by Liz Kessler
Looking forward to hearing back from you,
Dee (I like the nickname, by the way — maybe I’ll adopt it!)
Tuesday, February 19, 3:00 p.m.
Dear Dee (glad you like the name!),
I’m SOOOOOOOOOOO glad you wrote back to me. I’ve practically bitten my nails off, I’ve been so nervous. I had visions of you calling the police and having me carted off and arrested for trespassing! Thank you for forgiving me. What I did was pretty bad — but now that I’ve heard back from you, I’m really happy I did! (And really sorry, as well, obviously.)
I think your village sounds great. Maybe I could visit it one day this week. Or you could come over here. Don’t you have any plans to come across to the mainland at all, even though it’s spring break?
I’d ask my gran about coming to see you, but she’s really preoccupied at the moment. My grandad has disappeared. It’s all pretty awful, actually. They had an argument and he just went. It’s been four days now. She hasn’t told the police yet, but Mom phoned Dad today, and he says that if we still haven’t heard anything by the end of today, then we have to call them tomorrow morning.
I know that he wouldn’t just up and leave. I wish he’d get in touch and tell us where he is. Tell us he’s fine. Just tell us something. I haven’t said this to anyone yet, because Mom and Gran have got enough on their plates already, but the truth is, I’m really scared. I love my grandad. He’s so kind and warm and friendly, and I just don’t want anything to happen to him.
I can’t talk to Gran about it — she doesn’t talk about feelings at the best of times, but this week she’s worse than ever. She’s like one of those mussels that you can’t open because they’re completely sealed up.
Gosh, sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I don’t even know you.
Thanks for listening anyway! Are you having a nice week? What do you do in Luffsands during spring break?
Love,
Mia xxx
Wednesday, February 20, 6:45 a.m.
Dear Mia,
Oh, golly, how awful. I was so sad to read about your grandfather disappearing. That’s terrible. Has he come back yet? I agree with your father. You should definitely call the police if he isn’t back today.
Spring break in Luffsands is about helping Mother with her chores. She’s a dressmaker and is always busy. I’m not very good at sewing, so she gives me the easy parts, where there are no complicated stitches required!
I like bird-watching, too. I’ve been watching the cormorants on the rocks just off the eastern tip of the island. There are hundreds of them at the moment. I think there must be some very interesting fish visiting us, to create so much interest!
Also, there’s a fox who has been coming into our garden. He comes closer and closer each day to pick at the crumbs I’ve been putting out for him. My ambition is to feed him from my hand by the end of the week. We’ll see!
I bet I sound really boring!
What else have you been doing this week? I hope your grandfather is home.
Oh, I nearly forgot! I think we’ll be coming to Porthaven on Friday! You know the annual fair? After Christmas, it’s the high point of the winter. Will you still be there? Maybe we could meet? That would be fun.
Maybe see you on Friday, then.
Dee
Wednesday, February 20, 2:30 p.m.
Dear Dee,
Hooray! Finally, some good news! I’m going to meet you! I can’t wait! We’ll definitely still be here. We’re planning to stay at least till Sunday, but if we still haven’t heard anything and Grandad still isn’t back, we might even stay longer. Mom’s thinking about contacting my school to ask if I can get special leave to miss the first few days back, just in case.
I hope that doesn’t happen, though. I mean, it’s not that I’m crazy about school or anything. Normally, I’d jump for joy at the thought of no school for a few days — but not if it means that my grandad still isn’t here.
The atmosphere is getting really bad. Gran normally doesn’t show her feelings, but even she is finding it hard now. This morning I walked into the kitchen to see her in my mom’s arms. Gran’s shoulders were shaking. She didn’t say anything, but Mom looked up and saw me and just kind of shook her head, so I left them alone. I don’t think Gran would want anyone to know she’d been crying.
She called the police today. That’s probably what set her off. When she did that, I think we all finally admitted that there was a problem. Up to now, we’ve been able to convince ourselves that he just needed a bit of a break, or that he’s playing some silly game because they had an argument. But now that the police are involved, I suppose we all have to face up to the fact that it’s really true. My grandad has gone missing — and he may never come back.
The police have put out calls and they’ve told us to leave it with them for now — which means we all feel even more useless than we felt before. All we can do is wait. It’s horrible.
Sorry. What a miserable message. I hope you’re having a better day — and my fingers and toes are all crossed for meeting up on Friday. That’s the only thing I’ve got to look forward to.
Love,
Mia xx
Thursday, February 21, 6:50 a.m.
Oh, Mia, I’m so sorry to hear all this bad news. It makes me want to meet up even more, as I think it sounds like you need a friend there more than anything.
I’m not going to write much, as Father is about to leave and I don’t want to miss getting this message to you. I want you to know I’m thinking about you, and I really, really, really, really, really hope your grandfather is home by the time you read this.
We’re definitely coming to the fair — as long as the weather is good enough for us to get there. There’s a storm predicted for tomorrow, so I’m hoping the weathermen are wrong. They usually are, aren’t they?
I’ll come with Father in the morning. Shall we meet at the harbor and then we could go together? Let’s meet by the arches at, say, ten o’clock?
