Between Sea and Sky Page 10

  I picture shelves of books on everything that ever existed. Preserved, like the skeleton, only not in the mud but on the ship that’s always been the thing we feared most. I think of the people I know who’ve been taken there over the years – friends’ parents, a couple of teachers from school. Do they get to read the books?

  I bend down near the mouth of the whale. Imagine it moving through the water like the porpoises do.

  “I like the stories in your library too,” Clover adds, kindly. “They’re exciting as well. Did you read that series on the star voyagers?”

  “Some of them.” I smile. It seems strange to think of Clover with those pamphlets. “The librarian, Mr Rose, he says that when they built the compound – he was just a child then – the kids all thought they were building a spaceship to take them to the stars. They thought the scientists had found somewhere for them to go. A new planet to start again on.”

  I expect Clover to laugh but she listens intently. “And was there one? A new planet?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “No. There wasn’t,” I say. “There wasn’t anywhere else to go, was there? Planet Earth’s all we’ve got.”

  Clover nods thoughtfully. “I still like those books. I like dreaming about all those other places. Rao and Vega and Capella and Solaris.”

  “And Gallifrey and Ego and Dune,” I continue.

  I stopped reading the star series a couple of years back. Tally says the books are lies. She says they’re to stop us from thinking about our own situation. “I don’t know why they don’t have stories about real life. About parents being too tired to get up at the weekend, or babies being torn away from their families, or what life is really like in the Communal Families. No one ever writes about that, do they?”

  “This could be a new land,” I say to Clover, gazing across the sands. “This could be a new planet.”

  “Sometimes Pearl and I pretend we’re on the moon,” Clover says, animatedly. Then her voice dulls a bit. “Or used to. When we were small.”

  I smile and make big moon leaps across the sand, wanting to lift the sadness of the dead whale and our compound, still stuck tight to the land, cracking and rusting. Here is what matters, right now – the wide-open space, far from any rules or peacekeepers. Clover laughs and joins in with the moon leaps. She goes higher than me, surer of where her feet will land. “So you don’t mind being here?” she shouts, mid-air. “Even without your friends?”

  “I mean I miss them, but out here, I don’t know. It’s not what I expected. I feel…” I stand still for a moment, unsure how to sum up the feeling in my head. Like all the light and the space got into my brain. “I feel free,” I say. “It’s a bit like being in the solar fields, except in the fields it’s all quiet and still and the same, and out here it’s … it’s just. I don’t know. It’s alive, isn’t it?”

  Rays of sun catch in my eyes and make me blink. Maybe here is the perfect place to spend the summer after all, especially if we can keep Mum away from the caterpillars.

  Clover smiles back happily. “I knew you would understand. As soon as I heard you were coming, I knew you and your mum would be the right people!”

  She vaults up on to the skeleton – tiptoes across the backbone of the whale. She’s like the acrobat that came with the travelling circus – graceful and powerful all at once. I wish Ezra had got it to come back. I only saw that one show, but I’ve dreamed about that circus ever since, and all the places they must have visited.

  “Did you know there was once a whale with a horn, like a unicorn?” Clover says.

  “A unicorn?” I ask uncertainly. The word flickers somewhere deep in my brain.

  “Yeah. A unicorn was a magic horse with a pointed horn spiralling out of its head. And the horned whale, that was called a narwhal,” Clover says.

  “A narwhal?” I repeat, unsure if she’s playing a trick on me. Trying to see what crazy things she can get me to believe.

  “Only it wasn’t even a horn, it was a giant tooth!!” Clover laughs as my face cracks open with disbelief. “It’s all true, I promise. One day I’ll get Pearl to bring the book from the ship and show you!”

  We’re back on the farm now. The motorboat is moored in its tiny harbour – a little space cut from the platform, with floats to stop our two boats banging against the side. The rowing boat’s not there – Clover must have taken Nat out. Dad’s still sleeping.

  Sora wanted me to sit with her in the kitchen to measure and weigh the shellfish, and help her test them for contaminants. She’s testing for fertilisers and flame retardants and dioxides and metals and plastic and arsenic. She has a whole list of ways our molluscs could poison her. I’m surprised she ate dinner at all last night.

