Melt

by Ele Fountain

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘You know you have to make an effort if you’re going to make new friends. It doesn’t happen without a bit of work.’

  I don’t have the energy to say, ‘And then when I have made new friends, we move countries again.’

  ‘Yes, Mum, you’re right.’

  ‘Don’t just agree with me, Beatrice, I want to know that you’ve listened. This is to make things easier for you not me.’

  ‘I have some reading to do for school,’ I say, reaching in my bag for a book.

  ‘There are some really nice shops in town. Perhaps we could go there together at the weekend. I saw a lovely little café, too.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ I say, opening my Spanish book. ‘Sorry, Mum. I’ve got loads to catch up on.’

  ‘OK, darling.’ Schoolwork is pretty much the only sanctioned excuse for silence, with Mum.

  I hear a key in the door and shove Hester off my lap. She gives a high-pitched miaow of annoyance.

  ‘Hello,’ Dad calls. ‘Anyone alive?’

  I run down the stairs to give him a hug.

  ‘How was your day?’ he asks.

  I look at the floor and am horrified to realize my eyes are filling with tears. ‘It was OK,’ I say, wiping my eyes while he takes off his coat.

  ‘Well,’ he says, ‘I just can’t compete with that.’

  I laugh and then sniff. Mum clatters about in the kitchen with dinner things.

  He sits on the stairs to take off his shoes. ‘The company says my reconnaissance plane is ready. I can go down to the airport any time to give it a test flight.’ He looks up. ‘Shall we go this weekend? I think maybe we’ll both need a little time in the clouds.’

  ‘Yes!’ I smile for the first time today. ‘What about Mum?’

  ‘I’m sure she won’t want me to take my first flight in a new plane unaccompanied,’ he says. He knows I don’t mean, ‘Would she like to come?’, rather, ‘Will she let me go?’

  Dad is a model of calm logic with Mum. I can manage the logic. I’m not so good at the calm. Especially when Mum starts talking about unnecessary risk and suitable pastimes.

  He removes his other shoe then sits up straight. ‘You know, after this job, we won’t have to move around any more. They’re paying me so much money that I’ll just be able to eat chips and read crime novels for the rest of my life. You can choose where.’

  ‘Do you mean chips or crisps? You know they call crisps chips here?’

  ‘Nobody tells me anything. I mean the hot ones that you sometimes eat with fish. Anyway, I know it’s been hard for you, moving around so much. This is it. I promise you.’ He holds out his little finger.

  ‘No one does that any more,’ I laugh, but I hold out my little finger anyway.

  You can’t break a pinkie promise.

  Yutu 2

  The next morning, I am up early. Grandma is busy by the stove, heating her favourite brew. The bittersweet smell of cloudberry-leaf tea drifts around the room. Our kitchen is also our sitting room. Like everything in our house, it’s mostly covered in wood panelling or caribou skin.

  ‘Breakfast,’ Grandma announces, smiling. She passes me a plate with a thick chunk of bannock bread and a spoonful of berries mixed in fat—sweet and creamy.

  ‘Today I will go to the food store. See what they have,’ she says.

  ‘Want me to come?’ I ask, my mouth half-filled with bread.

  Grandma smiles. ‘You’re good. Always helping. No need today, though. It’s the first day of your holiday.’

  What she means is, don’t study today.

  ‘Petur is waiting to teach you bone carving. It’s a good way to make money,’ she says. Grandma is always trying to make me learn bone carving. Bone carving or drumming. I’m quite interested in the drumming, but I know that it wouldn’t end there. Next Grandma will want me to dress up in traditional costume and drum whenever there’s some kind of ceremony. Even bone carving would be better than that.

  ‘I have plans today,’ I say.

  Grandma makes her soft sighing sound.

  I head to my room and grab my school stuff, then a chunk of bannock bread from the stove.

  ‘See you later, Grandma,’ I say, remembering to duck under the doorframe as I leave. There are times when Grandma being slow to answer works in my favour.

