by Charlotte Lo
“Oh, well, that’s great then,” replied Margot.
“When did you say the festival was again?” asked Frank.
“Um…” I said.
Margot and I stared at each other. We’d been so busy thinking about the band and the stage that we hadn’t actually come up with a date. It was already the first week of August. In less than a month, summer would be over, and there’d be no point in having a festival during winter. I needed the money to fix my stables now, while the weather was still good, and the days still light.
“The last Saturday of the month,” said Margot.
I counted the weeks on my fingers. There were only two weekends between now and then. My hands sweated at the thought of getting everything ready in time.
The Rocking Pensioners nodded, and started to pack up their instruments.
“Should we confirm with your parents?” asked Gwen.
“No!” said Margot. “I mean, no, there’s no need. We’re in charge of entertainment.”
“Our mum’s busy sorting her yoga retreat out,” I said.
“Yes, so she’s getting us to do the band auditions,” added Margot.
“Oh … righty-ho,” said Gwen.
I stared at Margot and whispered, “You’re a genius sometimes, do you know that?”
The next band entered as the pensioners were leaving. They were a good forty years younger than Gwen. Thankfully there wasn’t a trombone in sight.
Margot stared at the lead singer and smiled dreamily. He had a ukulele strung around his neck. It looked a bit like a shrunken guitar. I kicked Margot under the table, but she didn’t even blink.
“I’m Brice,” said the boy.
“Brice,” she repeated softly.
“Yes, Brice,” he nodded.
“Brice,” she breathed again.
“OK, Margot, I think we know his name now,” I said, and then I turned to Fabien. “Can you please go and keep a lookout for Mum? I think this might take a while.”
“All right, but you’ll be begging me to come back for the next episode,” he said.
“We’re not on TV,” I called after him.
Brice and his band, which turned out to be called Brice and Brothers, started strumming on their ukuleles and singing. Margot clapped and cheered along, like they were The Beatles. Halfway through, Brice dropped his ukulele and broke into a rap. I could practically see Margot’s heart fluttering through her chest.
“Wonderful! I love you!” she exclaimed at the end. “I mean, we love you. Your music, that is.”
“Oh, cool,” said Brice, and he scribbled the date of the festival down on a napkin.
I waited for the band to leave, and then turned to Margot. “You looooove him,” I teased.
“Do not,” replied Margot.
“You want to marry him,” I sang.
“Shut up, Luna,” she said.
I started humming the “Wedding March” but then the door opened again and someone stepped inside. Margot thrust her hand over my mouth and tackled me to the ground before I could see who it was. I wriggled free and hoped it wasn’t Brice. She’d never forgive me if he’d overheard.
Luckily it was just Kai.
“What is it with your family and rolling around on the floor?” he asked.
I struggled back into my chair, red faced. “We … tripped. Anyway, what are you doing here? Your mum said we could use the room.”
“I’ve come to audition,” he said.
“Audition for what?” I replied.
“Fabien told me you’re holding auditions for the festival today,” he said, and he stood on the gaffer-tapped X that Fabien had stuck to the floor. “So, can I audition, or what?”
“But you haven’t got any instruments,” I said.
“Don’t need them,” he replied, and he opened his mouth and started singing.
I stood up, ready to tell Kai that he was awful and to go away. The only problem was, he wasn’t. He might not have had a guitar, or a flute, or a ukulele, but he sounded far better than Frank’s and Brice’s bands put together. I leaned back in my chair, annoyed. The last person I wanted to perform at our festival was Kai. He’d probably refuse to turn up on the day, just to sabotage it.
“Well?” he asked, when he’d finished. For a second he looked kind of nervous.
Margot applauded. “That was really good, wasn’t it, Luna?”
“It was all right,” I muttered.
“So, can I be in the festival?” he asked.
“Why do you want to? You hate us,” I said.
“I like singing,” he said. “And this way I can make sure you don’t chop down the woods and turn the island into a camping site.”
I wasn’t sure if we could trust him or not, but he was a good singer, and the more performers we had, the better.
“All right then,” I replied, slowly.
I really hoped it wasn’t a trap.
“I’ve got my first booking!” exclaimed Mum, back at the island that afternoon.
I flopped a fish on to the barbecue. “For what?”
“For my yoga retreat, of course,” she replied.
“For when?” I asked.
“Next weekend. It’s a group of five ladies and two men,” said Mum.
I plucked a blade of grass from our front lawn, and pinched it apart with my fingers. What if the yoga guests found out about the festival? It would be difficult to get everything ready with a bunch of strangers nosing around.
Margot hammered a nail into the bat box she’d been building, and stood back to admire it. “I’ll move the bats’ new roost into the woods.”
“Are you sure next weekend isn’t a bit soon?” I asked Mum. “Wouldn’t it be better if they came in September? Or maybe even October?”
“I’m sure I can be ready by next week,” replied Mum. “Money’s getting a bit tight, so the sooner they come the better. Otherwise we’ll be eating offal and seaweed for the next month.”
Fabien wrinkled his nose. “That sounds vile.”
