The Deep

by Helen Dunmore

  I’ve never even been in a plane. None of us has, not even Mum. There was never enough money. I keep quiet when kids at school talk about going to Thailand or Greece. Mum has always wanted to travel, just as she’s always wished she’d stayed on at school, listened to her teachers, and got some qualifications. But Dad never wanted to go outside Cornwall.

  “Australia,” says Conor at last, slowly and wonderingly. It’s just one word, but it’s enough. Even Elvira won’t be enough to hold Conor back. He’s still looking stunned, but once his mind gets to work on the idea, he’ll want to go.

  “We’d go straight from summer here to summer in Australia,” says Mum. Her eyes shine. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, all of us going together. They have some of the best surf in the world.”

  But do they have Ingo? Does Ingo open her gateways at the bottom of the world?

  I feel as if there are already thousands of meters of air below me, and I’m free-falling. Leave home. Leave our cottage when we’ve only just got it back. Leave the cove and everything we know. Leave Faro—

  Sadie whines, picking up my tension.

  “Oh, my God,” I say slowly, “Sadie.”

  Sadie can’t go. There’s quarantine and all sorts of rules about animals leaving one country and going to another.

  Three months, or maybe even more with the vacation added on. I couldn’t do that to Sadie. She’d be so scared in quarantine with loads of other dogs, all homesick and miserable. She’d think I’d abandoned her. She’d look for me and look for me, and at first she’d be all hopeful, and then slowly she’d despair—

  “Sadie would be well looked after,” says Roger quickly. “Jack’s family would be glad to take her for three months. She won’t forget you, Sapphire.”

  You’ve already asked them, I think furiously. You’ve already checked it out, without even telling me.

  “I know it’s hard about Sadie,” says Mum, “but she’ll be here when you come back. Dogs don’t forget.”

  Keep calm, Sapphire. Don’t let it all burst out. It won’t do any good; it’ll just make them angry, and then they won’t listen to anything you say. You’ve got to be like Conor and make them respect you. Sadie’s too important to risk by losing control now.

  Sadie huddles close to me. I stroke her mechanically while my mind races. Mum’s looking at me nervously, waiting for me to explode. Waiting for me to get angry and shout and maybe cry, and there’ll be a storm with thunder and flashing lightning. And then clear sky again. That’s the usual pattern. Mum knows it, because it’s what she does too. I’ll shout, and then Mum will shout, and then…

  I’m not going to do it. I’m going to do what they’ve done: make my plans and not tell anyone until I know exactly what I’m doing.

  “I’m really tired,” I say at last. “We were in the sea too long yesterday. I think I’d better go to bed.”

  “We can talk it all over tomorrow,” says Mum quickly. “Don’t worry, Sapphy, we’ll work it all out.”

  I don’t catch her eye. I don’t respond to her pleading stare.

  “Night, everybody. Thanks for the barbie, Roger; the food was amazing.”

  I don’t even look at Conor as I walk to the cottage door, with Sadie pressing against my side.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I’M ON MY WAY UP TO GRANNY Carne’s. I didn’t tell anyone I was going, not even Conor.

  I wanted to talk to Granny Carne in the first place because of what happened in the Deep and Gloria. Now so many other things have crowded in. Granny Carne will understand that I can’t leave Sadie. Sadie belongs to Earth, and so does Granny Carne.

  The sun isn’t just warm today; it’s hot. People are saying this is one of the warmest Aprils there’s ever been. I keep a wary eye on the footpath as I climb toward Granny Carne’s, because this is just the kind of day for adders to come out of their hibernation holes and lie on the path to sun themselves. They’re still slow after the winter and not so good at getting out of people’s way. I keep Sadie close to me, on her lead, because I don’t want her investigating any adders.

  I hear a clop of hooves on the bridle way below me.

  “Sapphire! Sapphire!”

  I turn round. It’s Rainbow, with a riding hat crammed over her bright, short hair.

  “Rainbow! What’re you doing up here?”

  “Come down; I can’t bring Treacle up that path.”

  Treacle, what a ridiculous name for a pony, I think as I scramble down the steep path I’ve just climbed. But when I get close up, I see that it suits her. She’s dark brown and short and fat and wide. Rainbow’s legs look much too long for her.