  I walk down the hill past scattered houses, perched above the snow. The sky is blue with only a few thin clouds on the horizon. Sunlight sparkles on the sea ice. I head towards a large grey building in the centre of the village. The community library. It’s always warm in there and I can use community electricity to power my laptop. None of my friends will be up for hours. I open the laptop which took Grandma a year to save up for and try to focus on why I’m doing this, instead of lying in my warm bed. I have to get good grades for university. Better than good. Then I can study in a city somewhere. Somewhere far away, with stuff to do and jobs which don’t involve bone carving. I want a different future to the one Grandma has in mind.

  Three hours later I have finished the bannock bread and am staring out of the window when a snowball thuds against the glass, quickly followed by another. I stand up and look down to the courtyard. Sami is outside with Jack and Adam. He raises his hands and shrugs—I think in disgust. It seems no one in this place wants me to study. I’ve had enough anyway. I stuff everything in my bag and head out to join them.

  ‘Come on, nerd. Time to go,’ he calls as I walk down the steps.

  ‘Whose house?’ I call back.

  ‘Mine,’ says Jack. ‘I have a new game. Arrived yesterday and I already made it to level three. Beyond level three is impossible.’

  ‘I bet Adam can do it,’ says Sami.

  ‘Adam had better not get to level four before I have,’ says Jack, as if they’re not walking alongside each other.

  When I finally go home, the sun has set.

  Grandma looks up from the pair of mittens she’s sewing. While I take off my boots, she carries on looking, deciding what kind of day I have had.

  ‘Only fish at the store,’ she says, ‘no caribou. Not much seal either.’ She closes her eyes for a second. When she opens them again, she looks sad. ‘Every year there are fewer caribou to hunt. We’ve never run out before.’

  ‘Petur says the seals go to the bay further north,’ I say.

  ‘Maybe the Sea Mother is angry. Perhaps we need to make her happy again.’

  ‘Petur says it’s because it’s too warm in our bay now. Climate change is why they go to the one further up.’

  Grandma shakes her head. ‘There have always been seals in this bay. Our ancestors hunted seals in this bay. They hunted caribou from the land. Now they are both disappearing. Soon we will have only fish. What if the snow and ice disappear too? Then what are we? Everything that made us who we are, will be gone.’

  I’ve never seen Grandma upset like this before. Then I remember. It’s early spring. A good time to track caribou. The days are calm and cold. Like the weekend my parents went hunting with friends. A freak storm blew in. The friends made it back to the village a few days later when it had passed. My parents never came back. That was seven years ago.

  I remember being told they had gone. Sometimes, when I’ve had a bad day, there is an echo of that feeling, deep inside me. A loneliness which won’t go away. An ache. I can’t really remember life before Grandma though. It feels like a separate place and time. A separate me.

  I don’t think that’s how Grandma sees it. She lost her daughter. Now that I’m older I think she is worried about losing me. Every time there is unseasonal weather, or the hunting is poor she sees it as a sign. A sign to keep me closer. The weather is more frequently weird, and the hunting poor, so perhaps she will never allow me to leave this village. Unless I show her that I can look after myself, that nothing bad is going to happen.

  ‘I’ll make some tea,’ I say. While I wait for the kettle to whistle, I think about the cabin. I’ve been there with Petur. I’m ready to g
o on my own. I think about arriving at Grandma’s house dragging two fat seals behind me. I picture her face. At first she will give me one of her ‘you should have known better’ looks. Then she will smile. A broad smile which makes little creases around her eyes and cheeks.

  I pass Grandma her cup, then sit next to her while she picks up another pair of mittens to sew. We often sit this way, in silence. I like it. Inside, though, my thoughts are fizzing like water in a frying pan.

  I’ve made up my mind. I am going to the cabin. Just me.

  Bea 2

  Something soft pats my hand. I open my eyes and look over at my clock.

  ‘Hester, go away. It’s six a.m.’ Maybe cats need to adjust to time zones too. I hear the soft crumple of fabric as she jumps up onto my bed. ‘Just because I named you after Lady Hester Stanhope, doesn’t mean you have to climb everything. Especially on Saturdays.’ She turns a few circles before lying down next to me. Purring loudly. She’s not the only one who’s glad it’s the weekend.

