by Liz Kessler
I called to him as I bent down to enter. “Getting Mom.”
I pulled Mom toward the door of the cottage. “Turn left. Stop. OK, two steps forward, then up one.”
“What is this, Emily?” Mom complained. “You know I’m not big on surprises, especially first thing in the morning.”
Aaron grinned at me. “Oh, you’ll like this one, Mrs. W.,” he said.
Mom frowned from behind the dish towel we’d wrapped over her eyes. “I hope so,” she said sternly, “for both of your sakes.”
I undid the towel. “OK, ready?” I asked.
Mom rubbed her eyes. “How can I know whether I’m ready or not if I don’t know what I’m meant to be ready for?”
Aaron joined us on the doorstep. “Right. Come on, then,” he said. “Let’s do it.”
And then he lifted his fist. Knuckles hovering in front of the door, he turned to me. “Sure?” he asked.
I nodded quickly. Behind my back, I crossed my fingers as tightly as I could. Please have worked, please have worked.
Aaron rapped on the door, and I held my breath.
Movement inside. Someone shuffling toward the door.
And then it opened.
“Oh my, oh my word, oh heavens.” The woman standing in front of us clapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes filling with tears, she clung to the door with her other hand. “Harry!” she called. “Harry — come quickly! We’ve found her. We’ve found our daughter!”
A moment later, she’d wrapped Mom in her arms. “Oh, my baby,” Nan cried over and over again. “My darling, darling girl.”
Granddad was behind her. “Come inside, come in, all of you,” he said.
We went inside. Granddad held his arms out toward Mom and she fell into them while Nan stood behind Mom, stroking her back, whispering to herself and half laughing, half crying.
I turned to Aaron. “We did it!” I said. He smiled and held his arms out to me.
“You did it,” he said, pulling me close. “You and Mandy did it.”
Mandy — of course. We had to tell her. “Should we go see her?” I asked.
Aaron held me a little closer. “In a minute,” he said. “Not just yet.” I snuggled more tightly into his shoulder and didn’t argue.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I think this calls for a cup of tea,” a voice announced from the doorway.
Millie winked at someone standing next to her. As she came through the door, the other person followed. Mandy.
“Well, fancy that,” Millie said to Mandy as they both came inside. “I wonder how that happened. . . .”
Then she marched through the front room, straight into the kitchen. “Right, where’s the kettle?” she asked.
Mandy joined us in the front room. “I told her,” she said bashfully. “I had the feeling she might be able to help. Turns out she did.”
“How?” I asked.
Mandy smiled. “You’ll see.”
“You’ll see what?” Mom said, coming over and putting an arm around my shoulders. “Do you think it’s about time someone explained some of this to me?”
Nan put an arm around Mom’s waist. “And me,” she said.
So we did. Millie poured the tea while Aaron, Mandy, and I explained everything.
“But there’s one thing I still don’t understand,” Mom said. “How did you get them here now?”
Granddad pulled out a newspaper. “With this,” he said.
He opened it up and spread it on the table for us all to see. It was a photograph Millie had taken of my grandparents.
I looked at Mandy. She smiled back. “That’s how,” she said.
I read the caption under the photograph.
Is this you?
If so, please, please come to Brightport immediately. The biggest reward of your lives is waiting for you.
Come now! You won’t regret it!
Nan smiled at Mom. “We called the editor and he told us to come to this cottage. And the article was right,” she said. “This is the biggest reward of our lives, without a doubt.”
“But how did this get into the paper?” Mom asked.
Mandy cleared her throat. “Er, that was me,” she said. “My dad’s really good friends with the editor of the Brightport Times, and it’s part of a big chain of local papers.”
“This went into them all,” I said.
“It was a bit of a long shot,” Mandy added.
Mom put her hand over Mandy’s. “But it worked,” she said gently. “And that’s all that matters.”
She was right. Well, she was nearly right. It wasn’t quite all that mattered. I still only had a few days to show Neptune that we’d made a big difference with our task, and I had no idea if we were going to manage that or not.
Mr. Beeston had agreed to try to help with my idea, and thanks to his insider contacts, we’d gotten the perfect venue — but there was no guarantee it was going to work.
And in the meantime, I still hadn’t managed to walk around Brightport with my head up, or without thinking that every other person I passed wanted to throw me in a net, hand me over, and collect their reward.
Mandy saw the look on my face and nudged me. “Hey,” she whispered. “I saw Mr. Beeston at the Brightport Times office yesterday. He was looking pretty pleased with himself. I wonder if it had anything to do with this.” She thrust the morning’s paper into my hands. “This was what I came by to show you. I nearly forgot, what with, you know —” She waved her hand at my grandparents.
“What’s this, then?” Millie asked. Grabbing the newspaper, she spread it out on the table, and we all stared at the front page.
SATURDAY NIGHT SPECTACULAR
A mystery show, the likes of which you have never seen, is promised this Saturday at the new development at Brightport Piers. Details of the event are such a secret that even Brightport Times staff aren’t in the know. But we have been promised this: it will be a show like no other, and anyone who misses it will regret it. Be there — or be the only person in Brightport who’s not! Tickets available at the door. $2 adults, $1 children.
