Summer’s Shadow

by Anna Wilson

  ‘Hey, it’s amazing!’ he yelled, letting out a raucous bellow of laughter. His eyes were still tight shut, the jewel-drop splashes around him flashing like diamonds. He looked as though he were born to be there: a sea creature, a mer-boy. Truly in his element.

  Zach swam closer to where she was still sitting awkwardly on the edge. ‘Come on, Summer!’ he pressed.

  When she didn’t say anything, he formed a shovel with his cupped hands and pushed a wall of water at her, soaking her legs and body, sending up a shower of sparkling, icy water into her face.

  ‘Urgh!’ she shouted, scrabbling to her feet.

  ‘Now that you’re wet, you may as well get in,’ he teased, his head on one side. His smile was softer now, his eyes betraying a flicker of worry; perhaps he had gone too far.

  Summer’s mouth twitched with mischief, and suddenly, recklessly, she threw herself straight at him, wanting to feel alive and carefree, to have some fun. She momentarily enjoyed the look of shock on his face as she fell towards him, then realized, too late, what she was doing.

  I’m jumping into the water – it’s freezing!

  Zach had already grabbed her arm before she could sink too deep. She surfaced, spluttering, her legs and free arm flapping and struggling.

  ‘It’s OK, it’s OK, I’ve got you,’ Zach said. His face was very close to hers, his grip on her surprisingly strong.

  Gradually the tightness around her chest eased, the iron-clad cold loosening its grasp. A fuzzy feeling of almost-warmth crept into her limbs as her blood raced around her veins.

  ‘See? Not so bad, is it?’ said Zach’s voice in her ear. ‘Once you’re used to the cold, you’ll find it easier than swimming in a pool.’

  ‘Hm-hmm,’ she said, through pursed lips. Summer didn’t dare talk. She didn’t want to let any more of the sharp, salty water into her mouth.

  ‘OK,’ said Zach carefully. ‘I won’t take you out into the bay, even though it’s a lovely calm day. We’ll stay here in this smaller area – I call this bit the Pool. Whatever’s going on beyond the rocks, the Pool mostly always stays calm. We’ll be completely safe. You all right now?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Summer nodded.

  Zach let go of her and propelled himself round, sculling with his hands in small circles. ‘See the way the Pool is sheltered by the line of the rocks around it? The water hardly ever gets that rough in the summer. Out in the bay, it can get choppy. Still, you’ll have to try it. That’s where the real swimming is!’

  She had to admit, it was wonderful: quiet, soft water that she could have sworn had gone up a fair few degrees in temperature since she had taken the plunge, the only sounds a shallow dabbling as they both paddled idly. She closed her eyes for a second and smiled.

  ‘Told you it was magic,’ Zach said.

  ‘Do you ever wonder where you come from?’ Zach asked. They were sitting on the rocks, wrapped in their towels.

  She looked at him sharply, her limbs shaking with cold now that the adrenaline had dissipated. ‘N-n-no,’ she said through shivering lips. Every hair on her arms was standing to attention.

  Zach was looking out across the cove to the peninsula.

  That’s the rock in the background of those photos of mum. Should I tell him about them?

  The sun was behind Zach, giving him a golden halo. His cute nose wrinkled up as he smiled. His tanned skin looked darker, bathed in this light.

  ‘I bet you do,’ he said, and returned her gaze slowly. He seemed to look right into her.

  ‘Bet I do what?’

  ‘Wonder where you come from – You all right? You look a bit shaky,’ he added.

  ‘‘S all right,’ she said, hugging her towel tightly around her. ‘What you were saying – about where we come from? I . . . yeah, I s’pose I do.’ She wasn’t sure about being drawn into a conversation about her family. Yet at the same time, she was thinking of a way to mention Tristan and Kenan, even maybe those photos, without actually telling him she was living at Bosleven.

  ‘I think about it a lot,’ he said. ‘I sometimes think: what if my parents had never met? Or if they’d met other people, I mean?’ The blue of his eyes seemed to deepen as he leaned forward, intent. ‘Would I have been born as a different person? Or would I still have been born, but just ended up in a different family? Or would I have been born a girl?’ He chuckled at the thought.

