right there and then, as the estate agents were most obliging. This sealed the deal. The knight cancelled his appointment in Whitleybridge and began the process of buying the cottage. He was enchanted by it. 

To be sure, the house needed some repairs; the lady who had lived there for many long years was very elderly, but he was a skilled man and could do much of the work himself. 

“All that remains now is a fair maiden to marry,” he said aloud to himself as he finished painting the master bedroom. Then he laughed, as if it was a joke.

The knight had not had much time to explore the Clough, being busy with his job and the repairs, but once the repairs were completed, he wasted no time. He followed the narrow winding path that led from the bottom of his garden to the lake. When he reached it, he sat down at the bank and basked in the tranquillity of the place. He had never felt more relaxed.

And then he saw her. 

First, her head. It rose slowly from among the water lilies, brown hair, alabaster brow, eyes, nose, mouth. It was the eyes that got him, so deep he felt dizzy, as if he was falling into them. 

“Who—what are you?” he cried out.

She laughed and disappeared under the surface. 

The knight stood up. He looked around; as far he could see, he was alone. He rubbed his eyes. He looked back at the lake, but saw no trace of the strange presence, the water was smooth, the water lilies undisturbed. Thinking he was probably too tired, he returned home and went to sleep.

But he could not forget about her. 

The next day, right after he got up, he went to the lake. Everything was the same as usual; it was a cloudy day, but calm, no rain or wind. The surface of the lake looked as polished as glass. Convinced now that yesterday’s occurrence was a hallucination, he turned to go home. He made one step, two steps, three steps, when he heard a noise. It sounded like a giggle. He looked back at the lake.

It was her. Again, she laughed and disappeared underwater. 

That’s how it went over the next many days. Each morning, the knight would come to the lake, each morning, he would see her head emerge from the water and disappear. After a week, she rose high enough that her shoulders were visible, but nothing more. She never spoke, only laughed. 

The knight was in agony. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. He made mistakes at work. Once they sent him away from the football field in Whitleybridge because he played so poorly. He stopped meeting up with friends. 

All his free time he spent either sitting by the lake, or on the internet researching water nymphs. Not that it was any good to him—when he asked on a myth lovers’ forum how to tame one, the only thing he got from the members was ridicule.

The knight had had, like most men, his share of love affairs. His last relationship had ended a year prior to his coming to Todworth. He’d gone through several one-night stands and casual flings since then. But never had he experienced anything like this. 

One day, a few weeks after his first encounter with the water nymph, a local elderly couple invited him for a walk around the village. He went, as he wanted to be on friendly terms with the villagers. They spent the walk entertaining the knight with merry tales of the village, taking his mind off the water nymph for a while. The last part of the walk took them to Hazelbottom Park, through that heavily wooded area at the back (you know that one you asked me about the other day) and to a small path that led to a bridge over the narrowest end of the lake.

The walkers stopped at the bridge to take a break, and, no doubt, to admire the prettiness of the surroundings. But finding himself by the lake again, the knight became blind to everything else around him. He leaned over the railing of the bridge, gazing into the water. He couldn’t see much—the surface is thickly covered by lily pads on that side. Still, he thought he saw a shape that looked like the body of a woman with a tail of the fish flowing underneath him. 

The couple stood at the other side of the bridge. They were startled by the knight’s sudden cry: “Can you see? Over there!” 

He was pointing at the bank opposite him. 

“Yes, quite remarkable,” said the husband. “It’s the oldest willow tree in the county.”

But the knight was not pointing at the willow tree. It was her. The one who was haunting him. She emerged out of the water right under the willow tree, twigs of which touch the lake’s surface, with her back to him, long hair covering her down to her waist. 

“My grandmother used to tell me,” the wife, who was a native of Todworth, spoke, “tales of fairies who would come to the willow tree to comb their hair, using the lake as a mirror.”

Fairies! 