  “I didn’t know you liked riding,” I say, stroking Treacle’s muzzle. I kneel and unclip Sadie’s collar from the lead. “Sit, Sadie girl, sit down over there in case you scare Treacle.”

  “Hi, Sadie, how are you doing? She’s my friend’s pony, Sapphire. I said I’d exercise her while Kylie’s on holiday.”

  “Kylie Newton?” That figures. Kylie Newton is our age but the top of her head only just comes up to my shoulder. Treacle would suit her perfectly.

  “Yes. Where are you going, Sapphy?”

  “Oh, just for a walk with Sadie.”

  Rainbow laughs. “Don’t tell me then.”

  She’s bound to guess where I’m going. The footpath is well worn by people taking their troubles to Granny Carne’s cottage.

  Treacle stands as stolid as a post. I could tell Rainbow. I couldn’t tell her all of it, but she might understand about Australia. She might think of something I can do.

  I don’t look at Rainbow while I tell her. I just keep on stroking Treacle and breathing in her comforting smell of horse. I tell Rainbow about Sadie’s going to Jack’s to be looked after for three whole months, and how Roger and Mum think it’s the best present they could ever give us: a trip to Australia! But I don’t want to go.

  Rainbow’s quiet for a while after I’ve finished talking. Treacle twitches away a couple of flies, and Rainbow steadies her. Sadie seems to be snoozing. I feel light and empty, as if nothing matters anymore and there’s nothing I can do anyway. It’s going to happen. I’m going to lose Sadie and travel to the other side of the world. It all seems like someone else’s life, not mine.

  “You could stay here,” says Rainbow at last. “They could go, but you could stay.”

  “In the cottage on my own? That’s not going to happen. Mum would never let me.”

  “No, maybe not in the cottage. It’d be too much for you to look after everything on your own. And it’d be lonely at night, even with Sadie. But you could stay with someone else. Listen, Sapphy, you could stay with me and Patrick, if you didn’t mind sharing my room. Sadie would settle in all right, as long as she had you there. I know you’re not crazy about St. Pirans, but at least you’d be with Sadie.”

  I understand why Rainbow thinks it’s natural for kids to manage without their parents. Her mum and stepdad seem to go off to Denmark for weeks and weeks, and she and Patrick cope fine. They do all the shopping and cooking for themselves, and Patrick works in a surf shop as well as studying.

  “Mum would never agree,” I say wearily.

  “Why not? Why shouldn’t she agree? Your mum’s going to Australia because she wants to. So’s Roger. What about Conor?”

  “I think he’s probably going to be all right about it too.”

  “Well then, they’re all doing what they want. It’s not as if they’ve got to go to Australia. They’re choosing to go because they want to. My mum does the same; she’s always going off to Denmark because she really loves it there. But I don’t, nor does Patrick. We don’t know anyone, and we don’t even speak Danish. We’d rather be here. They go and we stay, and everyone’s happy.”

  It sounds so logical, but…

  “My family doesn’t live like that,” I say.

  “Maybe you should start,” says Rainbow, and her eyes flash. “You didn’t want to come to St. Pirans, did you? And they made y
ou. You were really happy when they said you were coming back here, to your old home. Now they’ve decided to go somewhere else, and you’re supposed to leave everything again, even though you’d rather stay here. It’s stupid.”

  “You should talk to my mum.”

  “Hmm. Maybe I will.” Rainbow’s face is bright with purpose.

  “I wasn’t being serious,” I say hurriedly.

  “Maybe you should be, Sapphy! What’s the point of being angry and miserable and not even trying to change things?”

  I have plenty of time to think over what Rainbow has said, because when I knock on Granny Carne’s cottage door, there’s no answer. She’ll come back soon. Granny Carne has a way of knowing when people have come in search of her.

  Sadie and I wander past the cottage, on to the top of the Downs. Granny Carne’s beehives are up here, but I’m not going that way. The bees don’t like me. I pick my way through the heather roots and the new young shoots of bracken to the standing stones.

