Nate jumped out of his pick up and ran over to the old Land Rover. The woman behind the wheel was evidently shocked and hung over the steering wheel, taking great gulps of air to calm herself. She was unhurt though.
‘You all right?’ asked Nate anxiously. ‘You had a blow out’ he continued, glancing down to her right front tyre. ‘This one here’s flat as a pancake’ he added, giving it a small kick. The woman gave him a weak smile.
‘Yeah, I’m ok, no bones broken I think’ she said, composing herself. ‘More a shock than anything else. I thought I was going to slam into your pick-up truck for a second.’
‘Me too’ Nate agreed. ‘But you kept your hands on the wheel and your wits about you.’ She opened the door and climbed out, a little shaky and unsteady.
‘Come on, I only live in this house here’ he said pointing, ‘My wife Thelma makes a mean cup of tea and that’s what you need I reckon.’ He turned his pick-up onto the drive and made sure her Land Rover was out of the way of oncoming traffic while she waited. They walked up the side of the house and in through Nate’s back door into the kitchen. Thelma looked up from the stove.
‘Bethany love! What are you doing here?’ she exclaimed.
‘This young lady almost had a nasty accident’ said Nate, walking in behind her.
‘Hello Mrs Merryweather’ replied Bethany.
‘Sit down my love, you look white as a sheet!’ said Thelma, pulling up a kitchen chair.
‘You two know each other?’ asked Nate brightly.
Thelma soon told Nate that she knew Bethany from the doctor’s surgery and Bethany told Thelma about the blow-out on her car. Thelma poured her a welcome cup of tea from the pot.
‘Oh and call me Thelma’ she said reassuringly, ‘None of this Mrs Merryweather now.’ She turned to Nate.
‘Bethany’s a well-known artist you know Nate. She’s been in the paper and gets commissions from all over the country!’ Bethany looked bashful.
‘Well that’s not exactly true’ she said shyly, her hands around her mug of tea. ‘I could do with one or two more commissions if truth be known.’ She sipped her tea gratefully. Nate stood up.
‘You two enjoy your tea. I’ll just pop out and change your wheel’ he announced, borrowing Bethany’s car keys from the kitchen table as he did so.
‘Oh but you don’t have to!’ exclaimed Bethany.
‘No, no. It’ll be done in a jiffy’ Nate replied, as he slipped out.
Nate was soon back, wiping his hands on a greasy cloth. The tea had steadied Bethany’s nerves and she stood up to leave, conscious that Nate’s lunch was getting cold and that she was keeping him from it.
‘Are you sure you want to drive on your own?’ asked Thelma with a concerned look on her face.
‘Of course’ replied Bethany, ‘it’s like falling off a horse, the sooner you get back on the better you feel’ she joked. She waved them goodbye and walked out to her old Land Rover. She sat behind the steering wheel and sighed, gripping it nervously. She really didn’t want to start the engine and drive off, but she knew that she had to. She turned the key in the ignition, moved off cautiously and headed back up the country lane she’d just come down an hour before. Banks and hedges steeped up on either side of the lane which led back to the farm.
Bethany parked the car and climbed out. Two years before she’d managed to persuade a farmer to rent an outbuilding to her, that until then he’d used as a repair workshop. It was basic, but it was brick-built and its roof was sound. It was a big space inside and had iron-framed windows, letting in plenty of south-facing light, ideal for an artist. There was a decent sized platform on the left hand side and this was where she’d set up her bed and living space. Down below was her studio. She loved the space to work, but in the winter it got pretty cold. She had a stove to take the chill off the air, though sometimes it was so cold that she could barely hold a paint brush. When it froze Bethany would generally decamp to a friend’s house in town where she’d hole up and enjoy a bit of warmth and comfort till the thaw set in.
She’d set her easel up in the middle of the studio where the light stayed the longest during the day and round the edges various canvasses were propped up against the wall. Some of her sketches were taped up on the brick-work. It might have looked messy to an outsider, but to Bethany it was the model of organisation.
