Stormswept. Part 14

"You're not to tell Dad, Mor! You're not to! Bran's dad's really scary. He doesn't care about anyone."

"Didn't Bran try to stop his dad?"

"He couldn't. You don't know what it was like. I only went there because I wanted to help him, and now I've made things worse."

"You haven't made things worse. It's him. It's those Helyers. They cause all the trouble."

"Bran doesn't. You don't know him, Mor."

I sigh. "I wish I'd been there."

"What could you have done?"

"I don't know. Something. Got angry, since I'm so good at that," I say, and Jenna gives me a faint, watery smile. I feel so sorry for her that it's like a heavy stone inside me. I don't want to see her sad pale face any more, so I gaze out over the graveyard. It's on a steep hill and you can see the bay s.h.i.+ning beyond it. There's the sea, and there's our island. It looks so beautiful, as if it's floating half in the sea and half in the sky. Island freaks. Everyone knows Aidan Helyer's hated the Island since Bran's mother went. But why would he call us "freaks"? His own son is an Islander really, because he was born on the Island to an Island mother. "You're freaks, the lot of you, cold as fish except when you find another freak like yourselves."

There is a flash inside my mind, like the flash Malin saw when Bran took the photograph. I thought Bran's dad was talking about his ex-wife, but maybe I was wrong. Cold as fish... another freak like yourselves... Bran's dad would consider that the Mer are freaks. It's exactly the word he would use. Maybe he has already seen the photo, and that's why the word was in his mind. Maybe he was thinking of a person with the head and body of a human, and a seal's tail. People who haven't met the Mer think they are half-human and half-fish: cold as fish.

He knows. I'm sure he knows. That's why he chased Jenna off his doorstep. He doesn't want her anywhere near Bran, in case she guesses that Bran has already given away the secret of Malin's existence and revealed his hiding-place. Maybe Bran also told his father that Jenna and I are the ones who are trying to protect Malin.

I make up my mind. We're running out of time. I've got to trust Jenna now and that means not holding anything back from her. She's the only one who can help me get Malin into the sea before Bran's dad tries to capture him.

I take a deep breath.

"Jenna, I think Bran knows about Malin. He heard Digory playing to Malin down by the rocks, and he must have climbed up there later on. Malin told me he saw a flash of light. He didn't know what it was, but I think it was Bran taking a photo of Malin, to prove he's real. Maybe that's why Bran was so strange with you. I'm not sure, but I think Bran has already shown the photograph to his dad."

I'm expecting a storm of protest from Jenna. Bran wouldn't do anything like that! Why are you always so suspicious of him? You're only saying that because you hate him.

But the protest doesn't come.

"Why would Bran take a photo?" she asks.

"To prove Malin exists. He would need proof that the Mer are real."

"I still don't see why, though," says Jenna.

I can't believe this is my sister, top of the cla.s.s, best marks in every subject. How can she be so slow? "He'd need proof, to show to someone else. Like his father. Think how much money Aidan Helyer could make, with a real, live Mer person. You could charge a fortune."

"Bran wouldn't do that."

"His dad would. You know it's true, Jen."

"He wouldn't be allowed. Malin's not an animal."

"Maybe not here, but in other countries I bet you could. Bran's dad could sell him. He'd make so much money, it'd be unbelievable."

"But... But he'd be selling him like a slave!" says Jenna is disbelief.

"You know it could happen. There are loads of places in the world where there's still slavery. Don't you remember, we had that a.s.sembly about it?"

But I know deep inside myself that Malin would never let it happen. He would fight to the death, and even if by some horrible fluke he was captured alive, he wouldn't live. He would make himself die. A man like Bran's dad wouldn't understand that. Capturing Malin is the same as murdering him.

Jenna picks lichen off the gravestone with nervous fingers. "It's not Bran's fault, Mor. You don't know what you'd be like, if you had a dad like Bran's."

"It's not Bran who's in danger," I tell her sharply, "it's Malin." I am so sick of all this "Let's be sorry for Bran no matter what he does" stuff.

"They might both be in danger," argues Jenna.

"Yes, but only one of them might be caught and put in a cage and exhibited as a a as a-"

"A freak," says Jenna, and her voice turns cold with horror, as if she really does believe me at last. "So that's what he meant."

