by Janis Mackay
In this place boys play on the beech in the dark, and it’s cold.
Because it was chilly and dark and windy, Billy Mole hadn’t been in any mood to hang about. “You might find these aliens down at the beach so head on down there first thing,” that’s what the big man had told him. The big man had not told him you might also catch your death of cold!
Shivering and tired, Billy hadn’t lingered down at the beach. Was it, he wondered, the norm for Scottish boys to play on the beach at night with not an adult in sight? And was it the norm for women to run along the beach in strange costumes then vanish into thin air? And these boys he’d seen, what were they so excited about? “Treasure!” Billy had heard them shouting. They appeared to be digging. “We’ll be rich!” one of them had shouted. Billy was curious. Rich was something that interested him big time. But the wind had biting teeth, and he’d felt splats of rain. Billy had made a mental note of where the boys were. Maybe he’d come back later and have a look at that treasure himself.
Then he had turned and stumbled over the stony beach in a hurry to get back to the warmth of the Rugged Coast Bed and Breakfast. There he would hatch a plan, and try to track down this schoolteacher who said he was teaching aliens. Billy had shivered, pulled up the collar of his jacket, and scampered off.
After he had warmed up and eaten two of Mrs Anderson’s bacon rolls, Billy Mole went off into the night in search of the schoolteacher. The big man said this teacher played golf and the place to find him would be in the golf club, so that’s where Billy went, bending into the wind and missing home already.
The schoolteacher was easy to spot, with his handlebar moustache and his red cheeks. Billy downed his Coke and chuckled to himself; this was going to be a cinch. He’d have his sensational story in next to no time. Billy waited until the man was on his own, sitting down to a cup of coffee. Billy strutted over, feeling generous. When his story hit the headlines, there’d be money in it for this teacher.
Billy sat down next to the teacher and grinned. “It was you, wasn’t it? What put me on the trail of them aliens?”
Mr Sargent spluttered. His coffee cup shook in his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t know you, and I don’t know what the devil you’re on about. Now – if you don’t mind – I’m actually waiting for someone.”
“That’s me! We got your tip-off and here I am. Billy Mole – Inside Lives magazine. Come all the way from London and I just need to ask you a few questions, like.”
Mr Sargent’s face had gone redder than usual and his eyes flickered around the clubhouse. Lowering his voice he said, “Look, you’ve obviously mistaken me for someone else. Now, please, I must ask you to sit elsewhere.”
But Billy Mole wasn’t going anywhere. He waggled his notebook in the air. “Not what you was saying before. Yeah. It was you. Big old-fashioned army type. Moustache and ruddy cheeks. Plays golf. Ain’t nobody else fits that bill, is there?”
Mr Sargent looked desperately around the clubhouse. Two women sat together in the corner, and a slim young man with no moustache stood at the bar. Billy went on, sounding super-confident, “Yeah, you was telling the whole world how you got aliens in your class. Well, here I am, come to get the whole story.”
Mr Sargent coughed. Beads of sweat glistened above his bushy eyebrows. “Look here, laddie, I said nothing of the sort. Nothing!” But his voice had lost its usual robust vigour. He bent his head towards Billy Mole and in a pleading, almost child-like voice said, “It’s all a misunderstanding. You’ve got the wrong end of the stick.”
Billy Mole laughed. “Bit late now. This story’s gonna be a sensation. It goes public next week. The man what teaches aliens! Ha! So, tell me, what are they like? Them fish folks – can they read? Have they got funny habits? Do they by any chance muck about at night-time down at the beach, digging for treasure?”
Mr Sargent squared his shoulders and whipped out his mobile phone. “Listen, sonny boy, if you don’t beat it I – I’m going to call the police!”
Billy Mole wasn’t too keen on the police, so he got up and he beat it, leaving Mr Sargent dabbing his brow with his handkerchief. After the flashy know-it-all teenager left the golf club Mr Sargent fumbled in his pocket for a barley sugar.
“Oh dear,” he muttered, tugging off the wrapper, “oh dear, dear, dear – what on earth have I done?”
At nine o’clock the next morning, it dawned on Billy Mole that he had an informant staring him in the face. Mrs Anderson! If the schoolteacher wasn’t going to come up with the goods, she surely would. He knew what old wives were like for gossip.