Thelma had been right, Bethany was working on a commission. A well-known naturalist had set up a local sanctuary some thirty years before. Bethany’s painting gave prominent space to several animals as well as the naturalist himself. The painting was almost finished, though she was still working on the fine detail, unwilling to lay down her brush and say it was done.
Bethany would have liked a studio overlooking the sea, but that kind of space was way too expensive for an up and coming artist like her. She loved the sea with a passion though and would often spend time on the cliff or down by the shoreline with her sketch pad in hand, trying to capture the different moods of the sea. She would look out, half hoping to see a familiar sight amidst the waves, though she could never quite glimpse it.
Bethany tidied her paints, examining the tubes to see how much she had left. She’d been off to run some errands and pick up supplies when her tyre had blown. It didn’t matter though. She could get the supplies in another day.
She had a photo of Megan, Lucy’s mum, holding Lucy round her middle. Lucy had been only three or so at the time. They were both smiling at the camera and it looked like Megan had been tickling Lucy’s tummy and making her giggle. Bethany paused as she looked at the photo. Lucy sure had grown up a lot in the last few years, but she was Megan’s girl all right.
Bethany worried about Lucy. It hadn’t been easy for her or her Dad and she wasn’t sure that either of them were coping so well. It wasn’t easy to lose your Mum like that. Or your sister, she might have added. Lucy was growing up and she needed to know more about who she was, where she came from, what was in store for her. Her Dad didn’t know that much and what he did know, he wished he didn’t. He certainly didn’t want Lucy to know. It wasn’t easy for Bethany, because John shut her out and made it increasingly difficult for Bethany to visit them and spend time with Lucy. She’d recently made an impromptu visit, taking John by surprise so he didn’t have an excuse to say no. But he’d made her feel unwelcome and got rid of her as soon as he could then next day.
Looking at Lucy in the photograph just made her think of Megan at the same age. Lucy was a lot like her mum Megan. Bethany was six years younger than Megan and, when they were young, it seemed like an immense age gap between them. When Bethany was six, Megan had already turned twelve. Bethany had idolised her elder sister, always trying to imitate her, but she could never catch up no matter how hard she tried.
Megan was fascinated by the sea and was a natural in the water, swimming with an easy grace without even seeming to try. Bethany on the other hand had hated getting water in her eyes, especially salt water and it took her years of swimming lessons before she developed a decent front crawl.
They used to come down to Cornwall for their summer holidays; Megan, Bethany and their parents. Megan had quickly made a couple of local friends and was allowed to go off and play with them, while Bethany had been stuck with their parents, jealous of Megan’s freedom. Yet Bethany had loved those bucket and spade holidays, decorating her sandcastles with shells and seaweed that she found on the water’s edge or in the rock pools.
One summer afternoon, Megan had gone out to play with her friends as usual, away from the cottage where they were staying half a mile or so in from the sea. The afternoon had worn on and the shadows started to lengthen across the garden where Bethany had been playing with her toys and her parents were sunbathing. Megan still didn’t come home and their parents started to get worried. She was always told that she had to be back in time for tea at five o’clock, but six o’clock came and went and Megan still wasn’t home.
Their father went off down the hill to knock on the doors o
f the parents of the children that Megan generally played with to see if she was with them. He came back half an hour later with a distraught look on his face. Neither child had seen Megan all day. She was out on her own. Time had crept on and their Mum and Dad kept reassuring each other that Megan would be back soon. The days were long and there was plenty of daylight left. Megan had just forgotten the time, they said to each other. Yet still she did not return home.
Their Mother got the young Bethany ready for bed, but was too distracted to send her off upstairs. Bethany could feel the tension between her parents. Eventually her mum said ‘That’s it, were calling the police.’ Twenty minutes later two police constables were in their kitchen, taking notes, asking where Megan usually played. Their father had been to every place he could think of that Megan might have gone to play and each time had drawn a blank. He was happy to believe he might have missed somewhere obvious though and carefully went through it all again with the two constables.
