“Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
“Come with me, Morveren.” He holds out his hand, and takes mine. It’s a strong grasp, and although he’s been in the water for hours – almost a day – his hand doesn’t feel cold either.
“All right.”
I’ll go to the bottom of the pool with him and straight back up again. The fastest way to sink is to let all the air out of your lungs. I breathe out, and, still holding on to Malin, I flip over and swim down.
We find the place where Malin rests against the underwater rock ledge. By the time he has settled himself, my lungs are already aching for air. I point upwards, to show him I have to go.
“Stay with me, Morveren,” he says. How am I hearing his voice like this? It must be sound-waves travelling through the pool or something. I shake my head harder, jabbing my finger upwards.
“There is live water in this pool to protect you. You have live water in you now, Morveren. You are safe here.”
He won’t let go of my hand. I fight free, using both hands to prise his fingers off me, terrified that he’s going to drown me just because he doesn’t understand about humans needing air. Suddenly he seems to realise how scared I am, and he lets go at once.
“Look, I am not holding you now. But stay with me.”
His eyes are fixed on mine as they were when he asked me to promise.
“You belong here,” he says urgently, “because the live water is already in you. Open your mind, Morveren. You can breathe here if you want to.”
Breathe in, and you’ll drown. Breathe in, and you’ll drown. That’s what I’ve known all my life. It beats a drumbeat in my ears. You only have to make one mistake. The sea never makes any. There is fire in my lungs, and I can’t see. I’ve been down here too long.
“Breathe,” says Malin. “It’s easy for you now, Morveren. Just breathe.”
Suddenly the same feeling sweeps over me that once drove me to swim way out beyond the Dragon Rock. The sea opened its arms to me. The sea looked after me, because I was part of it. This pool isn’t the sea but it has the sea in it. Live water. My thoughts flash and spark. I close my eyes, open my mouth, and let the water rush into me.
Salt fills every cell of my body, inside, outside. Water gushes down my throat and fans out into my lungs. I don’t know if I’m drowning or breathing. Suddenly everything stops. No more water rushes into my lungs. They are full. I am as full of salt water as the pool. We are equal and balanced. We belong to each other.
“There!” says Malin smugly. “I was right.”
My eyes snap open. “You think that was easy? You should try it!”
“It was the same for me, when I first went up into the Air. I thought I was going to drown.”
“Nobody drowns in air.”
He raises his eyebrows. “So what happens to all the creatures that you humans take from Ingo?”
“What is Ingo, Malin?”
He sighs. “I must sleep now. Stay with me a little while.”
I’m not sure if he’s really that tired, suddenly, or if he wants to avoid my question. But almost instantly, he drops into sleep. He’s not faking it, I can always tell. His eyelids are sealed shut. His face takes on the distant, gone-away expression that people have in their dreams.
I look up. There is the skin of the water, and the light above it. I put out my hand, and graze the rocky side of the pool. Under the ledge there are velvety sea-anemones, purple and blue and deep orange. I watch their fronds feeling at the water, swaying. Jenna and I have dived down to the bottom of this pool hundreds of times, but this is completely different. It’s like being inside a film instead of watching one. My hair floats upwards, tangly as seaweed. Instead of drowning, I’m alive a hundred times more than I’ve ever felt before. My heart thuds with excitement. If this is what it’s like in a pool, what will it be like in the sea?
I watch Malin for a long time. In the quiet darkness at the bottom of the pool he looks more Mer than ever. He must trust me, to fall asleep like this.
How am I going to explain all this to Jenna, so that she believes me?
don’t need to go home to find Jenna. I’ve only just dried myself and pulled on the dry clothes from my bag when I see two figures running down the beach towards me. Jenna, and a long way behind her, Digory. I jump down off the rocks and run to meet them. For some reason I have an instinct not to bring them too close to Malin.
“Where have you been?” shouts Jenna furiously, as soon as I’m close enough to hear her.