  “You could be my research partner,” she had said brightly, as I helped her carry one of her equipment boxes to our table. “Photograph them with me. Keep reminding me what everything is!” She’d smiled at me, ingratiatingly.

  I’d shaken my head.

  The boat trip had been OK, out in the water, sea and sky all around us. The porpoises had joined us. Salt and Snort tailed the boat, thinking we might have fish to throw them.

  Sora had dipped her fingers in the water. She touched Salt’s grey back and I watched her smile at the porpoise’s smooth slipperiness. She can’t get over the fact we have mammals here. That the sea’s healthy enough for that.

  “You’re lucky,” she’d said, as I got ready to dive. “To be able to swim with such beautiful creatures. To enter their world like that.” She’d sounded almost envious.

  I hadn’t answered. I’d disappeared into the depths to collect the shellfish. But Sora’s right, it is a different world. I can forget the things I don’t want to think about. Mum not being with us. Dad staying in bed all day. Clover’s growing dissatisfaction with our lives here. All those things disappear and there’s just saltwater and seaweed and fish. And our shellfish, like sunken treasure.

  But Sora’s equipment, taking over our kitchen table, frightened me, and I didn’t want any part in that. I’d climbed to the top of the cabin, to the crow’s nest.

  This is where I do my best carving. I’ve brought up the doll Clover found the other day, Miranda. Her name doesn’t suit her yet but it will when I’m finished.

  I take the little knife from my pocket. Small, but sharp as anything. I use it for cutting seaweed and samphire and splitting open the shellfish. I slice off Miranda’s one remaining leg. “I’m going to make you new,” I say to her empty face.

  I pick a piece of driftwood out of the box I keep stashed under the bench in the lookout and I start to carve. Getting the size first, and the basic shape. Once that’s done, you can work on the detail. The forked tail. The intricate scales. The ripple of muscle underneath. I always make my mermaids strong.

  The final step before she’s ready for painting is to attach the tail on with wire. Thin, pliable wire, which I wind round and round, tight as I can, so the doll and tail don’t ever separate. Long after the paint’s worn off, the mermaid will still be swimming.

  “Hello! Nat! Clover!” I hear Sora shouting beneath me on the platform, and chattering bright voices – Clover and Nat, back from the flats. I can hear it in them. The freshness of the finds.

  She’s taken him to our kingdom already.

  I peer down through the worn slats of the crow’s nest.

  “How was it?” Sora’s asking, walking out from the cabin to meet them. Her cheeks are flushed.

  “I can’t tell you how good it feels to be out here in the fresh air,” Sora had said on the boat. She hadn’t been seasick at all. She’s stronger than she looks.

  “Amazing!” Nat replies. He does look a bit green from the boat, and is taking exaggerated gulps of air. “We saw a whale skeleton. It’s so cool, Mum. There’s so much space out there. We could run for miles. There were crabs and a massive bird that looked like a flying dinosaur.”

  “Magwitch. She’s one of our cormorants,” Clover says, giggling. Her cheeks are flus
hed too. The flats aren’t new to her, but having someone else to explore them with is. I bet she didn’t miss me at all.

  “Have you seen your sister?” Sora asks her.

  Clover shrugs. “I thought she was helping you.”

  “She was. She did a great job. But I think she wanted time on her own. I checked your cabin, but she didn’t seem to be there… I didn’t want to go right in.” Sora sounds unsure.

  “Pearl will be off swimming,” Clover says casually.

  “On her own?” Sora asks, alarm spreading across her face.

  “Sure!” Clover answers, surprised. “You don’t need to worry. Pearl’s an expert swimmer. We both are. Dad says it’s like we were born in the water. Water babies.”

  Sora nods slowly, though the fear lingers there. “Your dad’s still sleeping. I hope he’s OK.”

  Clover nods unconcerned. “He will be!”

  “I thought I should look at his foot this morning,” Sora says tentatively. “Make sure there’s no rust left and see how the wound’s looking, in case he needs stitches or anything.”

  Clover’s face clouds over. “I’d leave him if I were you,” she says. “He gets cross when you wake him.”

