by Janis Mackay
“That’s soon, Dad,” he said, thinking suddenly of the bottle he’d thrown out to sea. He wondered where it was now and whether anyone had found it.
His father nodded his stooping head. “Aye, Fin,” he said in a hushed voice, “soon and not soon enough. At long last you’ll be eleven – the age between the worlds. We’ll come back here and you’ll get your story. And you’ll get more than you ever bargained for. You might be sorry you ever asked for a story then. Now let’s get back, eh? Your mum might be worried, wondering where we’ve got to. Porridge will be cold.”
They walked slowly back along the shore in silence, but it was all Magnus Fin could do to stop the excitement from jumping him up and down. He wanted to call out to the gulls, he wanted to shout to the sea, he wanted to hug his father. Some big change was on the way; he felt it in his bones. And it was something to do with turning eleven.
That very night, after his mother had cried herself to sleep, Magnus Fin picked up his prize starfish, turning it this way and that in the rays of the setting sun. The way the star flashed red lit up the boy’s face. Something good was coming; he was sure of it.
Chapter Six
That Monday Tarkin arrived from America. The new boy in school, rather than being wary of Magnus Fin like everyone else, thought he had never seen such phenomenal eyes in his life.
“I am just so through with boring,” said Tarkin, who dashed over to talk to Magnus Fin at break. “I’ve been round the world, I’ve lived with Inuits and Aborigines but man, no one, like, no one has eyes as way-out as yours. Can I be your friend? That would be so cool.”
No one had ever asked Magnus Fin to be their friend before. He grinned. He recalled the way his starfish had glowed. He remembered the green bottle he had flung out to sea. He knew something good was coming. This was it – Tarkin!
Tarkin was tall with blond hair down past his shoulders, which he wore in a ponytail. He had two earrings hooped in his left earlobe and stick-on tattoos all up his arms. He wore a shark’s tooth round his neck and kept a photograph of his first dog in his school bag. He took it out to show Magnus.
“Samson,” said Tarkin sadly, “an Akita and the best friend ever. Got knocked down by a bus in New York. Gone now.”
Magnus Fin touched Tarkin lightly on the shoulder. “I’m really sorry about that,” he said, and for a moment the two boys stared down at the half-torn, thumbed photo of Samson. Then Tarkin put the photo carefully back in his school bag and cheered up.
“So what’s it like here?” he asked, swinging his black rucksack on to his back and shaking his ponytail. “Like, is there anything to do around here?”
“Well, there’s the beach,” said Magnus Fin, “and there’s the caves and I’ve got lots of treasures. Um, do you want to come and see?”
“Sure. You just said three of my all time favourite words – beach, cave and treasure. Wow! I can’t wait!”
“Great – um, you could come after school if you want?”
“Sure, that’d be cool,” said Tarkin.
Magnus felt his mouth stretch into a wide smile that almost hurt his face. He felt happy and sad. Happy because it seemed he had found a friend at last and sad because as soon as Tarkin saw his parents that would probably be the end of the friendship. He opened his mouth to try and explain but no words came, and he stood in the playground like a gaping fish.
“Hey, man, that’s a great impersonation of a cod. Wanna see my shark impression?” Tarkin didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled back his mouth to bare his teeth then started running after Magnus, singing the theme tune to Jaws as he did. Magnus Fin giggled then ran across the playground, pursued by a shark which jumped on him then pretended to eat him but tickled him instead. The two boys lay on the grass laughing and Magnus had never been happier in his life.
Tarkin sat beside Magnus Fin in school, and Magnus couldn’t keep the smile off his face. This was the best birthday present ever – and he wasn’t even eleven yet. He noticed Tarkin had a big wristwatch that he said could work underwater, and beside it he wore a beaded leather string wrapped several times around his wrist. While Mrs McLeod was talking, Tarkin drew a picture of a mermaid in his jotter.
“You bairns are the future generation and it’s up to you to look after our planet – muckle great thing like a planet doesn’t grow on trees.” Tarkin brought out a pair of scissors from his rucksack, hiding them with his elbow from the teacher. He couldn’t understand a word Mrs McLeod was saying.
“And as the future generation, you should know that all the herring have gone. So what are you going to do about it? Clean the beach, that’s what! And what about the waves? Some morbid ones say the sea is dying!”