Oh, what do you look like? I’m about average height for my age — which is thirteen, by the way. How old are you? I have shoulder-length auburn hair, with a cowlick at the front (I’ve tried a million ways to stop it from sticking out, but no luck!), and green eyes, and I’ll be wearing a brown suede jacket and probably a skirt with rain boots. It’s not the most stylish look in the world, but it’s practical.
Till tomorrow — I hope! I’m getting excited.
Your friend,
Dee
Thursday, February 21, 1:39 p.m.
I’m excited too!
OK, so, I’m thirteen, medium sort of height, very skinny. I’ve got blond hair, a bit longer than yours. Wait . . . OK, I just measured. If I stand straight, with my arms by my sides, my hair comes to about halfway between my shoulders and my elbows.
I’ll be at the arches at ten a.m. I’ll be wearing black jeans and a tan wool coat on top of lots of layers. It’s really cold today!
Fingers crossed for the weather. It’s calm today, so let’s hope it stays like this.
See you in just over twenty hours!
Your friend,
Mia
Friday morning, I glanced at my watch for the fiftieth time. It was nearly ten o’clock. Gran hadn’t even gotten out of bed, so Mom and I had been doing the breakfasts.
Everyone had eaten but there was still all the cleaning up to do. I didn’t want to leave Mom to do it all on her own, and I had no idea when Gran was going to get up. Mom said we shouldn’t disturb her. She hadn’t been sleeping well since Grandad disappeared, so if she was actually managing to get some sleep now, the least we could do was let her rest.
I’d already walked Flake so I’d be free to meet up with Dee, but I was still running late.
“I just don’t know what we’re going to do about all this,” Mom said. “I mean, we haven’t heard anything useful from the police, and he’s been gone a week now. I’m so worried.”
“I know, Mom. I am too,”
I said. What else could I say? The police didn’t know anything. Gran was hardly speaking to anyone. She walked around the place like a ghost. Mom was pretty much running the pub and she and I were cleaning the rooms.
For the first time in my life, I felt myself starting to get angry with Grandad. How could he do this? Didn’t he care about any of us?
I refused — absolutely point-blank refused — to consider that anything terrible might have happened to him. That simply wasn’t an option. So the only option left was to get angry with him.
I had to get out of there.
“Mom, could I . . . um, could I go out for a bit?” I asked hesitantly, once I’d finished stacking the dishwasher.
Mom turned to look at me. “Out?” she asked with such shock in her voice that for a second I actually wondered if I’d accidentally asked if I could fly to the moon on the back of a unicorn.
“Yes, it’s just . . . I’m meeting a friend.”
“Oh, yes. Of course.” Mom smiled at me. Her eyes looked so tired.
“Mom, he’ll come back,” I said. I didn’t know if I believed it, but I wanted to offer her some hope and I didn’t have anything else.
“I’m sure he will, hon. You go out.”
I kissed her on the cheek. “I won’t be gone long. Thank you.”
Then I grabbed my coat and ran as fast as I could down to the harbor.
Dee wasn’t there.
In fact, no one was there at all. The beach was empty. Most of the fishing boats were out, so the harbor was practically empty, too. And the fair that was supposed to be going on all day — well, I could see a few people putting up a booth at the far side of the harbor, but it certainly didn’t look like something that could qualify as the high point of the season.
I stood at the arches, waiting. She was probably just late.
But it was quarter past ten. I was the one who was late. Maybe she’d been here, but she’d gone off to look for me. Or maybe she’d just given up on me, decided I wasn’t coming.
But then she’d have to be here somewhere, wouldn’t she?
Maybe she and her dad hadn’t come across to Porthaven at all.
I looked through the arches, but couldn’t see to the other side. It was quite choppy, and mid-tide, and the water in the arches came halfway up my shins.
Good thing I’d followed Dee’s lead and decided to wear my rain boots.
I rolled my jeans up and waded through the archway.
The boat was there! So Dee was here! But where?
Maybe she’d left me a note.
I approached the boat. It was bouncing around on the lapping waves. I gripped the side rails and hurled myself sideways into the boat.
I landed with a thump on the deck and looked around to make sure no one had seen my not-very-elegant maneuver.
Holding on to the rails, I stepped carefully along the deck to the back of the boat. Maybe she’d left a message for me, suggesting we meet somewhere else.
I opened the locker and pulled out her diary. There was a note from her.
Dear Mia,
I am SO disappointed. Father wouldn’t bring me. He said that it’s too rough to take me. I didn’t think it was so bad, and we had an argument.
I never argue with my father, so you can imagine how upset I am. Not just because of that, but also because I wanted to meet up with you SO much. You are the nearest I’ve come to having a friend on truly the same wavelength, and now I’m not even going to meet you.
I am so upset. I cried after I argued with Father. He didn’t see. He was too busy preparing the boat. Mother didn’t want him to go out at all, but he said he has to go today. These big swells are the best for catching all sorts of rare varieties of fish that are normally beyond his reach. It’s days like this that could make us rich, he said.
He kissed the anchor pendant he always wears around his neck and said he’d be fine. Mom gave him the pendant when they were courting, and he never goes fishing without it.