“Morning, laddie,” she sang, setting a bowl of piping hot porridge down in front of her sole guest. “Now, eat this up. It’ll put flesh on your bones.”
Billy stared at the porridge and screwed up his face, but decided he’d give it a go. He needed to sweeten up the old woman, and forcing himself to eat a few spoonfuls of porridge was all in a day’s work for a celebrity journalist.
“And for after,” went on Mrs Anderson, “are you for black pudding or smoked kippers?”
Billy felt sick, but he kept going, kept spooning the porridge into his mouth. With five heaped spoonfuls of sugar it didn’t taste too bad. He looked up at her. “So that’s the secret then? Smoked kippers?”
Mrs Anderson bent her head closer. “Now, laddie, and what secret would that be?”
Billy Mole hated this laddie thing, but he smiled on. “Oh, you know, the secret of them different coloured eyes. I heard there’s a shed load of them up here.”
Mrs Anderson looked confused. “Sorry, laddie. I’m not following yea.”
“You must’ve seen them. These…” Billy forced himself to say the word, “laddies… with different coloured eyes.”
Mrs Anderson tossed her head back and roared with laughter. And then it fell – right into Billy Mole’s lap. “You mean Ragnor and Barbara’s laddie, wee Magnus Fin?”
Billy tried not to look triumphant. “Oh, yeah. Magnus Fin. Yeah. That’s him. Him that’s always down at the beach.”
“Well, he would be, wouldn’t he? He practically lives there.” Mrs Anderson went over to the window, pulled back the net curtain and pointed. “Way down on the shore. See that wee stone cottage, standing all on it’s own? That’s where he lives.” Then she smiled and let the curtain fall back. “More laddies like him and the world would be a better place. Now, was that one kipper you were for, or two?”
Billy Mole had all the information he wanted, so there was no need to be sweet with doddery old Mrs Anderson any more and suffer kippers. He pushed the porridge bowl away. “Get me a bacon roll.”
“Charming!” she sniffed, clearing away his bowl. Then she hurried off to the kitchen, tutting loudly. “Charming indeed!”
Billy Mole laughed, whipped his notebook from his jacket pocket and wrote down two words:
Magnis Fyn
Chapter 18
That afternoon Aquella took her homework and headed down to the beach. The tide was well out and craggy rocks, usually submerged, made small islands in the sea. Aquella didn’t have to worry about salt water damaging her skin when the tide was safely out. She walked along the beach path with her reading book tucked under her arm. A sea mist rolled in over the water. She liked mist. She liked how it swirled and hid things.
As she walked she sang a haunting quiet song. When she sang she could imagine rolling with the ebb and flow of the tides. She could be a seal again. She could forget how her seal skin was well and truly gone, ripped to shreds by the awful monster, the same that had stolen Neptune’s treasure. The same, she thought with a deep feeling of relief, that had been killed by Magnus Fin. Aquella stopped singing and gazed out to sea, glad there were no monsters any more. Her eyes fell to the hole in the sand. She shuddered, thinking about the great task King Neptune was asking of Magnus Fin.
It was hard enough being a selkie with no seal skin. She wondered what it was like to be a boy of both worlds. The selkies considered Magnus Fin their hero, she k
new that. But often when she looked at him, spooning Rice Krispies into his mouth at a great rate, or skimming stones, or collecting shells and bones from the beach, she saw simply a skinny, shy, dreamy boy. He didn’t look like a hero at all. Were they expecting too much of him?
She sighed and picked up the thread of her song. She sang to the oystercatcher that was using its chisel-like orange beak to crack open a shellfish. Then she plonked herself down on a soft clump of marram grass, lay back, kicked off her shoes, and opened her book.
It was the book about the boy who had turned blind. Aquella had only been ashore for nine months, but could read as well as any eleven-year-old. And she felt very sorry for the boy. He knew people by their voices, she read, which was strange, because at that moment Aquella heard something. She lowered her book and listened. It sounded like a soft howling. She glanced along the beach. No one was there. She looked behind her, but still couldn’t see anyone. The mist rolled towards her. “Haar”, that’s what Ragnor called it. Out of the haar the soft howl came again.