He’d done it! Mr. Beeston had taken care of his part of the plan!
“Well, that sounds like a bargain. Saturday night out for a couple of dollars,” Millie said as she drained her cup.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Mom said. “You know what these newspapers are like. They always exaggerate. It’s probably just one of the editor’s pals holding a line-dancing night or something. Sorry, Mandy, no offense. I know your parents are good friends with him.”
“Mom, we have to go to it,” I said. “All of us.” I looked around at everyone.
Mandy and Aaron nodded enthusiastically. “Of course we do!” Aaron said.
“Absolutely!” Mandy agreed.
Mom smiled at me. “Well, if it means that much to you, sugar plum, I’m sure we can go.”
“It might be a nice chance to celebrate having the family together again,” Granddad said, closing a hand over Mom’s.
“Most of the family,” Mom said carefully. “You know Jake and I are — we’re back together. You’re OK with that, aren’t you?”
Granddad squeezed Mom’s hand more tightly and put an arm around Nan’s shoulder. “Darling, we couldn’t be more happy, or more proud.”
Mom looked at Millie. Millie shrugged. “You know me. I don’t like to stand out from the crowd,” she said with a sniff. “If you’re all in, so am I.”
I beamed. “That’s it, then. We’re all going.”
Now I just had to wait, and in the meantime all I could do was hope and pray that we could pull it off and I could get Neptune off my back — for good.
We shuffled along the rows of seats to find ours. Right in the center, three rows back. Good seats. We’d see everything from here.
The event was at the seaside edge of the development. In front of us, a hastily thrown-together stage stood right in front of the ocean, so that the sea itself was virtually a part of the stage. A town’s wo
rth of temporary seating had been set up in the space, thanks to Mr. Beeston’s contacts. For the first time in his life, he’d done a great job.
I could hardly concentrate on the show. All I could think was that this was my one and only chance to make Neptune happy. If it didn’t work, that was it. Mission failed, and I’d have to face another of his punishments.
What would it be this time? Would he throw me in a prison like the one Dad had been in for nearly my entire life? Perhaps he’d even put me back down in the sirens’ caves, now that I didn’t have the power to get myself out again.
I took a few deep breaths and tried not to think about it.
A hush fell over the auditorium. Someone was coming onto the stage. A spotlight came up, and I saw who it was.
Mom nudged me. “Mr. Beeston! What on earth has he got to do with this?” she whispered.
I hadn’t told her what we’d organized. She’d spent all week with her parents and hadn’t stopped smiling once. If she knew how high the stakes were, she’d be as worried as I was, and I couldn’t bear to do that to her — not when she was so happy.
Mr. Beeston cleared his throat.
“Thank you for coming here tonight,” he began. “It seems like practically the whole town is here.”
I looked around me in the darkness. The place was packed to the rafters. Every seat was taken, and people were squeezed all around the edges, on the stairs, along the back wall. Good thing it was an outdoor event or we’d probably have broken every fire regulation in the book.
“This is a historic moment, and I am very proud to be bringing it to you,” he went on. “But there is someone else I would like to thank before I go any further.”
His eyes scanned the crowd. They stopped on me — and so did a massive spotlight. I stared up at Mr. Beeston, and he smiled across at me and reached out an arm.
“Someone quite special,” he went on. “Someone who has done more good in her twelve young years than I have achieved in my lifetime. Ladies and gentlemen, tonight would not be possible without Emily Windsnap. Emily, will you stand?”
I shrank lower in my seat. What was he doing?
Mom nudged me. “Go on, chicken pie, you’d better do as he says,” she whispered.
I stood awkwardly in front of my seat, burning from the heat of the spotlight shining down on me and all the eyes I could feel staring straight at me.
I’d spent all week trying to avoid anyone’s eyes, and now the entire town was looking at me! Mr. Beeston started clapping, and it spread awkwardly around the whole place. Not a single person there knew why they were clapping — including me!
Eventually, Mr. Beeston indicated for me to sit down, and I sank gratefully back into my seat, my face still on fire and my legs like jelly.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “We have brought you to this particular place for a reason. If we are successful here tonight, the performance you are about to see will change your lives; it will change all of our lives. We will talk to you again afterward. For now, though, without further ado, allow me to introduce to you . . . my mother.”
With that, he waved an arm in a grand flourish and left the stage. The spotlight was switched off, and we sat and waited in the growing darkness.
The anticipatory hush turned into whispers and giggles. “His mother?” I heard someone say. “We’ve come all this way to be entertained by an old woman?”
“What’s she going to do?” said another voice. “A clog dance?”
The whispers grew louder, as did the laughter. Soon it seemed the whole place had become restless and impatient.
And then, the sound of whispering was replaced with something else. Something so soft and gentle it could have been the wind, sweeping gently through the crowd, touching everyone, taking away the cold, taking away fear, sadness, leaving nothing in its wake except itself.