After lunch, Mum put us in charge of decorating the guest bedrooms. I found a load of leftover paint under the stairs, and sploshed a tin called Sapphire Ducks into a tray. Margot nodded approvingly and said it reminded her of one of the oceans in her flight simulator.
Dad poked his head inside the room, and for a moment I thought he’d got lost.
“Is there a spare paintbrush?” he asked.
Fabien bounced over to him. “You can help me paint the bottom bits if you want,” he said.
I couldn’t believe it. Dad was actually helping! Maybe he’d finally realised how brilliant the island was, and was starting to feel better. I knew it would fix everything.
Dad smeared a line of paint on to the wall. It took him ages to do one tiny patch. He kept going over and over it, until the bristles were clean. About five minutes later, he creaked to his feet and passed me the brush.
“You kids are doing a great job,” he said.
“Are you finished?” I asked.
“I’m a little tired,” he replied, and then he disappeared down the landing.
Fabien put down his paintbrush with a sigh. “I’m going to make some curtains.”
Margot and I carried on painting until the entire room was a shimmering blue. I stood back to admire our work. It looked really good, and perfect for guests.
Fabien came back into the room with an armful of knitting, which I assumed was the start of his curtains. It was the colour of mushy peas, and kind of reminded me of vomit.
“What do you think?” asked Fabien. “Obviously they’ll be a lot bigger when they’re finished.”
“It’s … um … lovely,” lied Margot.
“Green is very fashionable in knitwear this year,” said Fabien. “I want to dye the goats lime-coloured when I tame them.” And he bounded off to go and feed them.
Two days later, Mum showed us a list of things she needed for the retreat, like bed sheets, and beach towels, and battery-powered speakers.
I pondered the list as we sped to the mainland. If only Amazon delivered to our island.
“You three look for the items at the top of the list, and I’ll get the last four,” said Mum.
I tore the list in half, and headed to the charity shop with Margot and Fabien. The lady behind the counter jumped when we entered. I handed over the list, and she whirled around, digging under piles of dusty clothes, books and mugs. The shelves were bursting with decades’ worth of donations that had gone unsold and unloved. I wouldn’t have been surprised if there’d been a stage somewhere underneath it all. She seemed to have every other item imaginable.
The lady returned five minutes later with everything on our list. I crammed them inside a giant carrier bag while Margot paid, and then dragged the bag outside on to the high street. Mission accomplished.
“Let’s go to the park,” said Fabien, now we had time to kill.
I followed him along the street but, halfway up, something caught my eye. Outside the mechanic’s shop was an ice-cream van, rusty, dented and covered in mud. It looked so uncared for that I wondered whether it had been abandoned.
“Look, ice cream!” exclaimed Fabien.
Margot peered inside the van’s side window. “I wonder if it still works.”
My heart raced. The ice-cream van would be perfect for the festival. Maybe whoever owned it would sell it to us. And afterwards we could have ice cream whenever we wanted!
I poked my head into the garage and called out, “Hello, anybody in?”
A pair of legs slid out from underneath a car, followed by a torso and then a head.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Do you know if anyone owns the ice-cream van outside?” I said.
The man nodded. “Yes, she’s mine.”
“Oh. Any chance you want to sell her?” I asked.
“No, I’m going to turn her into a camper,” he replied.
“Doesn’t it work then?”
“She’ll go for about two minutes at a time, but then the engine cuts out. Got another month before the replacement arrives,” he sighed.
Margot came over to us, and sat down on a tyre. “What about the ice-cream-maker part?”
“Oh, yes, that works a treat, if you’ll excuse the pun,” he replied.
“Do you think we could maybe borrow it for a couple of weeks?” I asked.
He laughed. “You want to borrow my van?”
I wondered whether to tell him about the festival. It seemed like the only way to explain why we wanted the van. Besides, we’d have to start telling people about it sooner or later, or nobody would turn up. I just hoped he wouldn’t bump into Mum beforehand and spill the beans.
“A festival, eh?” he replied.
Margot nodded. “The Rocking Pensioners are playing, and Brice and Brothers, and Kai’s singing.”
The man looked excited. “I love Frank’s band! I’m their biggest fan.”
“Really? So does that mean we can borrow the van?” I asked. “We’ll give you all the free ice cream you want, and make sure you’re right at the front of the stage for when Frank’s on.”
“All right, I can’t see any harm in it,” he said.
I leapt into the air, and then hugged the bonnet of the van. Now all we had to do was get it to our island. My heart sank as a terrible realisation hit me. We needed Kai’s help.
“Can you distract Mum for a bit? I need to talk to Kai,” I told Margot and Fabien.
“What are you going to say to him?” asked Margot.
I had no idea, but I had to think of something. We needed that ice-cream van.
I sat down on the beach near the harbour, and grabbed a handful of pebbles. How was I going to convince Kai to help us? Maybe I could trick him and Doug into shipping the ice-cream van to our island. Anything was worth a try.
A bird squawked in the distance and I glanced up. Out at sea, a gull was thrashing about on the water. It had probably caught a fish or something. I put my sunglasses on and looked at it properly. The bird had something wrapped around its body, pinning down one of its wings. A wave rose up behind him, and the bird struggled to stay afloat. It was in trouble.