Aquella jumped to her feet. She knew that call. Deep in her selkie bones she knew that call. Her open book fell onto the sand. “Yes?” she called, peering out to sea. “Yes? Who’s there?” Her voice rose with excitement. Now she was sure, the call was coming from the sea. Aquella stared. Was it the swirling mist or was that black rock in the water moving? She ran a few steps forward but didn’t dare go further. “Yes?” she called again. “Who is it?”
Aquella gazed open-mouthed as a black seal emerged from the mist and slithered up onto the rock. The seal rolled itself from side to side, until the seal skin fell back and a girl stood up. The girl on the rock had long black hair. It spilt down her back. She swung her head and her hair wrapped itself around her and clung to her like a dress.
“Aquella?” the girl on the rock called. “It is you, isn’t it?” The girl lifted an arm and waved.
Aquella, jumping up and down with excitement, waved back. “Lorelie?” she called. “Fàilte, Lorelie!” Tears sprang to her eyes. Lorelie had been like a kind older sister to Aquella. It was Lorelie who had taught her the old Gaelic songs. It was Lorelie she had turned to when she felt afraid or lonely. And like Aquella, Lorelie too had been a prisoner of the false king, forced to sing whenever he snapped his tentacles. And when Aquella had lost her seal skin it had been Lorelie who had comforted her.
“Yes. It’s me. It’s Aquella! Oh Lorelie!” she shouted “Lorelie!”
Lorelie secured her seal skin, pressing it into a crevice in the rock. Then she dived into the sea. Seconds later she emerged, clad in a red and green dress of seaweed and a necklace of shells. She stood up in the shallow water, shook out the thick coils of her long dark hair then took a shaky step forward. Aquella watched. She knew that time well, moments after the change, when the new body feels as if it might topple over.
From the shore Aquella urged her friend on. “Take it easy, Lorelie. Don’t tread on glass. Careful. That’s great.”
Lorelie stepped from the water and onto the pebbles. The seal-girl gazed at Aquella, clapped her hands together and laughed. Water dripped from her dress and her hair clung to her. More than anything Aquella wanted to run to her friend and hug her, but she couldn’t risk getting salt water on her skin, not even a drop.
“I know,” Lorelie said, stretching her arms out. “I won’t wet you. I just want to see you.” Then Lorelie, in that waddling selkie way, ran to Aquella, pausing just inches from her. Glistening tears sat on Lorelie’s long black eyelashes. “I’ve missed you so much,” she said, wiping her tears with her hair. “We’ve all missed you.”
Aquella felt hot tears prick her eyes. “And I’ve missed you – so much. I’m a land girl now. My skin change is almost done. I miss the sea, of course I do, but it’s good being human. I sing the songs you taught me. People here say I’ve got a good voice.”
Lorelie stood as close as she dared, a graceful smile lighting her face. “Oh, Aquella. You look beautiful and different somehow. What’s it like wearing human clothes?”
Aquella laughed, looking down at her jeans and thick blue fleece top. “You get used to it I suppose. Well, except shoes. They pinch. I kicked them off. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to them.”
Their clear voices rang out over the water and through the mist. “Oh my dear Aquella, listen to me.” A tone of sadness crept into Lorelie’s words. “I bring good news and bad. Things have changed. Miranda has told us how King Neptune is losing his power, how the Seudan is lost. The sea is hardly safe any more. Pounding waves buffet us, then the next moment we are dragged down as though the sea is a dead weight. And when we want to come to the safety of the land Miranda forbids us. She says it is growing dangerous for selkies to remain so close to humans. She says nowhere is safe.”
Just then a harsh voice cut through the mist, “Oi!” followed by the fast crunching noise of feet pounding over stones. Aquella swung round. Out of the thick mist the voice came again. “Oi! You!” Aquella couldn’t see anyone. Her heart raced. The footsteps were coming closer.
“You see!” gasped Lorelie. “We must be quick. Miranda tells us Magnus Fin will find the key. She tells us he will return the Seudan. The key to Neptune’s treasure, Aquella, do you remember? The great white shark boasted about how he knew where it was, back in the false king’s palace.”
