Details about On an Outgoing Tide by Caro Ramsay
On an Outgoing Tide by Caro Ramsay – Her body had been found at two o’clock in the morning, lifelessly drifting on the outgoing tide, pushed by the undertow. Her arms swayed below her, legs apart, then together, then apart, one red shoe on, the other foot bare. Her spanned fingers moved to and fro with the ebb and flow of the river, waving the coast goodbye, carried by the black waters of the Firth of Clyde.
The boat neared her, light beams rolling over the dark infinity of water, the glistening rise and fall that flashed and died on the surface, until they hit crimson and flesh. The outboard was cut, the rigid inflatable boat moving forward slowly, the bow nodding in the waves as they approached her, side on, carefully. For a moment, it looked as though she had recovered some vitality and was independent of her watery grave. Long tendrils of ebony hair fanned out like Medusa, the serpents writhing with her in a slow, sinuous dance. Dipping under the surface, the waves closed over her like oil, claiming her, and she fell, sinking.