  “He sleeps a lot then?” Sora’s eyes are quick and furtive as she glances towards his cabin.

  Clover opens her mouth to speak, but I spring down in front of her from the crow’s nest. “I’ll check on our dad,” I say stiffly. “He won’t want strangers.”

  “Pearl!” Sora smiles with relief. “There you are! I was getting worried. That sounds like a good plan about your dad.” She pauses. “Only you must feel you can come to me. If you’re worried, or you think someone else should look too. It was a nasty injury…”

  “I can handle it,” I say abrasively, feeling Nat’s eyes boring holes into me. I turn to Clover. “Did you find anything, on the flats?”

  Clover digs in her pocket to show me – a dull red bead, a cracked piece of green porcelain, the golden clip from a brooch. I nod.

  “Oh, and Nat got a couple of pieces of sea glass,” she adds. “Show her, Nat.”

  The boy opens his palm to reveal the smooth pieces. “Do you like them?” he asks eagerly. Proud.

  “Blue’s common. It’s nothing special,” I say shrugging.

  “Why do you keep jarfuls of it then?” Clover says. And to Nat, “Pearl loves sea glass more than anyone. The pieces in the cabinet are all hers.”

  I glare at her.

  “It’s lunchtime, I think,” Sora says neutrally, clearing her throat. “Did you girls have plans?”

  “Lunch?” Clover says vacantly. “No.”

  I shake my head.

  Sora smiles. “Maybe Nat and I can prepare lunch for you then? After that delicious seafood feast you made last night, it’s our turn.”

  Nat’s face drops. He’ll be wanting to check his precious chrysalises. He was in there first thing as well. “We were going to start on the greenhouse repairs, Mum. Remember you said we could? Can’t you do lunch without me?”

  “It’s for our hosts, Nat,” Sora says, disappointed. “It’s the least we can do.”

  “You don’t need to make anything for us,” Clover says blithely. “Pearl and I don’t bother with mealtimes. Last night was just because you were here.”

  “But I’d like to cook for you. You have to eat. Regular meals are important,” Sora says, her face open with concern.

  “I’m not hungry. And I’m going to see Dad,” I say, striding off in front of her. I don’t want her kindness and her looks of pity. I want my wish to come true. I want them back on land where they came from.

  “Nat, Nat!” Mum’s shaking me awake. My first thought is the greenhouse and the chrysalises. She’s found them. “I need you. Now!” she barks, already turning back to the platform.

  I pull on some clothes and stumble out of our narrowboat blearily. My stomach turns at the dark water but I leap across the space to the main platform and venture inside the cabin.

  Mum’s at the table with Clover. She’s got her arm round her. Clover doesn’t look at all like the bouncy, smiley girl from the last couple of days. She’s crying.

  “Morning,” I say awkwardly, hovering in the doorway.

  Mum gives a faint smile and motions for me to sit down. “Atticus isn’t well,” she says by way of explanation. “He got worse in the night. His foot – I think the infection’s spreading. I’ve sent a radio message to the boatman to come. I need to get Atticus to hospital. We’re waiting for the tide to come in a bit.”

  “No!” cries a hollow voice behind me. Pearl. She flares into the cabin and slams her hand on the table in front of Mum. It see‑saws precariously. “Our dad’s not going to the mainland. I told you already. He won’t! And he doesn’t need to!” Her voice is high and brittle.

  Clover’s sobs get louder. “I told you! I told you Pearl won’t let Dad go.” She puts her face in her hands and cries like it’s the end of the world.

  “Pearl,” Mum says, using her gentlest voice, just like she did with Tally after the peacekeepers came for Barnaby. Mum could comfort Tally when no one else could. “We have to do what’s best for your dad. We shouldn’t take chances. I managed to get a quick look at his foot last night. He’d gone to the kitchen for a drink.”

  I watch Pearl’s cheeks burn bright red. Mum doesn’t pause. “I got him to show me, Pearl. The wound’s infected. Badly. You don’t want that spreading through his body, believe me.”

  “No!” Pearl says again, her eyes big and wild. “You can’t and you won’t. It’s not the right place for him. You can’t take Dad to hospital. It’s not safe.”