The knight got distracted and lost sight of her, she must have hidden somewhere among the willow’s branches. 

He tried to mask his irritation out of respect for the couple for the rest of their walk. They ended at the inn, ordering a hearty meal, but the knight lost his appetite. He nibbled on his fish and chips for the sake of appearance.

Back home, he mulled about the situation. Did the couple not see the nymph because they weren’t looking closely enough, or their sight failed them, or… did they not see her because she was not there? Was she, after all, only a product of his imagination? A fever dream? 

He needed to be sure. He pondered what the woman said, about the willow tree and the fairies. He thought maybe he should go to the willow. Sure, that side of the lake was not easily accessible—a dense thicket of trees and bushes, and it’s fenced off, but he had to do something, or he would go insane. Boats are not allowed on the lake, as you know, dear child, swimming is prohibited. The knight was half insane by now and would have swum, he was a good swimmer—but the rational part of his mind was still working enough to warn him. He’d only attract unwanted attention. People were already saying he was getting weird. So he had to get there on foot.

Armed with a newly purchased machete, shod in hiking boots, he set off early one Saturday morning. He climbed the fence and, cutting through the thickets, he made it to the willow tree.

It looked like a most ordinary willow tree growing on the bank of a most ordinary lake. There was nothing special about it. His shirt was torn, his arms bore pricks from the thistle. Flies were buzzing around him.

Exhausted, he leaned against the willow’s trunk and dropped on the ground. He felt like a fool, but he thought it served him right. At least this would cure him of the insanity. He decided to rest under the willow for a bit. 

Then a voice speaking behind him almost made him jump out of his skin. “So you are finally here.”

He turned around. 

The creature standing in front of him was so strange, he knew she had to be real. His mind would never conjure up an image like that. A woman, a very short one, not five feet tall, with a scale-like skin, tresses of coiled hair  reaching down to her knees, wrapped in something that looked like fabric made from lily pads, she seemed both old and young at the same time. He gasped. “You’re the queen of the water nymphs!”

“I am the Water Witch,” said she, “I know what you have been doing.”

“Can you help me, please?”

She kept looking at him, a mocking smile on her face, but said nothing.

The knight was beside himself. “At least tell me whether I’ve got a chance! If not, I’ll go and try to forget about her,” he said, knowing well he would never forget about her.

The Water Witch frowned. “Water nymphs are not like your human women. They need to be loved and cherished. If they don’t get that, they will wither and die.”

“I will love and cherish her! If only she comes out of the water.”

“Lana is a very young nymph yet.”

“Lana, is that her name? It sounds beautiful, just like her. Lana.”

“You must not hurt her. You will bring destruction on yourself if you do.”

“I will not, I could never.”

“You must earn her.”

“How?”

“By fulfilling the tasks that will be assigned to you.”

“What, do I get to slay a dragon?” 

“You will fail before you even start if you treat this as a laughing matter. You will hear from us.” She walked into the lake. With the surface up to her waist, she turned around and said: “Empty promises mean nothing, young man. Remember that.” 

And she fell backwards into the water.

The knight, feeling like himself for the first time in a long time, returned home. He changed his clothes and went to Christine’s Tearoom for a big portion of a good old fashioned English breakfast. 

He was not afraid. Now that he knew she was real, he knew her name, he could tackle anything.

The first message came when he was in the shower. A miniature figure of the Water Witch fell out of the showerhead. 

“Jeez!” he clutched at his chest. 

“You are to buy a pretty dress,” she said, paying no heed to his fright, “and take her to a nice restaurant. In the City, not here. Understood?”

He could only nod. He was about to ask how he would know how to buy a woman’s dress, but the witch was gone before he could open his mouth.

But of course, that was the task. He pondered about it the whole morning. The solution came to him after lunch. He would go online and order several dresses of various sizes, from different retailers. One of them would have to fit her.  