  Summer snorted. ‘Idiot,’ she said, teeth still chattering. She was smiling now, though.

  She had never met anyone who talked like this. Even Jess. If ever Summer had tried anything approaching a philosophical conversation with her, Jess had only laughed and teased her for being ‘deep’. Zach was so different. The contrast with him and Kenan, or any of the boys from school, was huge. She couldn’t let him see this. Had to play it cool.

  ‘Once I get to thinking like that,’ Zach was saying, ‘I go off on one, you know – like, I start thinking, what if this is all a dream?’

  ‘Oh, that’s original,’ Summer said, teasing.

  ‘No – I don’t mean, “What if I’m dreaming it?”,’ Zach persisted. ‘I mean, “What if someone else is dreaming all this?”‘ He looked up to the cliffs and the sky and motioned expansively, taking in their surroundings. ‘What if this is someone else’s dream, and we’re just characters in it: if they wake up, what happens to us?’

  ‘That’s just mental, you know that?’ Summer said, nudging him. She wanted to say she had already thought similar things herself, but could not bring herself to be as open as he was.

  ‘By the way,’ Zach said lightly, as if on cue, ‘you still haven’t told me that much about yourself yet . . .’ he tailed off.

  Summer sighed. He was right. He had done all the running so far: if they were going to be friends, she would have to tell him a bit more than she already had.

  ‘I . . . if I tell you where I’m staying, will you promise not to freak out on me?’ she said seriously.

  Zach pulled a face. ‘S’pose.’

  ‘Sorry, I mean, that sounds weird, I guess, it’s just – I didn’t know this place was private till you told me yesterday. But you probably won’t believe that when you hear . . . Oh, whatever, you’d find out sooner or later probably.’ She blew at her salt-streaked hair and picked at some barnacles. ‘I only came here very recently. After Mum died. My uncle’s . . . I’m staying at that house.’ She said the words quickly, before she could change her mind, and jerked her head up towards the cliffs. Couldn’t bring herself to say, ‘I live there’.

  ‘What? Bosleven?’ Zach’s eyes popped wide with shock and surprise. He drew away slightly. ‘You are kidding me, right?’

  Summer shook her head. ‘Nope. Tristan Trewartha’s my guardian. He’s supposed to be some kind of uncle. I never knew him before, though. I mean, Mum never told me about this place and then she died and . . . Well, I had to come here.’

  ‘Right,’ said Zach slowly.

  Summer glanced at him anxiously.

  ‘I’m not going to tell him about you fishing here or anything,’ she assured him hastily.

  ‘No,’ said Zach.

  ‘To be honest, I don’t think they come down here that much.’

  Zach smiled sadly.

  Summer was anxious at this sudden clouding of his mood. ‘Listen, if I knew it was going to upset you, knowing who my uncle is, I never would have told you.’

  Zach shook his head. ‘I know.’ He stood up. ‘Hey, I didn’t realize your mum had died so recently. I’m . . . I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Summer muttered.

  ‘Listen,’ Zach said softly. ‘I’m sorry I asked so many questions. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s cool.’

  Summer said nothing.

  ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’ Zach asked suddenly. ‘Want to come on a bike ride?’

  Summer looked up.

  His face was shining with genuine excitement at his idea. ‘I could show you the village – unless you’ve already been there. Or take you
to another beach?’

  Summer bit her lip. She had a suspicion he was only being nice to her now because of her mum, but she found she did not really care about the motivation behind his suggestion. They both spoke at once.

  ‘I’d love to—

  ‘It’s OK, no worries. It was only a thought—’

  ‘No, really,’ she cut in. ‘I’d love to explore. I – I don’t know my way round yet, so . . .’

  ‘Great! Do you have a bike? I could come and get you?’

  ‘No,’ she said. Then, quickly, ‘I mean: I don’t have a bike.’

  Zach looked disappointed. ‘Oh.’ He chewed at a nail.

  Summer churned with frustration. She had just had the offer of a chance to get out. The chance to spend time with someone she wanted to be with. Someone Kenan knew nothing about.

