Circle of Summer

by Lynne Roberts

  Chapter 6. Mark Makes a Mistake

  The wind whistled past their faces as the children slid down the mountainside. The slide curved around in a series of lazy loops, so they did not build up too much speed. There was not much to see on either side of them, only rocks, but they could see the valley coming closer and closer.

  All too soon Mark landed with a bump on the ground and rolled aside hastily as Paul and Sharon landed behind him.

  ‘Wow, that was fantastic,’ said Paul with shining eyes. ‘I wish we could do it again.’

  ‘I hope we don’t have to climb back up here,’ said Sharon as she leaned her head back to gaze at the mountain.

  ‘Let’s not worry about that now. We have to cross the river,’ said Mark. ‘Come on, let’s get on with it.’

  They walked across the valley floor in the direction of the river. There was grass underfoot, brown and dry but still definitely grass. It crinkled beneath their feet as they walked and made a pleasant change from the stones of the day before.

  They reached the river at last, but when they saw it, Sharon’s face fell in dismay. The river was wide and deep; much too deep to wade through, and only Mark could swim.

  ‘What shall we do?’ asked Sharon in dismay.

  ‘There must be something around here that we can use,’ replied Mark. ‘Aylwin wouldn’t have sent us if it was impossible. Why don’t we search around and see if we can find something we can use as a boat or a raft.’

  Sharon looked doubtful. She didn’t fancy crossing the river on any homemade raft. The river looked very cold and uninviting. Paul broke a twig from one of the trees lining the riverbank, and tossed it into the water. The current quickly carried it downstream and Sharon shuddered.

  ‘Come on.’ She took Paul’s hand and dragged him away. ‘We’ll go this way while you try in the other direction,’ she suggested.

  Sharon and Paul walked along the riverbank. Apart from the trees drooping their branches to the water, there was nothing to be seen. Paul became bored.

  ‘There’s nothing here,’ he grumbled. ‘We need a boat. A great big boat,’ he added with a glance at the spreading river. ‘Why didn’t Aylwin send a boat for us?’

  Sharon was about to snap at him in exasperation when she heard a shout from Mark.

  ‘Come and see what I have found.’

  Paul and Sharon ran back the way they had come and saw Mark hurrying excitedly towards them.

  ‘Come and see this,’ he exclaimed. ‘This is what we need to cross the river.’

  He led the way down the bank to the water where a twisted tree held its gnarled branches out over the river. A cluster of round balloon shaped fruits grew at intervals along each branch. From time to time a hissing noise, like the air escaping from a bicycle tyre, accompanied the release of a fruit. The fruit rose in the air and drifted slowly across the river to settle slowly to land on the far bank.

  ‘How can these help us?’ asked Sharon.

  ‘Don’t you see,’ answered Mark, ‘all we have to do is hang onto the stalk. Then we can float underneath to the other side of the river.’

  This appalled Sharon.

  ‘They don’t look strong enough to hold us,’ she protested. ‘What if they sink down into the river, or drift somewhere else. What if our arms get tired? I’m sure it would be too hard for Paul.’

  ‘No it wouldn’t,’ objected Paul indignantly. ‘I hang from the monkey bars at the playground for much longer than that.’

  ‘I’m sure it will work,’ said Mark eagerly. ‘Anyway, we don’t have much choice other than swimming.’

  Sharon reluctantly agreed to the plan and the children climbed the tree.

  ‘Each take hold of a fruit by the stalk,’ instructed Mark. ‘When you hear the hiss, push off with your feet towards the river.’

  As he spoke Paul’s fruit hissed and he gave a chuckle he sailed across the river.

  ‘Bet I’m first,’ he cried then there was a muffled yell as he landed with a bump in the bushes on the opposite bank.

  Sharon went next as her fruit hissed suddenly. She only had time to push with her feet then scream in terror before she found herself on the other side of the river. She sat down to recover as her legs and arms felt wobbly and uncertain.

  Mark was last of all. As Paul and Sharon watched he drifted across the river. Because Mark was taller and heavier than his brother and sister, his fruit could not sail as high. With her heart in her mouth Sharon watched as Mark’s feet hung lower and lower until they were in the water. Mark looked down and kicked frantically and made the bank just as his fruit collapsed to the ground.

  ‘I’m fine, don’t fuss,’ he said crossly as Sharon rushed to see him. ‘I’m only a bit wet, I’ll soon dry.’

  ‘We have to go to the two tall trees now,’ said Sharon bossily. She was also feeling cross now that the reaction of the river crossing had set in.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Mark. ‘The black rock is much closer so I think we should go straight there.’

  ‘But Mark,’ Sharon protested, ‘Caleb said..’

  ‘Oh what does he know anyway,’ said Mark. ‘He’s only a dog.’ He strode off towards the rock with Paul and Sharon trailing unhappily behind him.

  The sky grew darker and the air grew older, and before they knew it the children were surrounded by a dense fog. Mark did not stop. He knew by now that he had gone the wrong way but he was not prepared to admit it. The children joined hands and kept walking until Mark’s feet stepped into something soft and squishy.

  ‘Stop,’ he called urgently and at that moment the fog lifted.

  They looked ahead and saw there was a huge marsh stretching away into the distance as far as they could see. Mark turned around and went pale. He could see a tiny path of land over which they had come, and on both sides of it was the dangerous bog. The thought of how they had walked along it in the fog made him feel slightly sick.

  ‘We’d better go back,’ he croaked as they turned and retraced their steps.

  Sharon was trying very hard not to say ‘I told you so.’ Paul was not trying at all.

  ‘It’s all your fault,’ he complained bitterly to Mark. ‘This is going to take ages. We have to walk much further now.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Mark hissed at him, well aware that Paul was right.

  ‘It’s your fault as well,’ went on Paul, turning to Sharon. ‘You should have stopped Mark. Now we have to walk all the way back and start again.’

  He went on complaining but his brother and sister ignored him. Paul decided to do something to annoy them.

  ‘Then they’ll have to take notice of me,’ he muttered darkly.

  He considered falling in the bog and getting muddy but decided it might not be so easy to get out again. Besides, even the tidy Sharon was now untidy. Her hair hung around her face and her dress was torn where she had slipped on the rocky path. Paul decided she would not even notice a bit of mud.

  Then Paul remembered what Mark had told him that morning. He had only allowed them one chocolate each as he had not known how long they would have to last. Paul decided to eat a couple of chocolates so Mark and Sharon would go hungry later on.

  ‘It will serve them right for ignoring me,’ he thought smugly.

  He slipped his hand into his pocket and took out the biggest chocolate he could find. He popped it into his mouth then quickly spat it out. It tasted like mud. Paul decided to try another and made sure it was a toffee, something he knew he liked. He put it in his mouth and called out,

  ‘I’m eating the chocolates.’ He got no further than the first word when his teeth stuck together. He tried to chew but his mouth felt as if it was blocked up with concrete. He couldn’t talk and felt very miserable. He tried to get Sharon’s attention by pulling at her sleeve but she shook him off angrily and stalked on ahead of him.

  ‘I wish I hadn’t eaten it,’ thought Paul and began to cry quietly. He felt his teeth slowly coming unstuck and found to his joy that h
e was able to speak again as all traces of the chocolate toffee disappeared.

  A rainbow shimmered in the air as Mark led the way towards the two tall trees, and they collapsed thankfully onto the grass.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ cried Sharon in relief. ‘That’s half the journey done.’