“Jen, you idiot, what’ve you brought Digory here for?”
“I’ve been waiting for you for six hours.”
“Six? Six hours?”
“What do you care?” Jenna’s face is pale and her eyes flash. I am usually the one who loses my temper, but when Jenna does it’s like a volcano erupting after hundreds of years.
“You’ve been in that pool again, with him. Look at your hair.”
“Yes, but—”
“It’s nearly November. It’s freezing. Don’t you care how worried I’ve been? I told Mum you’d gone to see Mrs Bassett and you’ve been here all the time. You made me tell a lie. You’ve been gone for hours.”
“Jenna, I swear I haven’t. But listen, I’ve got loads to tell you—”
“You still don’t get it, do you?” Jenna faces me, arms folded, eyes flashing fire. “Sometimes I can’t believe how unbelievably selfish you can be, Morveren. You don’t think about anybody except yourself.”
Digory catches up with us and stands there saying nothing, his eyes round as he looks from me to Jenna and back again.
“Jen – remember Digory’s here…”
“You should have thought of that, then, shouldn’t you? Mum’s at work this afternoon, remember, so someone’s got to look after him. I waited and waited and then I thought maybe you’d had an accident or something and – and – you just don’t care, do you? As long as you’re doing what you want.”
Her mouth trembles for a moment and I want to put my arms round her and hug her, but know that if I try she’ll push me off. “You don’t care about anyone except that – that—”
“Malin. He’s a person. He’s got a name.” I’m starting to get angry too.
Digory squats on the sand, drawing a picture with the end of a stick, apparently deep in his own world. But he’ll be listening to every word.
“You shouldn’t have brought him.”
“He doesn’t know,” whispers Jenna quickly. “I don’t want him to—”
“I do know,” says Digory’s voice from down around our feet. “I know that you and Mor found a mermaid and you’re looking after it.”
We both stare at him, stunned.
“Digory!”
“It’s true, isn’t it? You were keeping it a secret from me. It’s not fair.”
“He’s not a mermaid, he’s a boy called Malin,” I say. “How do you know anyway? You’ve been listening again, haven’t you?”
“I have to listen, otherwise you and Jen don’t tell me anything,” mutters Digory. “Can I see him?”
“No, you cannot,” snaps Jenna.
“I want to play my violin to him.”
Jenna and I look at each other. We’ve got to handle this one carefully. Digory is incredibly stubborn and once he sets his mind on something, he won’t give up even if it takes days and days. And he might tell Mum…
“He’s hurt. He needs to rest. You playing would wake him up.”
“I could make some music for him,” Digory continues, as if he hasn’t heard me. “Mer people like music. They have a band, like we do, with violins and bodhrans and flutes and—“
“Maybe when he’s better,” I say quickly, before Digory can develop his fantasy any further.
“Digory knows he hasn’t got to say anything to anyone,” says Jenna, in her encouraging Digory’s a big boy now voice which usually works when it’s a question of getting him to do something. Maybe it’ll work this time. Digory’s stubborn,
but he’s also very secretive.
“Do you understand, Digory? No telling Mum, no talking about it out loud to yourself when you’re playing?”
Digory draws the last wheel on an enormous lorry in the sand, and nods.
“How is he, then?” Jenna asks me, in almost a normal voice.
“Sleeping.” I realise that we are both talking about Malin in the same way now. Jenna’s no longer trying to pretend he’s some kind of figment of our imaginations. He is a real person, and we have a real problem.
“I can hear Mer music now,” announces Digory casually.
“No you can’t,” Jenna and I say together.
“It’s out there.” He waves his arm out where the sea flashes and sparkles in the weak sun. “But they’re a long way off so you can hardly hear it.”
I don’t believe him, of course, but I find I’m holding my breath, straining to hear something beyond the noise of the sea. There’s nothing but waves breaking, and the cry of gulls. Or is there…?
“They’ve gone now,” says Digory. “They must have finished their music. Can I see Malin?”
