Between Sea and Sky

by Nicola Penfold

  “I need to take them back to land. Central will want to see them,” she says sharply, gathering herself back together. She takes out a yellow notebook and starts scrawling notes of some kind.

  Nat gasps and I stare at him, disconcerted. I wonder what she’s writing. Property of Central District? Pollinator? Or that something beautiful the world thought had been lost forever has come back. Butterflies in Blackwater Bay.

  “Get on with it then. Catch them!” the peacekeeper says, breaking the stunned silence.

  Clover draws her breath in. “But you can’t take them! We’ve looked after them. They belong here! They’re ours!”

  “They can’t be left here!” the woman exclaims indignantly. “Look at this place!”

  “That’s only after the storm!” Clover protests. “Tell them, Nat. Tell them how we mended everything. How we made it perfect for them.” Clover tugs at his arm.

  I hate seeing the woman’s eyes on Clover. Hate seeing Clover looked at like she’s a monster. Clover, who’s so desperate to fit in on land.

  “If you’d seen the greenhouse yesterday,” Nat’s saying. “It was safe for them, I promise. It only looks like this because the greenhouse broke away in the storm…”

  “Nat even jumped into the sea to stop it floating away,” Clover cuts in. “And Pearl did too.” Her eyes flit to me. “The butterflies might all be dead without them, not just the ones we had the funeral for.”

  “A funeral?” the officer says in disbelief.

  “Some of them died in the storm,” Clover says dolefully.

  “And where are those ones?” The peacekeeper is incredulous now. “Where’s the evidence?”

  “Evidence?” Nat asks, not understanding.

  “We let the sea take them,” Clover says. “The dead ones.”

  The woman swipes her hand in front of her face. “Enough! I am taking the remaining pollinators back with me. Their presence here contravenes siege state laws.”

  “We aren’t doing any harm. We’re going to set them free,” Nat protests.

  “Free?” the woman baulks. “They’re Central’s property. They’re priceless.”

  Anger seethes up inside me, like the worst of the waves last night, and the cracks of lightning. I imagine the butterflies back in Central – flying in a sealed cell or pinned to the wall by someone in gloved hands and a white suit. Exhibit A. Pollinators.

  “They didn’t go back to Central, though, did they?” I say in a simmering voice. “They came to Blackwater Bay! That’s where Nat found them.”

  “Blackwater Bay is no place for pollinators,” the peacekeeper says. “These creatures are far too important to leave to a bunch of unkempt children.”

  Clover and Nat crumple under her insult but, in the pit of my stomach, something breaks loose.

  “Catch them then,” I say, my voice loud and clear.

  The officer looks at me uncertainly. “Pardon?”

  “Catch them,” I repeat, my eyes blazing. “Take them back with you. To Central District.”

  The woman’s taken aback. She obviously hasn’t thought any of this through. “I’ll need one of those cages we passed. Errr, you,” she says, indicating George. “Bring one for me.”

  I glance at Clover and she starts moving silently through the thistles, wafting her hand at the settled butterflies. Her motion’s almost inconspicuous, but not to the butterflies. They start swooping around and the woman shrinks back.

  “A cage!” she says again to George, her voice louder now to contain its tremble. “This minute!” She waves the notebook in the air.

  George shuffles glumly to the door.

  “I’ll get it,” Nat offers miserably, striding out in front of him.

  George backs away sheepishly. “No, I will!”

  “I’ll need you to catch them,” the woman instructs, nodding her head at me now, expecting me to do her bidding.

  “Me?” I exclaim loudly. I put my hands out with a little flourish, like Clover might when I reprimand her for not doing one of her chores.

  Clover looks over at me, surprised.

  “I can’t catch them!” I say.

  “You must,” the woman says, annoyed. “You and your … sister.” She places the last word awkwardly, glancing at Clover. “Which is another transgression that will need looking at. But the butterflies certainly are Central’s property and as such I am confiscating them. Here. Now. Don’t you see? It’s what has to be done!”

  “Yes, of course,” I say, mimicking Clover at her sweetest. “Confiscate them. But you’ll have to do it. We couldn’t possibly catch them. We’re just unkempt children. Look how fast the butterflies move.”