It was a song. A siren’s song. It had no words, but its melody was so perfect that it felt familiar. It felt as though we had been born knowing the song, as though everything in nature existed because of the song, grew stronger, brighter, and more beautiful because of it — could hardly survive without it. The song felt like breath itself.
Everywhere, people were craning their necks to see where it was coming from; tears ran down their faces from the sheer beauty of it.
And then the spotlight came on again.
“Look, down there, on the rocks,” someone cried out.
And there she was. Melody. She sat on the rocks, her head slightly bowed, her tail snaking down the length of the rock, her eyes looking into the darkness of the auditorium — bringing us all together.
The applause was like thunder. People stood on chairs, raised their hands high above their heads to clap and cheer and call for more.
Even when Mr. Beeston came back onstage, the applause went on. Eventually, he gave up, and the spotlight fell on Melody for the umpteenth time as she took yet another bow.
At last, the crowd began to quiet down. Mr. Beeston was back on the stage. He was scanning the auditorium. This time when his eyes met mine, he didn’t say anything. He just tilted his head, and I knew what he meant.
I got out of my seat. “’Scuse me, Mom,” I said. “I’ve got to do this.”
I shuffled to the end of the row and made my way to the stage.
Every eye was on me again, but this time it didn’t matter. I knew exactly what I had to do, and what I had to say. Eventually, the crowd hushed enough for me to speak.
“Over the last few weeks, many of you have remembered seeing mermaids,” I began. “Some of you have wondered where these memories came from, if they were real, and if so, why they had been buried for so long.”
I paused as a ripple of whispers spread through the auditorium. People nodding: Yes, they were saying, that happened to me, too.
I took a breath. “Your memories were real,” I said. “As you have seen tonight, merpeople are real. For many years, the two worlds have been divided. But we need to change this. My family —”
I stopped. The enormity of our task was clogging my throat. There was so much at stake. Suddenly, I didn’t know if I could go through with it. What if we failed? Up here, in front of the whole town? I couldn’t do it. The words froze inside me, refusing to come out of my mouth.
“My family and I recently made a promise.” A voice had come from behind me, continuing from where I’d left off.
I spun around. The spotlight searched the back of the stage for whoever had spoken. And then in the water, it found him.
Dad!
He held out a hand, and I ran over to the water’s edge and grabbed it.
“We made a deal,” he went on. “We committed ourselves to bringing together the world of the mer and the world of humans. And tonight, you can help us do this. If you like what you heard, if you’d like to know more, you must allow the reality of merpeople into your lives, and into your hearts. Tonight’s performance is taking place on land that the council wants to use to build houses on. What you don’t know is that this building work will devastate the nearby community . . . of merpeople.”
Dad paused as a series of gasps and mutters went through the crowd. “I knew it!” I heard someone say. “I told you!”
“Yes,” Dad went on. “There is a town of merpeople living nearby. The folks of Shiprock want nothing more than to carry on with their lives in peace — as I’m sure the people of Brightport do too. Only now, their survival is in your hands.”
He paused again and took a breath. This was it. The part where he had to convince them they could make a difference.
“Tomorrow, the council will make a decision about this land,” he said. “This decision will devastate Shiprock and its inhabitants. But if we all work together, we can stop that from happening. You can stop that from happening. If you are with us, if you want more nights like this, if you want to turn this land from a bulldozing disaster into a bridge between two worlds, you have to tell the council. Go to their meeting tomorrow. Mak
e them halt the plans. If the town is united, they will listen. Ladies and gentlemen, if we can count on you to do this, please show us your support by joining us now. Some merpeople and humans have already united to try to halt this project. Let’s turn the whole town against it! Thank you.”
With that, he held tightly on to my hand, and we waited to see what would happen next.
I looked out at the auditorium. The first person I noticed was Mom, getting up from her seat. Next to her, Nan and Granddad were standing up too. A moment later, they’d shuffled to the end of the row and were clambering up the steps to join us onstage.
Mom took my hand, Granddad holding firmly on to her other hand. Nan came around to the other side of me.
“Let go,” she said to Dad — and with those two small words she destroyed the hope that had been building so high inside me. After everything that had happened, in front of the whole town, she was still trying to separate us. No! How could she?
“Emily, it’s not what you think,” she said. “Please.”
Dad nodded to me, and I reluctantly let go of his hand. Nan instantly stepped in between us. Then she took my hand in one of hers, and with the other she reached out to Dad.
“We’re your family too, Jake,” she said firmly. “We’ll build this new world together.”
Then she squeezed my hand and turned toward the auditorium. I did the same. Everywhere I looked, people were standing, all clapping, all smiling.
And then someone else was behind me. “Hey,” she said. I turned to see her, in the water beside Melody.
“Shona!” I let go of Mom’s hand and beckoned her over. She swam to my side and took my hand in one of hers. Mom grabbed Shona’s other hand.
I searched out Aaron among the crowd. There he was with his mom, next to Mandy and Millie, with our empty seats around them. He was getting out of his seat. A moment later, Millie got up too. Grabbing Aaron with one hand, Mandy with the other, and nudging Aaron’s mom, she barged her way to the end of the row.