The bird was about fifty metres away from the harbour. I looked around, but there was nobody nearby to help. I had to do something, or the bird would drown. It was up to me to save it.
Without thinking, I kicked off my trainers and ran into the sea. The stones dug into my feet, and the cold water numbed my toes. I winced and carried on, until the water was up to my waist. A big wave rose up behind the bird again, and it disappeared beneath the surface for a few seconds. My tummy lurched, and I threw the rest of my body into the sea.
A wave rolled towards me, and I kicked hard against it. The bird slipped under the water again. I kept going, until I realised that I couldn’t see the bottom of the sea any more. My heart thumped fast, but I couldn’t stop now. I had to keep going.
Finally, I reached the bird, and grabbed it with my hands. Its free wing flapped fiercely against me, and I tucked it up close to my neck. Swimming was much harder with only one arm. I panted as I headed back to shore, my legs getting heavier. At least I wasn’t pushing against the waves any more, though, and each one helped to sweep me along, until finally I could stand again.
I staggered out of the water, and knelt down on the shore. The pebbles dug into my legs, but I didn’t care. I was just happy to see dry land again, and so was the bird. It scrabbled out of my arms, and then collapsed in a heap next to me. I bent over and tried to catch my breath. The bird opened its beak wide and panted. I wasn’t sure who was more shocked.
A pair of boots appeared in front of me, and I looked up. There, towering above my head, was Kai. He stared from me, to the bird, and then back again.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“It was drowning,” I said, sitting back on my heels and turning to the bird.
Kai knelt down beside me, and scooped the bird on to his lap. I leaned over him and inspected the thing wrapped around its wing and body. It was some sort of plastic wrap, like cling film, only thicker. It must have been floating in the water, and snaked around the seagull when it landed. Without both its wings, the bird hadn’t been able to fly off again.
I found the end of the plastic and gently began to unravel it. Kai lifted the bird as I worked, and soon the bird was free. He set it down on the beach, and I waited for it to fly off. Instead, the poor thing just lay there, eyes wide.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked.
“He’s in shock,” said Kai.
“Will he be OK?” I asked.
“I don’t know. He needs somewhere quiet and safe to recover,” said Kai.
“You could put him in one of your rabbit cages until he feels better,” I said.
“Good idea,” he replied.
I wrung out the bottoms of my jeans. “Do you have a towel? Mum will kill me if she sees I’ve been in the water alone.”
“What were you doing out there?” asked Kai.
“I saw the bird was in trouble,” I said.
“And you swam out to rescue him?” asked Kai, as if he didn’t believe me.
“Yes, I’m a good swimmer,” I replied.
“You should never go in the sea on your own. You could get swept out by the current, or hit by an incoming boat. You have to be careful of the ocean. It’s not like a swimming pool,” said Kai.
“I didn’t think of that,” I said. “Anyway, what do you care? I thought you hated me.”
“That doesn’t mean I want you to drown,” he replied. “You should never do that again.”
“OK, I promise,” I said.
“Good. Come with me and I’ll get you a towel,” he replied.
I followed Kai back to The Wig and Pen, and he settled the seagull into an empty rabbit cage in the corner of the garden. It lay at the back, still as a statue. For a minute, I wondered if it was still alive, and then it shuffled a little.
Kai threw a towel at me, a
nd unpegged one of his mum’s tops from the line. I ducked behind the shed to get changed, and ruffled my hair with the towel. Suddenly I felt much warmer, and a little less shaky.
“Where are your sister and brother?” asked Kai, when I emerged from behind the shed.
I hung my old top over his washing line. “They’re distracting Mum while I came to ask you something.”
“Me?” he asked.
“We need a favour,” I replied. “And I know you don’t like us, but I was hoping that maybe you might help us anyway.”
“What is it?” he asked.
I explained how we’d found the ice-cream van, and how we needed a way to get it to the island. Kai sat on the back step of The Wig and Pen, and listened quietly. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“We’re not planning to turn the island into a scrapyard, or open an ice-cream factory on it, or hold ice-cream-van rallies,” I said, before he could ask anything. “It’s just for a couple of days, as something nice for the festival. And I promise this isn’t part of some plan to turn the island into a holiday resort, because my mum wasn’t being serious about that.”
I took a deep breath, exhausted, and Kai stared at me.
“All right, I’ll ask my uncle if he can arrange something,” he told me.
“Really? You’ll help?” I asked.
“Only because you saved the bird,” he said. “Even if it was a stupid thing to do, and makes you an idiot.”
I grinned. Kai was being nice to me. It was amazing. We were practically friends now.
A boat landed at our beach, and I waved at Doug, who was at the helm. It was big, much larger than the fishing boats that usually bobbed about on the harbour. On its side were the words Inter-Island Vehicle Recovery Boat. According to Kai, it usually collected broken cars from the surrounding islands and took them to the mainland to be fixed. Luckily for us, it was a quiet week.
Doug rolled the ice-cream van down a ramp. The sea was choppy, and it had been too difficult for him to negotiate his way around the rocks at the north side of our island. We’d have to think of some other way to get the van there. Hopefully Mum would stay asleep long enough for us to make it to the other beach.