  There are a lot of stories about this broken circle of stones. It’s not a big circle, like the Merry Maidens. There are only three complete stones and a few stumps, and the rest are gaps. But you can easily see where the circle was. People say there were sacrifices held here once, long ago, before Christianity came to Cornwall. Other people say that there are still gatherings here on nights of full moon. Nobody knows exactly how long the stones have been standing or who raised them up in the first place, but they were probably Bronze Age people.

  The stones are full of old Earth magic. It’s bad luck to go inside this circle, and I never have. Sadie doesn’t want to either. I keep her close to me.

  There’s so much age and time up here. The stones have weathered, but granite doesn’t easily wear away. There’s a place on one of the stones that girls used to touch on the day before their wedding. I’ve seen an old photo of a crowd of girls coming up with the bride. She was wearing a crown of flowers that was probably homemade and was a bit lopsided on her curly hair. I don’t think it ever happens anymore. Girls are too busy having hen nights and getting their legs waxed.

  A few cabbage-white butterflies blow in and out of the stones. There’s a pattern on that stump of fallen stone, like a coil of twisted grass.

  I look again, and the coil moves. It’s an adder, sunning itself on the stump. I don’t move. Adders won’t hurt you unless you corner them or step on them. This one looks relaxed and peaceful. It must be wonderful to soak up the sun like that after a long winter hidden away in the earth. I scan the circle to see if there are any others. Yes, at the base of one of the standing stones, facing south, there’s another slackly coiled snake.

  I know adders won’t hurt me unless I scare them. But a shudder goes through me all the same. People used to bludgeon adders to death and bring them into the pub, dangling over a stick.

  Sadie’s ears are pricked, her body rigid. A low growl rumbles in her throat.

  “No, Sadie, you’re not going after snakes. Come here, you daft girl—don’t you know they could hurt you?”

  But the growl rumbles on. Sadie scents danger, and she’s determined to protect me. I kneel and put my arms round her, breathing in the warm smell of her coat. “It’s all right, girl. Stay, Sadie.”

  A hand rests on my shoulder. I turn and it’s Granny Carne, in her earth-colored clothes and her scarf that is as bright as rowanberries.

  “Step careful, my girl,” she warns me. “Nadron are all around these stones. Follow me.”

  “Nadron?”

  She points at the snakes. I turn and walk in her footsteps around the edge of the circle until we come to the tallest of the three standing stones. There are rough tussocks of grass among the heather. Granny Carne sits down, and so do I. Sadie settles beside Granny Carne.

  “I was thinking you’d be coming to see me,” says Granny Carne. “Did you keep those berries safe that I gave you?”

  The rowanberries. In one way it seems like a hundred years since Granny Carne gave me the spray of berries on the dark road. In another way it could be just five minutes ago. I can remember exactly how they burned in my hand.

  “I haven’t got them anymore,” I begin, and Granny Carne nods encouragingly. It’s warm and peaceful here. I trust Granny Carne. While the bees buzz and the adders sun themselves, I start to tell the story, slowly at first and then faster until it pours out like the tide pouring over rocks.

  “Mind your foot, my girl,” says Granny Carne when I’ve finished speaking.

  I look down. An adder is coiled, almost touching my shoe. A low growl comes from Sadie’s throat, but Granny Carne quiets her. “Like I told you, nadron are all around these stones. Don’t move sudden. Keep still now, both of you.”

  Granny Carne whistles gently, then more loudly. The adder uncoils itself and slides into a tangle of heather root.

  “So you went to the Deep, my girl, and learned what lies there. Let me show you something. Hold the dog close and stand there.”

  Granny Carne stands. She looks taller than ever as she raises her right hand and strikes the standing stone as if she’s knocking on a door. Deep within the earth, I think I hear an echo. Granny Carne listens. “We can enter now,” she says. “Follow behind me. Don’t step outside my shadow.”

  She walks to the edge of the stone circle. She’s going to go inside.

  “But Granny Carne, I can’t!”

  “Yes, you can, my girl, when you’re with me.”