When he received them, one by one, he spread them on the bed in the spare bedroom. They were all a shade of blue or green. He was about to leave for the lake, but there was a knock on the door. It was the Water Witch. 

She thought what he did was clever. She picked up a blue dress. “This one will do. Be ready at seven o’clock tonight. We’ll meet you by the lake.”

She took the dress and left. 

The knight was giddy with excitement, he could not believe he would finally meet her. He booked a table at an Italian restaurant—he thought it was the safest choice, you can’t go wrong with Italian. When the time came, he made his way to the lake. 

They were waiting for him. The witch and Lana.

Lana, in the blue dress, looking at him with her deep eyes. She extended her hand to him. “So we finally meet,” she said. Her voice sounded like sweetness and magic and music in one. 

I know what you’re about to ask, dear child. Yes, she did have legs. The myths and tales were right, water nymphs gain legs when they’re on dry land. They appear much like human women, all down to dressing and eating like us.

They didn’t talk much on their first date. Lana was a quiet creature, never one to speak first. The knight was enchanted by her presence. Words were unnecessary.

After the meal, he took her back home. To her home, to the lake. The witch awaited them. She said nothing, only gave him a nod—no doubt to acknowledge his good behaviour—and Lana said: “see you next time, then,” and they were both swallowed by the lake. 

The knight was conscious of an unspoken agreement with the Water Witch, so when she popped out of the kitchen faucet, he was not shocked. This time he was to buy her a casual outfit and take her around the City. He did so without a fault; on their second date, they spoke more. And then more. He fulfilled all the tasks the Water Witch set for him. He showed Lana the city, he took her to parks (she liked Heaton Park the best, just like you, my dear), to markets, to cinemas and theatres. He loved her innocent delight over things that he took for granted. He loved her. He knew he would not love another like he did Lana.

I know what you’re thinking, dear child, they were indeed physically intimate, but he took his time. It didn’t matter to him, because one day, she would be his. 

Did he introduce her to his friends and family? Yes he did, and they liked her, although some of the more conventional of them thought there was something weird about her. His mother found her strange, not the type of woman her son usually went for, but she was happy for him. Yet he could not shake the feeling that she would never quite gel with the rest of them.

But of course, she wouldn’t, he reminded himself, she was a water nymph. Nobody could be aware of that fact, Lana had a backstory in case someone asked about her life, constructed by the Water Witch. Truth was, not many people did, for she was so quiet. However what nobody could deny was how in love with each other they were. It was no surprise to anyone when they announced their engagement.

The wedding was a small affair, only a handful attended. Two of Lana’s sister nymphs came, in human form, and, naturally, the Water Witch. She made herself look like a respectable middle aged aunt. That’s how she was introduced to the people, as Lana’s aunt. 

The knight’s dream was completed. He had his dream house, and his maiden fair that he married. That was it, you would expect, a fairytale ending. But you know life is not a fairytale, dear child, and this knight and his beloved were not destined to live happily ever after.

He was not a good husband. After a while, he got bored. The water nymph lost her charm, her innocent awe of the human world became tedious. Then, the pandemic hit. 

Everyone was stuck indoors. The knight’s profession allowed him to work from home, but he was not one who could handle being inside all day. Arguments started. Lana was a sensitive soul, she took it hard. When the fighting got too much for her, she retreated to the lake. But she always came back.

In time, she learned to read his moods, she knew when to give him space. After all, she still had her water nymphs folks. She didn’t cease to be a water nymph just because she married a human, as some tales would make you believe. 

When the lockdown was eventually lifted, the knight started commuting to the office again. His demeanour improved much, though in Lana’s eyes, he was no longer the charmer he used to be when he was wooing her. Disappointment comes to all of us, humans and water nymphs alike. 

Life went back to normal. Our married couple, no longer the happy newlyweds they used to be, robbed of their delusions about each other, lived a life as banal as any other. And it could have gone on much longer, had it not been for the cousin.