  I lie with my eyes open, going over my first week at school. Macaroni cheese is the best thing on the menu by a long way. The teachers aren’t disappointed with me—yet. Stella is no longer my official buddy. My free trial period has ended, and I don’t think she wants to be my unofficial buddy either, which is fine. I’m not interested in making friends and that seems to suit everybody.

  I hear noises from downstairs. Dad is up, opening all the kitchen cupboards. Every time we move, it takes ages to learn where things are. Mum seems irritated if we fail to locate anything by the second cupboard, which is unfair. She only knows because she unpacks it all.

  I slide out of bed, leaving Hester stretched out on the duvet. She can laze around dreaming catty dreams. She doesn’t have a plane to fly.

  In the kitchen Dad is making his version of sandwiches, which is like everyone else’s but with twice the filling, most of it hanging out.

  He doesn’t look up. ‘Pass the butter, please, Wing Commander.’

  ‘Daaad.’

  ‘I think you mean, sir.’

  ‘Whatever. Here’s the butter.’ On my third attempt I find the cereal, then hunt for a bowl. ‘How long till we leave?’

  ‘Fifteen minutes. OK with you?’

  ‘Aye, Captain.’

  ‘Group Captain, please. We’re Air Force, not Navy. Or pirates.’

  ‘And to think I was looking forward to this.’

  Mum appears, looking sleepy. ‘The weather looks good. I think you’ll have a lovely day.’

  I feel a twinge of guilt. She wanted to go into town with me today. I guess the weather doesn’t need to be good for that. We can go any time.

  ‘I’ll take some pictures,’ I say.

  ‘Make sure you have plenty of warm clothes, too.’

  ‘I might even wear the thermals you bought me,’

  I say. I know this will make Mum happy. Usually when she buys me clothes it’s a disaster. We have such different taste. Clothes which I can wear underneath other clothes are infinitely less risky.

  Ten minutes later I am waiting by the front door. Dad appears with a large rucksack dangling from one hand, mobile phone in the other.

  ‘Ready?’ I nod. ‘Bye, darling!’ he shouts just as my mum appears right behind him.

  ‘Keep an eye on the weather,’ she warns, even though the forecast is perfect.

  I feel my heart beat a little faster as we pull off the main road. The airport looks small. I can see only five or six planes parked on the tarmac beyond the terminal building. There’s also a huge aircraft hangar. I guess it gets pretty snowy here in winter. I’m not sure how you’d go about de-icing an aeroplane before take-off. De-icing a car seems annoying enough.

  As soon as we enter the terminal, a man springs up from a bank of leather chairs beyond a smooth marble floor. The airport might be small, but I sense the people who use it must be doing OK.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Gill.’ He smiles a big warm smile. ‘And this must be Beatrice,’ he says, in a tone which suggests I have earned top marks just by being me. ‘Will your wife be joining us?’

  ‘Not today,’ Dad says. ‘Perhaps next time.’

  We both know this isn’t true, but Dad is using his Work Voice, so I don’t mention it.

  ‘Your plane is refuelled and ready to fly. Please follow me.’

  We follow the man to a reception area, where Dad has to sign something, then we head outside. The sky is a cloudless pale blue. Bright morning sunshine reflects off the windows of the stationary aircraft, making me squint. The man leads us to a silver-grey plane with a deep red tick design on the side. It is the shiniest plane I’ve ever seen.

  ‘This will be yours to use whenever you need it,’ the man smiles at Dad. ‘Here’s the key. On behalf of the company directors, I hope you enjoy your first flight on one of our planes.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Dad says.

  ‘Thank you,’ I add when the man aims the big flashy grin at me.

  He is friendly, but ever-so-slightly creepy. I’m relieved when he heads towards the terminal building. He turns and waves. I wave back, feeling as if he can read my thoughts.

  Dad and I climb into the cockpit. Me, Dad and an aeroplane. My perfect Saturday.

  ‘OK, let’s run through the preflight checks together,’ Dad says.

  ‘Fuel pump is primed, propeller area clear.’ I tick things off the list in my head, one by one.

  ‘One-two-eight-delta-foxtrot, you are cleared for take-off, no delays,’ a crackly voice comes through on the radio.