Tarkin cut out his drawing of the mermaid and pushed it across to Magnus Fin. Tarkin had drawn love hearts all around the mermaid. It was a good drawing. She looked pretty with lots of shells around her neck, masses of long dark hair and a blue and green fish tail. Magnus was delighted. He had told Tarkin at playtime about his birthday. Maybe this was an early birthday present.
Then Tarkin wrote the words Wot she sayin? in his jotter and pushed it across to Magnus Fin. Mrs McLeod had turned her back to the class and was unrolling a huge map of Scotland. She pointed out where the world surfing championships were usually held, right up at the top in Thurso.
“Here you get the best waves – great big things. But now? Now girls and boys? Flat as a tattie scone.”
Magnus Fin wrote sea dying and pushed it back to Tarkin. Then both boys stared up at the map of Scotland with worried faces. Mrs McLeod suddenly stopped talking, her mouth fell open and she stared down at Magnus Fin’s desk. The picture of the mermaid surrounded by many large red love hearts had caught her attention.
“This is a serious matter, Magnus Fin. Fish are dying. The waves have stopped. And you doodle a mermaid. Mermaid! For heaven’s sake! Pupils in P6 should know the difference between fantasy and reality. Mermaids don’t exist. And if we don’t do something about it, fish won’t either.”
“Sure mermaids exist. I saw one – in Alaska – and she was awesome,” Tarkin said, not knowing he was supposed to put his hand up if he wanted to say something.
“Oh, right then, well why don’t you tell the whole class what this mermaid looked like, Tarkin?” said Mrs McLeod, rubbing her hands together as though she was cold, or getting ready for a fight.
“Sure,” he said, standing up and facing the class. “Well, guys, like I said, she was totally awesome. I’m in Alaska and it’s wintertime, right? Dad has taken me fishing – Mom and Dad were still together back then, and we are just not catching a thing and it is freezing, like, totally ice. I’ve got on this big fur coat we found in the cellar of this old house we were renting. That was, like, house number ten. So we’re on this lake and Dad gets out his flask and we’re drinking coffee and just letting the boat drift across the water and you can see your breath making smoke signals in the air. I tell you it’s so cold. Oh, man, even with that bear round my shoulders I am freezing. I’m ice.”
“Tarkin, I think we understand you were cold,” said Mrs McLeod.
“OK, yeah, well, we are just drifting and the moon comes up and suddenly I hear this sound. I think it’s a fish jumping. I turn and there she is, a mermaid. She has long black hair and shining skin and a necklace with shells and pearls. I stare at her like I’m totally struck dumb, and she stares at me, and my heart’s hopping like a rabbit. She is beautiful. Then I don’t know why but I shout out, “Dad – look!” and as soon as I do she disappears under the water. I wish I’d never shouted out. She never came up again. For ages we waited for her to come back. And I didn’t want to drop any more hooks under the water in case we hurt her. Well, we got too cold and Dad said we had to go back – he said I’d see her again one day. Well, I ain’t never forgotten her and I never will. Ever.”
Then Tarkin folded his arms and sat down, and for a while the class was silent. Mrs McLeod coughed and sat on her desk. For a second it seemed as if she
was stumped for words.
“Right then,” she said, suddenly standing up. “Well. Tarkin is a really good storyteller, isn’t he, P6? Well, thank you, Tarkin. So, um … when we do our beach clean-up before the summer holidays we might see a mermaid. Or we might not! Alaska is a long way away. Who can tell me where Alaska is?”
Tarkin mouthed the answer to Magnus Fin who shot up his hand. “The USA, Miss!” he said.
“Yes, very good, Magnus. Some people think it’s in Canada but it’s not. Right then, off you go, P6. And don’t forget to do your homework – name ten different kinds of fish and draw them!”
Chapter Seven
“Like I said, Fin, I’ve seen a lot, but nothing as cool as this.” Tarkin whistled as Magnus handed him cowrie shells and coloured stones and bird skulls that day after school. “You’re right – real treasure – wow!”