The policemen asked her parents if Megan liked being up on the cliff or playing down by the water’s edge. Of course, said her parents, doesn’t every child? The older policeman pulled a face and got on his radio to the coastguard. The tide had turned and it was common knowledge, he said, that it was easy to get cut off at the bottom of a cliff when the tide came in. He told her mum and dad that they should never have let Megan go off unaccompanied like that. ‘It’s irresponsible’, he said. Bethany’s dad got angry and defensive, but her mum started to cry and that had set Bethany off too.
The coastguard got the lifeboat out and off it went to check whether anything unusual could be seen at the foot of the cliffs. An hour later the reports came back in. Nothing at all had been found. It was as if Megan had disappeared without a trace.
By ten pm, the long summer day had given way to darkness. The two constables had gone and a woman police constable had taken their place. Patrol cars were checking the local roads and there was talk of organising a search of the nearby woods and fields at first light. Her mother sat, hunched in quiet anguish. Her Dad went out, flashlight in hand, calling Megan’s name loudly, feeling he had to do something, anything rather than just sit there and wait.
Eventually sleep overcame the young Bethany and her mother covered her with a blanket on the sofa where she had lain down. No one was in the mood to go to bed that night. Night gave way to bleak morning.
Suddenly the police-woman’s radio crackled into life. Megan had been found alive and well. Twenty minutes later Megan was bustled into the cottage, a blanket round her shoulders. Bethany blinked wearily but happy that her sister was safe and sound. Her parents were as angry as they were relieved and demanded that Megan tell them immediately where she had been all night, what she had been playing at, worrying them half to death.
But Megan hadn’t answered and had had a small smile and a far away look upon her face. She didn’t seem able to say. It was up to a young policeman to tell them how she’d been found. He’d been in his patrol car driving along the sea road going west out of town. He’d seen Megan just sitting there, on a rock a few metres off, staring out to sea. He called to her and clambered over the rocks to get to her, but the girl didn’t seem to hear. When he got close he could see that she was wet through, as though she’d been in the sea, but she wasn’t shivering and didn’t seem cold. He said that he was cold though and he was wearing a dry uniform. He scooped her up off the rock where she was sitting and brought her home to the cottage.
Megan and Bethany’s parents talked about cutting their holiday short and driving home that same day, but a tearful Bethany had persuaded them not to. They didn’t let Megan out of their sight though for the rest of the holiday and she wasn’t allowed to go out and play with her local friends in any circumstances. ‘We’re going to watch you like a hawk’, their mum had said decisively. Megan had played with her kid sister instead and Bethany had had a great time; the two of them had made the biggest sandcastle ever.
Bethany came out of her reverie and put back the photo back on the windowsill. She glanced around the studio. It was later than she’d thought. Just then, her mobile phone beeped from where she’d left it on her workbench in one corner. She didn’t always get good reception and they weren’t so close to a transmitter so she was glad that the text message had got through for once.
‘It’s me, Lucy’ the text message read. ‘I really want to get away from Dad and come and see you. Can I?’
Chapter Nine:
It had been a cold, still night when the first light crept across the cloudless sky. The sun’s rays were tinged with red and infected the lapping waves with a ruby hue. The pods of dolphins slowly stirred into lazy consciousness. They started swimming in wide, relaxed circles and talk broke out amongst them. The older dolphins still had a lot of catching up to do and the younger ones still had new friends to make. They may all have been hungry, but fishing could wait. There was still a lot of socialising to do.
Spirit and Dancer had slept peacefully overnight. Dancer woke first and swum up to Spirit, giving him a playful pat with her fin.
‘Hey Spirit, you were snoring!’ she joked.
‘I do not snore!’ Spirit replied emphatically, picking up on the joke, though he was still half asleep.
‘That’s what you think!’ retorted Dancer, swimming around him.
‘Well you talk in your sleep’ replied Spirit stifling a laugh.
‘Oh and what do I say?’