I watch her remembering Bran's dad's words, just as I've remembered them. "Yes," I say, "that's exactly what he meant."

Malin is waiting. He thinks he's safe, but if Bran's dad knows about him, then King Ragworm Pool isn't a refuge any more. It's a trap.

"You've got to help me, Jenna. You can't think about Bran, not now. We've got to save Malin."

ran's dad has "friends". That's how he threatens people when they won't do what he wants. Everyone says it's why Bran's mum went away upcountry, because she didn't feel safe on the Island any more. It's too close to Marazance here.

The tide is coming in. The sea's a broad s.h.i.+ning sweep over the bay, and we won't be able to cross by the causeway for hours. That would be no problem in summer, because tourist boats go to and fro all the time then, but in late autumn, out of season, we'll be lucky to get a boat.

"Is Jago Faraday still over here?" I ask Jenna as we run down the hill from the graveyard.

"He went to check his crab pots. I said I'd be fine to get home by myself."

"Maybe we'll find someone else to take us," I say, but I'm not hopeful.

We look round the harbour. There are a couple of men mending fis.h.i.+ng gear, but they're not interested in taking their boats out. If only it was school time, there'd be a boat going over soon. But because it's half-term, the man who runs the school boat is having a week in Lanzarote with his family.

"Call Dad," suggests Jenna.

We find a phone box, and dial the home number. A familiar surge of frustration rises in me. It's completely crazy, the way we can't have mobiles on the Island. Why don't they get a phone mast or a booster or something? The phone rings and rings. I picture it sitting on the kitchen work-top, ringing to itself. Maybe Mum's upstairs and she'll be down in a minute. But the phone keeps on ringing.

"I'll try the post office."

"She's not working today," Jenna says. She always knows Mum's working hours better than I do.

"I'll try anyway. They can pa.s.s on a message."

No one answers the post office phone either. I can't believe this.

"It's ten to four. They shut at three," Jenna says as I slam down the phone.

"I wish you'd have some ideas then."

"We could hire a boat?"

"Hire a boat? With what? I've got 90p left."

"I've got ten pounds."

"Where'd you get that from?"

"When we were working in the summer."

Ten pounds would be enough to hire a boat for an hour, but no one will be hiring out boats at the end of October. They are up on the wharf and covered in tarpaulin. Anyway, we can't hire a boat and not bring it back, so it's a stupid idea. Panic and impatience are starting to make me feel sick. We walk all round the quay again. A boy who's fis.h.i.+ng off the end of the stone pier glances at us curiously.

"It's Josh Watts in Year 11," says Jenna.

"Maybe he's got a boat."

"He's fis.h.i.+ng, Mor, get a grip."

"I'm going to ask him anyway."

I would never talk to Josh Watts normally, but desperation makes me bold. I go right up to him and say that we've missed the tide and we need to get back. Does he know anybody who's got a boat? Josh smiles lazily, looking from me to Jenna.

"Course I do," he says.

"I mean, who's got a boat and would take us over."

"I'd take you over," says Josh.

"What?"

"S'long as you pay for the fuel. Got to go right away though, or it'll be dark."

Jenna and I look at each other, hardly daring to believe how easy this is. Already, Josh is packing up his rod.

"Fis.h.i.+ng was rubbish today anyway," he says. "Come on."

We go to the stone harbour steps. There's a small boat with an outboard motor moored below. I look at it dubiously. It'll be slow, and I don't think Josh will get back before dark.

"Sea's flat, we'll be fine," says Josh, misunderstanding me.

"You won't get to the Island and back before dark."

He shrugs again, easily. "No problem. I can leave the boat over there a day or two. I'll walk back when the tide's down. I got friends to see over there."

Jenna gives me a meaningful glance, and when Josh goes ahead down the steps she whispers, "Carrie Hickman. Josh likes her."

"Oh." It all becomes clear. Every boy in our school used to like Carrie, but she left last year and went up to Truro College. She's a year older than Josh. If he brings us over, it won't look as if he is chasing Carrie. He can meet her "by accident"...

We climb into the boat.

"Sit to the side," Josh says to me. "She rides low in the water anyway."

The engine putters, coughs, and then Josh eases the throttle open. It sounds fine.

