“Ugh, mopping the floors, again,” she groaned. This was as close as she’d get to water today, she thought with despair. As much as she loved to swim, at that moment even the community pool didn’t appeal to her. She wondered about learning to scuba dive. The high school next to her middle school offered diving courses. She imagined wearing all the gear—the mask, the tanks, the wet suit with weights, the flippers. Suddenly it seemed all wrong, unnatural somehow.
Kira shook her head, but the dream would not dislodge itself from her brain. It was going to be a long, dreary day.
By the time she had finished her chores, Kira decided she needed to get out of the house. She left a note for her mother in case she arrived home early again. The day was sunny with a brisk east wind off the water. She headed toward the library, book six of the Harry Potter series bouncing heavily in her worn canvas backpack. Kira had put in a request for the seventh Harry Potter book two weeks before. Even if it wasn’t available yet, she planned to look for other books to read, books that might answer a few questions that had been rattling around in her brain since early that morning. She quickened her step to shorten the half-hour walk to the centre of town.
The librarian, Mrs. Doyle, always appeared stern behind the high front counter where she perched. Her black-rimmed glasses magnified the water- blue eyes that appraised each person who walked through the door. A frizzy red halo framed her squarish face, in spite of attempts to tame her hair by tying it back. The big eyes and wild hair made her head seem very large.
As a little girl, Kira remembered being frightened the first time she saw Mrs. Doyle. All that could be seen from a child’s view was a huge, fierce head without a body, staring down over the edge of the counter. Then Mrs. Doyle would smile, which confused a lot of children who were expecting her to growl at them.
Now Mrs. Doyle broke into a grin when she saw Kira walk through the library door.
“Hello, Mrs. Doyle. I’m just returning this.”
“Thank you, Kira,” she said, taking the book that was offered. “On time as usual. But I’m afraid the next book hasn’t been returned yet. It’s due tomorrow. I can send out a notice if it’s not back by the day after.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’m not in any hurry,” Kira said, although a few days ago she couldn’t wait to get her hands on Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, the final book in the series.
“Actually, I’m wondering if you have any books on magical sea creatures. You know, like mermaids and such.”
Mrs. Doyle’s eyes seemed to grow larger, if that was possible. “You mean fairy tales and legends, like The Little Mermaid? Or more scientific reports on sightings and theories?”
Kira’s own eyes widened. “Uh, you mean people have seen real mermaids? There is such a thing?”
“Well, I suppose it’s a bit like the study of UFOs, alien spaceships, and life on other planets, that sort of thing,” Mrs. Doyle frowned a little, then beamed a smile at Kira. “One never knows, does one? There are so many mysteries in our world that have yet to be explained. Here, let me show you where they are.”
Kira trotted along behind Mrs. Doyle, noticing for the first time that the librarian’s hands appeared large for her short, slim body. They stopped near the back of the library and Mrs. Doyle pointed out several shelves. “The books on legends and folk tales are wonderful,” she said. “But in my opinion the non-fiction stack right behind you is just as fascinating and colourful. I’ll leave you to it.”
Kira spent the next two hours leafing through dozens of books and trying to narrow down her choices. She finally selected two, Sea Monsters—Facts and Fiction and Irish Folk Tales of the Sea.
Back at home Kira read fervently and quickly. As fantastical as it seemed, one author suggested that changelings like mermaids and selkies might exist, or did exist at one time. Kira giggled at the drawing of a naked woman stepping out of a sealskin on the beach. A selkie. That notion seemed totally crazy—seals in the sea becoming humans on land once they removed their outer skins. Yeah, right, she thought.
Kira switched to the book of sea monsters, which described creatures as improbable as the fairies of folk tales. Then again, no one believed the old stories about giant squid until several washed up on their own eastern shores. Kira studied the black-and-white photos of one such find, now on exhibit at a museum in Newfoundland. This was not an animal Kira ever cared to run into. Some of them were as long as the fishing boats tied up at their wharf. Fortunately, most of the big ones stayed in deep waters and rarely came near the surface. There were many more bizarre fish and odd life forms inhabiting the deepest, darkest sea floors on the earth, documented by remote-controlled submersibles with cameras.