  “And they’re delicate too,” Clover chips in quickly, as the woman puts her hand out nervously. “You wouldn’t want to damage them. Not if they’re priceless. We saw last night in the storm how easy they are to injure.”

  “Every time you touch them their wings shed more scales,” I say brightly.

  “How did you bring them here?” the woman asks Nat, determined to regain control of the situation.

  “They were caterpillars then, like we told you. They were easier to manage.” A smile escapes from Nat’s lips.

  “This is not a laughing matter,” the woman says.

  “I’m not laughing!” he says.

  “We wouldn’t dare!” I say, as Clover moves again through the thistles, and the butterflies fly their own tornado round our heads.

  The woman launches the oyster cage into the air and traps a cloud of empty sea air.

  Clover lets out a stream of giggles and suddenly we’re all laughing – the three of us – at the incredulity in the peacekeeper’s face.

  “I will report you all for non-cooperation with district rules and enforcement,” the woman’s saying, backing out into the doorway of the greenhouse to get away from the fluttering wings. “And I’ll come back with support to seize the pollinators. Everyone is to remain on the farm, on my orders.”

  “What about our dad?” Clover pipes up.

  “It’s a direct command,” the woman shouts, clearly keen just to get back to land.

  “Tell him,” a voice says gruffly. George. “Tell the boy what you’ve done.”

  The atmosphere shifts in the greenhouse. Clover stops giggling. Pearl clutches the shells round her neck.

  “Tell me what,” I say. The greenhouse rocks at a bigger than usual wave and the peacekeeper clings to one of the vertical supports that holds up the ceiling.

  “Go on,” George urges her. “The boy deserves to know what you people have done.”

  “What you’ve done?” I ask, my voice getting shriller. Clover and Pearl gravitate closer to me.

  The woman’s face clouds over and she regains her balance. “We had to act on the reports we heard of stolen pollinators. Siege state laws demand it.”

  I nod, to press her on.

  “As a compounder you’ll be aware that under the age of fourteen, penalties count against your parents? Or, in your case, parent.”

  I snatch a breath. My one parent. Mum.

  The woman looks uncomfortable but her voice comes out fixed and hard. “We haven’t had a pollinator crime in years. We have to make an example of it. Pollinators are essential to district recovery plans. To the whole world’s recovery. You all know that.” She puts the oyster cage down at her feet.

  A butterfly sails in front of the woman’s face and she flinches away from it. “None of you remember the Hunger Years. None of you know what it was like—”

  “Your mother’s on the ship, boy,” George interrupts miserably. “I took her there myself. Under district orders.” He glares at the woman as he says the last bit.

  “The boat we saw,” Clover says beside me.

  “The boat,” I repeat back slowly. George’s boat, with the prisoner in it, looking right at us.

  We were scared they had come for the butterflies. I never thought for a moment it was Mum that was in danger.

  “But i
t’s nothing to do with my mum!” I yell, my voice rising louder. “I took those caterpillars. I did. Me! Why are you punishing my mum?”

  “You admit it then. You stole them off district land?” the woman looks at me, hungrily now, her fingers on her yellow notebook.

  “I wasn’t stealing!” I cry. “It wasn’t like that!”

  “Those butterflies are migrants,” Pearl says. “Their parents probably flew thousands of miles to lay eggs.”

  “Migrants!” the woman says.

  “It’s true! I read it in a book,” Pearl says, glancing sideways at me. “They’re called Painted Ladies. They can fly thousands and thousands of miles. They’re free as a bird. They’re not property of the district, or anyone. They might have come from Africa.”

  “Africa? That sounds unlikely,” the peacekeeper says scathingly.

  “You can see the book!” Pearl cries. “It’s on the ship. I can go now and get it.”

  “Pearl!?” Clover says. “Why didn’t you tell us you found them in a book?”

  Pearl’s eyes flit to me remorsefully. “I was angry with you for being here, Nat.”

  “It’s OK,” I say. “I’m a landlubber, I get it.”