Then he assured us both that he would be careful, and all would be well. Which of course made me ask again why I couldn’t go with him. But he wouldn’t relent.
He said if it had been likely to improve later, he might have said yes, but it’s due to worsen and he wasn’t going to put me at risk.
Which of course made Mother insist that he not go out, either. So then they argued, too. What a terrible, awful day. Father is about to go off on angry seas, in an angry mood, Mother is upstairs crying, and I’m missing out on something I’ve looked forward to so much. Not just the fair, but my chance to meet someone who I feel sure could be a wonderful friend.
I’ll slip the diary onto the boat as usual, and I hope you get it. I won’t receive your reply till Father comes home this afternoon. I can’t tell you how upset I am. I hope you aren’t angry with me. That would just make a terrible situation even worse.
Your friend,
Dee
I scanned her note twice, just to make sure I’d read it correctly. She wasn’t coming. I didn’t have anything to look forward to. The one nice thing about this week — the one possible thing that wasn’t clouded in misery and sadness — wasn’t happening.
I was too miserable to reply right away. I didn’t want to share how upset I was; it would only make Dee feel worse. I decided I’d come back and reply later when I didn’t feel quite so disappointed. The last thing she needed was a miserable note from me.
I left the diary on the boat and waded back under the archway. The tide was even higher now, and a wave hit me just as I was in the middle of the arch. The water went right over the top of my boots and soaked my feet and jeans.
And then it started raining.
Pulling on my hood, I hurried back to the beach. Head down, I squelched across the sand, trying to think of anything that wouldn’t make me feel like curling up in a ball and bursting into tears, when something ran into my ankle.
I shoved my hood back and looked down. It was Mitch! He ran yapping and jumping around my legs.
I bent down to pet him and he flopped straight over onto his back.
“Mitch, you know you’re drenched, don’t you?” I asked as I tickled his tummy.
Mitch rolled back onto his feet. His back was covered in sand; it was glued onto his fur like an extra layer.
“Hey, hi again!”
I looked up to see Peter coming toward me. “Hi,” I replied. “Wow. Nice coat.” I pretended to shade my eyes. He was wearing a bright-yellow waterproof coat, with a fluorescent white stripe across the middle and a “Porthaven Harbor” sticker on the pocket. It looked brand-new.
Peter beamed. “Dad got it for me yesterday. I love it. Almost slept in it last night.”
I laughed. “How come you’re not fishing today?”
“We will be later. It’s going to be sunny this afternoon, apparently.”
Sunny? But Dee said it was due to get worse. “Are you sure?”
Peter shrugged. “Well, despite my all-weather coat, I’m not a weatherman, so I can’t be totally positive,” he said with a wink. “But look.” He pointed at the horizon. “The clouds are right above us now, but it’s blue over there. And see the flag at the end of the pier? It’s blowing toward us, so the wind’s blowing that blue sky over here. Reckon it’ll be lovely in an hour’s time.”
I stared at him. “Are you serious?”
“About what?”
“Well, you said you’re not a weatherman, but you sound like one to me!”
Peter laughed. His laugh was so warm and friendly, it seeped into my mood and made me relax a bit. “It’s the fishing lessons,” he said. “They’ve been teaching us how to predict the weather. It’s cool. You can tell so much, just from what the clouds look like.”
“Uh-huh,” I said.
Peter laughed again.
“What?”
He shook his head. “You just uh-huh’d me in the same way my sister does. I guess I’m the only one who finds this stuff interesting.”
“No,
sorry, it’s not that. It is interesting.”
Peter raised his eyebrows.
“OK, so it’s not that interesting,” I said, laughing. “But I’m just a bit preoccupied and miserable today, so I’m not finding anything particularly interesting.”
“What’s up?”
I looked at him. Normally, I’d just have said that everything was fine, and shrugged it off, especially with someone I barely knew. But there was something about Peter that made me want to talk to him. I didn’t know what it was. I just felt comfortable with him, as though he was a friend I’d known all my life.
“You really want to know?” I asked.
Peter held my gaze. “I haven’t got anything else to do for a couple of hours. Why don’t you tell me your problems?”
And so I did. I told him everything. I told him about all the plans I’d had with my friends this week. I told him about Grandad disappearing, and how none of us were talking about how we really felt because we were all too scared to admit out loud how terrified we were.
And I told him about Dee, and how missing her felt like the last straw. I didn’t tell him that I only knew her because I’d trespassed on her boat, but I told him that her dad’s boat was moored up around the back of the arches.
As soon as he heard this, Peter’s eyes lit up. “Really? I didn’t realize anyone still used that old jetty,” he said. “Can I see it?”
“I don’t see why not. As long as you don’t mind getting wet. The water’s practically up to your knees under the arches.”
Peter shook his head. “I don’t mind that at all. Come on. Show me the boat.”
So Peter picked up Mitch and we trudged back under the arch.
But the boat had gone.
“Wait — it was there! I saw it. I was on it!”
“Maybe Dee’s dad has gone back,” Peter said.
“But we’d have seen him, wouldn’t we? We’ve been on the beach the whole time!”