The light is beginning to fade as we leave the shelter of the harbour wall. As Josh said, the sea is flat, but even so you can feel the swell. I love it. It always reminds me of when I was little and Dad used to lift me up. That feeling of being held as you swoop through air or water.

"Seal," says Josh.

Its black, slick retriever head is pointing to us. The water is so clear that I can see its whole body, lolling beneath the surface. Its eyes meet mine. We say nothing but I have the strangest feeling that a message pa.s.ses between us, only it's a message that I can't decipher. A second later, the seal dives.

"Dolphins were out in the bay yesterday."

"I know. I saw them," says Jenna. She trails her fingers in the water. The wake creams behind us, making a long line back across the way we've come. I wonder what Josh would say if I told him, "The Mer were out in the bay this morning. Did you see them?"

The wide s.h.i.+ning sea is not empty at all. It is full of its own secret life. We putter across it in our little boat with its outboard engine, but we don't touch it, what's really happening in all these miles and miles of water. I wonder if the Mer know we are here. I wish I could make them hear my thoughts. I could tell them that Malin's in danger. We've got to get him away before the next low tide, so there's no chance of Bran's dad finding him first.

The Island is growing bigger ahead of us. Josh steers round a little, towards the harbour. There are the roofs, the dark shapes of the rocks, the white rim of sand. I can even see smoke rising from chimneys. Everything is as familiar as the faces of the people I love. Home. Every time I come back I feel the same relief. All the time I'm on the mainland, even when I'm at school, I feel a faint uneasiness deep inside me. I don't belong there. I don't want to be trapped there.

If leaving the Island feels like this to me, then what must leaving the sea be like for Malin? He is out of his element completely. It must be close to the way I feel when I'm on the mainland, but a hundred times as strong. I want to go straight to him, but we'll have to go home first. We need the groundsheet to carry Malin, and we need our wetsuits. We'll have to go into the sea with him and make sure he can swim away safely before we leave him. Swimming in the night sea won't be like swimming in King Ragworm Pool. He'll need all his strength. The Mer will come to him, surely. They'll know. Even though it'll be dark, maybe we can find a way of signalling.

At that moment the seal's head pops up on the port side of the boat, where I'm sitting. Josh whistles. "The old beggar. He's followed us all the way. Probably thinks I've got fish in the boat."

Seals do follow boats for that reason. They know that fishermen will chuck them the by-catch when they come into harbour. Josh is wrong about this seal, though, I'm almost sure of it. I lean down over the water, and whisper to the seal, hoping that the sound of the engine will cover my voice: "Tell Eselda that Malin's in danger. We're going to help him. He'll be back in Ingo tonight. Tell her to wait for him."

The seal's dark, intelligent eyes are fixed on mine as he swims along, easily keeping pace with the boat. Does he understand? "Tell her. Tell them all," I whisper urgently, "Please."

"Are you talking to that seal?" asks Josh. His eyes glint with amus.e.m.e.nt. "Maybe it's true what they say about you Islanders."

"What do they say?" snaps Jenna, with unusual force.

"Don't be eggy. I'm not saying you're first cousin to a seal."

"I can think of worse relations," I say. I like Josh.

"Me too. Those Helyers, say," he goes on, glancing at Jenna. "Wouldn't like to be even third cousin to any one of them."

Jenna flushes. I'm glad he said it. She needs to hear it. If it's just me telling her bad stuff about the Helyers all the time, she'll find a reason to ignore it.

Suddenly the harbour lights spring on, and it's dusk. Josh steers the boat past the end of the stone pier, and in at the steps. We are home. I turn and the seal is gone.

"It's too dark for you to go back now, Josh," I say.

"I reckon so," he answers, looking back at the mainland where lights are already stringing out along the coast like orange and yellow pearls. That thick cl.u.s.ter of lights is Marazance. "No problem."

Jenna holds out her ten pounds and Josh carefully counts back six.

"Thanks, Josh. We really appreciate it," I say, to make up for Jenna who is still cross because of what he said about the Helyers. How can she be so stubborn? Hasn't today already proved to her that Josh is one hundred per cent right? We jump the gap and climb the steps. Josh throws me the rope and I loop it round the bollard.

"Aren't you coming?" I ask him.

"Later."

We say goodbye.