  “No!” Pearl cries desolately. “I don’t think that. Not any more.”

  “It’s too late,” Clover says dramatically.

  “No, it’s not too late. I’ll get the book,” Pearl says. “We can go now, can’t we, George? You too.” She indicates the peacekeeper. “And you can get Sora released. Benjamin Price might not have signed her in yet. She shouldn’t be there. She didn’t break any rules.”

  The woman shakes her head, bewildered.

  “Price signed her in,” George says heavily. “He signed her in in front of me. I watched him, Pearl.”

  The woman gives a brisk smile. “It’s not in my hands any more. Once people get taken to the ship, it’s a new chain of command. The governor decides.”

  I shiver, like a cool draft is blowing down my spine.

  “Sora doesn’t deserve that. It’s not fair!” Pearl says bitterly and looks at George for help.

  “I’m sorry, Pearl, Clover… I didn’t mean to say anything. It was never meant for the authorities. I was just so amazed to see the little creatures, I told a couple of folk at the Tavern. I wasn’t blabbing. It wasn’t like that.”

  The girls stare at him in horror.

  “But Sora’s good!” Clover wails hysterically. “She’s good!”

  “I’ll go to the ship,” Pearl’s saying. “I’ll go in our boat. Sem’ll show me to Benjamin Price if I ask him. I’ll talk to the governor myself. I’ll go now. I will!” She’s making towards the door.

  “Dad!” Clover interjects, giving me a guilty side look. “Dad, Pearl!” She snivels loudly. “We have to go to Dad!”

  The woman tuts impatiently. “As I have said, no one is going anywhere. You’ll need to stay here while I go back for reinforcements.”

  Back on the main platform, the woman opens up her report book. The girls stare at it blankly. The yellow book clearly doesn’t mean anything to them, but she’s giving them their first civil disobedience point.

  Pearl’s next to George, standing by the table with the open pages of her ledger. He’s taken her pencil and is writing straight on to one of the pages. Pearl steps in front of him, to shield him from view of the peacekeeper. I raise my eyebrows quizzically and she gives a slight shake of her head. Clover’s crying loudly in the corner.

  The woman finishes writing the form and tears it out with a flourish. She gives it to Pearl.

  “You mustn’t lose it,” the woman says. “It needs to be given directly to your guardian.”

  “Our dad?” Pearl says. “He’s sick, in hospital. We told you.”

  “Your mother then.”

  “We don’t have a mother,” Pearl says, her voice unwavering.

  The woman flushes and changes the position of her feet on the seaweed-strewn floor. She almost slips. “Well, keep it safe until he’s home.”

  Clover sobs loudly again and the woman pushes forward on to the motorboat. “Remember, none of you are to leave. Or let those pollinators go. It’s an official order now.” She waves the report book in her hand, like it’s all the authority she needs.

  We stand together watching the boat move away, listening to the fading throb of the engine. Clover’s still crying, but quieter now. I put my arm round her

  “Clover,” I say. I want to find more words, to make things better, but they don’t come.

  And I can’t say I’m sorry, not truthfully. Not when I was the one that made it happen. I made it all happen. Dad. Sora. The storm. The dead butterflies.

  “You should go to your dad,” Nat says to us both.

  “She said we shouldn’t,” Clover says. A torrent of despair rushes out of her. “Will I be sent to the Communal Families, like Barnaby was?”

  “No!” I say forcefully. I push Barnaby out of my head. I wish Nat had never told us that story.

  “You should go,” Nat repeats, looking at me now. “To the hospital. Your dad will want to know you’re OK after last night.”

  Sora will be worried too – shut in her room on Aurora, worrying about her landlubber son at sea in a storm. Guilt colours my cheeks like scarlet paint.

  “Nat’s right,” I say to Clover. “We need to go and see Dad.”

  “You’ll go?” she asks surprised.

  I never wanted to go and visit Mum in hospital. In her bare, lit room that stank of bleach. Your visits make her better, Dad said every day, for weeks and weeks. But Mum rarely smiled when she saw me. I don’t think she wanted me there. I think she’d rather I had stayed with Clover and George back on the platform.