When her mother came in the door at the end of her work shift, Kira was still buried in a book.
“Oops!” she said, looking up at her mother. “I didn’t get the potatoes on yet. Sorry.” She dropped her book and started for the kitchen.
“And hello to you, too, young lady,” her mother laughed. “Must be a good book to keep you so enthralled. What are you reading now?”
“Uh, a book on Irish folk tales. My Harry Potter book wasn’t in yet,” she explained as she dumped potatoes into the sink. Her mother was unusually cheerful for the end of a workday.
“Irish Folk Tales of the Sea,” her mother read as she picked up the book. “And Sea Monsters? I thought you were into wizards and vampires these days.”
“It’s all fantasy, Mom. Magic and stuff.” Kira wondered that her mother was not freaking out at her interest in the sea. She decided to test her.
“Mom, you came from the Shetland Islands. Don’t they have a lot of stories about the sea?”
“Oh I suppose. I never paid them much attention,” she replied and held up a white box. “Look at what I brought home for dessert.” She opened the box to reveal a fluffy lemon meringue pie. “Your favourite!”
“Mmm, yum,” Kira said, noticing her mother had changed the subject. She felt uneasy with her mother’s relaxed behaviour after yesterday’s meltdown. She shrugged and attacked the next potato with her peeler. Whatever the reason, her mother’s good mood was a welcome change from the day before.
At supper that evening, Kira’s mind wandered back to the books she’d been reading. She tuned out her parents’ conversation until her father’s loud laugh brought her back.
“He seems well enough now, the old blighter, and just as full of tall tales, if not more,” he chuckled.
Kira’s mother frowned. “Cillian, do you think we should invite him for dinner sometime? I wonder what Mrs. Mason is feeding old Bill at the boarding house. She’s not big on vegetables.”
Her father shot Kira a glance, then looked back at his wife. “Ah, he’s fine, Bess, the fittest eighty-year-old this side of the Atlantic. A bit soft in the head, but not bad for an old fisherman missing a foot.”
“Do you have room for pie, Kira?” her mother asked, standing up to pick up plates.
“Uh, yeah. Lots of room left for pie.” Kira watched her mother leave the table and wondered again. The second time that day her mother had changed the subject with food. Not just any food, but her absolute favourite dessert ever.
“Dad, was that Babbling Bill you were talking about? Is he back?”
Her father cleared his throat. “Er, yeah, old Babbling Bill. He was in the hospital for a while, but he seems fine now. He really is a babbler, the old geezer, can’t believe a thing he says. But he’s harmless, and lonely. His wife died fifteen years ago, poor soul. He likes to hang out with the fishermen on the wharf, as you know. All the fellas he fished with are gone now.”
“How did he lose his foot?”
“Ah, an accident, long time ago,” her father said, pulling on his beard and looking toward the kitchen. “D’you need some help in there, Bess?” he called out.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she said, arri
ving with a tray of plates holding the thickest lemon meringue pie wedges Kira had ever seen.
“But what kind of accident, dad?” Kira persisted, between melting mouthfuls.
“I’m not quite sure. It happened on his fishing boat, out at sea. It was a long time ago, Kira.” Her father said with a finality that suggested the discussion was closed.
For Kira this was just the beginning of a discussion, one that she intended to have with Babbling Bill at the first opportunity
Chapter Four—
Babbling Bill
From where their house was perched on the hillside, Kira had a clear view of the fishing wharf below. She’d been watching on and off all morning using the antique spyglass that had belonged to her father’s granddad, Commodore Gerald Cox. It was made of brass and wood and glass, a foot-long cylinder with an eyepiece the same size as Kira’s iris. She held it up close to her left eye, squinting with the right. By twisting the far end of the cylinder she could focus wherever she wanted, from the far-off horizon to the nearby shore. Today, the wharf was her point of interest.
She waited until all the fishing boats had left for the day’s outing. Only one body remained on the wharf, perched on an old lobster trap where he’d been sitting all morning: Babbling Bill.