The cousin was the son of the knight’s paternal uncle. He was the same age as our knight and the two had had much happy time together in their childhood. He had been living in the capital for some years, but their bond was unbroken. This cousin had now returned to his hometown. For one, he was laid off his job. And two, his marriage broke down. His wife, finally sick of his brashness, left him and filed for divorce. Hence, it was not a happy young man to be reunited with the playmate of his boyhood. Nevertheless, our knight was pleased to see him. Upon his return, he spent a whole weekend with his cousin, forgetting about the plans he had made with Lana. When he got home, and she asked him what happened, and why she couldn’t reach him—at first because he was not answering his phone, later because his phone was switched off—he flipped out at her. He shouted that he was allowed to spend his free time anyhow he wanted and no woman had a right to question him.

And so it started. The poisoning of the knight’s mind by his cousin. This was the first sign of it. The first sign was followed by the second, the third, the fourth… I won’t go into detail about the behaviour of either of the men, as it is most unpleasant and I don’t have all the details anyway. Suffice to say that to this day, the cousin has still not stopped maligning, as he refers to her, his bitch of an ex-wife. 

The knight openly neglected his water nymph wife, he laughed at her unhappiness. “You married a human man, what did you expect,” he told her. Lana kept escaping to her lake, however she was not able to remain there for long. Marriage to a human set her apart from her sisters. She had no one in the human world. The nice elderly couple, who took the knight on that fateful walk, were the nearest thing to friends she had. They would invite her for a cup of tea, from time to time, or to join them on their walks. But they did so with many people from the village. Lana could not form a connection with them in a true way. She didn’t know how. 

And thus, isolated from everyone, she sunk into depression. 

The knight had long forgotten the Water Witch’s words: “water nymphs need to be cherished, otherwise they wither and die.” And so day by day, Lana withered.

Lana’s fellow water nymphs hated seeing their sister in such a state, and called on the Water Witch for help. It turned out the Water Witch anticipated this. She had little faith in human men. Lana could abandon her husband and go back to be a full time water nymph—but she would never be the innocent maiden water nymph of her youth. She would have to become a wicked water nymph, seducing men and robbing them of their sanity. At first, Lana didn’t believe she could be wicked. Even at that time, she’d still forgive her husband should he apologise and change his ways. Until one day, when she finally reached her limit. 

One Saturday afternoon, the knight left home to spend time with his cousin. Lana was out with the elderly couple and came home to find the house empty. He hadn’t told her he would go out. He had left a mess—dishes on the table in the living room, clothes lying on the floor of the bedroom. Lana grabbed a plate and threw it against the wall. Why should she die of a broken heart, while he goes on living a merry life? She would become wicked. She would flood his house, his dream house he worked on with his own hands, his beloved cottage where he longed to settle with a maiden fair he would marry. She would make him regret mistreating her.

And, as you know, that’s what she did. It took a while for anyone to discover the disaster, the cottage being away from the village. Nothing could be done. Someone called the knight, who came back immediately. He shouted: “Lana! Lana!” The villagers thought perhaps he feared she died in the flood. The elderly couple, the last ones to see her, confirmed they saw her enter the house. But he knew, he knew she couldn’t have died in a flood, he knew she brought it on. “She did it!” he yelled. “It was her, she caused the flood!”

He collapsed. Ambulance was called and he was taken to a hospital. Discharged, he had nowhere to go but his mother’s. She tried to take care of him, but what power did that poor woman have against his despair? He turned to alcohol and lost his job for turning up drunk to work too many times. The knight, once so full of ambitions and dreams, has become a wreck of a man.

He sees her everywhere. She’s in the City’s canals, in puddles on the roads, in raindrops on the grass. He sees her face on every water surface, and she mocks him. He hears her laugh when it rains. She laughs, but it is not the same sweet melodic laugh he heard when he first saw her. It is a cruel laugh. 