  “You’ll come with us, won’t you?” I say to Nat.

  Nat shakes his head. “I can’t risk more points. Those yellow forms, they’re serious.”

  “You’re not coming?” I ask, feeling my stomach drop.

  “I’m trying to do the right thing. For my mum. Civil disobedience points … they’re a big deal for compounders. I’ve let Mum down enough already.” Nat’s eyes flick wretchedly to Aurora.

  “What did George write down for you?” he asks suddenly, striding over to the table. My ledger is still splayed open on the table. I was sketching a butterfly wing, close up, to get all the detail in. I did two separate sketches – one top, one bottom. You only need one side, because butterflies are symmetrical. Each side is a mirror image of the other.

  George’s writing on the bottom of the page is small and scratchy and all in capitals, like Clover out on the flats. GO TO EZRA.

  Nat reads it out loud, his forehead furrowed pensively. “Why does George think Ezra will help my mum? Ezra can’t intervene just because she works for him, can he? It’d undermine his position!”

  “It’s guilt speaking,” I say. “George blabbed about the butterflies. He wants to think he can fix it but he can’t.”

  Nat’s frown deepens. “But why would he suggest going to Ezra if he didn’t think it would help?”

  I shrug my shoulders.

  “Unless you know him?” Nat asks, staring at me now. “Unless George means that Ezra will help you.”

  “We’ve never even met Ezra,” I say swiftly.

  “What if George does mean us though, Pearl?” Clover says, turning to me. “There’s that photo of Ezra and Mum I found when I was clearing out Mum’s office.”

  “That was from ages ago,” I mutter. I made Clover shove it straight in the big storm trunk along with the letters. I didn’t want to upset Dad further. “They worked together once, that was all. That’s what got Mum sick, remember! Setting up that place with Ezra was the biggest mistake of her life. Look what it did to her! And have you forgotten that he’s behind those horrible rules?”

  Nat shakes his head. “Siege state laws? Ezra didn’t have a choice about them. Mum says he used to try and resist Central, when we first came to the bay. But it’s like the fight went out of him, it must
have got too hard.”

  I glare at him. “He’s put your mum in prison, Nat! He’s trying to take over our farm.”

  “Is he?” Nat asks. “Would he really send me and Mum if he was planning to seize control of your farm? We’re hardly threatening.”

  “He sent the peacekeeper to take the butterflies,” I say, my voice high and tight.

  Nat shrugs again. “How do we know it was Ezra? And I don’t think that woman even knew what she was looking for until she saw them. Did you see the look on her face? The rules don’t mean anything any more.”

  “Exactly!” I say. “The rules are meaningless but he still upholds them, doesn’t he? Ezra Heart! He’s like Central’s puppet!”

  Nat scratches his head. “When Tally’s mum died, it was Ezra who petitioned Central to ask if they could keep Barnaby. Even though he was practically a recluse by then, Ezra still tried to save Barnaby.”

  “So you’re defending him? The man who signed off on your mum’s prison papers?”

  Nat shrinks back from me. “He’s not all bad, is what I’m saying. We shouldn’t dismiss him if he might be able to help us.”

  “You go to him then,” I say. “If Ezra’s so good, you go to him and get him to get your mum off the ship.”

  Nat’s face hardens. “I can’t break the order. You’re not a landlubber. I know you don’t get it, but for us it’s important.”

  Landlubber. He looks right at me as he says it. I’d thought he wasn’t bothered by that word, but he is.

  “But you could go to Ezra, couldn’t you?” he continues. “The two of you could go. Since he knows about you already.”

  I stare back at Nat. Does he have any idea what he’s asking us to do? Ezra’s been enemy number one our entire lives. But I can see Aurora as a dark spot in the corner of my eye. Of course Nat would risk anything to save his mum. Sora doesn’t deserve any of this.

  “Where would we find him?” I sigh, non-committedly.

  “I could draw you a map,” Nat says eagerly now. “He’s not in the compound. He moved to one of the old streets a few years ago. Just about the only one that’s left. It’s easy to find. Even for a sea girl.”