“No, he’s asleep.”
“And we’re going home,” says Jenna, with a closed look on her face. She takes a firm grip of Digory’s hand. “You’re going straight to the shop, Digory, and you’re staying with Mum. Mor and I have got half-term homework to do.”
“Maths?” I ask her.
“Yes. I need a lot of help with my maths.”
I follow her and Digory along the beach. Just from the look of her back, I can tell she is still in a massive mood. As soon as Jenna and I are alone there’s going to be a major row.
But the major row doesn’t happen, because when we get home after dropping off Digory, Bran Helyer is walking up from the harbour.
“What’s he doing here? Did you ask him over?”
“Of course I didn’t,” says Jenna, but her colour deepens. Bran has always liked her, right back from reception class. His mum is an Islander but when Bran was eight she went away upcountry. Bran’s mum wanted to take Bran with her, but she couldn’t. His dad said he had to stay and he’s not the kind of man you can easily persuade. Bran went to live with his dad in Marazance. His dad’s not an Islander and he never liked living here. Bran does see his mum’s family, but not very much even though he really loves his nan. His dad doesn’t like it.
Bran says his dad’s “in business”. Sometimes they have loads of money and Bran comes to school with a new pair of trainers every week, and a new phone and stuff for his computer. Other times he doesn’t look as if he gets enough to eat. Bran’s dad is clever and although there are a lot of rumours about what kind of business he’s in, nobody has ever proved anything. Bran’s clever too. He used to be top of the class before he decided it wasn’t cool. If he did any work at school he’d pass all his exams brilliantly. He gets suspended instead.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him. Bran and I never bother with being polite. I don’t like him and he doesn’t like me. I wish he’d stay away from Jenna.
“Came over to see my nan, didn’t I?” says Bran, opening his eyes wide and putting a thick expression on his face. “Nice to see you too, Morveren.”
“Bran,” says Jenna, with an almost inaudible touch of pleading in her voice. Bran turns to her. I can’t really describe how it happens, but his whole face softens. It’s a bit like the way that Jago Faraday has a smile that only Jenna ever gets. Just for a moment Bran looks like a different person.
“You want to come for a walk, then, Jenna?” he says, pronouncing her name as if it’s a jewel. Jenna glances quickly at me, at Bran, and at our cottage wall as if the answer is written there.
“Um… where to?”
I fold my arms and give Bran a “you’d better watch yourself with my sister” glare.
“Maybe along the strand a way?”
I’d forgotten how Bran always calls it “the strand” the way Mrs Bassett does, and all the old people. It sounds funny when he’s so young and hard, with his shoulders hunched in a leather jacket which no one round here would be able to afford. Jenna blushes more, from panic. Keep him away from the pool, Jenna. Jenna hears my thought – probably it’s her own thought too.
“Let’s go the other way, Bran,” she says, “past the harbour.”
Bran shrugs again. “All right then. Not a lot of choice in this dump, is there?” He always talks like that about the Island now, since his mum left, and it always makes me angry.
“Marazance is the best place for your dad’s business, I know that,” I say.
“Don’t, Mor,” says Jenna quickly.
“One of these days someone is going to shut that mouth of yours for you,” says Bran, very quietly and looking only at me.
“It won’t be you,” I answer.
“I’m not coming anywhere with you, Bran, if you talk to Morveren like that,” says Jenna.
“I don’t know why you bother so much about her.”
“What you say to Morveren is the same as saying it to me.”
For a moment I think Bran’s going to leave. No one tells him what to do. But then, as he stares at her, a small smile curls his lips as if he’s just found another thing about her that he likes.
“Right then,” he says casually, and without looking at me, he walks away with Jenna. Jenna glances back with an expression I can’t read. Is she nervous or a bit apologetic – or does she actually look quite smug?
I want to go back to Malin, but I can’t risk it while Bran’s on the Island. What time is it? I go round the corner so I can see the face of the church clock.