  ‘That’s us,’ says Dad. We taxi slowly to the end of the runway. ‘What speed do I need before take-off?’

  ‘Seventy knots,’ I answer without thinking.

  Dad puts his hand on the side stick and we start to move, accelerating along the white line in the middle of the runway. He pulls the stick back and I feel my stomach rise as we leave the ground.

  ‘Pitch is ten,’ says Dad, ‘is that OK?’

  ‘Yes. Flaps lowered.’

  As we climb, houses become a patchwork of yellowish-red squares. The horizon stretches out on either side. The plane responds gently to each tiny change in pressure or wind speed. I feel connected to the wind, to the air. Peaceful. Small planes are so different to massive jets, where you have no control and no proper view of the skies around you.

  ‘Look,’ I say, ‘straight ahead.’

  Rising up in the distance is a low range of mountain peaks, covered in snow. The land beyond them is white.

  ‘It won’t begin to thaw up there for another month at least. If we head north-east and keep going, we might reach the North Pole in time for breakfast tomorrow.’

  ‘Wouldn’t we run out of fuel first?’

  ‘Yes. You’d need to refuel somewhere. Probably sensible to wear some warmer clothes too.’

  ‘Where will you be doing your surveys for work?’

  ‘Closer to home. I need to do a few aerial surveys, but mostly seismic.’

  Dad is a geologist, or I should say the geologist. Every oil company wants to get their hands on him. He finds the biggest reservoirs and the easiest extraction routes. Mum says they like him because he has good instincts. Good instincts save oil companies money, and money is what they like, even more than oil.

  ‘It’s extra-tricky when companies want to drill near towns and cities. People like to use petrol and oil, but they don’t want to see big refineries or put up with the noise and smell they make. They prefer it to happen somewhere else.’

  ‘Why don’t they drill up there then?’ I say, pointing to the big white expanse of nothingness ahead.

  ‘Everybody wants to,’ he says, ‘but it’s one of the last wildernesses on our planet. We can’t.’

  ‘I didn’t think oil companies cared about wildernesses.’

  Dad frowns. ‘They’re businesses. If there’s a demand for what they sell, they look for more of it.’

  I feel as if I’ve said the wrong thing.

  ‘Are you ready to take the
controls?’ I glance at Dad. He is looking straight ahead, but a smile lifts the corners of his mouth. ‘Just steer us to the right and then straighten up, then same again in the other direction.’

  Excitement fizzes in my chest. ‘Now?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes, now,’ he says calmly.

  My palms feel damp as I reach out for the co-pilot side stick, even though Dad says I know enough to get a pilot’s licence.

  ‘Over to you,’ he confirms.

  I gently push the stick to the right and the plane responds, gliding towards the low sun. I tilt the stick back and we straighten up, then I push the stick gently to the left. Our manoeuvres might seem strange to someone watching from the ground. Up here, it feels like freedom. There are no road signs or boundaries. Just sky.

  ‘You’re a natural,’ Dad says. ‘I’m going to take control, now, Wing Commander. We should head back. I don’t want to burn up too much fuel on our first trip. They might change their minds about letting us use the plane.’

  ‘OK,’ I say. I don’t even mention the Wing Commander comment. Right now, I am glowing.

  ‘Probably best not to tell Mum I let you fly the plane,’ Dad says.

  Yutu 3

  ‘Why?’ Sami looks at me with genuine wonder. ‘Why would you go and stay in a wooden cabin for a night? You could just sleep outside your front door. I’m sure that would be pretty similar. Except when you wake up you could go inside somewhere warm and have breakfast.’

  ‘I dunno,’ I say. ‘Maybe Grandma won’t worry about me so much if I show her I can look after myself.’

  ‘I think that’s a great way to make her worry a whole lot more,’ Sami says.

  ‘Also, our house isn’t that warm,’ I add.

  ‘Sounds like you’ve made your mind up,’ Sami says. ‘Anything you need?’

  ‘Well—’ I pause. Sami stops setting up the games console to look at me. ‘Can I borrow your snowmobile?’

  He tilts his head to one side. ‘So nothing much! How would I explain a missing snowmobile to my mum?’