  When we cross the threshold of the circle, it’s like walking into an invisible room. The air changes and grows colder, even though the sun is just as strong. Granny Carne’s shadow falls sharply over me and Sadie. Sounds thicken around us. It’s like a blacksmith’s forge or a workshop. Clangs of metal, the whiz of a blade being sharpened, a hiss of steam. I can hear voices, muffled and confused. Granny Carne pushes aside something that I can’t see.

  “There’s a lot of time trapped in here,” she says. “Best take no notice of it.”

  I am cold. I think I’m frightened too, but I’m not sure. Sadie is panting as if she’s been running on a hot day.

  Granny Carne reaches the center of the circle. “Come forward, Sapphire,” she says, “but mind you keep in my shadow.” She glances behind her. The entrance to the circle is behind us, and as we stand now, the sun is directly ahead of us.

  “Sun and gateway, make a line,” murmurs Granny Carne. “Belly of the earth, open.”

  She steps back from the grassy center of the stone circle. A knot of darkness appears in the grass. It spreads, opening, until it’s as big as a fist. Then wider and wider, until the darkness is lapping at Granny Carne’s feet. I think of the Kraken swallowing himself in his own yawn, and of the tides coiling inside the Tide Knot.

  “Look down,” Granny Carne commands me.

  Far, far down, an infinite number of miles inside the earth, a fire burns, ruby and scarlet and yellow gold. Fire, or maybe jewels. I know that the earth is full of jewels.

  “Fire,” says Granny Carne. “Fire lives in the earth. Fire feeds Earth. Don’t move out of my shadow, or the circle will suck you in.”

  The deep, hot smell of Earth drifts up to me. It catches at the back of my throat. It’s so dark down there, terribly dark, but deep in the heart of the blackness, fire is playing like jewels. I take another breath and start to cough.

  “Step back, step back now.”

  We step backward. Sadie cringes in Granny Carne’s shadow. There seems to be a haze over the grass, shimmering. My eyes blur, and when I next look, the dark hole has closed over without a trace.

  We back out of the stone circle.

  “Many a one would walk through that gateway and into the earth, years gone by,” says Granny Carne, “but no one looks for it now. Remember that sun and gateway make a line, and you’ll always find it.”

  I shudder. I certainly don’t want to find it again. “You should have shown that to Conor, not me,” I say. “He’s much more Earth than I am.”

  “He�
�s mixed, like you are. Not as equal as you, but mixed all the same. You know that. He could let his Earth self grow strong and crush his Mer self, just as your Mer self could drown everything else out of you if you let it.

  “You and Conor and Mathew and how many others nobody knows, you’re all mixed. That’s why I can show you what I’ve just shown you. I wouldn’t want your friend Rainbow to look through the earth’s navel, for she’d walk right into it. She belongs to Earth, and Earth would claim her. But your Mer blood holds you back.

  “You think the Kraken’s sleeping and all’s well. You’re wrong, my girl. Earth has never stood so close to danger, nor Ingo. The Tide Knot breaking was only a sign of it. Saldowr knows that. He knows his element as well as I know mine. Floods and fires and poisoned seas are only a sign of it.

  “You think that the choice lies in being Mer or being human. You’re wrong, my girl. That’s not the way to healing. Be this or be that, and you’ll be safe. No. It’s people like you who hold the key to the future, and now look at you. You want to push your Earth self aside.”

  Granny Carne is changing before my eyes. She’s no longer an old woman in shabby brown clothes. She stands as tall as a prophet. Her amber eyes flash, and for a moment I see what I’ve seen once before: Her body straightens; her hair turns dark and lustrous; her skin grows smooth as satin. She bends down, as supple as a young girl, and picks up something coiled at her feet. It’s an adder.

  I want to cry out and tell her to be careful, but I stand frozen. The adder’s head rises from the coil. They’re face-to-face, the adder and Granny Carne. Its tail winds around her wrist for support. The adder’s head sways a little. Its mouth is open, showing its forked tongue. The tongue flickers.

  Granny Carne says nothing, but I’m sure some silent conversation is passing between the two of them. A moment later Granny Carne bows down to the earth, and the adder pours away onto the ground and vanishes into a hole at the base of the standing stone.

  The familiar shape of the Granny Carne I know returns. I blink and shiver.