*

Great Aunt Angela rested her head back in her armchair. The long narrative exhausted her, she was not used to talking so much. She looked at Paula with a little twinkle in her eye. “Well?”

“Good for her,” Paula responded.

Aunt Angela laughed. “I thought you’d say that.”

“You know, I thought of water nymphs, when I first saw the lake. And what Donna said about her being from a different world…”

“She was so close,” Aunt Angela said. “It’s not everyone that sees the magic. Most don’t want to. Donna had a chance, but she chose to be boring.”

“The elderly couple, that was Maggie and John?”

Aunt Angela nodded. “If they invite you for a walk, which they for sure will, you should accept. They’re no gossips, nothing like Donna or Phil.”

“How do you know the story so well, Aunty?”

“Can you guess?” The old woman smiled.

“You know the Water Witch, don’t you?”

“She’s my friend. She’s known me since I was a little girl, five or six years old. It’s rare that she shows herself to humans. She knows about you, she knows you, too, can see.”

“And Lana? Does she ever come back here?”

“Sometimes, to see her sisters. She flows from canals, to rivers, to lakes, all over the country. She gets to see more of the human world than she ever did when she was married to a human.”

“Was married? Have they officially divorced then?”

“Yes, Lana had all the papers required for human marriage, and thus divorce. It was Jake who filed, but Lana happily signed it. She doesn’t care whether he marries again.”

“As if anyone would want him now.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Really, thought Paula, but then she realised that it was Donna who did most of the talking that day in the pub. The way she was invested in Jake’s life story… had she not already been in a relationship, who knows. Pity went a long way with some women.

Donna, as much enamoured with the idea of a dream house as Jake himself… 

“Was Donna ever in love with Jake?” Paula asked. “She told me she has been with Don for two and a half years, so they must have got together after the pandemic, but Jake came here before that.”

“Oh, she was. She would turn up at Jake’s doorstep with homemade cake and treats. He’d just take it, thank her, and shut the door on her.”

So she settled for Don, a man she had almost contempt for. And yet, he cheated on her. With the venerable Mrs Jones. Paula caught a glimpse of them in the ruins of Jake’s cottage, when she went for a walk in the Clough. 

Boring. They were all boring. 

Paula returned to the topic. “I can understand he used to be a catch, for human women. But a water nymph?”

“Well, the Water Witch told me once that some very young nymphs are too curious about human males, way too curious for their own good. Remember, Jake was handsome and he had something. He saw her, he made an effort to win her over. But in the end, it was the weakest part of him that prevailed. And that is the tragedy of it.”

More tragedy was to follow. A few weeks later, Todworth was stunned by the news of Jake’s death.

“Not so shocking that he died, what with how he deteriorated,” Paula said to Aunt Angela. “But how it happened.”

“Let me guess. Drowned?” 

“In a fountain.”

“Fountain? Didn’t expect that. Thought he would fall into a canal.”

“Apparently he was on a night out in town, when he got separated from his companions,” Paula read from her smartphone screen. “He was found in the early hours of the morning with his head and shoulders submerged in the fountain basin.”

“No doubt makes for an entertaining story.”

“You bet, everyone’s sharing it. ’Tributes pour for thirty-one year-old software architect who tragically drowned in a fountain Friday night’. He hasn’t worked for almost a year!”

“Yes, well, a reporter is not going to say that, are they.”

“Going out when he had a drinking problem. I wonder who these ‘companions’ were. None of the articles mention any names, but I bet it was that toxic cousin of his.”

As it turned out, Paula got it right. The cousin, too busy with pulling a girl, lost sight of Jake, who wandered out on the square and to his death in the fountain.

According to the toxicology report, the amount of alcohol in Jake’s system was not fatal—he only had a couple of pints of beer. Inquest recorded the verdict of suicide.

“This will be a fodder for true crime podcasters,” Paula remarked. 

“Well,” said Aunt Angela, “as the Water Witch often repeats, humans never change.”