“Look at this one,” said Magnus, handing Tarkin a metal sign that had the word BALLROOM etched on it. “My best one ever. It must have come off a sunken ship. I think it’s from the Titanic.” The two boys were sitting on the floor in Magnus Fin’s room and Magnus pinched himself twice to check he wasn’t dreaming.
Tarkin took the treasure in his hands and turned the sign around and around, his eyes wide with wonder. “Phew! Awesome! Man, I think you’re right. This is from the Titanic. It hit an iceberg, right? And the musicians just kept on playing even when the ship was sinking. Wow! I wonder what kind of dances they did in the ballroom. Or did they play ball in the ballroom? You could get a fortune for this, Fin – you could be rich.”
“I want to keep it,” he said, hoping Tarkin would give the sign back soon. He felt nervous the way Tarkin kept turning it over and over. “It’s my favourite treasure. You’re the first person to see it except me. Granny saw the toilet sign but not this one. This is my very best treasure.”
“You’re right, Fin,” said Tarkin, handing back the precious sign. “Who cares about being rich? This is the best thing ever. Most kids buy stuff down at the store – you get the best things down at the shore! That is so cool.”
After he had shown Tarkin his favourite treasures he took out the drawing of the mermaid. “She’s the prize,” said Magnus Fin. He stood on his bed then Sellotaped the mermaid picture on to his wall so she would be the first thing he would see when he woke up. Tarkin grinned and nodded his head.
“Great story you told us at school,” Magnus Fin said, wanting to hear more about the beautiful mermaid. But Tarkin said if you talk too much about magical glimpses you might not be given more.
“Yeah but how do you know it was a mermaid you saw? It could have been a girl. I mean, you didn’t see her tail, did you?” Magnus Fin said, but Tarkin just pointed to his lips and made a zipping gesture. When Fin saw that his friend had no more to say on the subject of mermaids he resumed rummaging in his treasure chest.
“Well, look at this. This is a bit of anchor from a pirate ship,” he said, handing Tarkin a piece of rusty iron.
“Wow, Fin, it’s real heavy. Pirates are so cool. Hey,” he said, putting a hand over one eye for an eye patch and hobbling around the room, ringing the bell and limping as though he had a wooden leg, “I’m Long John Silver.”
Suddenly he stopped his pirate impersonation, swung round and said, “How come you live with your great-grand-parents? They are just so ancient, man.” Tarkin had caught a glimpse of Barbara as she shuffled off to the bathroom – without her face scarf – and the boys had passed through the living room, where Tarkin had spotted Ragnor asleep by the fire.
Magnus Fin took back the anchor and coughed. It was possible that Tarkin didn’t know. Everyone in the village knew that Ragnor and Barbara were Magnus Fin’s strange parents, but perhaps word had not yet reached the new boy from America. Magnus didn’t like telling lies, but it came out anyway. It felt easier that way.
“Oh yeah, um, my mum and dad and, yeah, even my grandparents – they all drowned at sea,” he said, feeling his cheeks flame.
“Woah,” said Tarkin, “I’ve never met a boy with dead parents before.”
“Right, well, how do you like my new cormorant’s skull. Found it last week,” Magnus Fin said, shoving his prize skull into his new friend’s hands.
“So, you are like, an orphan?” Tarkin asked, studying the fine white skull. “Man, that is just so way-out. I didn’t know they still had orphans. You could live with us when the G-G-Ps kick the bucket; that’d be so cool. My mom wouldn’t mind a bit. I don’t think.”
“Um … right, OK then. Um, so what is G-G-Ps?”
“Great-grand-parents. I just made it up.” Tarkin grinned and did his impersonation of an old man with a walking stick. Fin, even though he felt bad about lying, laughed.
“So, what about your parents, Tarkin?”
“Oh! Well, Dad’s a sculptor. He makes things out of wood. Dad got sick of moving all the time. He still lives in the Yukon.” Tarkin grew silent for a moment, turned the bird skull in his hands then coughed and carried on, “And Mom was a singer in a band. Till she damaged her throat that was, so now she’s having a go at milking goats and writing musicals. She really loves it here but she says that about everywhere. This is the fourteenth place I’ve lived. Whitehorse in the Yukon was the best – man, but it was so cold!”