“Lorelie, you’d better go!”
But Lorelie had already gone. Hearing a splash Aquella glanced back at the rock just in time to see two tail fins flick upwards then vanish under the water. Lorelie had left, taking her good news with her – for nothing had been good. Nothing.
Aquella left her book in the sand and ran. But selkies are not fast runners. Great swimmers, yes, but running doesn’t come naturally to them. If Fin was a good runner it was because he was half human. Aquella was one hundred per cent selkie. She waddled. She took small rolling steps. She stuck her arms out to the side.
But now, with a human chasing her, she ran like never before. If she could only get as far as the cave she could hide. There were nooks and crannies there he’d never find. She didn’t dare look back. Behind her footsteps crashed down over the pebbles. “Oi! You!” he kept shouting. “I want to talk to you!”
Aquella kept running, the way she’d seen Tarkin run in school sports, pumping his elbows back and forth and taking long leaping strides. She felt exhausted. The footsteps sounded louder. Any moment now he would pounce on her. This was surely the boy Magnus Fin and Tarkin had spotted, the one they called the snooping stranger. The cave was still a long way off.
“What’s the panic? Hey! You! I want to talk to you!” Billy Mole was right behind her. The next second he overtook her then swung round and barred her way. “Hang on,” he panted. “I want to ask – just a few – questions!”
Whimpering like a trapped animal Aquella stared up at him, terrified. But this strange boy, she sensed, seemed equally unsure of her. His eyes, she saw, had fallen to her bare feet. She tried to wriggle her webbed toes down into the sand.
“Too late,” he gasped. “My God! That’s not normal. You’re one of them fish girls, aren’t you?”
“I’m a land girl,” Aquella blurted out. “I’m normal.” She flashed a look out to sea. Lorelie had gone.
“Oh yeah,” Billy said, “and I’m a pig flying in the air. Who you kidding? Nobody goes round calling themselves a ‘land girl’. Come on, spill the beans. You’re alien, ain’t you?” He looked at her face sideways, as though he was afraid she might put a spell on him.
Aquella shook her head fiercely. Her black hair swung round, strands of it flicking the stranger’s face. Her eyes blazed.
Billy whipped out his notebook. He’d caught up with one, he was sure of that. He’d only been in Scotland two days and here he was face to face with an alien. Fame and fortune would soon be his. “So tell me, fish girl, where was you born?”
“Here,” Aquella said, taking a small step backwards.
“What? On the beach?” He cli
cked his pen then sniffed, as though smelling her. “Or in the sea? You was, wasn’t ya? Fish girl! Ha!” Billy fumbled in his pocket, whipped out his camera and pointed it at Aquella.
Then he shuddered. Through the camera lens he saw how clear her sea-green eyes shone, how small and animal-like her nose was, how not-quite-human her face seemed.
Aquella glared at the camera and bared her teeth. Spying the sharp flash of her teeth Billy Mole gulped. With trembling hands he clicked the switch.
“Right, that’s that,” he said, though some of his swaggering confidence had gone, “yeah, right then. So that’ll be splashed all over London.” He glanced at her and took a step back. “You should be happy. You’re gonna be famous!” He grinned.
Aquella scowled at him, which quickly wiped the grin from Billy Mole’s face. “R-right then… um…” He levelled the camera at the ground. With a snap he took a photo of her feet. “Them’s gonna be all over London an all. So – um – fish girl…”
But words had suddenly failed Billy Mole.
Aquella’s bright green eyes pierced into his own. She felt a surge of anger shoot through her. Lorelie had said the land wasn’t safe. Why wasn’t it safe? Because people like this boy had come snooping around. She wanted to turn and flee, but knew she couldn’t outrun him.
With shaking fingers Billy Mole opened his notebook, pulled the plastic top off his biro pen, cleared his throat, then said, “So, um… anyway. On with the interview. You ready?”
Aquella continued to glare at him. She took a step back, and another.
“So, right then, tell the world what’s it like being a fish.”
Suddenly Aquella heard a high-pitched whirring noise zip through the air above her; the kind you hear when a fisherman casts his line. Aquella looked up.
“What the heck’s that?” she heard the teenager cry out.