Kira steeled herself, resolving to be brave. She stepped into her boots and aimed herself down the path to the wharf, determined to interview old Bill. She had only ever spoken a few words to him, though he’d been around as long as she could remember. She used to think he was as ancient as the weather-worn wharf, or older. He frightened her with his scratchy, growly voice, and his bushy beard and white eyebrows that nearly hid his squinting eyes. She had no idea what colour they were. Kira would never stare at him, or draw attention to herself, but he always wanted to chat and she would only mumble back shyly. She was relieved when he disappeared for several months, though the wharf seemed oddly quiet without Babbling Bill and his chatter.
His back was turned to her as Kira stepped onto the wharf. She heard the soft squeaks of his fiddle warming up for a tune. He hadn’t spotted her yet, she thought, so she decided to stop and wait. She was nervous, clutching her hands together like she did at church on Sundays, trying not to annoy her parents with her fidgeting.
After the first few strains on the fiddle, his foot tapping on the wharf, Babbling Bill broke into song.
“Ahhh, the Mary Margaret Delaney
Went out to sea one day
A lovely day, a large day
With nary a cloud in the sky, nay,
Nary a cloud in the sky.
“Ahhh, four young lads were aboard
To fish the seas that day
That lovely day, that large day
With nary a cloud in the sky, nay,
Nary a cloud in the sky.
“Ahhh, there were no fish to be found
Though long they searched that day
A lovely day, a large day
Nary a fish to be found, nay
No fish to be found anywhere.
“Ahhh, but the boys were hunted and found
By the razor legs of the deep
On that fateful day, that awful day
They were found by monsters, yeah
Hunting for souls to keep.”
He stopped and whipped his hairy grey head around, squinting straight at Kira. She gasped, terrified.
“Aha!” he shouted. “D’ya like me song, lass?” He pointed his fiddle bow at her.
Kira barely nodded her head and tried to smile. She was struck dumb, could not speak a word if her life depended on it. All alone on the wharf with a crazy old man. She wondered if she should turn and run.
“I wrote it meself,” he said. “True story, every word. You’re Cillian’s girl, aren’t ya?”
Kira nodded again, and wondered why her feet wouldn’t move. She remembered a story of the medusa with snakes for hair, who would turn you to stone if you ever looked at her face. Bill’s hair was wiry and wild and snakelike, she thought, shivering.
Kira felt vibrations on the wharf and then she heard the footsteps. Before she could turn to see who was coming, Bill spoke. “Ho there, young Cody!” he greeted the boy who now stood beside Kira.
“Hey, Cody,” she said, glad to see him.
“Ho, Bill, hey, Kira,” Cody said, holding up his palm as Bill slapped it in greeting with his own.
“Ah, yes, young Kira. Nice to see you again, lass.” Babbling Bill gave her a wide grin, and she could see his yellow teeth were all there but for one near the middle.
“Um, hello, Bill,” she said, feeling silly and shy.
“Pull up a crate or a trap and set a spell if ya like.” Bill pointed to several empty crates at one side of the wharf.
Cody and Kira each grabbed a crate and sat in front of Bill.
“Do you have a name for the tune?” Cody asked.
“Nothin’s come to me yet, lad. I had a lot of time to think on it, while I lay in that bed. But they kept me groggy with pills and such. Still a wee bit fuzzy. It’ll come when it’s ready to. The Muse takes her time to strike. Mm hmm.”
Bill picked up his bow and began to play a lively tune. Cody tapped his feet in time to the music, but Kira felt awkward, like she had barged in on a party. The tune was a popular sea shanty often played at kitchen parties and the Fishing Fleet Festival. Cody grinned and began to drum with his hands, slapping his knees. Kira found herself staring at Bill’s fake foot which remained still, hidden inside the black-and-yellow fishermen’s boots he always wore.
When Bill finished, Cody and Kira clapped. Bill bowed his head and smiled. “Now, children,” he said as he laid the fiddle and bow on the ground, “would ye like to hear a story?”
Kira sat up straighter. This was her chance. Without thinking, she blurted, “Are selkies for real?”