‘Give me mackerel, give me herring, pollock and plaice’ mimicked Spirit.
‘Hey you!’ exclaimed Dancer, chasing his tail.
Spirit sped off, laughing and before they knew it, ten other youngsters were chasing him too, speeding in, around, under and over the older dolphins, turning heads as they went. Spirit raced down to the bottom and turned sharply. Dancer and two other youngsters collided with each other as they too tried to turn and then made off again in a mad dash. Spirit leapt clear of the water, turning a somersault in the air, splashing back noisily into the water. Dolphin after dolphin followed him into the air in a crazy, spontaneous, headlong chase. Spirit turned again in the water, but this time he could not escape and before he knew it, five dolphins had piled into him. They collapsed, laughing back into the water, elated and happy. The youngsters chatted contentedly between themselves. Yesterday half of them didn’t even know each other at all. Now they felt as if they’d know each other half their lives. It felt good, it felt natural. The older dolphins looked on approvingly; it was good to see the young dolphins getting to know each other.
Eventually the youngsters broke up into smaller groups and some joined their own pods again.
Spirit and Dancer had joined Summer and Moonlight and were relaxing when a figure swam up to them. She was evidently old and had half a dozen scars on her back, though whether from propellers or from shark attacks, it was not clear. She approached them in a slow, awkward motion, as though the exertion caused her bones to ache.
‘You, young dolphin’ she called in an uncertain voice. Dancer and Spirit both turned to look at her, not knowing which of them that she was referring to. The old dolphin nodded impatiently in Spirit’s direction.
‘Yes?’ he asked.
‘Young man. A word’ she said, indicating with her head that she wanted him to swim along with her. Spirit threw a glance at Dancer, as if to say I don’t know what she wants, but I’d better find out. He swam along with her a short distance from the group.
‘My name’s Shimmer’ she introduced herself matter-of-factly. ‘I may be old now’ she continued, ‘but once I really did shimmer. And you young man, what is your name?’
‘I’m Spirit’ he replied.
‘And why did the elders give you that name?’
‘I’m not sure’ he answered. ‘I think maybe they saw something unusual in me’ Spirit said uncertainly. ‘My mother, when I was young, said I had a far off look in my eyes that seemed to show spirit. Why?’
‘I saw’ Shimmer replied simply.
&
nbsp; ‘Saw what?’ asked Spirit, confused.
‘I saw your vision. You are a Child See-er.
‘A Child See-er?’
‘Don’t be coy with me’ continued Shimmer tartly. ‘You know exactly what I mean. The child that came to you last night. The human child! She is what they call a Dolphin-Child, and you, young dolphin, are a Child See-er’ Spirit didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything. He swum on. Eventually he turned and eyed Shimmer with a worried look on his face.
‘Are you one too?’ he asked.
‘No. Beware!’ She was a very blunt-speaking old dolphin.
‘Beware of what?’ Shimmer sighed and her stern look softened. ‘Let me tell you a story. I had a sister once and she was a Child See-er too. A small male human, a boy, would come to her. They would talk for a long, long time, away from the pod. Then the boy would fade away into the depths. My sister was very happy. She said it made her feel complete. The boy obsessed her and even when he was not there, you could tell that she wished that he was. It was almost like love. I told her that she was silly and that it was the dolphins around her, her own kith and kin, who she should care for. I said I would tell the elders, but she implored me not to. I promised my sister that I would not and in fact I always kept my word. I have kept my word until this very day, because I have never met a Child See-er before or since, until you.’
Spirit said nothing, but the old dolphin’s words had a powerful effect upon him. Shimmer continued.
‘My sister became distant from the pod. She would not swim with the rest of us to fish and often she preferred to go off on her own. First of all she would swim away from us all for only an hour or two. Then she would swim off alone for hours on end. Eventually she would stay away for a night and then two. And then one day she didn’t come back.
‘What happened to her, your sister I mean?’ Spirit asked.
The Girl Who Dreamt of Dolphins Page 10