Half-past two. But that’s impossible. It was dawn when we went out this morning. If the church clock’s telling the right time, then Jenna really was waiting for six hours. But all I did after she left was get the live water for Malin – and then pour it – and then I went down into the pool with him. All that can’t have taken more than an hour. Two at the very most. Maybe I fell asleep when I was watching him… But I’d know if I’d been asleep…
Time must have rushed forward, like a wave. If I’d been able to see the church clock then, would the hands have been whizzing forward with the minute hands crossing over the hours like in a cartoon…?
I stare up at the church clock, trying to think it through.
“Jenna?”
I spin round. “It’s Morveren, Dad.”
“You had me caught that time. You had just that dreamy look Jenna gets.”
“I was thinking about how time works.”
Dad laughs. “It goes too fast, I do know that. Where’s Jenna, then?”
“Oh – she’s at home I think.”
“Right. I’d better get on. Billy’s boat is in the yard and I said I’d give him a hand with the anti-fouling paint.”
Dad’s always helping people out with stuff. He and Jenna have a lot in common. They’re kind, and people feel easy with them. But they also both have hidden depths. For example, Mum loses her temper easily, but it doesn’t last long. She’ll be in the middle of shouting at you when she suddenly notices that there’s a flower on one of the new roses she planted, and she’ll rush out to look at it and then a little while later you’ll hear her singing. Dad hardly ever gets angry, but when it happens you feel cold all over, and it lasts for ages.
One year, when we were little, we had our birthday party in the village hall. All the kids came. Jenna’s cake was brought out first, then mine was set in front of me, with eight of those magic candles on it. Other kids started messing about with them, blowing them out so they’d light again, and I leaned forward to blow harder than anyone else because it was my birthday. I told you that Jenna and I both have really long hair. Mine fell forward and then the flame from the candles jumped up and in a second there was a flare of fire across my head. Before anyone even screamed, Dad threw himself down the table and bashed out the flames with his bare hands.
I was fine, and Dad’s hands were only a bit burned. There was a terrible smel
l of burned hair, and Jenna was crying. I didn’t cry, I was too shocked. Dad came round the table and picked me up and held me tight.
I stare at Dad, thinking of this. Suddenly I want more than anything to tell him about Malin, even though I know it would be crazy and anyway I swore to Malin that I wouldn’t. But I feel somehow that Dad would know what to do.
“You all right, Morveren?”
I nod. “Yeah, fine. Loads of homework, that’s all,” I add in a fit of inspiration.
Dad raises his eyebrows. “Not like you to get too worried about homework, is it?”
“Um – we’ve got exams coming up before Christmas.”
Dad looks thoughtful. “You’ve got to try and get some qualifications, you know. Otherwise it’s a hard old world. There’s no jobs here.”
“I’ll be OK. You and Mum do all right.”
“Maybe we don’t want you and Jenna scratching round to make a living.”
“I don’t want to leave here.”
“I know you don’t. But look at Jenna. She’s no cleverer than you, but she’s going to have all the doors opening for her if she keeps on like this. Maybe she won’t leave the Island. But she’ll be the one choosing, not having her life chosen for her. You understand what I mean?”
Dad has never talked to me like this before. He makes much less fuss about my school reports than Mum does. He doesn’t go on about what the teachers have said on parents’ evening, either. But he must have been thinking like this all along.
“If I thought you couldn’t do it, Morveren, I’d never say a word. But you’re a bright girl. I don’t want you throwing away your chances just because you’re as obstinate as your dad.”
“Were you like me, Dad?”
“Course I was. I had it all worked out. I had the offer of an engineering apprenticeship up near Truro, if I passed my maths exam, but I wasn’t having it. Didn’t want to work for anyone else, didn’t want to leave the Island. Didn’t want this and didn’t want that, while those that did went after it. I messed about at school, because school didn’t matter. Well, here I am.”
The Ingo Chronicles: Stormswept Page 8