  She’s stamping her feet and the platform’s rocking in response to it. Last night’s dinner shifts uneasily in my stomach.

  Mum takes a deep breath. I know that steely look in her eyes. “Listen, Pearl, I know you’re distrustful of the hospital, but your dad needs proper medical help.”

  “I’m helping him!” Pearl screams. “Me! I’m helping, and the seawater will make him better. You just got here. You don’t even know him. You can’t take our dad away from us.”

  Clover sniffs, between sobs. “Sora thinks he might be really ill, Pearl! You’ve got to listen to her. Please, Pearl! We need their help.”

  Pearl’s face breaks up a bit at her sister’s voice. She stares between us all desperately. “I’ll do another wishing. I’ll get one ready.” She’s pulling at her hair. At the fronds of seaweed that are twined through it and I look away, awkward and embarrassed.

  “A wishing?” Mum asks puzzled.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Pearl mutters.

  “Try me,” Mum says kindly, getting up and trying to pat her shoulder. Pearl moves away.

  “It’s a healing ceremony,” Pearl falters, glancing sideways at me suspiciously.

  “Like a prayer?” Mum asks.

  “No!” Pearl says crossly. “Not like a prayer. It’s…” She stops speaking and turns to look through the window. She’s trembling.

  “Magic.” Clover stops crying and heaves a sigh. “Pearl thinks it’s magic. She did one last night. A wishing. She puts things out on the sand for the sea.”

  Mum looks from one girl to the other, her face perplexed.

  “It’s not just the wishings. If we keep washing the wound too, with seawater,” Pearl says desperately.

  “Water won’t help!” Clover exclaims miserably.

  “It’s not just water and you know it,” Pearl shouts at Clover, her eyes glistening furiously. “And the wishings are magic. They are if you do them right! Maybe they would work if you joined in! Maybe it’s your fault Dad’s not getting better!”

  Clover looks crushed and bursts into another round of crying. Pearl turns away from the table and storms off out to the platform. Mum, with her arm back round Clover, gestures for me to follow.

  I stare at the retreating figure helplessly. It doesn’t feel like Pearl wants anyone else right now, and definitely not me or Mum. Landlubbe
rs!

  “Now, Nat!” Mum orders. “Pearl shouldn’t be alone when she’s so upset.”

  “Mum!” I protest.

  “Now!” Mum hisses. “I need to get Atticus ready for the crossing. Clover’s going to help me pack a change of clothes for him.”

  “But Mum,” I try again. She gives me a look of fury, and I turn reluctantly to follow after Pearl.

  I keep well behind as she slips from one boat to another, and I don’t say anything – this way I can obey Mum and give Pearl the space she wants. I don’t think Pearl even knows I’m there, but as she gets close to her dad’s cabin, she turns back to me. If I could see her eyes, I think I’d see she was crying, but she’s swiped her hair over her face. Fronds of oily black strands and seaweed. Her right hand clutches the shells strung round her neck.

  “You don’t need to follow,” she says in a clear voice.

  “I know that!” I say. “But you don’t know what Mum’s like. She’s worried about you.”

  “My dad wouldn’t be injured if she hadn’t come here. I knew landlubbers would ruin everything.” She spits out the words.

  “That’s out of order!” I say crossly. “We didn’t ask to come out here. It’s not our fault your dad got injured. Maybe if you’d helped him, like he asked you to…”

  Pearl glares at me and stalks off.

  “Suit yourself!” I call after her, bristling with new anger. “I don’t want to be around you anyway!”

  I crouch down on the ledge of one of the boats and look out over the water, watching the porpoises, arcing in the water. I grow hot, thinking of that first day when I cried out dolphin.

  “Don’t you know what your people did? What they destroyed?” Like I was responsible. Like I was part of the destruction.

  One of the porpoises comes closer. She’s sleek and beautiful. Dark on the top, paler underneath. The mouth looks like she’s smiling. I imagine Clover’s whale skeleton reassembling itself and growing skin and taking back to the sea when the tide comes in. I wonder if there’s a part of the world where whales still swim?