Cody snickered.
“Ah, son, don’t ye laugh. The lass asks a good question. Many people don’t believe in ’em. They need proof, science like, for everything. But some things are hard to prove. Selkies is one of ’em.”
“Sooo,” Cody began, drawing out the word, “you think they exist?”
Kira wanted to disappear right then. She hated the tone in Cody’s voice, and was sure he would tease her and maybe even tell the other kids at school how childish and naïve she was. He was the ultimate science guy. Why did he have to show up when he did?
“Cody, me son, I knows they exist. I seen ’em with me own eyes, I did. ’Twas one night on a beach at Cooper’s Cove, down the shore. Me mate, Eddy Quinn, and me were takin’ a walk after a late supper and saw a bonfire on the beach. So, we thought we’d have a look and came closer. We noticed ’twas a bunch of ladies dancing round a fire. We crept up, quiet like so’s not to frighten them, noticed they weren’t wearin’ much. Figured their clothes were the piles of stuff behind ’em on the sand.” Bill cleared his throat and looked away. Kira blushed, remembering the drawing in her book of folk tales.
“Anyways, old Eddy, he steps on a twig, it snaps, and the ladies break their circle and jump into those piles of clothes. But what do ya know, the clothes are sealskins, and each lady turns into a flesh-and-blood seal and slithers down the sand and into the water!” Bill slapped his thighs, making Cody and Kira jump a little.
“Well, I takes a close gander at the water’s edge, but they’re gone, disappeared into the sea. And when I turns around, Eddy’s not to be seen, neither. Spooked he was, ran off. But I know what I seen that night. Selkies!”
“So where’s Eddy now?” Cody asked.
Bill pulled on his scraggly white beard and squinted tightly. “Ah, poor fella. Drowned at sea long ago, along with the whole crew. Sorry, ya can’t ask him about the selkies. We was both surprised, or we’d a grabbed a skin each and had us a wife. Mind, this was before I married my Maggie.”
“Hey, Bill! You telling tall tales a
gain?” A scrawny young man in overalls had come up behind them. “Don’t believe a word he says, kids!” he laughed. “C’mon Bill, it’s chowder for lunch, you don’t want to be missin’ that.” Still chuckling, the man turned and walked back down the wharf.
Bill shook his head, then bent to pick up his bow and fiddle. He beckoned at Kira and Cody to lean in closer. He whispered in his hoarse voice, “I’ll wager there’s more than one selkie wife in this village, and others up and down the shore. Not only that, I happen to know there’s merrows, too.”
Kira sat up straight again. “You mean mermaids and mermen?” She’d also read about them in her book of Irish folk tales.
“Shush,” he said, holding a finger over his whiskery mouth. “Not too loud now. None of ’em wants to be found out. They’re private and they’re proud.”
Cody threw his hands up in the air. “Oh, c’mon. If they’re for real, give us some names.”
Bill stood up and shook his head again. “I can’t do that. It’d bring bad luck. I already lost one foot.”
“Why? Because you told on a mermaid?” Cody smiled and looked at Kira with raised eyebrows. He was not buying Bill’s story.
“Because I said somethin’ I shouldn’t have. We do a lot of foolish things when we’re young. We think we know everything. We don’t. And you don’t neither, laddie, none of us do.” He began to shuffle down the wharf toward the village centre. “I must be off now—don’t want to be late for Mrs. Mason’s famous fish chowder.”
Kira and Cody watched him walk, rocking from side to side until he was off the wharf.
“Maybe it was bad luck, but I don’t think it was because of something he said or did,” Cody said. “Bill told me how he lost his foot, you know.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, they were fishing squid for bait, just the regular small ones, but they hauled up this really gigantic one by mistake, and it latched on to Bill’s foot. Just chomped on with all those claws and teeth in its mouth and wouldn’t let go. The other fishermen had to saw the squid off his foot, but it was fighting hard and they all got cut up before they freed Bill. His foot was all mashed up and shredded. Then it got infected, and they had to amputate before it spread to his leg.”
Kira's Secret Page 2