Magnus Fin could listen to Tarkin for hours. He knew nothing about all the places this boy from America spoke about: the foreign countries, bands, art, high-rise buildings, huge shopping malls, tepee’s, music festivals, magic spells. Magnus Fin had never been out of Scotland and seldom out of the village.
But Tarkin could also listen to Magnus Fin for hours as he talked about his shells, how he found a baby dogfish in a rock pool, how he spent hours and hours in the summer swimming, diving and fishing, how he was always looking for treasures from sunken ships and gathering driftwood to build fires on the beach. How he loved watching the birds by the sea, the fulmars and gannets and shags and cormorants and how, best of all, he loved diving with his mask and snorkel, and how once he’d swum with dolphins and once come face to face underwater with a seal.
Magnus Fin had found a friend at last. And if the sound of his mother sobbing came from the next room he could now just think, Poor old G-G-P!
Chapter Eight
Magnus Fin and Tarkin became the best of friends. Having G-G-Ps in the house made Magnus Fin’s problem so much easier to bear, and everything with Tarkin was fun. Even school was more exciting, and now that Magnus had a friend the other children looked at him differently. Even Sandy Alexander, the class bully, stopped tripping him up in gym and pushing him into the lockers. Some children were even friendly to him.
“So it does get hot here,” said Tarkin one sunny lunchtime when they were both sitting in the playground, munching each other’s sandwiches and feeling the hot sun burn their faces. “Mom says if the weather stays like this she’ll be happy to live in Scotland for ever. I really hope it does. I’m sick of moving.”
“What about snow?” said Magnus Fin, remembering the previous winter and how he had built an enormous snowman that hadn’t melted for two weeks. He turned to look at his friend while picking out the gherkin Tarkin’s mother had put in with the cheese.
“Yeah. Snow. Right. Don’t think Mom will go for snow. In the Yukon she never came outside. Just me and Dad went fishing. She watched reality TV all day.”
“All day?”
“Twenty-four seven.”
“Tell me about the mermaid again?”
“No.”
“Go on, Tarkin. Please. And I’ll give you my wetsuit and let you dive in the wreck.”
“For real?” Tarkin’s eyes lit up.
“Yeah. Promise.”
“Deal. OK. Well, she called my name and she had the most awesome voice you could imagine. And I said, “Dad, do you hear her? She’s saying ‘Tarkin’. She’s saying my name.” But Dad couldn’t hear her so that’s how I know she was magic and I had the ears to hear the magic. I think one day I’ll marry her, bu
t if I talk too much about her the magic won’t happen. I read that in a book in Australia. You ever heard that, Fin, about keeping quiet about magic?”
Magnus Fin shook his head. “Do you think I could marry her too?”
“No, Fin. You can’t have two boys marrying one girl. But maybe you’ll find another one. You never seen one? You sure?”
Magnus Fin shook his head again.
“So when we going diving, Fin?”
“Tonight?” Magnus Fin said. “Cos it’s so hot. The sea’s better when it’s hot. You’ll love it.”
At seven o’clock that night the two boys ran down to the beach, Tarkin wearing Magnus Fin’s wetsuit. Tarkin was taller than Magnus so his thin legs stuck out the bottom and the arms only went as far as his elbows.
“Lucky for us the water’s warm,” said Magnus Fin, giggling at the sight of Tarkin in the wetsuit. “Come on, race you. The sunken ship is past the rocks.” And the two boys ran over the sand, yelling and shouting. Tarkin looked like some kind of black and white gangly octopus the way his arms and legs flapped about. Even his ponytail bouncing up and down looked like another tentacle.
“Hey, Fin, I can’t run with this rubber stuff on. Whee! I look like a deep-sea diver.”
“Here it is,” said Magnus, who won the race for once. “Can you see the mast? It’s that black stick thing out there. Well, that’s the mast of the sunken fishing boat. I’ve been down there loads of times. I’ve already got most of the treasure from it but there’s still a compass floating about attached to a bit of wire. Maybe you can get that, Tarkin? Here’s a knife. All you’ve got to do is dive down, breathe through the snorkel, cut the wire, grab the compass and swim back up. Easy peasy!” But Tarkin didn’t look so sure. His fair skin turned even paler.
“Sure,” he said, twisting his ponytail round and round his finger, “sounds cool.”