  So near, yet so far.

  Then Zach said, ‘Hey, I bet they’ve got a bike. Up at the house. Must have. You could borrow one.’

  She swallowed drily. ‘What if – what if they find me poking around and . . . get cross?’

  Zach frowned. ‘Why would they do that? If that Tristan guy is your guardian, surely he won’t mind if you borrow a bike, for heaven’s sake?’

  Summer’s brow furrowed too. ‘It’s not him.’

  Zach looked at her curiously. ‘I’ll walk back up with you now. I left my bike in a bush near the field with the pigs in – you know?’

  She shook her head. She hadn’t noticed any pigs.

  ‘It’s by the green gate – the one that goes into their rockery. You must have seen the rockery? It’s famous round here. Famous for being a secret – like the beach!’ He laughed.

  Yeah. Like a lot of things.

  Zach put a hand on her shoulder. ‘OK, listen, when you go back now, see what you can do about a bike. I’ll wait for you tomorrow at the top of their drive – ten o’clock? If you’re not there by half past, I won’t wait. But . . . I won’t hold it against you.’ He laughed. ‘I’m always down here fishing anyway, so . . .’

  ‘Yeah,’ Summer replied softly.

  They gathered their things and headed back up the cliff path, Zach chattering amiably about showing her round, and Summer half listening as she stole sideways looks at him.

  Maybe there was more than one reason for not wanting to leave Bosleven now.

  There was a bike. Summer had seen it on her wanderings through the kitchen passage. She knew it would be difficult to extract from the abandoned objects crowded in there, but she was determined to give it a go.

  The moment she got back to the house she went straight to the room where she had remembered seeing it. Stepping with exaggerated care so as not to trip, she reached the bike and put her hands on the handlebars. The metal frame was rough. Rusty probably. Would it work?

  She tugged at it and it yielded easily, rolling forward.

  One, two, three . . .

  She lifted the bike off the ground. It was heavier than she had expected, but she managed to get it to chest height, her arms shaking with the effort as she stepped back to set the bike down.

  It was not locked, she noted with relief. She was sure she had made a hell of a noise, clanking around in there, but a quick check assured her the house was quiet. She had decided to hide the bike somewhere so that she could get at it easily the next day without being heard. She wheeled it into the passage, the tyres reassuringly bouncy on the terracotta tiles.

  Once outside, she sized it up properly. It was ancient: thick-framed, black, with paint peeling off it in scratchy patches. There was a wicker basket slung on the handlebars. It was the sort of thing old lady detectives on TV used to cycle into the local village and solve a crime or two on a Sunday afternoon after taking tea with the vicar.

  Summer wheeled the bike slowly to the drive. Tristan and Kenan were not back yet: the car was not there.

  She decided to try the bike for size. Wobbling and cursing, she swerved from side to side, praying she would not end up falling into the hydrangeas. She got the hang of steering it quicker than she had thought possible, and felt a rush of exhilaration as she picked up speed, jolting along the drive.

  Why hadn’t she thought of this before? She could have got away days ago, gone for long cycle rides and explored further afield.

  She was not going to let herself think negative thoughts now. She had something concrete to look forward to for the first time since coming to Bosleven. A day out. With Zach.

  Zach arrived at ten the next day, as he said he would. She was waiting for him.

  ‘Hey! Fantastic!’ he called, freewheeling the last stretch towards the top of the drive. ‘Wow, it’s a bit ancient, though. Looks heavy too. Are you OK with it?’

  Summer glanced at his red bike – so much more modern and no doubt much speedier. She shrugged. ‘I had a go yesterday.’

  She didn’t tell him she had been up since seven, riding up and down the lane at the top of the drive so that she wouldn’t run the risk of bumping into her uncle or Kenan. They had come back late the evening before. There had been another silent meal with Kenan shooting her ‘evils’, as Jess would have called them. Then yet another lonely early night.

  Don’t think about him today.

  ‘So. Where are we going?’ she asked.

  Zach grinned and pushed off, circled so that he was facing back the way he had come, and called out, ‘Follow me!’

  Summer quickly got into her stride and bowled along behind Zach. He made a point of checking over his shoulder every so often to make sure she was still with him.

  They passed a farm where the air was thick with the sweet, heady smell of hay. Cows were penned in close to the road, lifting their heads to observe soberly as Summer and Zach cycled by.

  After a slight dip, the road rose more steeply, and that was when she saw the stones, standing in a circle, beyond a wooden gate. For a fraction of a second, they looked like people, gathering for a sombre meeting. They were in fact large menhirs, hewn from the same heavy, dark grey granite that Bosleven was made from – and the rocky beach.

  Wonder what they’re for . . .

  Before she could ask Zach, he slowed down and shouted to her to follow, then he veered off the road towards the field where the stones were, as if he had read her curiosity. He dismounted his bike by the gate and leaned it there, waiting for her.

  ‘See those?’ he said, gesturing as Summer drew level with him. ‘Know what they are?’

  She pulled a face and shook her head.

  He leaned in closer as if about to impart a mystery. Summer flinched. His attitude put her in mind of Kenan teasing her about ghosts on the side path at the house. But Zach said, ‘Standing stones.’

  Summer snorted. ‘Well, obviously,’ she said. ‘I can see that.’

  ‘No, that’s what they are – what they’re called. They were put there by the ancient Celts, thousands of years ago.’

  ‘Right,’ Summer said. ‘Thanks for the history lesson.’

  ‘D’you want to take a closer look? There’s a story behind them,’ Zach chattered on, oblivious to her sarcasm. ‘They’re known around here as the Merry Maidens. It’s one of Gran’s favourite tales – remember I told you she’s always full of stories? Come on.’

  He leaped over a stile to the right of the gate, which Summer saw was locked, and sprinted up to the stones.

  Summer followed. Zach had reached the middle of the circle and whirled round once, his arms spread wide, his face tipped up to the sky. Summer watched him and was seized by the urge to run full pelt into the middle of the circle and join him there at the centre point. She reached him as he began to spin round and round. One of his hands brushed against hers and he grabbed it and then reached for the other, and then they were both spinning, the world around them whisking itself into a blur as it shot past their eyes.

  Merry-go-round. Merry Maidens.

  She accelerated, spinning faster and faster, her eyes closed now, giggles bubbling up inside her.

  Maybe if I
spin long enough I’ll slip through time. Be spirited away. Back to before all this . . .

  Zach laughed and let go of her, and the two of them juddered and staggered, and then sat down heavily on the dry, spiky grass. Zach shrugged off his rucksack, flopped backwards and lay down, arms and legs spread like a star, and stared at the sky.

  ‘Whoa! Makes your head go wild, doesn’t it?’ he said.

  Summer laughed breathlessly and flopped down next to him, watching the sky spin above her, making her feel as though she were still moving. Large white clouds had gathered since the early morning and were now racing beneath streaks of lighter cloud above; only patches of blue could be seen in between. ‘Enough to make a pair of sailor’s trousers’, as her mother would have said.

  Mum. There she goes again, finding a way in.

  It wasn’t that Summer wanted to forget her. It hurt, though, when memories and feelings came and went like this, as though she had no control over them. They surfaced when she least expected them, when she had thought she was thinking about something completely different. Or about nothing at all.

  ‘So d’you want to hear the story, or what?’ Zach was saying.

  Summer turned her attention to him. ‘OK.’

  He began telling her the legend: how a group of girls had been dancing in the field on the Sabbath while two pipers played. ‘It was forbidden to dance on a Sunday because it was a holy day, and so the girls were turned to stone as punishment.’

  ‘That’s not fair!’ Summer exclaimed. ‘What about the pipers? They shouldn’t have been playing either.’

  Zach propped himself up on one elbow and looked down on her, grinning. ‘Don’t worry. They didn’t get away with it. Their stones are in a field up the road. They ran off when they saw the dancers turn to stone, but they didn’t get very far.’

  Summer was aware of how close he was, could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek.

  Zach’s grin had faded and he looked suddenly grave. He held her gaze.